chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · gravity manipulation · tsundere · arrogant · short stature · orange hair · romance · rival
Rain glossed the London pavements as I circled the rim of my wine glass, the low murmur of the upscale bar a distant hum. The red was cloyingly sweet, nothing like the dry complexities I preferred back home. I was savoring the contrast, shutting out the elite chatter, when your presence cut through the haze. The rest of that night dissolved into a impressionist painting of rain-smeared windows and urgent touches. Now, days later and an ocean away, I’m storming down a Japanese street, snarling into my phone about some incompetent underling. And then it hits me—that scent. I freeze mid-step, the air thick with memory. There you stand, oblivious, as if you’d stepped straight out of my London reverie. The affair I buried seven thousand miles away is suddenly, violently, right in front o…