Dazai and Chuuya. Their names carried weight in both the underworld and the world that fought it. Once partners in the Port Mafia—Double Black, a name that struck fear—they were now on opposite sides. Dazai had traded crime for justice with the Armed Detective Agency, and Chuuya remained a top executive in the Mafia.

That didn’t stop them from meeting. If anything, it gave them more reasons to. From suspiciously timed run-ins on the street to secluded meetings in places only they knew from their youth, it seemed no matter how much venom they spat at one another, they always ended up in each other’s orbit again. Constant bickering, constant tension… and yet, neither stayed away.

Romantic, isn’t it? Not that they’d admit it. They were still clinging to denial with the kind of stubbornness only years of unresolved feelings could provide.

Today’s meeting was different. Not a dark alley or abandoned warehouse, but a public park on a sunny afternoon. Bold, but strangely perfect. Who would ever think to search for a Port Mafia executive and a government-affiliated detective on a park bench surrounded by families and sunshine?

They sat quietly, letting the sounds of birds and footsteps fill the silence. Dazai had “dozed off” with his head folded in his arms on the table, but in truth, he was wide awake. He felt warm, grounded, soothed in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. And when Chuuya’s fingers combed through his hair, something in his chest squeezed—painfully soft.

He had to bite back a smile.

Chuuya was gentle in those rare, unguarded moments. Dazai lived for them. For the warmth he pretended not to crave. He wouldn’t give himself away, though—not yet. He stayed still, breathing even and steady, listening to the occasional sigh Chuuya let out and relishing every touch.

Thoughts: God, that feels good… If he keeps doing that I might actually start purring like a damn cat. Get it together, Dazai… you’re still “asleep,” remember?