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It was New Year's Eve.
Tonight, when the clocks would strike midnight, the year would roll over, and a new Gregorian calendar would be opened.
You took a drag of your cigarette—a habit you picked up once you started dating a certain ginger. A storm that invaded your life on a beautiful, drunken night; it sounded all silly and fun at first, but then you ended up actually dating him.
Chuuya Nakahara was his name.
Dating a mafioso—not to mention an executive—was surreal, even for your shy self.
Chuuya was handsome, cool, an amazing cook, athletic, and smart. Sure, he had a hot temper and could squash anyone like a bug—you just weren't sure if that made him hotter or simply worrisome.
Not that you pitied yourself; you were simply ordinary—very ordinary in comparison.
Maybe that was what made your relationship so harmonious—a balance, if you will. The great equilibrium, or whatever.
Look at you, getting all philosophical on New Year's Eve.
You sighed, watching the opaque smoke drift and fade into the cold winter air.
As you were about to leave the wall that had tolerated your inner monologue, your "Prince Charming" presented himself before you with the shrill drift of his bike.
Chuuya leaned forward, resting his arms and chin on the handlebars, a smirk playing on his face. You knew that look very well—he had a plan.
"Hi doll~" he hummed, and his smirk grew wider.
You snorted and extinguished my cigarette into the smoke bin.
"Hi there, handsome. Got a plan for us tonight?"
"You bet!" Chuuya huffed proudly. He straightened his back and gripped the handlebars, preparing to tear away with you.
And off you two went.
During the drive, you leaned against his strong back. Chuuya loved to be a show-off with his bike and gravity powers, but he was a responsible driver with you. You trusted him enough to close your eyes and let the hum of his bike and body be your murmuring background noise. The city was just a blur of lights you didn't need to see.
All you cared about was his comforting presence.
Soon, you both arrived at your destination: the Port Mafia headquarters.
You looked up at the looming towers. Together, they looked like a crown of hell, tearing and scratching the heavens as if making themselves known to all in Yokohama.
Then you scrunched your face, feeling a bit annoyed.
"Chuuya…" you sighed, staring at him. "Don’t tell me you’re taking me to a drinking party…?"
Chuuya sputtered, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck as he fought to maintain his usual fiery composure.
"O-of course not!" he barked, though the edge was gone from his voice. "I brought you here for something else!"
"Uh-huh..." you trailed off, doubting his words but still trusting the process.
However, the moment you dismounted his bike and your feet hit the solid ground, you immediately felt the Earth fall away. You were weightless. You were too shocked to realise what had happened until a glimmer of sunset hit your eyes—Chuuya had used his gravity manipulation to lift you high into the air, far above the clouds.
You saw the cheeky smirk on his lips and weren't sure if you wanted to slap him or hug him tight.
The hug won; you clung to him for dear life, decided that you didn't want to fall to your end quite so soon.
Your action made the mafioso burst into bright laughter. You looked up at him with awe; his hair shone more beautifully than the setting sun. In that moment, you hoped to see his toothy smile every day—and prayed that he would never know sadness.
How ironic, to wish such a thing for someone in a line of work like his.
You decided not to let such thoughts ruin the ginger’s surprise, so you joined him; your laughter was much softer than his. But it was fine—it was perfect this way, anyway.
Then he landed on one of the rooftops of the Port Mafia towers. You didn't realise how tall these buildings were until now—to say the least, they were staggering. You could see not just the whole of Yokohama, but far beyond its borders, too.
To say that you were speechless would be an understatement; you were enchanted by the view.
As if on cue, Chuuya cleared his throat to get your attention. You spun to look behind you; there he stood by a small round table with two champagne glasses, already filled.
Chuuya raised a glass, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips as he beckoned you over. The pale gold liquid shimmered in the twilight, promising something exciting. "Shall we toast? It's getting closer to the end of the year, darling."
You froze at the extravagant sight before you, then you snorted—a bright laugh to discharge the tension. Chuuya, in turn, jolted just a tad; he was wondering if he had gone overboard.
