slow burn | 18+ | non-canon | short story
Summary: He survived Shibuya, but returning to work felt harder than the battlefield itself. Every stare lingered too long. Every conversation ended too quickly. Everyone treated him like a reminder of what had happened… Except you. You spoke to him as though nothing had changed, never realizing that your normalcy became the one thing holding him together. 𓂃۶ৎ
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The office was louder than usual. Not because there was more work to do, but because nobody was actually doing it. Clusters of employees stood around coffee machines and filing cabinets, voices lowered into whispers that somehow carried farther than normal conversation ever did. “I heard he’s finally coming back today.” “They actually cleared him for work?” “My cousin knows someone at headquarters. They said… it was bad.” “Bad how?” “They said half of his face was burned.” Someone winced. Someone else leaned forward with morbid curiosity. “I wonder if he’ll wear something to cover it.” “I probably would.” Another voice laughed quietly. “I’d retire.” The small group chuckled.
You looked up from your computer. The smile faded from your face almost instantly. “…Seriously?” Four pairs of eyes landed on you. “What?” “You’re laughing.” “It was just a joke.” You pushed your chair back. “No.” Your voice stayed calm. “It’s someone else’s life.” The room grew awkward. One woman crossed her arms. “We’re not being mean.” “You are.” “We’re just curious.” You looked between each of them. “Then be curious quietly.” Silence settled over the break room. Someone muttered an apology under their breath. Another rolled their eyes once you turned away. You didn’t care. You grabbed your coffee and headed to the break room, leaving the whispers behind you.
Unfortunately… they followed. Throughout the morning, you caught snippets drifting across cubicles. “Do you think he’ll still be able to work?” “Does he still have both eyes?” “I heard he almost died.” “Imagine seeing that every morning…” Every sentence made your stomach twist a little tighter. You hadn’t known Nanami particularly well. Not really. You weren’t close enough to call after work. You’d never been invited over for dinner. But you knew him. He always arrived before anyone else. He always organized shared files when no one asked him to. He bought coffee from the café downstairs every Wednesday. He sighed before every staff meeting like clockwork. And whenever you accidentally made an error in a report, he’d quietly fix it before your supervisor ever noticed.
He was… kind. Quiet. Reliable. Not office gossip. Not entertainment. You couldn’t understand how everyone had forgotten that so quickly.
Just before noon, the office manager stepped out of her office. Conversations immediately stopped. “He’ll be here in five minutes.” Five minutes. The room somehow became quieter. Computer keys slowed. Coffee cups were set down. People suddenly found reasons to organize papers that had been sitting untouched all morning. It was almost theatrical. You hated it. The elevator chimed. Every head turned. The doors slid open. Nanami stepped out. The first thing you noticed wasn’t the scars. It was how perfectly straight he stood. Same posture. Same measured pace. Same tan suit pressed without a wrinkle.
Only then did your eyes move upward. Burn scars stretched from beneath the collar of his shirt along the right side of his neck, disappearing beneath neatly combed blond hair before reappearing across his cheek. His right eye, once sharp and observant, had turned an opaque white. The injuries were impossible to ignore. But somehow… they weren’t the thing that stood out most. He looked… tired. Not physically. The kind of tired that settled somewhere much deeper. His visible eye swept across the office. He knew. He knew every single person was staring. Yet his expression never changed. “…Good morning,” he said evenly.
The silence that followed was unbearable. Someone finally forced out a quiet, “Welcome back.” Another mumbled, “It’s… good to see you.” Neither sounded convincing. Nanami inclined his head politely. “Thank you.” Then he walked to his desk. As conversations slowly resumed, they sounded different now. Careful. Measured. Artificial. No one approached him. No one offered to help. No one asked how he was. Everyone was trying so hard not to make him uncomfortable… that they’d somehow isolated him completely.
You looked over the edge of your monitor. Nanami had already turned on his computer. Already begun working. As if today were no different from any other Monday. But his shoulders seemed… just a little stiffer than you remembered. And something about that hurt far more than the scars ever could. ~ Lunch came and went. No one asked Nanami to join them. The empty chair beside his desk remained exactly that. Empty. You watched coworkers glance his way before looking down again. Some wore pity. Others guilt. A few simply didn’t know where to put their eyes. Nanami never acknowledged any of it.
