065

A/N: Catching a serious cold and sleeping for 15+ hours a day was not part of my plan but hey, I skipped two days of school because of it😃

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I hated the way the chandeliers above us flicker sometimes, like they're hesitating to stay lit.

The dining room reserved for executives and higher ups was too quiet tonight, just the soft clink of utensils and the heavy scent of aged wine hovering in the air.

It should feel regal, dignified — a private sanctuary for those of us who’ve clawed our way up the Port Mafia ranks. Instead, it feels like a coffin lined with velvet and gold.

I don’t usually get to sit in here — not technically, anyway. I’m not an executive.

However, my rank is high enough, and after earning the nickname "Soukoku" along with that bastard Dazai and my fight record, I’ve earned some leeway.

Still, even after all these years, I can’t shake the feeling of being an intruder when I sit under that oppressive glow.

Tonight, though, that unease isn’t what’s making my skin itch. No. It’s the man sitting next to me.

L/N Y/N.

He’s close. Too close. His arm almost brushed mine every time I shift.

I could feel his eyes on me, studying me like I’m some puzzle he wanted to peel open piece by piece.

I wanted to snap at him. Tell him to back off, to give me space. But every time I try to gather the words, that image flashes behind my eyelids.

His tears.

I don’t know what the hell I saw that night on the rooftop.

I thought he was just going to leap — no, I knew he was. The way his body tilted over the edge, chasing that stupid pendant like it was his last lifeline.

Then, when I pulled him back…

Tears.

I’d never seen someone cry like that. Like the tears weren’t even his, like they belonged to someone else and he was just borrowing them for a moment.

I keep telling myself it wasn’t real. That with him, nothing ever is. But the way he looked at me…

Shit.

I shifted again in my seat, fingers drumming on the edge of the table. The sound echoed, hollow and sharp.

He leaned a little closer, enough that his hair brushed mine. I stiffened immediately.

“Chuuya,” he said softly, voice smooth and strangely melodic. Too smooth.

I didn't look at him. “What?”

His fingers curled around the edge of his wine glass, but he doesn’t drink.

Instead, he just stared at the red liquid, eyes wide and gleaming. Like a kid watching an insect under a magnifying glass.

“I enjoy this,” he murmured. “Being here with you.”

I almost choked on my breath. “What the hell are you talking about? You don’t even drink.”

He tilted his head, slow, deliberate — a gesture that reminded me of a stray dog eying a hand it isn’t sure will pet or strike.

“Mm… But it’s warm here,” he said. His lips pulled into a small smile.

It’s too soft, too rehearsed. The corners didn’t crinkle, his eyes stayed empty, black as tar.

I swallowed, my throat tight. “You… You sure you’re okay?”

A beat of silence. Then he turned that empty gaze on me fully, as if studying my reaction.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

I didn’t have an answer. I just grunted and looked away, shoving a piece of pastry into my mouth more aggressively than necessary.

It’s been days like this.

Days of him glued to my side like a damn shadow.

He had followed me into meetings, joined me on patrols, even sat in on training sessions with the lower members. Each time, he’s right there, watching. Hovering.

And the worst part?

I haven’t pushed him away.

I kept telling myself it’s because I didn’t want to cause a scene. That I respect him too much — he’s still my superior, after all.

But there’s a part of me, a small traitorous part, that feels… flattered.

Dammit.

Even Ane-san noticed.

When he joined us for tea the other day, she just looked at me, her eyes tired and resigned. Like she’d given up trying to warn me.

I remember her sigh, the delicate way she lifted her cup to her lips as though it were all too much trouble.

“You’ve always had a soft spot for strays, Chuuya,” she’d said, her voice gentle but sharp as a blade beneath silk.

I didn’t have an answer then either.

Now, in the dining room, the silence stretched again. He shifted closer, and I feel the warmth of his sleeve against mine. Too real, too close.

“Chuuya,” he repeated, softer this time.

I sighed, setting my glass down with a clack. “Spit it out already.”

He hesitated. That in itself is strange enough to make me turn and really look at him.

His fingers flexed against the table, knuckles turning pale.

Then, as though performing for an invisible audience, he leaned forward slightly. His eyes bored into mine, unblinking.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

My breath caught. “What…? What the hell for?”

His lips moved again, forming that same fragile, delicate smile. The one that never reached his eyes.

“For catching me,” he said. “That night.”

I felt my ears heat up immediately, and I snapped my gaze away, teeth grinding. “Tch. Don’t mention that. You almost gave me a damn heart attack.”

He tilts his head again, that same dog like motion. “But I meant it.”

A pause. Then, softer: “Truly.”

The word slide across my skin like a blade. I don’t know why. Maybe because I wanted it to be real so badly, it made my chest hurt.

I glanced at him again, searching his face for some sign of sincerity. But there’s nothing there. Just that hollow, bottomless stare.

It’s been like this for days.

I told myself he’s acting. That it’s another one of his games. But even so… I can’t help but notice the tiny cracks.

The way his smile sometimes wavers for a second too long. The way his fingers twitch against his glass like he’s holding something back. The faint tremor in his voice when he says my name.

I should push him away. Should tell him to leave me alone, that I’m not some experiment he can prod at his leisure.

But I didn't.

Instead, I leaned back in my chair, letting out a slow exhale.

“You’re weird, you know that?” I muttered.

His head tilted again. “Am I?”

“Yeah,” I scoffed, forcing a smirk. “You’re the weirdest bastard I’ve ever met.”

His lips twitched at that. Not a smile. Not really. But something.

