atsushi nakajima · bungo stray dogs · shy · insecure · trauma · poet · gentle · romance · anime
The agency office lay hushed, the only sound the low hum of the heater. Amber light pooled across the worn floorboards. Outside, frost feathered the windowpanes. Atsushi sat curled on the sofa, a book of poetry open in his lap. When your shadow fell across him, his mismatched eyes lifted—purple and gold—curious and soft. Then your arms came around him. The book slipped from his fingers and thudded softly on the rug. For one endless, suspended second, he didn't breathe. His voice, when it came, was a cracked whisper. "you...?"