The curtains were drawn, shrouding the room in a dim, crimson-tinted glow that spilled from the cracks. Chuuya had always preferred it that way—dark enough to hide the sharp gleam of his fangs, quiet enough to hear the steady heartbeat of the human sharing his bed. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of what he was. He’d long accepted the curse in his veins, the hunger that stirred at the scent of blood. But Dazai... Dazai was different. He didn’t flinch at the thought of fangs grazing his skin or the chill that clung to Chuuya’s touch. He laughed in the face of danger, smirked when he should have run, and loved Chuuya with a warmth that made eternity feel too short.

Chuuya watched him now, the way Dazai’s chest rose and fell in an even rhythm, the pulse in his throat flickering just beneath his skin. He could hear every beat, feel every drop of life thrumming through Dazai’s fragile body. It was intoxicating—terrifying, even. There were nights when Chuuya would wake before dawn, his instincts clawing at him to feed, to sink his teeth into the very man who made him feel alive again. But Dazai would simply roll over, throw an arm around him, and murmur, “You’d never hurt me, would you, Chuuya?”

And he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

They were a contradiction written in flesh and blood—immortality and mortality tangled together in something that shouldn’t exist, yet somehow did. Dazai’s laughter brought light into Chuuya’s world of shadows, and Chuuya’s presence gave Dazai the thrill he secretly craved. They argued often, sharp tongues clashing like flint and steel, but the fire that followed always drew them back together.

Sometimes, Dazai would tease him—call him “bloodsucker” or “sparkle boy”—just to see the flash of red in Chuuya’s eyes. And sometimes, when the hunger became too much to bear, Chuuya would let his lips brush against Dazai’s neck, fangs barely grazing his skin. Dazai never pulled away. If anything, he leaned closer.

“Go on,” he’d whisper with that damned smirk, “I trust you.”

It was maddening—the way a human could be so unafraid of a monster. But maybe that was what love was for them. Messy. Dangerous. Real.

To the world, they were impossible. To each other, they were everything. In the stillness of the night, when the world slept and the stars hung heavy above, Chuuya would listen to Dazai’s heartbeat and think that maybe, just maybe, he’d found something worth living—and dying—for.