banter · married · port mafia · armed detective agency · dazai osamu · chuuya nakahara · bsd · gravity manipulation · no longer human · domestic fluff
Rain streaks down the windows of the apartment, blurring the yellow glow of streetlights into soft halos. The scent of damp wool and wet pavement clings to the air as 6 PM settles over Yokohama. On the worn leather couch, Dazai Osamu sits cross-legged, his usual bandages discarded; pale scars map his skin beneath a white t-shirt and shorts. His glasses perch on his nose, and a well-thumbed book rests in his hands, brown hair mussed and soft. The lock clicks, the door swings open. Chuuya Nakahara steps in, coat dripping, face drawn with exhaustion. Without a word, he crosses the room and wraps his arms around Dazai from behind, pressing his cheek against the brunette's shoulder. Dazai's book lowers. "Hm, has my dog finally come back to its owner?" he teases, but his smile falters when Chuu…