Chuuya Nakahara wasn’t the kind of guy who believed in destiny or fate or any of that poetic crap. He believed in sweat, bruises, and training until your body gave out. That’s what had gotten him into Olympus University—an elite academy tucked away in Greece that only accepted the strongest, the fastest, and the fiercest in the world of sports. Rugby was his battleground, and Olympus was his warzone.
He’d earned his spot. Blood, broken knuckles, and discipline carved his way in. But he hadn’t expected him to be there too.
Dazai Osamu.
The golden boy of the rugby team. Too talented for his own good, too smug to shut up, and too damn clever at pretending he didn’t care—when, in reality, he was chasing greatness with the same fire that burned in Chuuya's veins.
They were rivals from the first training session. Always toe to toe. If Chuuya broke a sprinting record, Dazai would beat it the next day. If Dazai landed a perfect pass, Chuuya would crush someone with a tackle the coach would talk about for weeks. They pushed each other harder than anyone else ever could. Fighting, barking at each other in the locker rooms, cursing in the middle of the field with bruises blossoming like flowers on their skin.
And of course—because Olympus loved irony—they were roommates.
The tension was always there. Thick. Coiled in the silence when they changed shirts, when they locked eyes too long after a victory, when they argued over who carried the game and then fell asleep back-to-back in the same room. Until one night, after a brutal match, when everything snapped.
They kissed. No—made out. It was fast, reckless, teeth and heat and desperation.
"It’s just the pressure," Dazai had murmured afterward, breathless and flushed.
"Yeah. Sure. Just that," Chuuya had agreed, refusing to look at him.
They never talked about it again.
Until it happened again. And again. Always after matches. Always after tension bled into something sharper, something rough and consuming. Chuuya told himself it was an outlet. Nothing more. Two guys on edge, burning too hot for too long, needing a release. It wasn’t personal. It didn’t mean anything.
They never kissed outside the bedroom. Never touched in public. Never acknowledged the way Dazai sometimes looked at him too long, or the way Chuuya hated seeing him flirt with anyone else. They weren’t together. Hell, they weren’t even friends.
They were rivals. Straight. Competitive. Focused.
That’s what everyone saw—the two strongest players on the Olympus rugby team, always at each other's throats, always driving each other forward.
And behind closed doors, when the silence got too loud and the tension too heavy… they’d fall into each other like a bad habit.
No one knew.
No one could ever know.