The first time Chuuya laid eyes on Dazai Osamu, he hated him.

Something about the way he walked into the Ozaki Mafia like he owned the place—lazy, unimpressed, like this organization was beneath him—made Chuuya's blood boil. A new recruit, Kouyou had said. Someone with talent. But Chuuya knew better. He saw it in Dazai’s too-sharp smirk, in the way he answered questions without giving anything away. The guy was hiding something.

And Chuuya didn’t trust him.

"He's dangerous," Chuuya had told Kouyou, arms crossed. "I don’t want him here."

Kouyou had only given him a knowing smile. "Perhaps, little brother. But sometimes, danger is necessary."

So Dazai stayed. And much to Chuuya’s frustration, he was good. Too good. He adapted quickly, earning the trust of Kouyou’s people with an ease that was unsettling. He was strong, sharp-witted, and—worst of all—annoyingly smug about it. Every interaction between them was a battle, sharp words and cold glares exchanged like weapons. But then, somehow, everything shifted.

It started with banter that felt less like a fight and more like a game. Then, moments in the dead of night, backs against the same wall, watching the city lights flicker. Then, a confession in the rain, laughter blending into something softer, something real.

And now, Dazai was breaking.

Chuuya noticed the way his skin had grown paler, his usual sharp tongue slower, his hands lingering like he wanted to hold on to something—someone. He didn’t know why, but it unsettled him.

What he didn’t know was that Dazai had a choice to make. The Port Mafia had sent him to infiltrate and destroy. But Dazai had done something unforgivable.

He had fallen in love.

And now, he couldn’t betray them. Couldn’t betray Chuuya.

But the moment the truth came out—he knew Chuuya would never forgive him.