Chapter Text
The sun had long since dipped below the Yokohama skyline, casting a warm, honey-gold glow over the office. Most of the others had gone home, but Atsushi still sat, hunched over at his desk, his fingers idly drumming on the hardwood as he stared blankly at the screen in front of him. The room was quiet except for the occasional breeze drifting in from the window, which rustled the papers.
He should have been working. But his eyes kept drifting to the window. To the city. To couples passing on the street below, hands linked, heads tilted together in conversation, close in that effortless way Atsushi had never really understood.
He’d never been on a date. Never kissed anyone. And God, he wanted to. That kind of thing wasn’t accepted at the orphanage, and even if it was, no one there would have wanted to kiss him anyway.
And then there was sex, which was something he hadn’t even realized existed until a few weeks ago when his ignorance on the subject had invoked Kunika’s wrath. Or rather, triggered the retired teacher to teach again. That had been an awkward afternoon, made worse by Dazai’s constant teasing. But still, he had to admit he was curious to experience that too.
More than anything, Atsushi just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Relationships were considered an end game. A requirement to meet if you wanted to live a fulfilled and happy life. And Atsushi loved living, so he wanted to live his life the way he was supposed to. He wanted to have a proper life with a girlfriend, maybe even a boyfriend, who he could devote himself to. Who, in turn would truly see him and accept him as he wanted to be seen. And maybe one day, he would find that precious, oh-so-rare, unconditional love. Maybe he’d find someone who would choose him.
“Someone’s got their head in the clouds. Slacking off Atsushi-kun? That’s not like you at all.” Atsushi jumped, letting out an undignified noise as Dazai suddenly appeared behind him, draping himself over the back of his chair like a lazy cat.
“Dazai-san!” he sputtered. “Don’t sneak up on people!” Dazai ignored him. His eyes narrowed, examining Atsushi’s expression like he was trying to solve a particularly juicy mystery. “You’ve been brooding for the past forty-five minutes.”
“I’m not brooding,” Atsushi muttered.
“Are you lonely?” Dazai asked with a faux gasp and a hand to his chest. “Is my sweet little kohai finally reaching the age where he wants to be romanced?” Atsushi turned away, hoping to hide the flush spreading across his cheeks.
“Maybe...” Dazai’s eyes gleamed.
“Oh. Oh. Don’t tell me my tiger is ready to mate. Don’t worry, Atsushi-kun. As your sempai, I’m here to take care of you my adorable mentee. I’ll find you a cute girl in no time at all. Then you can get your dick wet and be back to your normal diligent self. Can’t have you neglecting my paperwork forever, can we?” Dazai teased, making Atsushi sputter his eyes wide as saucers at his mentor's crude words.
“Dazai-san, that’s disgusting. And it’s not like that. I’m not all that interested in sex. Ummmm… well, I’m not opposed, but I want my first time to be special. I want it to be with someone I love,” He paused, feeling his face flush. “And I’m not exactly sure if I’m interested in girls or boys?” He muttered, hoping Dazai didn’t hear. But based on his shit-eating grin and glimmering chocolate eyes, it was apparent his mentor had.
“Oh, so you're looking for true love, eh? My protege so sweet and naive!” Dazai cooed as he teasingly grabbed Atsuushi’s cheeks and pulled. “But, I understand you want to date, maybe explore what gets you going.” Dazai released his cheeks, leaving Atsushi to rub his sore flesh, and nabbed Atsushi’s phone right out of his front pocket. “This is perfect. You’ve come to exactly the right person. I’ll find someone who will love you the right way!”
“Wait, what are you doing?” Atsushi yelled, squirming, as he tried to grab back his phone. “ I didn’t ask for your help.” Dazai promptly ignored him, holding his phone out of range before sitting beside him, cross-legged on the desk now, furiously typing.
“We’re making you a dating profile.”
“No! Absolutely not,”
“You said you wanted to explore your sexuality,” Dazai said with the casual air of someone discussing some mundane matter, as if he wasn’t putting Atsushi out on the internet to be humiliated. “And unless you plan to ask Kunikida out, which, by the way, I fully support for chaos purposes, you’re going to need a way to meet people. You adorable, clueless, shut in. Plus you have zero social life.”
“That’s exactly why this is a terrible idea!”
“Too late!” Dazai declared triumphantly. “I already created your profile. Though you should have me approve anyone before moving forward. I need to make sure they’re good enough for you.” Atsushi groaned and dropped his face into his hands.
“Please take this seriously–” Dazai tilted his head. And for a second, just a second, his expression softened into something almost like longing. But within a millisecond he was back to cackling like a maniac his fingers flying over Atsushi’s phone screen. The younger man, too stunned to resist, watched as Dazai uploaded a blurry selfie of him petting a stray kitten and captioned it: “Soft-spoken literature lover. I like coffee, long walks, and not dying. Looking for someone well dressed.”