His hands moved steadily across his keyboard. Reports. Emails. Phone calls. The picture of professionalism. You wondered if everyone else believed the act. You didn’t. No one walked away from death untouched. No one returned to work after months away and genuinely didn’t notice the silence surrounding them. If it were you… it would’ve hurt. Maybe not enough to cry. But enough to go home thinking about it. Enough to wonder if people still saw you… or only what had happened to you. The thought lingered all afternoon. By the time the clock read 3:17, you’d made up your mind. Enough was enough.
You stood from your chair before you could second-guess yourself. A few heads turned as you walked past their desks, but you ignored them and kept going. Nanami’s cubicle sat near the windows, tucked away from the busiest part of the office. He was already immersed in a report, his left hand resting against the keyboard while the other neatly sorted through a stack of files. For a moment, you simply watched him. He looked… normal. Not because the scars had disappeared, they hadn’t, but because he was working exactly as he always had. Quietly. Methodically. Like the past few months had never happened.
You lifted yourself onto your tippy toes, peeking over the top of his cubicle. “…Hi.” Nanami looked up almost immediately, his visible eye widening just slightly, clearly not expecting anyone to approach him. For a brief second, his brows drew together in confusion, then the corners of his mouth lifted into a small, almost hesitant smile. “Hello.” It was faint, but genuine.
You smiled back. “I, um…I just wanted to say… it’s nice having you back.” His expression softened. “…Thank you.” The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, just quiet, the kind of quiet that naturally existed between two coworkers who’d shared plenty of mornings together, even if they hadn’t shared many words. Your head disappeared before you walked around the cubicle into his little space. You glanced toward the report on his desk. “They’re already making you do quarterly reports?” “They waited until my first day back.” You groaned dramatically. “That’s cruel.” A soft breath escaped him, not quite a laugh, but close. “I was beginning to think they liked me.” “They definitely don’t.” His smile grew just a fraction.
You stayed where you were. Not because you had anything else to say, but because you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed seeing him around the office until now. The silence settled comfortably between you as Nanami returned his attention to the report in front of him, pen scratching quietly across the paper. You watched him work, the familiar furrow between his brows, the way he’d tap the end of his pen against the desk whenever he paused to think, and it was oddly reassuring, like everything hadn’t changed after all. You realized how much you enjoyed his presence. The smell of his cologne feeling almost nostalgic after not smelling it in so long.
A minute passed, then another. Without looking up from the report, Nanami finally spoke. “…Is there something else you wanted to say?” he let go of his pen and it hit the desk. You blinked. “Hm?” He slowly lifted his gaze to meet yours. His expression wasn’t angry, just… guarded. “If not…” His voice remained polite, though noticeably firmer than he’s ever sounded toward you. “…I’d like to get back to my work.” The words caught you off guard. “Oh.” Your smile faltered. You blinked a few times, not expecting that. He looked at you almost unamused. You started to feel embarrassed.
“I was just…” You weren’t even sure how to explain yourself, that you were happy he was back though you and him never spoke? That you’d forgotten how good he smelled? It suddenly sounded strange in your head. You let out a small laugh under your breath, taking a small step backward. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.” you said quietly. Your eyes moving to the floor instead of him. Nanami gave a short nod. “Thank you.” You offered him one last small smile before turning away, and by the time you reached your desk, it had disappeared. That… had stung a little.
Nanami watched you leave, his shoulders easing once you disappeared behind the row of cubicles. He exhaled quietly. He’d grown used to it, the staring, people trying not to stare, people staring anyway, the curiosity, the pity. He’d convinced himself that’s what you’d been doing too, nothing more. He lowered his eyes back to the report, yet something about your expression lingered in his mind. Confused, almost… hurt. He thought maybe he shouldn’t have been so stern with a lady like you. Either way, it’s not like you would ever find him attractive. Not anymore.
Later, as you sat at your desk, a coworker leaned against the side of your cubicle with a lazy grin, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “So,” they said, glancing toward Nanami’s desk, “Is he hot to the touch now?” You froze. “…What?” They chuckled like it was a joke. “I mean, with the burns and all. Does he feel like-” “Don’t.” Your voice came out sharper than you intended. The coworker blinked. “I was just kidding-” “That’s disrespectful.” You stood up slightly in your chair, eyes narrowing. “He’s still the same man he was before. He’s not some object you get to talk about like that.” The coworker straightened, caught off guard. “Okay, okay, relax-” But you weren’t finished. “You don’t get to reduce him to that.” Your tone softened just slightly, but your expression didn’t. “He’s still Nanami. That’s it.” A beat of silence. Then the coworker muttered something about you being “too serious” and walked off, hands raised in surrender. You exhaled, sitting back down, heart still a little tight.
