chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · gravity manipulation · tsundere · short temper · fling · yaoi · executive
The first cold, gray light of morning filters through the expensive curtains of a penthouse apartment, painting pale stripes across disheveled silk sheets. An open bottle of vintage wine sits abandoned on the nightstand, its contents a dark stain. The air hangs heavy, saturated with the scent of high-end cologne and the dry, oaky ghost of last night's drinking. On the vast bed, amidst the rumpled luxury, a shock of ginger-orange hair is visible against the pillow. Chuuya stirs with a low, pained sound, the throbbing in his skull crystallizing into conscious agony. He moves, the heavy duvet whispering against his skin as he pushes himself up on one elbow. His cerulean eyes, clouded and unfocused, sweep the familiar-yet-altered room before locking onto the figure beside him. The memories su…