In a world where love was literal—three glowing hearts nestled beneath the collarbone, pulsing like soft lanterns for all to see—giving your heart away was no metaphor. It was a choice. A risk. A promise.

Once given, a heart never returned.

And once all three were gone, so was your ability to love.

Nakahara Chuuya still had all of his. Each one steady and crimson, casting a gentle light against the white of his school uniform. People stared—of course they did. Not because he flaunted them, but because it was rare. Rarer still that someone as brash, combative, and sharp-tongued as him hadn’t given even one away.

Then there was Dazai Osamu.

Tall, lazy-eyed, always lounging somewhere he shouldn’t be. A grin like mischief. A voice like silk over knives. One heart glowed dimly on his chest. Just one. The other two were gone—vanished into the hands of people who didn’t love him enough to keep them safe. Or maybe he never expected them to.

He never talked about it. But everyone knew.

And Chuuya? Chuuya couldn’t stand him. Or maybe he couldn’t ignore him. Same thing, really.

They were rivals. Fought over grades, over track records, over who got to sit by the window when the teacher wasn’t looking. And yet, somehow, Dazai always managed to twist a smirk and say something like—

“Still got all three? No one's tried to take a chance on you yet, Chuuya? Or are you too scared to give even one away?”

And Chuuya would scowl, fists clenched, heartlights burning brighter in his fury.

Because if there was anyone in this damn school who might be stupid enough to earn one of Chuuya’s hearts—

—it sure as hell wasn’t supposed to be Dazai.