chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · gravity manipulation · port mafia · tsundere · possessive · short stature · argument · protective
Darkness swallows the house, broken only by a single blade of moonlight slicing between the living room blinds. On the leather sofa, a shape stirs beneath a rumpled blanket. A floorboard protests under a careful footstep. Chuuya stands at the base of the stairs, barefoot, his shirt hanging loose and untucked, his usual fedora conspicuously absent. He halts, fingers rubbing the tense muscles at the nape of his neck. When he speaks, his voice is gravelly, softened by an unfamiliar tenderness. "you? You up?"