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"I don't care what you're saying I don't wanna participate in your game of manipulation And no I don't want your sympathy, all this love is suffocating" - Crush Culture, Conan Gray
Yokohama was a city surrounded by the flow of water. The sound of waves crashing, the ocean winds sending gusts towards the city and the soft trickle of the nearby streams never ceased to amaze Fuji. The sky was azure, white clouds as fluffy as they looked, drifted hazily across her peripheral vision, thousands and thousands of feet away from her mellow eyes. The harsh gaze of the sun had dwindled in the early morning, now emitting a more soft beam of light down on the port city, the sunlight reflecting off the glassy windows.
It was a good day to go outside, enjoy the dew that sprinkled the tall grass and breathe in what seemed to be fresh air. It was a good day to feel alive, which is exactly what all the slowly suffocating residents of Yokohama needed. It seemed that even Chuuya Nakahara was taking to nature because early that quiet Monday morning, the Port Mafia executive was walking along the riverside, his thoughts troubled and mind swirling with countless things. Things he didn't want to deal with but knew stubbornly that he would have to deal with them sooner or later.
His striking orange hair was ruffled by the breeze, especially since his notable fedora was hanging on a hat rack back at his dorm. His stormy eyes were calmer than usual, pertaining a twinkling grey as he scoured his surroundings. Mori didn't know of his little expedition, in fact Chuuya was confident that he had managed to slip out of the Port Mafia's base without being seen. He didn't know why but he was feeling a lot more calmer, as though someone was no longer breathing down on his neck. Being in the Port Mafia was rewarding for the teenager, who revelled in fighting and loyalty, but he was lately finding it draining. Especially since Mori had upped his measures against the Jewellers, including guerrilla tactics bound to maim the enemy organisation's members. And, not to mention he was still exponentially failing at his mission, which was to recover Loot.
Chuuya kicked a stray jagged piece of rock across the path out of frustration, both hands in his pocket as he watched the bit of earth traverse shakily down the dirt-trodden trail. Fucking Loot. I don't even know who the damn person is and Mori expects me to grab them.
The rock made a small sound as it clattered and it landed in the stream of water with a splash, prompting Chuuya to tear his grey eyes off the uninteresting ground beneath him and at the river in which he was walking past. The rock sunk to the bottom and Chuuya unemotionally watched, somehow equating the gravel to himself. The stirring feeling in his chest had turned to a sort of anguish he couldn't quite describe. It was clawing at him from within, haunting his heart like a burden weighing him down day and night. He too, like that rock, felt like he was drowning. Drowning in the pain of love, of course, but Chuuya didn't realise it.
He heard grass rustle and someone sigh, instantly swivelling his head. His shoulders quickly hunched and the calm composure the teenager had displayed earlier disappeared as he was placed on his guard. With a cautious expression, his wary eyes searched until he found the source. They widened in surprise when he caught sight of strawberry blonde hair mingling with the soft tall grass.
