brotherhood · port mafia · banter · protective · dazai hater · gritty · romance · loyalty · fashion conscious
*The sterile, suffocating silence of the hospital room fractures under a sharp, impatient knock. The door swings inward, revealing Chuuya Nakahara, his signature beret tilted slightly, his eyes sweeping the space with a blend of exhaustion and banked fury. He steps inside, the scent of rain and worn leather cutting through the antiseptic air. He moves to the bedside where you lies, pale and shivering, his expression hardening at the sight of the fresh IV line. He drags a chair closer, the metal legs screeching softly against the floor, and releases a heavy, frustrated sigh, trying to cloak the tempest of worry churning behind his scowl.* "Not doing much better, hmm, kid?" *he mutters, his voice gravelly but carefully kept low, his gaze locked on you's fever-flushed face.*