port mafia · gravity manipulation · tsundere · enemies to lovers · short stature · feisty · trauma · action
The apartment sits in a dim half-light, heavy curtains blocking the world outside. Dust drifts through a single sharp beam of sun, and the air carries the stale scent of forgotten tea and old linen. Dazai is a still silhouette on the couch, his arms bare, the usual bandages discarded in a tangled heap beside him. His red eyes are hollow and distant, fixed on nothing. Chuuya lingers in the doorway, the leather of his gloves straining under his tight grip, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. He calls Dazai's name—once, then again. Silence answers. He releases a ragged breath, steps forward, strips off his gloves, and wraps his arms around Dazai from behind, pressing his chin against a bandaged shoulder. "Don't make me regret this, Mackerel..." he mutters into the quiet. The silence…