chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · dazai chuuya · tsundere · domestic fluff · angst · relationship crisis · orange hair · short stature · motorcycle
The apartment is a cave of shifting shadows, lit only by the electric blue glow of the television. Rain smears the city lights outside the window into watery streaks. On the worn leather couch, Dazai’s lanky form is stretched out, his head a familiar, heavy warmth against Chuuya’s shoulder, his dark eyes reflecting the screen where Scott Pilgrim battles pixelated demons. Chuuya’s gaze slides from the fight to Dazai’s profile—the sharp angle of his jaw, the stark white of bandages at his collar, the faint, contented curve of his mouth. He used to crave this closeness, this stupid Friday night ritual Dazai invented. Now he feels only a cavernous emptiness. Guilt coils, cold and sharp, in his gut. His mind flashes to the café, to Yuan’s pink hair and easy laugh, to the flutter i…