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“Mission?”
“You’re good with undercover missions, are you not?” Mori asked.
Chuuya furrowed his brow at the request from the Boss.
He was never a big fan of those types of missions. Keeping in his character had never been a strong point of his. He’ll admit that.
“What is it about…?”
The Boss spun the scalpel in his hand, “We’re just looking for information about the one hosting this party. All you have to do is find them and try to form a connection with them.”
“A connection…” Chuuya murmured.
He stared at the entry ticket he had been given. The fact this ticket had been written in big links and fancy writing in gold letters already made him regret taking this mission. Was there no one else available to take this?
Mori smiled and leaned against his seat. “Just get along with him and gather information. Shouldn’t be too hard, right, Chuuya-kun?”
It wasn’t like he had a choice. He bowed his head down, “Of course not. I’ll get that information for you, Boss.”
“Good. Then I’ll have Kouyou-san make sure you wear something suitable for the night.”
His eyes twitched. How could he ever forget?
No… Not this again…
He had forgotten about that step about taking undercover missions. Kouyou’s choice of clothing wasn’t Chuuya’s taste, but it wasn’t like she would agree with his fashion.
“Of course…” he mumbled back.
- - -
“This is your location, Chuuya-san.”
The redhead looked up from his phone and looked at the building staring at him back with bright lights illuminating the entire city.
He grunted.
Let’s get this over and done.
Chuuya put away his phone, “Thanks.”
He opened the door and stepped out of the car while fixing up his tie and making it looser.
The back of his mind told him to look presentable for this mission but if it meant being able to breathe and take a step to the entrance, he was loosening this tie. As much as Kouyou will scold him later for it.
“Take care, Chuuya-san,” the driver said before the car drove off and Chuuya approached the entrance of the building.
He had to keep in mind that he was here to collect information and stay in character but was immediately stopped by the person standing by the entrance.
“What is it?” Chuuya asked.
They had their hand out, waiting for something to put into their hand, “We need your registration ticket before allowing you to pass, sir.”
Chuuya grumbled and passed his ticket over.
They looked at it before looking back up at him with judging eyes, “I’m sorry but could we have your ID?” they asked.
“My ID?”
This wasn’t what the Boss fucking told me. Why do they need my ID?
“We just need to confirm your age.”
The fuck now?
He felt a vein pop on the side of his head, “Hah? I’m sorry, what?”
They remained calm and serious which annoyed Chuuya to no end. “We just need to confirm whether or not you’re a child.”
“Do I look like a child?” Chuuya asked, feeling the urge to punch this person.
“That’s why I’m asking, sir…”
Stay calm… Stay calm, Chuuya…
This is a mission after all…
“There wasn’t an age restriction. I can’t see why I’m not allowed inside even if I was a ‘child’,” he responded, hating every minute of it. How could this mission get any worse?
The guy was going to continue arguing but the crowd building up behind Chuuya wasn’t doing them any justice. There were an abundant amount of complaints from behind the executive.
“What’s the holdup!?”
“We’re freezing here!”
Some had yelled. Chuuya stood there with a raised brow waiting for the guy to say something back to him. In the end, they gave up and stepped to the side, allowing Chuuya to go past him.
“Fine. Go inside.”
That’s what I fucking thought.
Chuuya stepped inside the building, after what felt like hours, there was nothing out of the ordinary other than that interaction at the front but he’ll let it slide. He shouldn’t have much problem, everyone seemed to be approachable.
Now, where’s that host…?
He looked around but no one in the picture looked like him.
“Would you like a glass?” A person with a tray of glasses of champagne was offered.
“Sure. Thanks.” The redhead took a glass and took a sip as he watched them go away.
At least that guy is decent enough.
He stood on the side, trying to not attract too much attention. The last thing he wanted was to blow his cover because of these snobby assholes.
I could go for some wine…
But he shouldn’t be drunk on a mission.
He wouldn’t know what the consequences of his actions would be if he were to.
Taking another look around, he gave up and waited and found his way to the bar set up on the other side of the big room.
He sat down by one of the free seats, “Glass of Pinot Noir please.”
The bartender nodded his head and poured him a glass, pushing the glass over to Chuuya. He took it and drank as soon as he touched it.
Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing he was drinking here. The drinks didn’t taste as bad as he thought they would be. It shouldn't be much of a surprise because all these people were rich so obviously the drinks would be good as well.
“Thanks,” and set the half-empty glass down on the table.
He tapped his finger on the table, quietly waiting for the arrival of this host.
Hasegawa Norio. Or something. Wonder why the Boss wants information about him.
“I wouldn't expect someone like yourself to be here, Nakahara Chuuya-san.”
He jumped, breaking out of his thoughts. The feeling of every bone in his body suddenly went all stiff. He tightened the grip on his glass and turned around to the person he least expected to be here as well.
He recognised the voice.
“Didn’t know you were into little parties either, Dostoyevsky,” Chuuya said, followed by a glare.
Fyodor Dostoyevsky, all dressed and suited up as well. A little odd seeing him dressed so nicely compared to his usual attire.
“There’s no need to be so cold, Nakahara-san. I’m not planning to do anything,” he replied with a smile
He sharpened his glare, not trusting this guy one bit at all, “That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard.”
“But I’m not.”
“Then why the fuck are you here?”
“Could coming on my own accord be a good enough reason?” Fyodor asked, taking a step towards him.
Chuuya rolled his eyes. “Are you going to keep lying?”
“No, but your reactions are quite assuming that's all.”
He shot another glare at Fyodor. He had barely talked to him before but he already pissed him off.
This rat bastard…
He sat up from his seat, losing the appetite to drink anything and began to walk away from him.
“Leaving so soon?”
Chuuya stopped his tracks and looked back to Fyodor who just stood there with the same smile on his face.
“That’s none of your business.”
“I thought you were here to fulfil your mission?”
He gritted his teeth, does he know everything or something?
“That’s none of your business.”
Fyodor hummed, “Hm. Well, will you be interested in receiving the information from me instead? Hasegawa-san won’t be coming tonight.”
Chuuya stared at him. The smile on his face was unreadable.
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
That smile turned into a condensing smirk, “Have I piqued your interest, Nakahara-san?”
Chuuya stepped closer to the Russian but still a fair distance away from him.
“What do you mean he won’t be here today?”
“As I have said, he won’t be coming.”
Chuuya grabbed onto the collar of Fyodor’s black suit, their faces only a few centimetres away from each other. “Don’t pull off this bullshit answer. What the hell did you do to him?”
“Why do you think I would do something, Nakahara-san?” Fyodor asked.
As if Fyodor was ever innocent. Chuuya could care less about the whispering coming from behind and their eyes watching them.
He tightened his grasp around Fyodor’s suit jacket.
“Don’t act so innocent, you did something to him, didn’t you? You knew I was coming here. You knew we were after him.”
Fyodor shrugged his shoulders, “Even so, you are concluding that I did something to him. And I haven’t.”
Chuuya loosened his grip and shoved Fyodor back, his hand falling down his side, “Then why are you here?”
“I think you can answer that question for yourself, Chuuya-san. I have told you after all.”
“What? Do you expect me to believe that you came here on your own accord and wanted to offer me information about the host?”
Fyodor’s smile became softer, “Correct.”
“How do I know the information isn’t fake and you’re just making this all up?”
“I don’t plan on giving it out for free.”
Of fucking course. Chuuya brushed past Fyodor, feeling the need to drink again.
He sat back in his seat and ordered another glass of wine.
This time, Fyodor sat down on the seat beside him, “Ah, you like wine as well, Chuuya-san?” He asked.
Chuuya balled his hands into fists. Why the hell did he have to find him out of all people?
“How much are you asking?”
He glanced over to Chuuya, “What?”
“Stop acting like a piece of shit. How much are you asking for that information?” The corner of the dark-haired man’s lips lifted up as he asked him.
He propped his cheek on his hand while staring into Chuuya’s blue eyes.
“Oh? You’re assuming I want money?”
He frowned, “What do you want then?”
“I don’t want your money, a dance is all I ask for.”
His face distorted in disgust, “Are you hearing yourself right now?”
“I know what I said. A simple dance with you couldn't be too much to ask for, right, Chuuya-san?”
“You’re funny.”
His lips against the rim of the glass and took another sip. He placed his glass on the counter, “You seriously think I’m going to fall for that?”
