After Hans left, the alleyway fell silent.
All that remained was the faint hum of Hans's bike growing distant as it disappeared into the city night, leaving behind a trail of tension and an eerie quietness.
Sayu stood still, eyes cast downward, one hand slightly red where Hans had gripped her. Her breath trembled, but she said nothing.
Next to her, Hayato pocketed his phone. For once, the usual cocky glint in his eyes was gone. He shifted awkwardly in place, glancing at Sayu and then looking away, unsure.
"…Are you okay?" he asked, his voice lower than usual.
Sayu nodded faintly.
Then—after a long, painful pause—Hayato raised a hand… and with all the grace of someone who's never comforted a crying girl before, he patted her head.
"There~there~..." He awkwardly spoke.
~Pat-Pat~
Sayu blinked, half stunned by the gesture, half unsure if she should laugh or cry.
"…What are you doing?" she asked, voice flat but wobbly.
Hayato quickly pulled his hand back like he'd touched a stove. "I—uh—I thought that's what people do? You know… to comfort?"
Sayu let out a shaky laugh through her nose, wiping her eyes. "You're so weird."
"Right? But like, charming weird." He grinned sheepishly, trying to lighten the mood.
Sayu didn't answer, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"Huh? Is that a smile I see?" he teased, nudging his elbow out a bit.
She shot him a look. "Don't test your luck," she said, but the corner of her lips betrayed her with a half-smile.
Feeling a bit steadier, Sayu adjusted her bag strap and began walking back toward the campus path. Hayato, who had been silently walking beside her, finally broke the silence with a lazy grin.
Hands deep in his pockets, he kept pace with her. "Where are you heading now?"
"Why do you care?" she replied without slowing down.
"I don't, just… asking," he shrugged defensively.
"Global business," she muttered.
Hayato hummed. "Hmm. Then after that—how about we go on that date?"
She groaned audibly, stopping in place just briefly. "Hayato... Seriously?"
His smile wavered, just a bit. "What? Why do you always push me aw—"
"Look," she cut him off gently but firmly, turning to face him.
"You're just… not my type."
The words hung in the air for a moment too long.
He blinked. "Not your—?"
"You should find someone else, okay?" she continued, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder before lightly patting it. "I'm sure you don't actually like me either. Let's save each other the trouble."
With that, she gave a casual wave and walked away, her back straight, her pace even.
Hayato stood frozen, blinking after her.
"...Not her type?" he repeated, stunned.
A frown crept onto his face as her words replayed in his head.
'I am Hayato Arisaka... I'm everyone's type.'
* * * * *
The bar buzzed with energy — laughter, clinking glasses, and upbeat jazz drifting from old speakers. Dim amber lights hung low, casting warm pools of light over dark wood. People huddled around tables in lighthearted chatter, a cozy fog of alcohol and secrets floating in the air.
Near the end of the bar counter sat, Hayato Arisak. Slouched forward, one hand cradling a nearly empty glass filled with reddish-brown liquid — Apple Juice, untouched for some time. His usually sharp eyes were dulled, still haunted by her words.
Across from him stood a tall young man, maybe twenty-four or twenty-five, dressed in a sleek black shirt tucked into formal pants, with a bartender's apron tied at the waist and sleeves rolled to the elbow —showing of his muscled arms. He leaned casually on the counter, holding a half-polished bottle of bourbon.
He let out an unfiltered laugh.
"Hahaha — she really said, 'Not my type,' huh?"
Hayato grunted. "You're enjoying this a little too much."
Zeno shrugged, pouring himself a glass. "Hey bro, chill. It's just one girl. There's a whole ocean out there."
Then, more seriously — "It's not like she was the one, right? …Or was she?"
Hayato turned to him, deadpan. "We've been friends for ten years. If you don't know the answer to that, Zeno, then what's the point?"
Zeno smirked, hands raised in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. You're just... holding onto it too tight, man."
A silence settled between them — not awkward, but weighted.
Finally, Hayato spoke.
"Anyway. You really dropped out?" His voice was softer now, concerned.
Zeno's grin returned. He gestured around them with a wave.
"Yup. Always wanted to own my own bar, remember? And now I've got it."He looked around proudly, his tone warming, his eyes filled with sincere looks.
Then turning back to his usual energetic back, "All thanks to a generous investor." He pointed at Hayato with his glass.
Hayato rolled his eyes. "Lucky you. Must be nice — having a dream."
Zeno fell quiet for a second, watching his friend with a look he rarely wore: something bordering on sympathy.
Sipping from his glass, and looking at Hayato, he recalled something.
"What about your dad's company? Aren't you supposed to, like… inherit it or whatever?"
Hayato sighed, leaning back. "Don't even get me started. They just told me I'm getting married." He said, his face filled with angered look. "Can you believe it?"
Zeno blinked. "Married? To whom?"
Hayato shook his head. "That's the funny part — I don't even know her. I'm supposed to meet her next week."
Zeno let out another laugh. "Bro, your life's a real drama. You rich kids and your arranged marriages…"
With a sarcastic tone he spoke. "if only I had your problems!"
Hayato gave a dry smile. "Yeah, well… looks easy from the outside."
He brought his glass to his lips, the words unspoken weighing heavier than the alcohol.
'Not like I'll let it happen anyway.' He thought silently, sipping.
Zeno returned with a cold glass of apple juice and handed it to Hayato. "Here. It'll help with the headache," he said, plopping down beside him.
Hayato took it wordlessly and started chugging.
"Careful," Zeno warned, raising an eyebrow, "you're chugging that juice like it's wine."
Hayato paused mid-sip, then leaned back."Hm. This is good," he finally said, changing the subject.
Zeno puffed up with pride. "Of course. I chose the best."
Without another word, Hayato downed the rest of the glass in one long gulp, then slammed it on the table with a satisfied thud.
"Ugh, that hit the spot."
A quiet pause lingered before Hayato stood. His eyes flicked to the fading sky beyond the window.
'It's time to go home,' he thought, brushing past the couch, leaving Zeno behind.