The air outside was heavy with the scent of cigarette smoke and steel—an oddly grounding blend that belonged only to the designated smoking area on the fifth floor balcony of Higashi Engineering Corporation. The sun filtered through the mesh of beams above, casting slanted shadows onto the concrete floor where Daichi stood, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a half-burned cigarette between his fingers.
He exhaled slowly, gaze fixed on the skyline, lips drawn in a faint line when the glass door behind him slid open with a familiar hiss.
"Aha— found you, Morikita-san."
Daichi didn't turn around. He only took another drag and muttered, "What now?"
Hasegawa's footsteps came closer, casual, steady. The man stopped beside him, pulled out a cigarette of his own, and with a flick of his thumb, lit it.
"I tried to intercom your office just now, but your staff said you were probably in the warehouse." He grinned, cocking his head toward Daichi. "Were you ditching work again?"
"Tch." Daichi finally looked at him, exhaling a sharp breath through his nose. "Like you're one to talk. If you weren't ditching too, you wouldn't be here."
Hasegawa laughed, leaning his back against the railing. "Touché. Maybe I just missed you."
Daichi didn't reply. He just sighed, long and slow, as if trying to let the words drift out with the smoke.
Still grinning, Hasegawa went on. "By the way, did you hear? Endo-san from Indirect Procurement was grumbling in the meeting room earlier. Something about management approving your proposal to get new forklifts and stackers."
Daichi raised a brow but kept his gaze ahead. "Yeah. I know."
"Man, he looked like he was chewing glass." Hasegawa smirked. "You know Endo-san—bald, sour face, always clinging to old files like they're gold bars. He said it was 'an unnecessary expense born from someone's personal agenda'."
Daichi clicked his tongue again. "I don't give a damn about what that old fart says."
Hasegawa chuckled. "You really haven't changed. Always unbothered, like none of the gossip ever gets to you."
Daichi didn't answer immediately. His cigarette was nearing the end. He flicked the ash off, eyes narrowing slightly.
"…I do get bothered," he muttered, voice low, like it wasn't meant to be heard.
Hasegawa's hand froze mid-air, cigarette hovering near his lips.
His heart skipped. The past came crashing back like a flood: the whispers behind Daichi's back, the cruel accusations. About Horie Mio. About Maki. About the hotels, the men. About how Daichi landed his current position. It all came in a single, suffocating wave.
He lowered his cigarette, staring at the smoke curling between them.
"Senpai," he said after a beat, voice quieter now, "was any of it true? ...Those words from the past."
Daichi flinched. It was small, almost imperceptible, but Hasegawa caught it.
No answer came. Daichi didn't move. His lips parted slightly, but instead of replying, he shifted the topic, abrupt, deflecting.
"…Never thought you'd smoke," he murmured. "You seemed like the type who'd stay perfect till the end."
Hasegawa's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Perfect, huh…"
A bitter smile crept onto his face. "I'm far from it. But… if there's one thing that hasn't changed about me—" he glanced at Daichi, "—it's that I still love you, senpai."
This time, Daichi visibly tensed. His fingers tightened around the cigarette, and his voice came out slightly rough. "…Even after I turned you down like that?"
The words were clumsy, mumbled, but they were undeniably Daichi's.
"Uh-huh," Hasegawa replied simply. "Even after that. Even after changing partners over and over again, trying to move on. I couldn't."
A breeze passed between them. The silence was longer now.
"…You seeing anyone now?" Daichi asked, eyes focused on the fading ember between his fingers.
"Nope," Hasegawa answered without hesitation, flashing a small grin. "No time for that."
He left out Sora. Left out the guilt. The complication.
Daichi chuckled, though it didn't carry amusement. "We're both pathetic when it comes to relationships, huh."
"Guess so." Hasegawa's smile faded into something gentler. Then, after a breath, he leaned in just slightly, close enough that his shoulder brushed Daichi's.
"I think two pathetic, loveless guys like us might fit together pretty well."
Daichi turned his head quickly, stunned, face subtly flushed. But before he could find words, Hasegawa straightened up, chuckling with that maddeningly carefree tone.
"Well, I'm always available, you know." He gave a smirk. "Whether you need emotional support… or just someone to help you blow off steam."
Face flushed red, Daichi shuttered. "I'm not—"
"Gay? Hmm... I don't think that matters."
With a chuckle, Hasegawa tossed the cigarette into the ashtray, and turned on his heel, while Daichi had no word slipped between his teeth.
As he walked away, he called out over his shoulder, "Better check on my staff before they get burned out. Later, Morikita-san!"
The door slid shut behind him with a soft hiss.