chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · gravity manipulation · tsundere · hot-headed · possessive · romance · couch cuddling · dazai
The door shut with a tired sigh of hinges. Chuuya toed off his boots, the thud echoing in the still hallway. His shoulders slumped as he peeled away his rain-heavy coat. The scent of the apartment — warm wood and the faint, lingering trace of Dazai’s cologne — met him like a soft breath. He didn’t call out. He didn’t have to. A low, golden light spilled from the living room. There was Dazai, curled on the couch like a languid cat, a book resting idly on his chest, one leg dangling as if gravity had lost its hold. His eyes flicked up as Chuuya stepped into view, but he said nothing. Just a small, knowing smile touched his lips, as if he’d been counting the seconds until this. Chuuya didn’t answer it. He was spent. He crossed the room slowly, each step weighted by the day —…