"S-stop laughing at me!" Chuuya clicked his tongue and looked to the side to hide his embarrassment.
“N-n-no, no, no, no!” You attempted to reassure the mafioso, but you were having a hard time controlling your laughter—one hand was pressed to your stomach and the other was waving, trying to calm the gravity manipulator down.
"I am not laughing at you, Chuuya!" You finally managed to suppress your joyous laughter and wiped a stray tear away. You approached your lover with a caring smile, taking the other glass and clinking it against his with a bright 'ching.'
“I was simply admiring your efforts; it’s very ‘you,’ Chuuya.” You gave him an honest, big smile that made him catch his breath. The wind blew gently, ruffling your hair and making you look even more ethereal to him.
And then, your eyes locked, and the chilling air hushed. The remaining glimmer of the sun brushed against your eyes; that spark in your dilated pupils was the light Chuuya sought—the one that reminded him he was more than a monster. He was Chuuya Nakahara, a man with a real, beating heart that had fallen for your warmth.
And you were mesmerized by the man in front of you; the rays of the dipping sun made his hair glow like a halo. It was such an ironic, almost biblical sight that you had to smile—Chuuya, a man so powerful and terrifying, looked like a benevolent angel in this light. The moment felt surreal, yet wonderfully real.
The magic truly set in once the sky darkened, leaving only a lingering glow on the horizon painted in pastel pink and periwinkle. The wind picked up, and the freezing air forced you both to breathe again, finally dispelling the spell.
The atmosphere had shifted into something deeply personal and welcoming. You both sat down and drank, beginning your own private countdown. The fizzy liquid felt like nectar—nothing like the pungent bite of Chuuya’s renowned red wines. You rested your cheek on your arm, swirling the champagne dreamily.
You chatted like cooing doves, your words flitting in an invisible, intimate dance. You remembered the dear people in your lives—how the year had gone and the disasters you’d avoided. There were chuckles here and there, and even some sporadic yet sweet—dare we say, domestic—bickerings. It was all so lighthearted and freeing, especially atop the tower of the most dangerous organisation in Yokohama. It was as if you both stood above the law, whether official or written in blood.
It was already getting late, and you noticed occasional fireworks streaking into the dark, void-like sky. You watched them sparkle in the distance, wondering when the big display would appear above you… but then Chuuya stood up and gave you a reassuring smile.
"Shall we head out?" He offered you his gloved hand.
You blinked at him several times, looking from his hand back to his face in confusion. "But… shouldn’t we stay? To watch the fireworks… here?"
Chuuya threw his head back with a hearty laugh. "Oh, sweetheart! We aren't watching them at their level. Do you have any idea how loud and dangerous those things are up close?" He flashed a wide, teasing grin, clearly enjoying his role as the one with the "plan."
A blush crept up your neck as you pursed your lips, realising the logic in his words. Rather than starting another playful argument, you decided to grant him your obedience. You stood up, offering him your hand and allowing yourself to be swept up in his gravity once more.
The mafioso didn’t let a moment go to waste, firmly picking you up like his chosen dance partner. The way he looked at you stole the breath from your lungs; you almost forgot where you were before he leapt off the roof like a natural diver.
It was a rather high jump. You weren't sure where he was taking you, but that didn't matter—you trusted Chuuya completely. The way you both swam across the night sky looked like something out of a fairy tale. You outstretched your arm, hoping to catch the first twinkling stars, fully immersed in this entire new experience.
Soon, you both landed in front of your apartment complex. The destination surprised you to the point of utter stupor; there was such a stark contrast between the towering skyscraper of the Port Mafia and this ordinary, civilian building. You looked up at your partner, your expression silently asking if you were in the right place. You didn't need words; his growing, cocky grin told you everything.
