#hahaokbie

The rain in Yokohama always felt heavier outside the Port Mafia headquarters. Inside Chuuya’s top-floor executive office, the only sound was the rhythmic scratching of his fountain pen against a stack of endless reports.

And, of course, the incredibly soft, nearly silent shifting of fabric from the corner of his desk.

Chuuya didn’t look up from his paperwork, but a small, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He knew exactly what you were doing.

You were currently sitting on the edge of his massive mahogany desk, supposedly organizing archive receipts from three months ago. In reality, you had finished that task an hour ago. You were just staying. You always stayed.

Slowly, carefully, you shifted your weight. You slid exactly two inches to the left. Your sleeve lightly brushed against the leather of his coat.

Chuuya intentionally leaned back in his chair to stretch, creating a gap between you. He watched from the corner of his eye as your shoulders slumped slightly. You waited exactly sixty seconds—he counted—before you subtly shuffled closer again, closing the distance until your arm was pressed flat against his side.

You didn't say a word. You didn't demand his attention, ask him how his day was, or beg him to take a break. You just needed to touch him. You were like a tiny planet trapped in his orbit, completely helpless against his pull, yet far too shy to ever ask the Executive to actually look at you.

"You're going to rub a hole in those papers if you keep organizing them," Chuuya murmured, his voice low and gravelly from hours of silence.

You flinched, your face instantly exploding into a bright, burning crimson. You pulled your hands back to your chest, looking anywhere but at him. "I-I'm sorry, Nakahara-sama! Am I crowding you? I can leave—"

You started to slide off the desk, but before your feet could even touch the floor, Chuuya’s hand shot out. He caught you by the wrist. He didn't use his ability, but the grip was firm, warm, and entirely inescapable.

"Did I tell you to leave?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but..." You chewed your bottom lip, your fingers nervously tightening around the hem of your own shirt. "I know I'm... I'm a lot. I don't mean to take up your space."

Chuuya let out a heavy sigh, running his free hand through his orange hair. He let go of your wrist, only to wrap his hand around your waist and pull you forward. With a gasp, you tumbled straight into his lap.

Your face buried itself directly into the crook of his neck. You froze, completely paralyzed by your own shyness, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird.

"You're an idiot," Chuuya muttered, though his tone was incredibly soft. His arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. "You think I don't notice? You follow me into meetings. You sit close enough to steal my warmth. When we walk through the corridors, you literally hold onto the back of my coat so you don't lose me."

"I'm sorry," you whispered into his skin, your voice trembling. "I'll stop—"

"I don't want you to stop," he interrupted, his grip tightening. He leaned his head against yours, his breath warm against your ear. "But you drive me crazy when you just hover there. If you want me to hold you, just say it. You don't have to play a game of inches every time you want to be close to me."

You hid your face deeper into his neck, your hands finally finding the courage to grip the fabric of his vest. You held on for dear life, letting all your pent-up, clingy affection flood out.

Chuuya let out a soft huff of laughter. A faint red glow of gravity enveloped you both, making you feel completely weightless as he stood up from his desk chair without breaking the embrace. He walked over to the office sofa, tossing his fedora onto the coffee table, and lay down, pulling you right on top of him.

You curled into his chest like a cat, your head resting right over his steady heartbeat.

"Better?" Chuuya asked, his fingers gently threading through your hair, untangling the strands with a patience he saved only for you.

You nodded quickly against his chest, finally letting out a contented sigh.

"Good," he mumbled, closing his eyes and resting his chin on top of your head. "Then stay right there. Don't move an inch."

The next morning, the stormy Yokohama rain had cleared, leaving bright sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Chuuya’s office.

You woke up slowly, the comforting, familiar scent of expensive wine and leather enveloping you. It took your brain a few seconds to realize you were still completely sprawled on top of Chuuya’s chest on the office sofa. Your arms were locked around his middle, and your legs were tangled with his.

Even though you two had been dating for months, your face still burned bright red at the sheer realization of how clingy you were being.

You cautiously looked up. Chuuya was still fast asleep, his orange hair messy against the leather pillow, his sharp features completely relaxed. One of his heavily tattooed hands was still buried in your hair, while his other arm was clamped securely around your waist, keeping you pinned to him.

' I need to get up, you thought, panicked. He’s going to think I’m suffocating him. '

As much as you loved him, your deep-rooted shyness always kicked in the moment you became fully conscious. You didn't want to be a burden. You didn't want him to wake up and feel crowded by his overly attached girlfriend.

Very slowly, you began your usual routine. You loosened your grip on his vest. You shifted your hip back by a fraction of an inch. You holding your breath, trying to levitate yourself off him without using an actual ability.

You managed to slide back just enough to create a tiny gap of cool air between your chests.

Before you could slide any further, Chuuya’s arm suddenly clamped down like a steel vise. With a sharp grunt, he pulled you violently back down, flat against his chest. Your forehead bumped gently against his chin.

"Where do you think you're going?" Chuuya rasped, his voice incredibly deep, rough, and dripping with morning sleepiness. He didn't even open his eyes.

"I... I was just going to make you coffee," you squeaked, your face pressed into his collarbone. "I didn't want to crowd you. We've been like this all night."

Chuuya finally cracked one blue eye open, glaring down at you with a mix of affection and utter exasperation. "We've been dating for half a year, and you're still trying to sneak away from me in the mornings because you're too shy to just lay here?"

"I just don't want to annoy you," you mumbled into his chest, your fingers instinctively gripping his shirt anyway. Your body wanted to stay, even if your shy brain told you to run.

Chuuya let out a low groan, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He squeezed you so tightly you could feel the steady, rapid beat of his heart.

"You're my girlfriend," he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin. "You couldn't annoy me if you tried. If I hated you being clingy, I wouldn't have asked you to be mine. Now stop trying to escape and put your arms back around me."

Hearing his blunt, honest reassurance completely melted your anxiety. A soft smile broke across your face. You finally let go of your hesitation, wrapping both arms securely around his neck and burying your face back into his warmth.

Chuuya sighed contentedly, his grip relaxing into a warm, heavy embrace. He ran his hand down your back, pulling the blanket higher up over your shoulders.

"That's better," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. "Now go back to sleep. The Port Mafia can wait."

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