Bound by Obsession

Part 1

The moon hung low over Yokohama, casting a pale glow across the cityscape. Inside a quiet room of the Armed Detective Agency's office, the atmosphere was tense. A rare meeting between the Port Mafia and the Agency had just ended, leaving a trail of cold, awkward silence behind.

The meeting had been necessary—a temporary truce in response to the growing threat posed by the Decay of Angels. But what it had also done was bring to light something the Agency hadn't fully understood before: the depth of Dazai's connection to the Port Mafia. They knew he had been a part of the Mafia, but seeing Mori Ougai's eyes soften as he spoke to Dazai, hearing the way Akutagawa addressed Dazai with a mix of respect and familiarity, had made something click.

"Dazai-san," Atsushi had said later, his tone hesitant, "you were really... close with them, weren't you?"

Dazai's usual carefree mask was firmly in place, his smile as lazy and unconcerned as ever. "Of course! The Mafia and I have history, after all. We were a big, happy family back in the day."

But Atsushi noticed it—how Ranpo, Kunikida, and even Yosano had begun to pull away, their eyes filled with uncertainty. It was as if the realization of Dazai's deep ties to the darkness had created a chasm between him and the rest of the Agency, one that Dazai seemed content to ignore.

And yet, as the days went by, Dazai found himself lingering on memories of the past. The Mafia had been a family to him, no matter how dark, no matter how bloody. Mori, Chuuya, even Akutagawa—he had cared for them in his own way, and they had cared for him. No one said it, but Dazai could see it in their actions, in the way Chuuya had argued to let him back in when he left, in Mori's willingness to listen to his opinions even after his departure.

One day, while rummaging through his old belongings, Dazai stumbled upon a small, faded photograph tucked between the pages of an old notebook. His breath caught as he looked at it—a much younger Dazai, standing beside Fyodor Dostoevsky, their eyes filled with an ambition that was both innocent and terrifying. Fyodor, with his dark, curious eyes, and Dazai, with that smile that never quite reached his gaze. Back then, they had been children who wanted to understand the world, even if it meant tearing it apart.

And now Fyodor was the leader of the Decay of Angels.

Something in Dazai's chest tightened at the thought. He knew Fyodor—he knew the danger he posed, the darkness he embraced. But there was something more, something personal that lay beneath the surface. They had shared dreams once, and now Fyodor was out there, executing a plan that was still half a mystery to Dazai.

Dazai decided he needed to see Fyodor. He needed to understand what had happened to the boy who once spoke of reshaping the world, of creating a future that only they could understand.

The meeting place was a rundown chapel on the outskirts of the city, the perfect location for an encounter shrouded in secrecy. Dazai stepped inside, the door creaking ominously as he entered. The air was heavy with the scent of dust and decay, and Fyodor was there, waiting, his figure bathed in the cold light of the moon filtering through a shattered window.

"Dazai," Fyodor greeted, his voice smooth, almost melodic. He smiled, and it was both beautiful and chilling. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

Dazai gave a small laugh, his smile equally enigmatic. "Fedya. You certainly know how to make an entrance." He took a step closer, his eyes searching Fyodor's face, trying to reconcile the memory of the boy he knew with the man before him.

Fyodor's gaze softened as he took in Dazai's features. "I always knew you'd come back to me, Osamu. You could never resist, could you?" He took a step forward, his eyes never leaving Dazai's. "We belong together, you and I."

Dazai's smile faltered slightly. There was something different in Fyodor's eyes—something intense, a possessiveness that made Dazai's heart skip a beat. "I came to understand, Fyodor. What you're doing now... it's dangerous. And I can't let you hurt people just to fulfill whatever twisted dream you've conjured up."

Fyodor's smile widened, a hint of amusement in his gaze. He closed the distance between them in one swift, fluid motion, his fingers brushing against Dazai's cheek. "You still don't understand, do you? You were always the only one who mattered, Osamu. Everything I'm doing—everything I've ever done—has been for you."

Dazai's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. "What...?" he whispered, the weight of Fyodor's words hitting him harder than he'd anticipated.

Fyodor's hand slipped behind Dazai's neck, pulling him closer until their foreheads were almost touching. "You left me, Dazai. You abandoned the future we were supposed to build together. But now, I have the power to make you stay." His eyes glimmered with something dark, something unyielding. "You won't leave me again."

Dazai's heart pounded in his chest, a mix of emotions swirling within him—fear, confusion, and something dangerously close to excitement. Fyodor's hold on him was gentle yet unyielding, a promise of what was to come.

"Fedya," Dazai began, his voice softer, more vulnerable than he intended. "You know I can't let you do this."

Fyodor's expression shifted, his eyes narrowing as a smile that was almost tender played on his lips. "You always think you can play the hero, don't you? But that's not who you are, Osamu. You belong in the darkness—with me." His other hand came up, tracing the line of Dazai's jaw with an almost reverent touch.

Dazai swallowed hard, his mind racing. Fyodor's presence was overwhelming, intoxicating in its intensity. He had always been drawn to Fyodor, even back then—drawn to his brilliance, his madness, his understanding of the world that mirrored his own in so many ways. But now, there was something more, something dangerous and possessive that sent a thrill down his spine.

"Why now, Fedya?" Dazai whispered, his voice almost lost in the stillness of the chapel. "Why come back for me now?"

Fyodor's eyes darkened, his fingers tightening on the back of Dazai's neck. "Because I won't let anyone else have you. You're mine, Osamu. You always have been." His lips brushed against Dazai's temple, a chilling promise in the gesture. "And I will destroy anything, anyone, who tries to come between us."

Dazai's breath hitched, his eyes closing for a moment as he allowed himself to feel the weight of Fyodor's words. The warmth of Fyodor's touch, the intensity of his gaze—it was everything Dazai had both feared and craved.

Slowly, Dazai opened his eyes, meeting Fyodor's unwavering gaze. "You know I won't make it easy for you," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips, a glimmer of the challenge that had always existed between them.

Fyodor's smile grew, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. "I wouldn't expect anything less, Osamu. But know this—no matter what you do, no matter how far you try to run, I will always find you."

The words hung between them, a promise, a threat, and something far more intimate. Dazai looked at Fyodor, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to acknowledge the truth of their bond—twisted, dark, and unbreakable.

"Then let the game begin, Fedya," Dazai whispered, his voice carrying both challenge and something dangerously close to affection.

Fyodor's smile was triumphant, his fingers tangling in Dazai's hair as he pulled him closer, their lips brushing in a ghost of a kiss. "Until the very end, my dearest Osamu."

And in that decaying chapel, with the world outside falling into chaos, Dazai and Fyodor stood together—two souls bound by shadows, by a love that was both beautiful and terrifying, destined to dance together until the very end.