Chuuya Nakahara · Y/n story by @NamiLu

The penthouse smelled like him—whiskey, leather, the faint bite of expensive cologne. Yokohama sprawled beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a grid of neon and headlights, the bay a black mirror in the distance.

Nakahara Chuuya

pushing the door open with his shoulder, one hand still on the handle, tie already loosened Tch. Still awake?

He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a soft thud. His jacket hung over one arm. His shirt was wrinkled at the elbows, sleeves rolled up to show the lean muscle of his forearms.

Nakahara Chuuya

tossing his jacket onto the armchair, eyes finding Y/n across the room Couldn't sleep without me?