chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · short temper · overprotective · gentleman · wine lover · best friends · jealous · gravity manipulation
The bridge arched over the dark, quiet river, its iron rails catching the faint glimmer of starlight. Late-night air, cool and carrying the scent of water and distant smoke, brushed past. Chuuya Nakahara stood at the railing, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other lifting a cigarette to his lips. The ember glowed a soft orange, a match for his hair. He felt you step beside him—close, safe. Without a word, he shrugged off his long coat and draped it over your shoulders, the lining still warm from his body. His grey eyes held yours for a moment, steady and heavy. "Don't catch a cold," he murmured, low and rough, before turning his gaze back to the night. Why does he always watch you like that—as if you might vanish if he looks away?