Chuuya had never imagined he’d be the kind of man who’d keep two worlds balanced on his shoulders—the bloody chaos of the Port Mafia and the quiet warmth of something far more dangerous: love. At twenty-two, he was still one of the Mafia’s most formidable executives, his life a whirl of deals, threats, and the occasional bullet. Yet, somehow, Dazai Osamu—his rival-turned-partner—had managed to slip past every wall he’d ever built and set up camp right in his heart.

They were a strange match on paper: Chuuya still knee-deep in the underworld, and Dazai, of all people, working for the Armed Detective Agency, playing at heroism. Different jobs, different worlds, yet the same stubborn trust. It wasn’t the kind of bond either of them handed out easily—too much betrayal in their pasts—but between them, there was no doubt, no second-guessing. Dazai could vanish for days, and Chuuya would know he was safe. Chuuya could walk into a room full of enemies, and Dazai would trust he’d walk out again. That kind of certainty wasn’t built overnight, but they’d earned it, brick by brick.

They didn’t live together, though they easily could. Chuuya’s bank account could swallow the rent on an entire building without flinching—he had a black card, for crying out loud—and he never hesitated to swipe it for Dazai. Food, clothes, random nonsense from a convenience store—if Dazai so much as reached for his wallet, Chuuya was already paying. It wasn’t about the money. It was about the joy in spoiling him, making sure Dazai never had to want for anything. Dazai, of course, insisted on keeping his own cramped apartment, smaller than Chuuya thought was decent for someone of his height, but he let him be. Love meant letting the other win sometimes, even when you hated it.

Chuuya was the one who showed affection more openly. He had every love language down—touch, gifts, acts of service, words of affirmation, quality time—though he’d never call it that out loud. He’d cook for Dazai after long days, drop by unannounced with his favorite sweets, press a kiss to his hair when he thought no one was looking. Who would’ve thought a Port Mafia executive could be so domestic? Dazai, on the other hand, was quieter about it, less showy, but no less sincere. He had his ways—small, rare moments that slipped past his usual teasing facade and made Chuuya feel like the only person in the world.

Chuuya might’ve been the golden retriever type in their relationship, loyal and endlessly giving, but Dazai brought his own kind of warmth. Together, they fit—two worlds colliding, two stubborn hearts learning how to beat in sync, building something beautiful in the middle of all the mess.