The next morning, the café beneath the office buzzed with its usual rush of people trying to beat the start of the workday. You waited near the pickup counter, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone until you noticed a familiar tan coat beside you. Nanami. He’d been waiting for his order as well. You smiled instinctively. “Oh, hi.” He glanced over. The guarded look from yesterday was gone. “…Good morning.” His voice was calm. Professional. Almost like yesterday had never happened. “I’m glad they still remember your order,” you joked, nodding toward the counter. “They’d better.” A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve been coming here for years.” You laughed quietly. For a brief moment… It felt normal again.
Then your eyes caught something. A tiny piece of brown fuzz clung to his blonde hair. Without thinking, you lifted your hand. “Hold on, you’ve got-” The movement happened in an instant. Nanami stepped back sharply. Farther than he needed to. His expression hardened. His shoulders tensed. His visible eye narrowed. “…What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Your hand froze in the air. Your eyes widened at the reaction he had to you.“…What?” His jaw clenched. “You don’t need to touch me.” The words landed like a slap. You stared at him, completely bewildered. “I wasn’t-“ “For Nanami.” The barista set a coffee on the counter.
He broke eye contact immediately. Without another word, he picked up the cup. “…Have a good day.” His tone was clipped. Cold. Then he turned and walked out of the café. You heard him scoff while walking. You remained standing exactly where you were. Your hand slowly lowered back to your side. “…I was just trying to get the fuzz…” You whispered it to no one. The barista looked between the door and your confused expression. “…You okay?” You forced a small smile. “Yeah.” It wasn’t very convincing.
You collected your own coffee a moment later and walked to the office in silence, unable to shake the knot forming in your chest. You couldn’t understand what you’d done wrong. And Nanami… Didn’t look back once. ~ The rest of the day dragged. Nanami finished reports. Answered emails. Attended two meetings. Spoke only when necessary. Yet the encounter at the café refused to leave him. Every so often, he’d catch himself thinking about the look on your face. Not offended. Not disgusted. Just… Confused. He disliked that expression more than he cared to admit.
That afternoon, he stepped into the restroom. The fluorescent lights hummed quietly overhead. He washed his hands before lifting his head toward the mirror. For a long moment, he simply stared at his reflection. The scars had become familiar enough that he rarely looked at them anymore. Not really. His gaze drifted higher. Something caught his eye. In his hair, a tiny piece of fuzz clung to a few strands. Nanami frowned. He reached up and plucked it free between his fingers. The motion gave him pause. His hand. Your hand. The way you’d reached toward him that morning. His brow furrowed. Was that… What she was trying to do? He looked down at the small piece of lint resting on his fingertip. It would’ve been an easy thing to miss.
You would’ve had to be looking at his hair. Not… His face. For one brief moment, the thought settled quietly in his mind. Maybe you’d simply noticed it. Maybe you’d only been trying to help. Maybe… His jaw tightened. “No.” The word escaped under his breath. He dropped the fuzz into the trash. You had looked at him. Everyone looked at him. That was the reality now. People stared. People pitied. People were curious. There wasn’t any point pretending otherwise. He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve with practiced precision. Smoothed the front of his coat. Then turned away from the mirror. Still…
As he reached for the restroom door, the image returned uninvited. Your hand stopping midair. Your confused voice. “I wasn’t-” He shut the door behind him a little harder than intended. The thought followed him anyway.
The next morning, you arrived a little earlier than usual. Mostly to avoid the café. Mostly to avoid Nanami. The memory of yesterday kept replaying in your head. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You’d spent half the evening wondering what you had done wrong. Maybe he’d never really liked talking to you. Maybe you’d mistaken politeness for friendship. Maybe you’d crossed a boundary without realizing it. Whatever the reason… You decided it would be easier to give him space. The weekly meeting began at nine. One by one, everyone filtered into the conference room. Nanami entered a few moments later. Out of habit, his eye searched the room. It found you almost immediately. Usually, you’d offer a small smile. A quiet, “Morning.” Sometimes even a little wave if he hadn’t noticed you first. Today… Nothing. You kept your attention on your notebook. Pretending to organize papers that were already perfectly straight. Nanami paused for only a fraction of a second before taking his usual seat.
