A book in which you, the infamous ability stealer, are the newest member of the Port Mafia and as witty as they come. Being the constant centre of attention, you have managed to catch the eye of the notorious young executive; Chuuya Nakahara, but no...
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A/N - I highly recommend that you press play on the song above and let it run throughout this chapter! :)
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Chuuya took a deep breath as he pushed open the door and entered the room.
"[Y/N]?" Chuuya softly called out your name, but as he looked around the office—there was no apparent sign of you anywhere, as if all traces of you had suddenly disappeared into thin air, and in your stead, however, were the remnants of what you had caused whilst you were angry, resulting in you furiously throwing and breaking things to let off, what he assumed, was some steam.
And oh boy, did you do that.
He bent down and examined a broken piece of ceramic glass on the floor directly adjacent to his foot. He recognised this piece instantly—it belonged to a mug that you had used as a pencil holder, and it was enough proof of your vexation because you were very fond of this mug, despite it not being used for its actual purpose at all, purely due to the fact that it had a picture of your favourite anime character on it. You were definitely angry. At what? He had no idea. Maybe at the world. Maybe at your past. Maybe at your helplessness as a child.
But he knew, that whatever the reason, he would stick by your side.
The office had been turned upside down. Papers were strewn everywhere, torn and ripped. Important papers nonetheless. This entire place was an abundance of chaos, and looked like it had been ransacked by a thief searching for gold in every nook and cranny to sell, while simultaneously destroying everything in the periphery of their vision. The only thing that remained standing were both of your desks; it was a completely different story for the things that were once on top of them, though. Chuuya had taken notice of a lot of smashed glass scattered across the ground, glittering opalescently under the dim light barely oozing from the flickering bulb above, and he didn't realise just how many glass items each of you had owned until you had managed to smash them all into a million infinitesimal pieces.
"[Y/N]?" He called out again. His voice was soft and hesitant—an unusual cadence in comparison to his usual sandpapery tone, and he found that he didn't particularly revel in the sound of it. He wasn't used to sounding soft and hesitant. He always sounded like he was ready to scold someone if they even so much as breathed in his direction.
And yet—you had managed to bring that side out of him, he noticed.
There was still no reply—but Chuuya could strangely feel your presence lingering in this room. He knew that you were in here, hiding somewhere. He didn't know how or why, but he did. Your presence wasn't exactly something small; you had the ability to make every head turn whenever you had walked into a room, you had the ability to make everyone else fade into the background. Your presence was far too powerful—too omnipotent—to just simply ignore, whether you were physically there or not.
