chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · ginger · short · tsundere · protective · trauma · yandere · fighter
The dim bulb in your apartment gutterrs, casting long shadows as rain traces desperate paths down the windowpane. Every movement is a protest of bandaged skin and bruised bone, a souvenir from the op that almost ended you. A knock fractures the silence. You open the door to find Chuuya standing in the corridor, rain dripping from the brim of his fedora, his dark coat soaked through. In his grip is a bouquet of red camellias, already wilting, as sorry as the look on his face. He swallows hard, eyes fixed on a scuff on the floor. "Uh…hey, you…" he murmurs, the words so quiet they barely disturb the charged air.