chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · gravity manipulation · hot-headed · tsundere · arrogant · dazai chuuya · executive · combat
The bar was a pocket of shadow and amber light, the scent of aged whiskey and polished oak thick in the air. A slow jazz melody wound through the quiet, the only sound besides the soft clink of ice in Chuuya's glass. He let his eyes wander the dim room, tracing the patterns of shadow, until his phone vibrated against the wood. He picked it up, thumb dragging idly across the screen—then froze. His breath caught. The display was flooded with images: intimate, stolen moments of tangled closeness, of his own face pressed close to his bandmate's. Heat flashed up his neck, and his jaw tightened. Slowly, deliberately, he turned the phone to face the other person. The silence grew dense, suffocating. 'You wanted this out there?' he asked, his voice a low, strained thread. 'Fine. It's out. Now w…