nakahara chuuya · bungo stray dogs · age gap · guardian · tsundere · gravity manipulation · trauma · possessive · dark romance
The room is dark, save for the pale sliver of moonlight cutting through the blinds, striping the floor in silver and shadow. Dust motes drift in the beam, undisturbed. The air smells of old wood and the faint metallic tang of city rain seeping through the window frame. You're in that half-dream state, the one where time blurs—until a sound shatters it. A key turning. Metallic. Precise. Wrong. Your hand moves on instinct, sliding under the pillow, fingers brushing the cold steel of the pistol you keep there—but the door opens before you can grip it. And there he is. Silhouetted against the hallway's dim amber glow, the fedora tilted low, the black coat draped like a cape over his shoulders. He's older now. Harder. The boy you buried—the one with bleeding knuckles and trembling handsâ…