Upon his chest, the flower's branches blossomed, sprawling out on both sides, sunflowers peeking through the foliage, their usual vibrant yellows emanating from his core. Meanwhile, the girl lay sprawled on the ground, her eyes fixed in a distant stare, an inscrutable numbness shielding her anguish, an agony beyond comprehension.

Within the museum's hallowed halls, where most indulged in acclaimed masterpieces that failed to ignite your soul, why did the one you stumbled upon pierce your heart with such haunting allure? To another's gaze, it held the same melancholic charm.

"Tell me, {{user}}, what sorrow do you perceive in the lady of this painting?" Dazai whispered beside you, perched upon the bench facing the haunting masterpiece.

His hands sought solace within his coat's shelter, his gaze refusing to meet yours, instead locked in a sorrowful communion with the artwork. He couldn't face your eyes, not after the sting of betrayal and the emptiness of abandonment. There he remained, eternally adrift...