“I am taking it seriously,” he said more quietly, light from the phone screen reflecting off his dark eyes as he continued to work. “You deserve to be seen, Atsushi-kun. To be wanted. And if the only thing standing in your way is a little swiping, well…” He held out the phone. Atsushi took it with trembling fingers.
“Maybe just a peek.” Somehow, defying logic, reason, and several laws of personal privacy, his mentor had made a full dating profile for him. Complete with a disgustingly detailed bio, a list of "Fun Facts" that were suspiciously roast-like, and a shocking array of candid photos.
Atsushi froze, his thumb hovering above the screen in horror, as his gaze landed on a photo of himself cozied up on his futon, drooling profusely onto his pillow like a knocked-out toddler. He looked up, betrayal burning in his chest. Dazai merely huffed a laugh, utterly unrepentant.
“You’re adorable when you’re asleep. Like a wittle kitty, you even purrr! Did you know that Atsushi-kun? You make the cutest little noises when you think no one’s watching.” Atsushi wanted to yell. Wanted to demand how, and more importantly, why, the older man had taken a picture of him sleeping, but before he could summon the words, he swiped to the next image. And immediately lost it.
"REMOVE IT!" he barked, voice cracking in a desperate whine.
“What!?” Dazai gasped, throwing his hands up dramatically. “There’s nothing wrong with a tasteful nude! Your pretty naughty bits aren’t even in frame!”
“T-Tasteful?!?” Atsushi screeched, mortification making his entire body vibrate like a washing machine mid-spin. “When did you even take this?!” Somehow Dazai had taken a photo of Atsushi buck-naked posing, god he was going to die of embarrassment, in front of the bathroom mirror.
“I plead the Fifth,” Dazai said smoothly, shrugging. Atsushi blinked.
“What does that even mean?! We’re in Japan!”
“Oh, right.” Dazai grinned. “Well then, I plead, 'None of your business~'” Atsushi wanted to die. Right there. Preferably in a way that would also kill Dazai by proximity.
“Oh, whatever," Atsushi groaned, massaging his temples. "Just remove it. And stop, I don’t know, taking pictures of me. It’s creepy!” He did not need to know that his mentor, and a kind of idol, was sneakily photographing him. It was gross and stalkery, and Atsushi was going to forcefully purge this revelation from his memories to save himself some dignity.
Miraculously, Dazai had the decency to look mildly sheepish as he took back Atsushi’s phone and deleted the scandalous photo, replacing it with a much safer, if not still humiliating, picture from a coffee outing. Atsushi remembered that day: he’d gotten a latte with extra whipped cream, which had promptly given him a mustache. Apparently, Dazai had snapped a photo without him noticing again, but honestly, compared to the literal nudes, the whipped cream disaster was preferable.
So he’d let it slide… for now.
He scrolled through the rest of the profile, heart pounding, expecting more horrors, but, shockingly, it wasn’t terrible . It mentioned his work ethic, his " adorable vulnerability? " and his " secretly shredded body??! ” in a way that sounded almost flattering.
It even listed that he was looking for “serious long-term connections, potentially a life partnership,” which Atsushi didn’t fully understand but vaguely agreed with. He definitely wanted someone who wouldn’t abandon him. Also, Dazai had, with surprising insight, set his sexual preference to All, which felt weirdly affirming.
Maybe he was just too stunned to argue anymore.
“Well, Atsushi,” Dazai chirped, clapping him on the back so hard he nearly fell over, “have fun, use protection, and don’t worry, I may or may not stalk you if you decide to go on any dates~” He lilted, before literally skipping out of the office, singing about death via Panera lemonade, leaving Atsushi slumped over the desk, face buried in his arms, groaning miserably.
A few days later…
Atsushi sat on his futon, the lights dimmed, wrapped in a blanket like some sort of shield against the world, phone glowing in his hand as he hesitantly scrolled through profile after profile.
Dazai had given him some “tips.” None of them were helpful. “Swipe right on people who look like they have good insurance,” was one. “Swipe left if their bio mentions astrology or cryptocurrency.”
Atsushi wasn’t sure why he was still on the dating app. He hadn’t really done anything with it. There had been some weird matches and strange messages, one from a guy who insisted on discussing conspiracy theories about the moon landing and another from someone whose bio simply read, “I like pussy.” He had messaged that person to say he also liked cats, only to get laughed at and then ghosted.
Still, after three days and one disastrous date with a guy who claimed to be a “professional mind-reader,” Atsushi was ready to give up.
Until he saw him.
Nakahara Chuuya, 22
5’3” but I can and will carry you. Red wine enthusiast.
Likes: Jazz, slow dancing, dogs, hats, motorcycles, and people who can keep up in an argument.
