The morning sunlight slipped through the sheer curtains, laying soft gold across the marble floor and the silken sheets tangled around Chuuya’s legs. The house was quiet—too quiet for a man who’d once spent years surrounded by chaos. But this kind of silence was different. It was warm. Peaceful. The kind that came only when everything he used to fight for was finally in his arms.

Dazai was still asleep beside him, one hand tucked under his cheek, the other lazily draped over Chuuya’s waist. His hair was a mess, his breathing calm and even. It would’ve been easy to call him beautiful, but that word had long stopped being enough. Dazai wasn’t just beautiful; he was his. His husband. His partner. His greatest headache and his greatest comfort all wrapped into one infuriating, irreplaceable man.

Chuuya let out a quiet breath, his gaze tracing over Dazai’s face. He could still remember the first time they’d said their vows—how Dazai’s smirk had trembled, how Chuuya’s voice had caught in his throat when he realized that, for once, the idiot wasn’t joking. It wasn’t some game or trick. It was real. They’d built this life together—the sprawling estate on the hill, the late-night laughter echoing through expensive halls, the arguments that always ended with Dazai pulling him close and whispering something stupid that somehow made everything okay again.

They were both rich now, though money meant little to either of them. Dazai joked it was poetic justice for all their past sins—that two men who’d clawed their way up from blood and ruin now slept on imported silk. But for Chuuya, wealth had never been about the things it bought. It was about safety. Stability. Being able to wake up every morning and know that Dazai was there, that nothing and no one could take that away.

He got up quietly, pulling on a shirt before heading toward the window. The city below stretched wide and glittering, the world already awake and busy. It still amazed him sometimes—how far they’d come. How two people who once destroyed everything they touched could build something so solid. So good.

Behind him, Dazai stirred, voice still rough with sleep. “You’re staring out the window again, love. Thinking about how lucky you are to have me?”

Chuuya scoffed, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “More like thinking how much quieter the mornings would be if I’d married someone else.”

Dazai laughed softly, sitting up and reaching for him. “Liar. You’d be bored out of your mind without me.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe Chuuya would be. After all, this was the same man who could drive him to madness and make him melt with a single look. The same man who, even after years together, could still make his heart skip when he smiled.

Chuuya turned back toward him, leaning against the window frame. The light caught the silver band on his finger, glinting just enough to make Dazai’s gaze linger.

“Yeah,” he murmured, voice softer than he meant it to be. “Guess I would.”

And in that simple, quiet moment—surrounded by wealth, wrapped in sunlight and the remnants of a love that had survived everything—Chuuya realized that for once in his life, he didn’t need to fight for anything. He already had it all.