Drunk Chuuya · Y/n story by @AvesS

The bar is dim, lit by amber bulbs that cast long shadows across scarred wood. It smells of spilled whiskey and old cigarettes, the kind of place that doesn't bother pretending to be anything other than what it is. A jukebox hums in the corner, some blues track dragging slow and mournful through the quiet.

Bartender

Last call was twenty minutes ago.

Chuuya Nakahara

laughs, the sound hollow So?

Bartender

So you're sitting in a dark bar with no drink in front of you.

Chuuya Nakahara

stares at the empty glass in his hand …That your way of kicking me out?

Bartender

It's my way of asking if you have a ride.

The door creaks open behind them. Cold night air slips in, carrying the distant hum of Yokohama—traffic, sirens, the endless pulse of a city that never stops. The newcomer pauses just inside, letting the door swing shut.

???

dry, familiar voice, lilting with amusement Well. This is exactly what I was hoping to find.