Wants: A partner to share a bottle with while stargazing, someone soft, strong, and honest.
Dealbreaker: Liars.
Bonus if you love animals and want kids someday.
Atsushi blinked. Then read it again.
Something warm flickered in his chest. Maybe it was the honesty in the bio. Maybe it was the slight smirk in the man’s profile picture: tilted hat, sharp blue eyes, strawberry-blond hair catching the sun like fire. He had that confident, self-assured look that Atsushi forgot to breathe. He had a magnetic quality that made his brain nearly short-circuit, just from the picture.
“Someone soft, strong, and honest,” he murmured aloud, thumb hovering uncertainly over the screen.
He hesitated.
Was this guy out of his league? He looked like the type who owned nice suits and expensive cologne and ate at Michelin-star restaurants. Atsushi didn’t even own more than two shirts. He quite literally had no formal education and learned that he barely passed as literate.
Not to mention how ugly he was. Eyes too wide apart and that were freaky and multicolored, not even exotic, just unnatural, skin too pale and with bad texture, and hair that bordered on the edge of looking like spoiled milk. There was no way someone like Chuuya would ever be interested in him.
And yet… there was something calling him. Maybe it was that last line.
Want kids someday.
Atsushi couldn’t explain why that made his chest ache. Maybe because it meant Chuuya wanted a future—a lasting real relationship. And Atsushi, despite all the trauma, the scars, the self-doubt, wanted that too.
He took a breath. And swiped right.
Nakahara Chuuya did not need a dating app.
He had charm. He had style. He had, objectively, a jawline that could cut glass. Women and men thirsted after him like flies to honey. He could dance, flirt, and kick ass if necessary.
He had no shortage of admirers. And yet he couldn’t find a single person who would talk to him. His coworkers avoided him. And strangers were unable to comprehend that he wanted more than just a one-night stand.
In all honestly, though he would never admit it, he was pathetically lonely.
Life in the mafia was isolating and not in the sexy, cool, mysterious way people seemed to think. It was a tightrope walk over a pit of knives, a never-ending cycle of lies, power games, and political machinations. And Chuuya, for all his swagger and snark, hated that underhanded bullshit. If someone had a problem with him, they should just say it to his damn face, not whisper in corners or scheme to "put him in his place" like they were all starring in some low-budget soap opera.
He craved honesty, something open. He wanted to talk about real shit. To have someone he could talk to at 2 in the morning when his nightmares became a little too real. And maybe one day he could confide in someone else. Reveal his deepest fears, like how sometimes he felt like his life was a speeding train with no conductor and no destination. Someone who could make him laugh, for once. Who could make him smile without it feeling like a performance.
And he needed it to be permanent too. Long-term and healthy. No skeletons in the closet, no co-dependency, no abusive desperation. Basically, he wanted the exact opposite of what he’d had with Osamu.
So yeah. Maybe he’d downloaded the damn dating app in a moment of weakness. Maybe he’d even written his profile bio a little too honestly. And maybe he’d poured his heart and soul into creating an appealing profile.
He hadn’t expected much. A few matches, maybe. A short conversation that didn’t revolve around murder, mind games, or the illegal exportation of jewels. But three weeks passed, and his inbox was a barren wasteland. Not a single match.
He’d stared at the app like it had personally betrayed him. Wasn’t he attractive? Objectively speaking? He worked out, dressed well, and had a well-proportioned face. So why wasn’t anyone swiping right?
Eventually, in a rare act of humility, he brought it up to one of his subordinates, a young woman from logistics who flinched like he’d personally shot her puppy.
“I just don’t get it,” he muttered, “Do I look that unapproachable?” She hesitated. Visibly gulped.
“Sir… with all due respect... If I saw someone like you on a dating app, I wouldn’t swipe either.” That stung.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“N-not because you’re unattractive!” She renounced, hands up in front of her face like she was worried he’d grind her to dust. “You’re just, you know, really, really hot. Like, suspiciously hot. Like catfish levels of hot. If something looks that good online, it’s probably fake.” He blinked.
“So I’m... too hot?”
“And intimidating,” she mumbled. “Sir.”
Chuuya sighed, leaning forward and sipping half-heartedly at his drink. Fantastic. So he was too scary in real life and too good to be true online. Love was dead, and so was his ego.
Maybe next time he’s put on some sweatpants and a tee-shirt or something. Maybe throw in a dog for the picture. Everyone liked guys with dogs. Or maybe he’d just accept the truth: he was going to die alone, probably in an expensive suit, surrounded by enemies.
“God I’m stupid. Better just give up while I’m ahead, I’m never gonna find love, least of all on a stupid dating app.” He opened up his phone, his heart heavy with disappointment, and moved over to the app, preparing to delete it.
Then his phone pinged.
