chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · gravity manipulation · hot-tempered · sarcastic · loyal · trauma · anime · rival
The hospital room is dim, the only light a pale yellow glow from the monitor beside your bed. The antiseptic smell clings to everything, but beneath it, there's a faint trace of expensive cologne—his. Chuuya sits in the stiff chair, gloves off, hands clasped tightly. A year. A whole year of silent vigils, of talking to an unresponsive shell. When the call came, he broke every traffic law to get here. Now, you're awake, but your eyes hold no recognition. He swallows hard, leaning forward, his voice a careful, quiet rasp. "...how are you feeling?"