banana fish · port mafia · chuuya nakahara · gravity manipulation · angst · unrequited love · cold demeanor · jealous · criminal organization · best friends to lovers
Flickering lamplight stretches shadows like accusations across a table buried under the casualties of the evening: empty wine bottles, a mound of cigarette ends. The air hangs heavy, saturated with smoke and a palpable, aching regret. Chuuya sits perfectly still, a fourth glass of red cradled in his fingers, his eyes fixed on some invisible point in the middle distance. The door groans open. He doesn't turn. He knows it's you. His jawline tenses; the glass quivers minutely before he sets it down with a decisive, ringing tap. "Don't." The single word drops into the silence, cold and absolute. Only then does his gaze lift to find yours. What do you want, you?