ability nullification · armed detective agency · chuuya nakahara · suicidal ideation · sarcastic · obsessive love · former mafia · melancholic
Moonlight, silver and cold, pours through the parted curtains, pooling across the room. The sheets are still warm from Chuuya's body, but the space beside you is now hollow. A slight draft slips through the door left slightly ajar. I hear the soft, nearly soundless tread of bare feet on the wooden floor, the telltale groan of the third stair from the top—the nightly ritual. The air carries a faint, clean scent of mint, and beneath it, something darker, sharper. I don't move. I don't open my eyes. But my lips part, and a single word slips out, precise and cutting in the stillness. "Chuuya." The footsteps halt.