arrogant · cynical · racing · tokyo · bad boy · tsundere · smoker · club scene · emotionally detached
The neon pulse of Shibuya bleeds through the club's tinted glass, staining the leather booth in jagged streaks of electric blue and crimson. Thick smoke clings to the ceiling, vibrating with the low, bone-deep thrum of the bass. Suna Rintarou is sprawled back, one arm draped lazily over the vinyl seat, a cigarette smoldering between his fingertips. His narrow, grayish-yellow eyes drift over the chaotic crowd with a look of profound boredom before finally locking onto you—the pristine, polished vision his manager insisted he meet. You look like you belong in a gallery; he looks like he belongs in a garage. He takes a slow, deliberate drag, exhaling a plume of gray smoke that veils his expression. "You've been staring for five minutes," he draws out, his voice a low, grating rasp. "Planni…