017

The mission was shrouded in silence, much like most of the orders Mori gave.

As you and Chuuya stood back faced the door, his eyes briefly shifted between the two of you before his lips curled into that signature smile. The kind that conveyed both warmth and a sense of danger.

"Take your time, L/N-kun. Chuuya-kun," Mori’s voice, smooth as ever, wrapped around the two of you like a soft blanket—comforting yet suffocating.

"It's not urgent, and there's no rush. Enjoy your time abroad. Buy souvenirs. Spend a few days."

You nodded quietly, ever obedient. Chuuya, standing beside you, glanced at you, then back at Mori.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, though he didn’t question Mori’s words.

Instead, his gaze shifted between the two of you, the strange dynamic unsettling him just a little.

There was something about Mori's tone when he spoke to you. A certain sweetness to it. One that you long got used to.

It reminded Chuuya of how Mori spoke to Elise, but it was different. It was almost as if Mori was speaking to a prized possession, or worse, a pet.

Chuuya caught himself staring a bit too long, quickly looking away.

"Alright," Chuuya finally muttered, his voice casual.

"What’s the job exactly, then?"

Mori’s smile never faltered as he looked at the two of you. "It's simple. You're to go to the overseas location and take care of a few matters regarding a rival organization. I need you both to keep things discreet. It's not a high-stakes job, but the less noise we make, the better."

He paused, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual, before continuing. "L/N-kun, you know how to handle things quietly. Chuuya-kun... you will follow L/N-kun’s lead."

His eyes flickered momentarily, but it was enough to make Chuuya stiffen even more.

“Understood,” you responded calmly, your voice barely a whisper, but Mori nodded as if he’d expected nothing less.

He turned back to Chuuya then, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Enjoy the trip. You’ve earned it. You both deserve a little leisure. Take good care of your junior, alright, L/N-kun?"

"I will."

Chuuya glanced at you, unsure of how to respond.

His relationship with you had grown into one with... respect.

While he had initially been wary of you, there was an understanding between the two of you.

You didn’t talk much, but there was a strange harmony in your silence.

He respected your capabilities, though he often wondered about the cold detachment that seemed to define you.

He knew better than to question it, though. People like you weren’t meant to be understood.

Chuuya offered a small, polite smile in response. "Sure thing, boss. We'll get it done."

Mori’s smile softened, and his eyes gleamed with something darker. "Good. Don’t forget, I trust you both. Remember who you represent."

As Mori dismissed you, you turned without a word and left the office, Chuuya following close behind.

The sound of your footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. The mission, though seemingly harmless, didn’t sit well with you.

Overseas... an extended trip. It felt too far from the norm, especially when you heard what your second in command informed, an unknown force you had yet to fully understand.

Mori’s request to “take your time” seemed too convenient.

But as always, you pretended not to be suspicious, not to be wary, just like a tool without emotions.

Dazai stood outside your room when you returned, arms folded.

“I hear you have a mission with Chuuya. A long one,” he said, no question in his tone, only disdain.

You have no idea how he found out about that. The information should be confidential. You highly doubt Chuuya spilled anything either.

You brushed past him. “It was an order.”

“That’s always your answer,” he replied coolly.

“I wonder what you’d do if Mori ever told you to kill me.”

You paused in front of your door.

Dazai’s voice dropped low, a challenging smile plastered on his face.

“Would you do it?”

You turned your head slightly, a hint of a glare in your eyes. “Do you want to find out?”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe.”

With an unreadable expression, you just turned and opened the door.

"Do not test me, Dazai."

With those final words, the door closed on his face.

He blinked before sighing, scratching the back of his head. "How cruel, even to your ex-mentee."

He walked away, the sound of his footsteps slowly fading away the further he goes.

"Well, I suppose I'm in no position to say that."

The plane ride was quiet.

You didn’t speak unless necessary. Chuuya didn’t either, partly out of habit, partly because the air between the two of you didn’t demand it.

There was no tension, not really. Just a silence that had long settled into something resembling familiarity.

You sat by the window, hands clasped neatly in your lap, the city lights below flickering across the surface of his eyes.

Chuuya had dozed off at one point, head lolling against the side of the seat, fedora tipped over his eyes. It was a peaceful departure, eerily so.

The moment you landed, it was business as usual.

You moved, only speaking when confirming identities, bookings, or instructions.

