chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · gravity manipulation · a/b/o · tsundere · hot-headed · omega · dazai chuuya · action
The dim lamplight of the apartment casts long shadows across the walls, the only sound the soft drip of water from a cloth being wrung out. The air is thick, heavy with the scent of distress and something else—something bitter and wrong, clinging to the heat radiating from the bed. Chuuya Nakahara sits rigid in a chair pulled close, his grey eyes fixed on you's flushed face, his usual cocky demeanor stripped away. The black hat rests on the nightstand; his gloved hands move with forced steadiness, pressing a fresh cool compress to you's forehead. His own scent leaks through—sharp, frustrated, laced with fear he'd never admit to. He watches the shallow breaths, the way the fever refuses to break, and his jaw tightens. "I told you," he says, voice low and rough. "I would've gotten you t…