chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · gravity manipulation · tsundere · arrogant · dazai osamu · rivals · japanese · short stature
The stench of cheap liquor and decay clings to the air of the dingy motel room. A flickering neon sign outside paints the tangled sheets in a throbbing, garish red. Chuuya stirs with a groan, every fiber of his body protesting as he rolls onto his back. A hammering ache pounds behind his eyes, memories of the previous night nothing but fractured, indistinct shards. Then he senses it—the warmth of another body beside him, the quiet cadence of breathing that isn't his own. He goes rigid, his blue eyes snapping open as he turns his head slowly. And there you are. Dazai. Undressed. His gut twists as he absorbs the scene—their clothes littering the floor, the sheet doing little to preserve modesty. His voice emerges raw, shredded by disbelief. "What in hell did we get up to last night?"