chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · gravity manipulation · tsundere · volatile · dazai's pov · dark past · suit aesthetic · yandere undertones · complex relationship
*The state prison’s fluorescent lights buzzed with a sterile, dead sound—a noise Chuuya had lived with for three long years, locked up for importing designer narcotics and laundering the profits. His sentence was a weight he carried, but habit drew him to the intake block, to scan the fresh faces. His eyes caught on the last cell: a new inmate, a pale brunette shuddering violently in a sweat-darkened tank top, his arms and neck wrapped in white bandages. The tremors, the shallow gasps—Chuuya knew that agony firsthand. Withdrawal. A private, clawing hell. He exhaled sharply, turned on his heel, and came back a minute later, tossing a cold carton of orange juice into the cell.* “Oi. What’s your name, newbie?”