Fyodor took Chuuya’s glass and finished the rest of the wine.
“Take it how you will. I told you everything that needed to be said,” he placed the empty glass back on the table and stood up. “The offer is still on, you can find me on the second floor if you want it.”
“Oi!” Chuuya shouted but the Russian continued to disappear further into the distance.
He ran a hand down his hair and groaned.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
It was possible to gather information about Hasegawa from the people around the room if he didn’t create a commotion with Fyodor.
So much for not screwing this up.
Fyodor had trapped him in his mouse trap. It was his intention the whole time. He couldn’t leave empty-handed.
That fucking manipulator.
Chuuya grunted.
Getting out of his seat, he strode to the staircase leading to the second floor. Minus the stares he still got and the whispering from the other people in the room.
- - -
“Where the hell is he?”
He scanned around the second floor to find the main reason why he was there. He was nowhere to be seen on the second floor like he said he would be.
Lying piece of shit.
Chuuya noticed a balcony further into the room with a few people situated there. The golden curtains gently following the wind from outside were almost telling him to go over there.
If he isn’t there, I’m gonna blow up this building and kill him the next time I see him.
As he stepped onto the balcony, he caught something from the side of his eyes. A familiar man was standing by the corner at a small table with a plate of food and a glass of wine.
Found you.
Chuuya found none other than the rat himself.
He was too busy gazing into the distance at the night sky and the full moon beaming down on him. The expression on his face seemed much more relaxed and less of the person that the redhead remembered being.
He stood by him and caught Fyodor’s attention. He looked down, his face changing once he laid eyes on him. “Ah, so you finally decide to come.”
Chuuya put his gloved hands into his pockets and rested his eyes, “You didn’t give me much of an option.”
Fyodor pushed the dish closer to him, offering it to him.
“Help yourself. I ordered it for you.”
“How considerate of you…” he muttered under his breath but still took the fork.
He stabbed the fork into a tomato slice and quietly chewed and swallowed it. He repeated it a few times until he realised Fyodor had been watching him the entire time.
“Mind telling me the real reason as to why you’re here?”
He heard him let out a low chuckle.
“Still on about that?”
Chuuya pierced his fork into his next bite. “Nothing else better to talk about. What? You want me to ask you if the moon’s beautiful tonight?” He asked with no real care about what he said.
“Is that supposed to be a confession, Chuuya-san?”
His cheeks suddenly began to burn, widening his eyes and flushed red.
“FUCK NO!”
This time, disrupted the atmosphere on the balcony as well.
Who the hell would confess to you?!
Fyodor waved his hand dismissively at the staring and laughed at Chuuya’s reaction, “I apologise, Chuuya-san. I didn’t mean to make you embarrassed.”
“Who’s embarrassed?!” Chuuya shoved the next bite into his mouth, avoiding meeting his eyes.
“Do you like it?” Fyodor asked, breaking their small silence between them.
“You wanna try it?”
“No.”
He handed him the fork, “You've been staring at me eating it, have some.”
“There’s only one fork—”
“And drinking out of my wine downstairs is different?” Chuuya asked back, crossing his arms, knowing full well he had made a good point.
Fyodor didn’t say anything else and grabbed the fork off him, trying a bit of it.
“Like it?”
“It’s okay.”
Chuuya leaned against the balcony parapet and looked at Yokohama from above. Not like it was an uncommon view. He had seen the city like this, if not higher, pretty regularly.
Some sounds were coming from the main room, people were gathering in the room, and the balcony became more deserted.
“What’s happening?”
Fyodor looked over for Chuuya, who was too busy staring at the view, “Ah, it looks like the dance is about to begin.”
The redhead flinched.
Oh shit, I completely forgot about that.
“Yeah, on second thought, I don’t want to dance—”
He felt a tug on his sleeve as Fyodor pulled him towards the main room.
“O—OI!!! I never agreed to this, Dostoyevsky!”
Fyodor grinned, taking one of his hands, “You still came to meet up with me. That’s enough to tell me that you’re agreeing to my terms, Chuuya-san.”
“This isn’t a good idea—we’re literally two men. People are gonna—”
“I don’t see why that should concern them,” Fyodor held his hand gently while his other hand rested on his waist.
He leaned closer to his ear and softly whispered, “Relax, Chuuya-san.”