Chuuya kept pace, occasionally tossing in a remark here and there when the silence dragged too long.

The taxi dropped you off in front of a humble, slightly aged hotel.

The weather had cooled, the streets quiet.

You followed behind Chuuya, both of you carrying minimal luggage, more focused on the mission than comfort.

By the time you arrived at the hotel, it was late. Not just “past curfew” late, but “every bone in your body begs for sleep” late.

Chuuya rubbed his eyes under his hat brim and approached the reception desk with you.

The woman behind the counter blinked sleepily and offered them a polite smile.

He stepped up to the front desk, giving his name, and glanced back at you with an expectant look.

You stood silently, gaze blank as always, letting him handle it. The receptionist handed over a single key.

“One room?” Chuuya asked, raising an eyebrow.

The receptionist apologized for the inconvenience in broken Japanese.

Chuuya blinked, then stared down at the key like it had personally insulted him.

“We’ll take it,” you replied flatly. “It’s one night.”

“I—no. No, no, no. We’re two grown-ass men. There has to be another hotel—”

“There isn’t,” you said simply, already taking the key from the counter.

Chuuya hesitated like he was standing on a minefield. “This feels like one of those cheap romance novels. What next? We get one blanket too?”

You blinked. “Would you like the blanket?”

Chuuya made a noise halfway between a groan and a suppressed scream.

“Fine. Whatever,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “How bad can it be?”

Chuuya stared at the one bed, stunned, while you stepped in behind him, calmly placing your coat on the desk and starting to unpack.

“There’s only one bed,” he said, as if you hadn’t noticed.

You hummed in vague acknowledgment.

“You—seriously? This doesn’t bother you?” he asked, already stepping back toward the door. “I’ll ask if there’s anything else.”

“There’s not,” you replied simply. “I already checked the other hotels nearby. None within walking distance have vacancy.”

“This—this is absurd. What is this? Some kind of romance cliché?” Chuuya groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

You don't even need to ask, his face says everything.

You turned to him, unbothered, tilting your head slightly. “If you want, you can sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, like hell I’m sleeping on the floor.”

“Then sleep in the bed.”

“I—!!”

Silence.

You calmly walked around, making yourself comfortable and familiar with the rooms.

Chuuya glared at the innocent mattress like it was plotting against him. “This is ridiculous. Why does this feel like I’ve walked into some badly written soap opera…?”

A soap opera... Should he just be relieved that this soap opera didn't pair him up with Dazai instead?

"Ugh...just the thought of it makes me want to kill myself..." Chuuya whispered under his breath, visibly disgusted by the disturbing image popping in his head.

He decided to shower first. At least steam and hot water might drown his frustration.

You showered right after him.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, towel over your shoulders, hair still damp and clinging to your skin, Chuuya was sitting at the desk flipping through mission documents...until he wasn’t.

His eyes flicked upward. His brain stuttered.

You weren't wearing your coat or usual uniform, just a loose pants.

Your expression, as usual, remained void of care. But the water glistening down your temple, dripping down the curve of your jaw down to your neck…

Chuuya snapped his head to the side so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

'Nope. Nope. Straight. You’re straight, remember that, Chuuya. He’s just a pretty guy. A very pretty—NO.'

He slammed the folder shut, clearing his throat a bit too loudly.

“…You didn’t dry your hair,” he muttered.

You blinked at him. “It dries on its own.”

“Ever heard of a hairdryer?”

“Why would I need it?”

"Put on some clothes," as if helpless, he sighed while massaging the bridge of his nose.

"Sure."

Why does your voice have to be so deadpan? That makes it worse, somehow.

You're a man. He's a man. You're straight, he'd hope. He's definitely, doubtlessly, extremely straight.

You approached and casually took the folder from his hands, flipping through the pages with a blank expression.

Chuuya tried not to look at the water still trickling down your neck.

“Tch… This is hell,” he muttered under his breath.

You didn’t comment.

But the corner of your lips? Just a twitch. Barely visible. Almost like…

Almost like you knew.

And that was worse.

By midnight, Chuuya was on the far edge of the bed, arms crossed, back turned to you like a sulky cat.

You were laying flat on your back, eyes closed, already dead asleep.

The silence stretched.

‘It’s just one night,’ he told himself.

‘One. Night.’

Right?