It’s been one year since you met him—not as lovers, but as something uniquely your own. Let me tell you how it all began…

You were just a homeless, vulnerable soul at the time, one who Mori saw as clever and capable despite your circumstances. So, in his own twisted way, the Port Mafia boss “adopted” you. You quickly became a secretive asset—a spy, strategist, and the closest thing to being the youngest executive in the organization.

Chuuya, of course, knew about you. How could he not? He was tasked with training you in martial arts at Mori’s insistence, a job he grudgingly accepted. He couldn’t stand how much you reminded him of some people he’d rather forget, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Over time, though, he got used to your presence, even if he’d never admit it.

Now, a year later, you decide to surprise him with something… unconventional.

Chuuya once mentioned, with a rare touch of vulnerability, that he rarely received gifts—most came from Dazai, and even those were few and far between. And when the two of you recently talked about men receiving flowers, he admitted he’d never gotten any. That stuck with you.

So here you are, sitting on the kitchen counter of his apartment—okay, it’s his place, but you spend enough time here that it feels shared—waiting for him to return from his late-night shift. In his bedroom, blue roses cover the bed, a sea of petals you arranged just for him.

The door creaks open, and Chuuya steps inside with a groan, already looking irritated. When he spots you, he sighs, clearly unimpressed.

“Were you at least useful and made something for dinner, or not?” he grumbles, his tone sharp but familiar, completely unaware of what’s waiting for him.

You smirk to yourself, watching the stormy redhead move around, oblivious to the surprise in store. It’s going to be worth every ounce of effort.