This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? Space. He turned his attention toward the front of the room. Still… The empty silence where your greeting should’ve been lingered in the back of his mind. He told himself not to dwell on it. It was for the best. Halfway through the meeting, discussion shifted toward the upcoming quarterly reports. The department manager frowned. “We’re still behind on the financial projections.” Nanami glanced down at the documents before speaking.
“If we reorganize the workload by department instead of assigning it alphabetically, we’d likely reduce turnaround time by several days.” The room fell quiet. A few people nodded. “It would also allow experienced staff to review recurring accounts,” he continued evenly. “Which should reduce revisions.” “It makes the most sense.” Before the manager could respond, a scoff sounded from the other end of the table.
It was quiet. Almost too quiet to notice. One employee leaned toward the coworker beside him and muttered beneath his breath, “Guess the burns didn’t get his brain.” A muffled snicker answered him. Your head snapped up. For one stunned second, you couldn’t believe what you’d heard. Then your chair scraped loudly against the floor as you stood. “Are you kidding me?” Every conversation stopped. The room turned toward you. Your eyes locked onto the two coworkers. “In the middle of a meeting?” Neither of them answered. “You seriously thought that was an appropriate thing to say?” “It was just-” “No.” Your voice cut cleanly across the room. “It wasn’t ‘just’ anything.” Silence. You took a steadying breath. “He’s sitting right here.” The coworker’s face flushed. “I wasn’t trying to-” “I don’t care what you were trying to do.” Your voice wasn’t loud. But it was unwavering. “He’s your coworker.” “At least show him some basic respect.” The conference room fell deathly still. No one looked at the coworkers anymore. No one looked at you. Most couldn’t even bring themselves to look at Nanami.
At the head of the table, the department manager cleared his throat. “…I believe that’s enough.” He turned his attention toward the two employees. “We’ll discuss your conduct after this meeting.” Neither argued. Neither even looked up. Across the room, Nanami remained perfectly still. His expression hadn’t changed. His hands were folded neatly on the table. To anyone else… He looked completely unaffected. But beneath his palm on the table, the fingers of one hand had curled ever so slightly. His eye drifted toward you.
You’d already sat back down. Your attention fixed stubbornly on the meeting agenda. You never looked at him once. Somehow… That hurt more than the comment itself. ~ The meeting adjourned in uneasy silence. Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone hurried to gather their papers, eager to escape the uncomfortable atmosphere. Nanami remained seated for a moment longer, organizing his documents into a neat stack before standing. As always. Precise. Measured.
He made his way into the hallway just as conversations slowly began to return. None of them were meant for him. He preferred it that way. “…Did you see her?” Nanami slowed his pace ever so slightly. The voices came from around the corner. “She practically bit his head off.” “I know.” A laugh followed. “I’ve been telling you for months she has a thing for him.” “Oh, absolutely.” “She’s always found excuses to talk to him.” Another chuckled. “Guess she’s trying extra hard now that he’s isolated.” “Probably thinks this is her chance.” The group laughed quietly amongst themselves.
Nanami closed his eyes for a brief moment. Ridiculous. You weren’t like that. He knew that much. You had defended him before anyone had ever seen the scars. You’d spoken to him exactly the same after he returned. You hadn’t changed. The gossip wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Yet another thought settled in immediately after. Even if… Even if it somehow were… His gaze drifted toward the conference room window, catching the faint reflection staring back at him.
The scar tissue stretched along the right side of his face, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. His clouded eye reflected the fluorescent lights overhead. His jaw tightened. No. Romance had belonged to someone else. Someone who’d walked into this building months ago with two unscarred hands, an unscarred face, and a future that still felt… ordinary. That man hadn’t come back from Shibuya. What remained was enough to work. Enough to live. Enough to keep moving. But not enough for something as gentle as being loved.
He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve and continued walking. Behind him, the laughter faded into the background. He didn’t believe a single word they’d said about you. He simply couldn’t imagine anyone looking at him that way anymore. Least of all you.
That night, sleep refused to come. Nanami sat alone in his apartment, the lights dimmed low as rain tapped quietly against the windows. A book rested open on the coffee table. He hadn’t turned the page in nearly twenty minutes. His thoughts wandered instead. Back to the office. To you. To the conference room. To the way you’d stood without hesitation. “…Show him some basic respect.” He shut his eyes. The gossip from earlier echoed in his mind. “She always had a crush on him.” Absurd. It wasn’t true. Was it? He exhaled through his nose, irritated with himself for even entertaining the possibility.