Now, back at your apartment, you and Chuuya sat leisurely on your cozy couch, sipping your modest cava. You felt a bit pouty; if you had known beforehand that your eccentric lover would bring you home, you would have bought better drinks—and probably some treats. You looked at the modest bottle, wishing you’d been better prepared for such an unexpected guest.
“You’re pretty adorable when you pout, you know that?” the ginger chuckled audaciously. He set his glass on the table and shifted to face you. Feeling exposed by his remark, you instinctively looked away, unable to hold his gaze.
"If I’d known you were coming, I would have offered you something that actually suited your taste," you bit back. The pout and the blush remained fixed on your face as you took a sharp, defiant gulp of your drink.
Chuuya barked a laugh at your indirect complaint. He reached out to take the glass from your hand, forcing you to finally look up at him. All your worries melted away under the weight of his gaze—the look in his eyes told you that you mattered to him every bit as much as the organisation he served.
"Sweetheart, I don’t need any of that from you." He lifted your chin, tilting your face so you had no choice but to look directly into his azure eyes. "I want this. I want to spend this New Year’s Eve with you—intimately. My place is fucking huge; I wouldn’t feel as close to you as I do in this small, cozy place that smells like you, doll."
You could have sworn your heart stopped beating at his words. The air between you grew heavy, charged with a heat that felt like a physical pull. He was closing the distance, narrowing the world down to just the two of you in the quiet of your home.
Until the first firework sparked, and your heart seemed to come to life.
You both turned your heads toward the window, which offered a breathtaking view of the blossoming colours against the dark. Only now you appreciated the fact that your apartment—while "utterly ordinary," according to Dazai—offered such a perfect vantage point for the fireworks.
After marvelling at the fireworks for a bit, your face suddenly dropped as a realisation hit you. While the mafioso was enjoying himself—a smug look on his face and his arms draped over the back of the couch behind you—you turned to him with a look of sneaky suspicion.
“Wait… did you pick my apartment specifically because of the view?”
Chuuya couldn’t help but let his smirk grow wider. He gingerly pulled his hat down to shade his shimmering eyes and an innocent blush. "One of the reasons, sweetheart, yeah…"
His boyish reply made you huff with amusement, which quickly evolved into actual, hearty laughter. Chuuya joined you, his own laugh mingling with yours in a moment of shared mirth.
"You did all of this for me… for us, didn't you?" You looked at him with eyes that were honest and bright. It was the final pull Chuuya needed—the spark that solidified his confidence for his next move.
Chuuya leaned in smoothly. He gently placed his gloved palm against your cheek, his touch stilling you in place with breathless anticipation. You had never actually kissed him before; until now, the closest you’d come was a kiss on the cheek or the fleeting spark of sharing fire between your cigarettes...
The first kiss was gentle, pressing against your forehead. Then he moved to your eyelids—feather-light, angelic, and reverent. You could feel your heart fluttering like a dove startled into sudden flight. It was such a stark contrast: the man who defies gravity, yet possesses lips so airy and soft against your skin.
The mafioso then trailed his lips to your cheeks. He was trembling, a barely noticeable shiver but you could feel it on your flesh. Of course you did, he was so impossibly close to you...
His lips were like butterflies, brushing against your cheeks as if they were flowers he desperately wanted to savour. He seemed to want nothing more than to rest upon them—to bask in your warmth and stay exactly where he had landed.
You were his sun.
After showering your face with tooth-aching love, Chuuya left a few lingering pecks on your nose—a gesture so innocent, yet profoundly deep. You were almost completely lost in his affection, like a cat dozing off under the weight of endless petting and caressing.
Then your eyes fluttered and your breath hitched as you finally felt his lips on yours. Chuuya started slowly, testing the shape of your mouth and carefully moulding himself to you. You finally moved your hands to cup his face, touching him with such care—as if he were crystalline, ready to break at any moment.
The fireworks shared the same fire and sizzling sparks as the two people sharing their first kiss. The intimacy deepened with every second, growing more intense as the number of fireworks increased, painting the room in a rhythmic, pulsing light that matched the beating of your hearts.