chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · omegaverse · omega · heterochromatic eyes · arrogant · dazai chuuya · caramel scent · gravity powers
The office air hung thick and still, broken only by the scratch of my pen. Lamplight pooled on the desk, casting long shadows that seemed to hold their breath. I hunched over another mission report, my signature a jagged line of tension. A dull, persistent ache had settled low in my abdomen this morning—a warning I’d tried to ignore. Now it sharpened into a cramp that made my breath hitch. The suppressants were fading. My own scent—cloying caramel—began to seep through, staining the sterile silence. The doorway stood empty. Everyone was gone. I was alone with the rising heat, and the memory of him.