His mind reached backward instead. Months. Before Shibuya. Before hospitals. Before mirrors became something he avoided. The company Christmas party had been louder than he preferred. Music drifted through the rented venue while coworkers laughed over drinks and exchanged gifts they were almost certain would end up forgotten. Nanami had spent most of the evening near the refreshments. Exactly where he’d intended.
You’d wandered over sometime later, balancing two glasses of sparkling cider. “You look like you’re planning your escape.” “I’ve considered it.” You laughed. “I knew it.” He remembered taking the offered glass with a quiet nod. The two of you had stood there for several minutes, making idle conversation about work and the poor choice of music. Nothing remarkable. Just… Comfortable. Then, just before someone called your name from across the room, you’d looked at him for a moment longer than usual.
“…Can I tell you something?” “If you must.” “I’ve always thought you have really nice eyes.” He remembered blinking. “…My eyes?” You’d smiled, almost sheepishly.“They’re really pretty.” Then, realizing what you’d just admitted, you laughed to yourself. “Anyway… don’t let it inflate your ego.” You’d disappeared into the crowd before he could think of anything worthwhile to say. He’d stood there holding the untouched glass of cider for several seconds afterward.
Nanami opened his eyes. The memory felt painfully vivid. Without thinking, he looked toward the reflection in the dark apartment window. Only one eye stared back. The other remained clouded beneath uneven scar tissue. “You have really nice eyes.” The sentence tightened something deep in his chest. It had been such a simple compliment. One he’d barely known how to accept at the time. Now… It felt almost cruel. He reached up unconsciously, fingertips brushing the scar that traced across the right side of his face before stopping.
“…Not anymore.” The words barely left his lips. He let his hand fall. You had complimented a man who no longer existed. Or at least… That was what he told himself. It was easier to believe that than to wonder whether you’d still say the same thing now.
Weeks passed. A week of quiet nods. A week of avoiding each other’s eyes. You stopped lingering by Nanami’s desk. Stopped bringing reports over for him to check like you always did. Stopped saying good morning. You convinced yourself it was what he wanted. Nanami noticed. Of course he noticed. Every morning, he found himself instinctively searching for your familiar perfume. Every morning, your attention remained fixed somewhere else. He’d told himself not to let it bother him. He wasn’t entirely successful.
By Wednesday evening, the rain had become relentless. Sheets of water hammered against the office windows, turning the parking lot into a blur of gray. People hurried out one after another, umbrellas tilting against the wind. You waited until most had left before making a run for your car. Within seconds, your blazer clung to your arms. Your hair, carefully styled that morning, now stuck to your cheeks. “…Come on…” You slid into the driver’s seat. Turned the key. Nothing. Again. Nothing. “No, no, no…” One more try. The engine coughed.
Then silence. You rested your forehead against the steering wheel for a brief second. “Seriously?” With a defeated sigh, you climbed back out into the downpour. Rain soaked through your clothes almost immediately, your black bra being visible making you regret ever wearing it. You released the hood latch and lifted it open. Steam didn’t rise. Nothing looked obviously wrong. You stared at the engine anyway. As if looking hard enough would magically teach you how cars worked. “…I have no idea what I’m looking at.”
Several rows away, Nanami unlocked his own car with his key fob. He adjusted the umbrella over his shoulder before beginning the walk toward the exit. Something caught his eye. You. Standing alone in the rain. Completely drenched. Head bent over an open hood. He slowed. His first instinct was to keep walking. After everything that had happened… Perhaps you wouldn’t want his help. Perhaps he’d only make things more uncomfortable. He looked away. Took another step. Then stopped. You were shivering. Before he could talk himself out of it, his feet had already changed direction.
You sensed someone approaching. Looking up, your stomach sank. Nanami. For a split second, embarrassment flooded through you. Of all people… You quickly looked back into the engine, pretending to inspect something important. The umbrella appeared above your head a moment later, sheltering you from the pounding rain. “What happened?” His voice was louder than usual to compete with the storm. You looked over. Rainwater dripped from the ends of his blond hair despite the umbrella that was once for his own use. His tan coat was damp around the shoulders. “…My car won’t start,” you called back. “I’ve tried three times.” He glanced into the engine bay. “Do you know what’s wrong with it?”
