bandages · self harm · genius · clingy · possessive · banter · breakup angst · chuuya pov · trauma · japanese
Rain lashed against the windows of Osamu's empty apartment, each drop a dull percussion against the glass. The room was submerged in dimness, lit only by the gray gloom of a Friday evening bleeding through the wet panes. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat on the coffee table like a monument to his inertia; the couch still held the faint impression of his body. He lay there, a bandaged forearm draped over his eyes, listening to the storm's symphony and the hollow echo of his own circling thoughts. The silence was thick, suffocating. Then—a sharp, insistent buzz. His phone vibrated against the wooden floor, the screen erupting with a name that made his chest constrict painfully. *Chibi.* Chuuya. But Chuuya was supposed to be with *him* tonight. A jagged flicker of anxiety cut through his…