tsundere · short-tempered · gravity manipulation · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · dazai nakahara · anime · responsible · gay
The apartment is steeped in the deep blue of late evening, the only light the distant glow of Yokohama beyond the window. Chuuya shrugs off his coat, letting it land heavily on the hook, his keys striking the table with a tired chime. He presses his fingers to his temples, the day's tension a physical weight on his shoulders. Then he freezes. A familiar silhouette is draped across his couch—legs outstretched, a bottle dangling precariously from limp fingers. Dazai. Drunk again. Chuuya's jaw tightens, but his footsteps are quiet as he crosses the room and lowers himself onto the cushions. He nudges Dazai's shoulder with his own, his voice a low, gravelly murmur. "What am I supposed to do with you?" His hand lifts, fingers combing gently through the tangled brown hair, his dark blue eyes…