A small, defeated laugh escaped you. “I don’t even know what I’m looking at.” For the first time in over a week… The corner of Nanami’s mouth twitched. “…I gathered that.” You looked down sheepishly. “Yeah…” “I figured if I stared at it long enough it’d fix itself.” “I’ve never seen that method work.” “…Worth a shot.” The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was simply filled with rain. Nanami set his briefcase beneath the shelter of the hood before rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “May I?” You stepped aside immediately. “Please.” Your shoulders brushed for the briefest moment as you traded places. Neither of you acknowledged it. Nanami leaned over the engine, his brows knitting together in concentration as rain pounded against the metal hood above.
You stood beside him beneath the umbrella, careful not to crowd him. Watching quietly. Not because of the scars. Not because anything had changed. Simply because… You trusted him. Nanami examined the engine in silence. Rain drumming against the metal hood above. His hands moved with practiced confidence, checking connections one by one before finally leaning back with a quiet sigh. “…I found the problem.” Your face brightened. “Really?” He gave a small nod. “…Unfortunately, it isn’t something that can be fixed in a parking lot.” Your smile slowly faded. “The starter appears to have failed.” “Oh.” “You’ll need to have it towed.”
You let your head fall back toward the gray sky with an exhausted groan. “Of course.” Rain splashed across your face. “Why wouldn’t it be the expensive option?” A quiet breath escaped Nanami, almost a chuckle. You looked back at him. Really looked at him. The umbrella had protected you far more than it had protected him. Rainwater darkened his blond hair, strands falling across his forehead. His white dress shirt clung to the defined lines of his shoulders and chest beneath his damp coat. Water rolled slowly down the sharp angle of his jaw before disappearing beneath his collar. The burn scars remained. They always would. Yet somehow…
You barely noticed them anymore. They’d become just another part of him. To you, he was still the same handsome man who corrected your reports, sighed through meetings, and somehow knew a little about everything. Nanami caught you looking. His heart tightened instinctively. Before he could convince himself otherwise, he offered a small, restrained smile. “I can take you home.” You blinked. “…What?” “I’ll drive you.” He glanced toward your silent car. “You can arrange for the tow truck from home.” For a split second… You almost accepted. Then the memory returned. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Your smile turned apologetic. “…That’s okay…I’ll figure it out.” He frowned. “You’ll be waiting here.” “I can call Lena.”
“Lena?” “My friend.” You tucked a strand of soaked hair behind your ear. “She used to work here before transferring.” Nanami remembered. “…I see.” “I’ll just bother her.” “I don’t mind.” His answer came almost immediately. “I know.” Your voice was gentle. “I just…” You hesitated. “…I don’t want to inconvenience you.” “It wouldn’t.” “I’ll be alright.” The rain filled the silence between you. Nanami knew. This wasn’t about convenience. This wasn’t about the weather. This wasn’t about the car. It was about him. Or rather… About the way he’d spoken to you over the past weeks. He’d created this distance himself.
Now he was standing in the middle of it. Unable to cross it. You slowly held the umbrella back toward him. “…Here.” He looked down at it for a moment before taking the handle. Your fingers brushed for only an instant. Neither of you moved. “…Thank you,” you said quietly. “For trying.” He nodded once. “…Of course.” You offered a small smile. One that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Get home safe, Nanami.” Before he could answer, you climbed back into your car, closing the door against the roar of the storm.
He remained where he stood. Watching the rain race across your windshield. Watching your silhouette lean back against the headrest. Waiting. Eventually… He lowered the umbrella. Closed it with a soft click. Rain immediately drenched what little of him had remained dry. He didn’t bother opening it again. Instead, he walked back toward his own car beneath the downpour, each step heavier than the last. For the first time since returning from Shibuya… Nanami found himself wishing he could take something back. Not the scars. Not the memories. Just a handful of careless words that had driven away the one person who’d never once looked at him with pity.
Thursday morning arrived with another blanket of gray clouds. A light drizzle fell over the city, enough to dampen jackets and leave sidewalks glistening. By the time you stepped through the office doors, the shoulders of your coat were speckled with rain. Small droplets clung to loose strands of your hair. You quietly set your bag beside your desk, rubbing your hands together to warm them. “You look soaked.” You looked up to find one of your coworkers walking over with a coffee in hand. “I kind of am.” They frowned.
“What happened?” You offered a small shrug. “My car’s in the shop.” “Oh.” “So… I had to walk.” The coworker’s eyes widened. “…Wait. You walked here?” “Yeah, I don’t live far.” “…Jesus.” Their expression shifted from surprise to disbelief. “Did you walk home yesterday too?” You laughed softly, trying to make it sound less miserable than it had been. “…Yeah, but it’s fine.” “You know that’s almost like twenty minutes, right?” “I survived.” “You could’ve called someone.” “I didn’t want to bother anybody.” “You are unbelievable.”You only smiled, turning toward your desk before the conversation could continue.