You’ve got a match!
Chuuya’s lips peeled in surprise, and he inhaled sharply, trying to steady his racing heart as he picked up his phone and tapped the notification.
The profile picture that appeared stopped him cold. A boy, no, a man, probably early twenties smiled nervously at the camera. His hair was messy, white-gray, and a little too long on one side, as if he didn’t know what to do with it. His eyes, though–
They were ridiculous.
Soft lavender, rimmed with gold-like amethysts kissed by sunlight. Wide, uncertain. Like he wasn’t used to being looked at. Like he was always bracing for something bad, but hoping, just maybe, that this time would be different.
Username: Nakajima Atsushi
Bio: Hi. I like cats. And helping people. I’m new to dating, so I’m just looking to meet someone kind. Someone who won’t mind that I’m still figuring things out.
Chuuya didn’t realize he was smiling until his cheeks started to ache.
“Well, shit,” Chuuya muttered, staring at the screen like it had just slapped him. Against his better judgment, his thumbs were already moving, tapping out a message before his brain could catch up.
Chuuya: Well, well, looks like we matched. I’m Chuuya, and I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that.
He froze, blinking in horror.
“Why the fuck did I type that?!” he hissed to himself, dragging a hand down his face. Now Nakajima was going to think he was some creepy, kinky weirdo– which he was, but that wasn’t how he wanted to make his first impression on this stupidly cute young man.
His phone pinged with a reply.
Atsushi: Uh… Hi. I’m Atsushi. I guess I’m just trying to figure all of this out. You seem like you know what you want.
Chuuya’s lips quirked despite himself. In reality, he was flying blind. But Nakajima was his first match, and something about him made Chuuya want to get it right.
Chuuya: You could say that. I guess it's more like I know what I don’t want.
There was a short pause before another reply came through.
Atsushi: And what is it that you don’t want? Chuuya’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. His mind flashed, uninvited, to Dazai, to all the lies, the games, the way he always felt like something to be used and tossed aside. That version of love had nearly ruined him. He wasn’t doing that again.
Chuuya: I want to be treated like a person. No mind games. I just want open and honest all the time.
Atsushi:I feel the same. So let me start out by being honest and saying I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m so so nervous. I never in a million years would’ve imagined a guy like you wouldn’t even spare me a second glance. You’re like a 10, and I’m barely a three.
Chuuya blinked, cheeks coloring. Was this guy serious?
He quickly scrolled through Atsushi’s profile photos again. Soft hair, big earnest eyes, a nervous smile, adorable. No way this guy didn’t know how cute he was. Or maybe he just had terrible self-esteem, which wouldn’t fly with Chuuya. No boyfriend of his would ever be allowed to degrade himself. He would spoil Atsushi rotten and praise him profusely until he never forgot how precious and gorgeous he was.
Chuuya nearly spit out his drink, face flaming, now he was getting ahead of himself.
Chuuya: What are you talking about? You’re so cute it’s criminal! I’m the one who's lucky you swiped on me. But anyway, I’m a pretty chill guy, so we can take things slow. If you're interested in trying things out between us.
A few seconds passed.
Atsushi: That’s a relief.
And just like that, something clicked.
They didn’t dive into soul-baring territory right away. That first conversation was simple, light jokes, casual questions, small flirtations. But it flowed. Effortlessly. Like they’d known each other longer than a few minutes. It wasn’t forced, it wasn’t a game, and for the first time in ages, Chuuya felt normal. Like a regular guy just talking to someone he liked.
Eventually, when the sky outside his window was full dark, he typed:
Chuuya: So, what do you say? Want to grab dinner with me? There's a lovely spot in the entertainment district. It has a fantastic menu, and the chef really knows French Cuisine.
Chuuya waited on bated breath for a response, staring at the screen for a solid few minutes before it vibrated and a message popped up
Atsushi: I’d love to.. but I don’t think that’s within my budget.
Chuuya’s lips twitched. God, this kid’s cute . The honesty, the hesitation, it only made him more endearing. However, he did appreciate Atsushi admitting his monetary limits.
Chuuya: Don’t worry about that. I’m paying my treat.
Atsushi: Please don’t it’s not fair.
Chuuya: I insist! I want to take you someplace nice. Let me spoil you a little.
Well, now, he was really getting ahead of himself. But Chuuya wasn’t one to tiptoe when something felt right, and Atsushi? He felt right.
Atsushi: If you’re certain. I can ah try to pay you back.
Chuuya: I said relax. Money’s not a big deal to me. So just tell me when you're available.
Atsushi: Does Saturday work? Around 7.
Chuuya: That’s perfect, see you then, kitten.
He hit send, tossed his phone onto the bed, and flopped down with a grin, tugging at the corners of his lips.
Maybe…maybe, he wasn’t doomed to be alone after all.