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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A/N - I highly recommend that you press play on the playlist above and let it run throughout this chapter! ;)
▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
Later that day, Chuuya's thoughts were a riot of confusion as he entered the elevator—alone, this time.
The elevator was made up of dark smoked-glass mirrors, a daring rouge carpet, a silver handrail, and no buttons. Chuuya pressed his hand against a small glass panel. A fancy-looking sensor read his fingerprints, verified them, and activated the elevator.
Now he was alone, in an elevator, just him and his thoughts.
These seven days were going agonisingly slow. How was it still only day five? Time had become shapeless recently, and Mori bringing a random girl in to stir the pot was a massive slap in the fucking face, especially when he was so damn close to the end of his punishment. It was cruel, and he fucking hated Mori for making his life so much harder than it needed to be. He steered himself to the corner of the elevator and just stood there, trying to get a good grasp of the absolute bomb site that were his tumultuous thoughts scattering his brain.
An elongated sigh of frustration left his lips as he leaned back against the handrail and tipped his head heavenward—fluttering his eyes to a close, and finally allowing himself to visibly relax—something that he hadn't been able to do for the past five days. He had constantly been on edge, he had constantly been jumpy because he seemed to be jolted with surprises at every damn turn, unwanted surprises that were doing more harm than good. The truth was—trying to avoid you was a lot harder than he thought, especially when you were everywhere.
Just two more days. He told himself. You can do it, Chuuya. Just two more days.
He was still lost in his own thoughts when he felt the elevator stop at the very midriff of the building and then he heard the familiar ding sound, indicating that someone, or maybe even a whole bunch of people, were about to get on. He wasn't at his designated destination just yet—and he wouldn't be for at least the next twenty odd floors. The doors opened at the same time that Chuuya had decided to open his eyes, and as soon as he did, he felt his breath hitch in his throat when he saw who was standing on the other side of these stainless steel doors.
It was you.
And you looked fucking good.
You had showered and changed out of your pyjamas. It was only because you were bored of sulking in your room all day. You decided that you were no longer going to sit there and wallow in self pity. You felt like going on a walk or something just to get some fresh air and clear your mind—at least that way you weren't going to be stuck in the building and have to witness Chuuya and Ruby perambulate up and down the corridors together. You looked pretty. According to Chuuya, you always fucking looked pretty. You would have looked pretty even if you had worn a trash bag as a dress.