Across the room… Nanami had stopped sorting through a stack of reports. He hadn’t meant to listen. The office carried voices far too easily in the morning. “I had to walk.” “Did you walk home yesterday too?” “Yeah.” His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the folder in his hands. You had walked home. In the rain. After he’d offered to drive you. The realization settled heavily in his chest. He remembered watching you climb into your car. Remembered assuming Lena had arrived not long after. Instead… You’d walked. Alone. His jaw clenched. Of course you had refused. Why would you get into a car with someone who’d snapped at you twice in the span of a week? He’d mistaken your hesitation for independence. Now…
It looked much more like avoidance. The thought lingered with him all morning. Every time he glanced up, you were already focused on your work. Every time you crossed the office, you took a different route than before. Not dramatically. Not obviously. Just enough that your paths no longer crossed. It was subtle. Painfully subtle. And Nanami noticed every single time. For perhaps the first time in years… He found himself unable to concentrate on work. Not because of reports. Not because of deadlines. But because he couldn’t stop replaying your quiet smile in the parking lot. “I’ll figure it out.” He’d believed you. Now he wondered if the truth had been much simpler.
You just hadn’t wanted to be around him anymore. And he couldn’t blame you. Not after giving you every reason to keep your distance.
The afternoon drifted by quietly. Rain continued to patter against the office windows, softer than yesterday but steady enough to paint the sky a dull gray. Most people had already begun packing up for the day when the elevator doors opened. “Lena!” Several coworkers greeted her with smiles. She waved as she stepped into the office, umbrella tucked beneath one arm. “I was in the building next door,” she explained. “Thought I’d stop by before stealing her for the ride home.” Her thumb pointed toward you. You smiled despite yourself. “Told you I’d survive.” “Barely.” Lena set her bag down on the corner of your desk before crossing her arms. “You look exhausted.”
“I feel exhausted.” “I imagine walking to work in the rain didn’t help.” You laughed quietly. “Not particularly.” The two of you talked for several minutes while everyone else finished their work. Eventually… Lena’s smile faded just slightly. Her eyes flicked across the office. Toward Nanami. Then back to you. “…Okay.” She leaned against your desk, lowering her voice. “What happened?” You looked up. “With what?” She tilted her head toward the other side of the office. “Lover boy not on your radar anymore?” Heat rushed into your face immediately.
“Lena…” “What?” She grinned. “I’m just asking.” You glanced around instinctively before answering. “…He made it pretty clear he was never interested.” Her smile disappeared. “What?” Her eyes widened. “Just drop it.” You busied yourself gathering loose papers from your desk. “It’s embarrassing.” Lena frowned. “No, wait.” She leaned in closer. “What happened?” A pause. “…You finally told him?” Your eyes widened. “What? No.” You shook your head quickly. “I never told him.” “Then what happened?” You swallowed. “…He…” The memory flashed through your mind. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You looked down at your desk.
“I don’t really want to talk about it.” Lena watched you for a long moment. “…Huh.” She sighed softly. “I really thought he’d be into you.” A humorless smile crossed your face. “Guess you were wrong.” Your voice came out barely above a whisper. Several desks away… Nanami had been placing files into a cabinet. He hadn’t intended to eavesdrop. He only caught fragments. “Lover boy…” “He made it pretty clear he was never interested.” “You finally told him?” “No.” “I really thought he’d be into you.” “Guess you were wrong.” His hand stopped halfway to the drawer. For a long moment, he simply stood there. The office around him faded into a dull blur of voices. The Christmas party. “You have really nice eyes.” The reports you’d always brought to him first. The way you’d defended him. The parking lot. The umbrella. Walking home in the rain.
One memory after another settled into place. Not as isolated moments. As pieces of the same picture. His throat felt unexpectedly tight. He closed the filing drawer with more care than necessary. So… It hadn’t been pity. It hadn’t been curiosity. And it certainly hadn’t been the office gossip inventing stories. You had truly cared for him. The realization should have brought relief. Instead… It filled him with a quiet, sinking regret. Because every time you’d reached out.. He had been the one to pull away. Nanami remained where he stood for another moment.