I watched him for a moment longer, the tension buzzing under my skin like a live wire. Then I reached for my wine again, downing half the glass in one gulp.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him shift, his eyes tracking the movement of my throat as I swallow.

There’s something hungry in that stare, but not the kind I know. Not desire. Not even affection.

It’s curiosity. Cold and sharp as a dissecting scalpel.

I shivered, setting the glass down again with more force than necessary.

“Stop staring,” I snapped.

He blinked once, slowly, then looked away. But I can tell he isn’t really looking at the room. He’s still watching me, just from a different angle now.

Silence settled again, thick and suffocating.

I thought about that night.

The way his tears fell so silently, the way he looked so… small. Like a kid left out in the rain. It messed with me more than I want to admit.

I remember the feel of his shirt clenched in my fists, the way his weight dragged against me as I pulled him back from the edge. The warmth of his tears on my fingers.

“Why the hell did you cry…?” I muttered under my breath, not meaning for him to hear.

But he did.

His head snapped toward me, those black eyes wide, unblinking. “Cry?” he echoed, like he doesn’t understand the word.

I swallowed hard. “That night. You… You were crying.”

A pause. Then he tilted his head again, slower this time. “Oh,” he said softly. “That.”

He lifted his hand, staring at his fingers as though expecting to see tears there still. Then he curled them into a loose fist and lets it drop to the table.

“It was… interesting,” he murmured.

I felt my entire body go rigid. “Interesting?!”

His eyes snapped to mine again, that empty void swallowing me whole. “Yes,” he said simply. “I wanted to see… if I could feel something.”

My chest tightened painfully. “You… You don’t feel anything at all?”

He considered this, tapping a finger against the table in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he shook his head.

“No,” he whispered.

I stared at him, my mouth dry as sandpaper.

The words clawed at my throat, but they wouldn’t come out. I didn’t even know what I want to say.

I should stand up. I should leave. But my legs was rooted to the ground, heavy as lead.

Ane-san’s voice echoed in my mind again.

“You’ve always had a soft spot for strays.”

Damn it.

I looked at him again, really looked.

The delicate lines of his face, the way his hair falls over his eyes, the small, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips as he watched me.

It’s like he’s recording every movement, every breath, every flicker of emotion.

And despite everything — the emptiness, the cruelty, the cold curiosity — there’s something in me that refuse to leave him alone.

I opened my mouth, but before I can say anything, the doors slammed open.

“Chuuyaaaa~! Ah, there you are! And… oh? L/N-san's here too!”

I whipped around, my eyes narrowing instantly. “Dazai… what the hell do you want?”

Dazai strolled in, all lazy swagger and that insufferable smirk. But as his gaze slides over to L/N-san, I saw something flicker. Something dark and sharp beneath the childish gleam.

“Oh? You two having a little date? How cute~” He laughed, high and bright, but it didn't reach his eyes.

I felt L/N-san shift beside me. Not closer. Not away. Just… shift. Like a predator adjusting its weight.

Dazai’s eyes locked onto him, and for a moment, the room felt like it’s going to snap in half.

Now that I think about it… I haven’t seen them together since that night. Since he cried.

Something twisted in my gut.

Dazai’s grin widened, but his eyes were as cold as midwinter water. “My, my… Chuuya, you sure are popular these days. First Ane-san, and now L/N-san? Should I feel jealous?”

I snorted, rolling my eyes. “Jealous? Of what? We were just—”

“Just what?” Dazai interrupted, his tone sweet but his gaze razor sharp.

He took a step closer, his bandaged hand lifting to tap his chin thoughtfully.

I glared at him, about to retort, but then I caught L/N-san expression out of the corner of my eye.

He’s smiling. But it’s wrong. The curve of his lips was perfect, delicate, almost gentle — but his eyes were voids. Deep, endless, unfeeling.

Dazai noticed it too. I can tell by the way his fingers twitched at his side, the way his smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before snapping back into place.

“Ohhh… You really are serious about him, huh, L/N-san?” Dazai hummed, tilting his head like a curious crow.

The hell's that supposed to mean?

L/N-san didn't answer. He just continued to watch. Silent. Patient. Waiting.

Dazai’s grin sharpened further, and I felt the temperature in the room plummet.

I didn't know what the hell is going on between them. But I know one thing — whatever it is, it isn’t good.

I swallowed, my fists clenching beneath the table. Something in me was screaming to run. To drag L/N-san out of here, or maybe to push them both into the ocean and let them tear each other apart away from me.

But I didn't move.

I couldn't.

Dazai leaned in closer, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Chuuya… do you know what you’re getting into?”

I opened my mouth to snap back, but the words died in my throat when I saw the look in his eyes.

A sharp, possessive gleam. Like a child clutching a broken toy, unwilling to let anyone else even touch it.

I felt a cold sweat bead at the back of my neck.

L/N-san didn't move. Didn't flinch. He just watched Dazai with that same empty, dissecting gaze.

This is bad.

Really bad.

I don’t know why, but I can feel it in my bones.

Dazai is planning something. Something petty. Something cruel.

Just because his precious mentor chose to cling to me instead of him.

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to keep breathing evenly.

Beside me, L/N-san shifted again, leaning just slightly closer.

His fingers brushed the edge of my sleeve, a gentle, ghostlike touch that made me want to shiver.

I didn't pull away.

I didn't know why.

Dazai’s smirk widened one last time, his eyes glittering with vicious amusement.

“Well… This should be fun,” he purred.

My stomach twisted.

Yeah.

I have a really bad feeling about this.