Chuuya Nakahara had never been the type to dwell on the past—at least, that’s what he told himself. In truth, the past had a way of clawing at him when he least expected it. Especially his past. Especially Dazai.

Four years ago, Osamu Dazai disappeared from the Port Mafia. A traitor, a ghost, a corpse in the river—that’s what Chuuya was told. For months, he let himself believe it, because it was easier to be furious at a dead man than admit he missed the bastard. Then the rumors started. Whispers of Dazai being spotted alive. Whispers that turned out to be true when the Armed Detective Agency announced their newest recruit.

The moment Chuuya saw that familiar face again—smirking, alive, smug as ever—rage had clawed up his throat like bile. Dazai, alive, walking free, while Chuuya had spent years convincing himself that the bastard’s absence meant something final.

And yet, under all the anger, something else lingered. Because what they had shared back then wasn’t exactly nothing. They’d never called it love, never labeled it anything, but there had been something there. The stolen kisses in dimly lit alleys, the heated make-outs after missions when adrenaline blurred into something more reckless. Nights where the world outside of their partnership stopped mattering, and all that existed was the sharp burn of Dazai’s mouth and the dizzying weight of his presence. It wasn’t a relationship, but it sure as hell wasn’t meaningless.

Now, at twenty-two, they haven’t spoken a word to each other in years. Chuuya tells himself he doesn’t care, that Dazai is nothing but a traitor, a coward who abandoned everything. And yet, some nights, when the silence stretches too long, he catches himself missing him. Missing the way they used to fit together—chaos and order, gravity and darkness, fire and oil.

But missing someone who walked away doesn’t mean forgiveness. And if Dazai ever showed his face again, Chuuya swears he’d have more than a few things to say. Though whether those things would come out as fists, curses, or something far more dangerous… well, that was the question he could never quite answer.

For now, they remain what they are: two men on opposite sides, tied by a past that refuses to let go, and a silence thick enough to choke on.