the other side of paradise | bsd x gn!reader

thirty-four.

Nakahara Chuuya does not dream. And yet the scene before his eyes certainly feels what he imagines a dream would be like.

His apartment is in total chaos. A few days ago he decided to replace some of his furniture and today was originally reserved for him, a bottle of wine and a handful of furniture building instructions. He sat down in the middle of his living room, thoughtfully opening the instructions for his new dining table. It's not like he ever had guests over for it to be something necessary, but he liked the idea of giving the impression he could do that if he wanted to.

He had just ripped open the plastic bag with screws and other small items when the doorbell rang. Angrily muttering to himself about who on earth could be bothering him now, he slams the door open, ready to yell at whoever decided to bother him during his day off - but instead, he freezes in place.

"I hope I'm not interrupting!"

For a single moment, the world around Nakahara Chuuya stops. His brain tunes out any other distraction as he cannot look away from the person he has been thinking of every day. His eyes drink up your features like he's been lost in the desert for years and you're a beautiful oasis, his salvation. You smile back at him, eyes sparkling with gentle fondness. This is no dream. It really is you. Overwhelmed with relief and happiness, he throws his hands around you and holds you tightly. He's always liked hugging you. You fit into his arms like a puzzle piece. He buries his face into your neck, inhaling your familiar scent. Hugging you makes him feel at home, and he never wants to let go.

"Is this perhaps your betrothed?" A deep voice interrupts the tender moment and Chuuya blushes furiously as he processes the question and imagines what that would be like. "It's like I'm watching a romantic anime where long-lost lovers finally get reunited," a different childish voice agrees.

Romantic anime? The words of the second voice pull him out of the affectionate haze. There's another voice. Begrudgingly, he allows you to leave his embrace and you meet his gaze with a mischievous grin. He sighs, turning around to face the people you brought along. Immediately, he is met with a strange sight. The childish voice obviously came from the little girl standing in front of his front door. She looks to be around 10 years old, with hair pins in her hair. With his attention now on her, the little girl smiles brightly and introduces herself. "Hi! I'm Aya and this is Bura-chan. We're helping Y/n save the world. Please take care of us," she bows quickly.

Chuuya's eyes travel to her arms, which are tightly holding onto... onto what looks like a severed head (upper body?) of a man, pierced on a sword. His skin is sickly pale, his ears long and pointy. The now dubbed 'Bura-chan' sighs and closes his eyes in contemplation. "I am the lord of darkness, Earl Bram Stoker." He opens his eyes again, bloody irises gazing so intensely, that Chuuya feels like they can see the outline of his soul. "We have decided to join Y/n's party and prevent a devastating destruction that darkly looms over this world. You, young man, have been the first one my companion has thought of when thinking of further steps in their plan." His eyes scan Chuuya's figure from head to toe and he nods to himself, seemingly satisfied. "I understand why that would be. Despite your short stature, there is a strong energy I can sense emanating from deep within you. Introduce yourself. I must know who I'm speaking with."

Chuuya's eyelid twitches at the mention of his height. "Nakahara Chuuya."

Stoker looks like he wants to continue speaking, but Y/n interrupts before more nonsense can come out of his mouth. "We should go inside before we continue this conversation. I need to have a serious talk with you, Chuuya, and we won't get anything done on your doorway."

Chuuya ignores the way his heart skips a beat when his name rolls off your tongue and nods in agreement. As he shuts the door closed, his whole body becomes enveloped in an unexpected feeling of vulnerability. This is the first time you've entered his apartment and never before in his life has he been more regretful of putting off dusting. You take slow and deliberate steps around his living room, taking in all of his clutter. Gifts from his past friends, a few tasteful statues and art on the walls and... Chuuya feels his face turn warm when you pick up a photograph carefully set on his bookshelf, surrounded by memories like dried white clovers and movie tickets. It's a picture of the two of you at your park, from the earlier stages of your friendship. You'd just started hanging out more, this event being an organised picnic. In the picture, you're wearing a flower crown made of those white clovers. Kouyou taught him how to make them, and despite doubting it would ever come in handy and complaining about it, the joy on your face as his fingers skilfully braided the flowers together made him glad to have learned it. He thanked Kouyou profusely the next day, the red-haired woman simply shaking her head with a delighted smile. That day you brought along your polaroid camera, the one that broke a few weeks later, and obnoxiously took photos of him and the sunset. You took this photo too, after a few failed attempts at having both of you in frame. He pretended to be indifferent about it back then, but he considers that photo to be one of his most precious possessions.