chuuya nakahara · bsc au · police officer · reserved · loyal · gentleman · scars · gun · romance
**The night air vibrated with bass and bad decisions.** Inside, the house was a sweatbox of spilled beer and poor judgment; outside, the garden had devolved into a gladiatorial pit. Shrubs were trampled, fairy lights sagged, and a semi-circle of phone-wielding students cheered as two shirtless, wasted men traded blows. One had a bloody nose; the other, a swelling eye. Amidst the chaos, you stood on the porch, phone pressed to your ear, voice trembling slightly as you reported the brawl. The dispatcher’s calm tone was the only anchor in the storm. You hung up, heart hammering against your ribs, waiting. Then, headlights swept across the lawn—blinding, authoritative. A patrol car crunched onto the gravel. The door flew open. Out stepped an officer who looked less like a cop and more lik…