This wasn’t something he wanted to sign up for, but thankfully nobody in the Port Mafia would know of this happening.
The music began to play.
If it wasn’t awkward enough, Chuuya dancing with Fyodor and the amount of staring that came with it was extremely awkward.
Blowing up this building isn't too bad… He said inwardly with a vein popping on the side of his forehead.
Fyodor noticed Chuuya’s grasp on his hand twitched a little. “Everything alright, Chuuya-san?”
Somehow, he was the only one who didn’t notice the staring and awkwardness in the room.
How the hell does he not see this?
“I don’t know. Why don’t you take a look for yourself?”
His purple eyes glanced around the room. Chuuya couldn’t tell what he did, but somehow that made the staring go away, and the conversations and noises started.
“I wonder if I should do something about it,” Fyodor mumbled to himself.
He closed his eyes for a bit, “If you’re thinking of killing them all then no.”
“You know me so well, Chuuya-san.”
He ignored his comment and instead matched his stepping pattern.
“I still don’t get why you wanted a dance as a form of payment. Don’t you think money would’ve been a better choice?”
“I’m not interested in money.”
“And a stupid dance is?”
Chuuya saw how Fyodor’s lips perked slightly and he already knew he shouldn’t have asked that.
As he thought, the Russian’s hand around his waist pulled him closer.
“Why would I be if I’m interested in you, Chuuya-san?”
He stared at him for a few seconds, trying to process those words through his head. He tightened his grip on Fyodor’s shoulder as he winced in pain.
An apparent blush was across his cheeks, looking away from Fyodor, “Let’s get this over and done with. You better give the information or I’m killing you.”
He only smiled back and squeezed Chuuya’s hand.
“I never go against my word.”
Another lie.
Chuuya never understood Fyodor. (Probably best if he didn’t at all.)
What was the point of going through all of this?
The Boss would have informed him that the host wasn’t going to show up. Unless Fyodor killed him or something but—
Losing his concentration, his foot accidentally crashed onto Fyodor’s and sent him going backwards. “Shit—!”
Fyodor leaned forward, pulling Chuuya forward with his hand around his waist. He frowned, “Overthinking things again, Chuuya-san?”
Would he stop calling me that?
It’s beginning to piss me off.
He didn’t realise how close their faces were but it certainly forced him to push the other back and away from his face.
“It doesn’t concern you.”
And to that, Fyodor stopped talking to him for the rest of the dance but exchanged looks once and a while and both, even if Chuuya hated to admit it, enjoyed it.
- - -
They stood outside on the balcony, where most people had begun to leave due to the time but they were still there. Chuuya waited for Fyodor to get out the information after doing that stupid dance with him.
“Chuuya-san, I’m here now,” his driver said on the phone.
“Yeah. I’ll be there soon. I’m just finishing things off here,” Chuuya replied and ended the call with the driver before looking back at Fyodor.
Fyodor passed a brown folder to him, “As I promised.”
Chuuya snatched the folder out of his hands, all of that just for Hasegawa Nori or whatever information. He unwrapped the string, sealing the folder and flickered through the pages.
Seems legit .
He sealed the folder again, “Thanks I guess.”
“My pleasure,” Fyodor said.
“I’ll be going off now, my driver is waiting for me,” he pointed behind him with his thumb to the exit, “thanks again for the information.”
That I have yet to figure out why you would give it to me.
“Why would we have a toast before we part ways?” Fyodor asked, already pouring out wine into two glasses, that Chuuya only remembered him having one of them.
“A toast to what? For you to die soon?”
Chuuya took the glass of wine that he had passed over to him anyway.
“You do have quite the humour, don’t you, dorogoy?”
He glared at him, “The hell did you just call me?”
“Nothing important,” he smiled back.
“What are we toasting to?”
Fyodor raised his glass, “A toast to the Port Mafia and the Rats in the House of the Dead.”
“Seriously?” Chuuya questioned, “that’s the best you can come up with?”
Fyodor only smiled back, “It benefits the both of us, does it not?”
He did make a fair point but it was a stupid reason for a toast.
Chuuya sighed and raised his glass over to Fyodor’s glass.
“Whatever. A toast to us.”
The red wine swirled inside their glasses as they hit against each other.