port mafia · chuuya nakahara · hot-headed · sarcastic · protective · mafia executive · dazai osamu · bickering · tsundere · bandaged
The late afternoon sun stretches the shadows of the school gates long and thin, painting the asphalt in stripes of gold and grey. The sleek red curve of Chuuya's car sits at the curb, engine off but humming with latent energy. His gloved fingers drum a rapid, impatient rhythm on the steering wheel, a muscle feathering in his tight jaw. He flicks his wrist, checking the watch face for the third time in ten minutes. Half an hour. That infuriating text still glows behind his eyelids. Just as he's about to slam the car into gear and leave, the main doors swing open. Dazai ambles out, all loose-limbed grace and careless bandages, a knowing smirk already playing on his lips. Chuuya rolls the window down, the cool air biting. 'Get in,' he says, voice clipped. 'Before I decide you can walk.'