•| Chuuya Nakahara

Chuuya clutched the letter in his hands. His glove rustled loudly in the silent room. Only then did he allow himself to look around. The bed was immaculate, the furniture was clean, and it smelled of fresh, recently applied air freshener.

He walked to the closet and found only his clothes, with no sign of yours. He clenched his jaw and looked back at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. Unfolding it, the same words irritated him.

"Chuuya. I'm writing this to you because I know that in person it won't get me anywhere and you won't listen to me."

These past few months together have been incredible. You're a wonderful man, and... I've come to the conclusion that you're too much for me. I'm sorry for leaving like this, but I know it's what's best for both of us.

I hope you find someone who can love with the same intensity as you. I'm not looking for anything serious, sorry.

Her blue eyes fixed on the bedroom wall. It wasn't just the letter that bothered her, but the words—words you would never use. She knew you too well, and those phrases were too crude for you, too simple. And besides, why would you leave like this after giving it your all for almost a year? No. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Only then did he remember the threats he'd received weeks before. A small organization he'd thought insignificant vowed revenge for his trespassing. They promised to destroy what mattered to him. Right now, standing there staring blankly into space, he knew they meant you.

He turned suddenly, determined to find them. To find you. To find out how they convinced you to write that damned letter.

It wasn't hard for him to know where they were hiding. Near the port, there was a spacious, abandoned warehouse, perfect for cowardly kidnapping attempts. His steps were firm, the seriousness of his face masking a rage that rarely managed to provoke in him. As soon as he arrived, nothing would remain of what they called a "hideout. "