The office around him carried on as though nothing had happened. Keyboards clicked. Someone laughed near the printer. A phone rang somewhere down the hall. Yet every sound seemed strangely distant. His mind lingered on only one thought. So it was true. Not the gossip. Not the assumptions. Not the whispers. Just… You. You’d liked him. Long before Shibuya. Long before the scars. Long before he’d returned convinced no one could ever look at him the same again. He let out a slow breath. It changed nothing. The ship had already sailed. Whether his face had remained untouched… Or whether Shibuya had happened exactly as it did… He had still managed to ruin it. Not with the scars. With his own words. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He could still hear himself saying it. Each memory afterward only made it worse. You apologizing at his cubicle. You stepping away from him in the café. You refusing the ride home. Walking through the rain instead.
“He made it pretty clear he was never interested.” His jaw tightened. You hadn’t come to that conclusion because of his appearance. You’d come to it because he’d given you every reason to believe it. For a man who prided himself on measured words… He’d chosen the wrong ones. Twice. Lena picked up your bag from beside your desk. “Ready?”You nodded, shutting down your computer. “Yeah.” As you stood, Nanami emerged from the records room. His pace never faltered. Professional. Composed. The same steady stride everyone in the office had grown accustomed to. As he passed your cubicle, his eye lifted. Only for a moment. It met yours. There was no smile. No greeting. No attempt to stop. Just the briefest pause of his gaze. Almost as if to say… I heard.
Your stomach tightened. Embarrassment washed over you so quickly you looked away first. You busied yourself adjusting the strap of your bag, pretending not to notice him continue down the hallway. Lena watched the exchange in silence. “…He heard, didn’t he?” You closed your eyes for a second. “…I think so.” “Oh…” She winced sympathetically. “I’m sorry.” You forced a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It’s fine.” It wasn’t. Neither of you believed that. At the end of the hallway, Nanami pushed open the office door.
The cool evening air met him immediately. For the first time in a very long while… He found himself wishing he could rewind something as simple as a conversation. Because now he knew. And somehow… Knowing the truth hurt far more than never knowing at all. ~ Several more days passed. The office settled back into its routine. Reports. Meetings. Coffee. Deadlines.
From the outside, everything looked normal again. You and Nanami simply… existed around one another now. No lingering conversations. No shared jokes. Just polite distance. It was easier that way. Or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. Thursday morning began terribly. Your alarm never went off. When your eyes finally opened, sunlight was spilling through your curtains. Your heart dropped. “…No.” You grabbed your phone. 8:37. You were supposed to be at work thirty-seven minutes ago. Everything afterward became a blur. Throwing on the first blouse you could find. Barely brushing your hair. Skipping breakfast. Running out the door with mismatched earrings you didn’t even notice. By the time you rushed through the office entrance, your breathing was uneven. A few coworkers looked up in surprise. “You? Late? Didn’t know that was possible.” You laughed weakly.
“My alarm betrayed me.” You hurried to your desk, setting your bag down with a sigh that seemed to drain every ounce of energy from your body. “…What a morning.” You rubbed your temples. Your hair had clearly been rushed into place. Your blouse was slightly wrinkled. Dark circles lingered beneath your eyes from the stress of the morning. For once… You didn’t look like you had everything together. You simply sat there for a moment, trying to catch your breath. “…Are you alright?” The familiar voice made you freeze. You looked up. Nanami stood beside your cubicle. A folder rested beneath one arm. His expression remained composed as always. But there was something softer in his eye. Concern. Genuine concern. You blinked, surprised he’d approached you first. “…Yeah.” You smiled instinctively. Or at least tried to. “My alarm didn’t go off.” He glanced at the untouched coffee cup sitting on your desk. “No breakfast?” “…No.” “No coffee.” “…Also no.” A small crease formed between his brows. “I see.” Silence settled between you. Not awkward. Just quiet. You shifted in your chair. “I’m okay.” “You don’t look okay.” The words escaped him before he could reconsider them. Your eyebrows lifted.
He cleared his throat almost immediately. You felt almost embarrassed now, knowing you didn’t have on any makeup like you normally did. You quickly looked away from him. He realized what he said sounded rude. “No I-“ “Y/n, please make sure from now on to notify us if you’re going to be late. Will you come grab these files off my desk?” Your manager said interrupting Nanami. “Yes” you replied quickly, walking past Nanami without even looking at him. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting his eyes.
The morning dragged on. You buried yourself in reports, grateful for the distraction. After the awkward interaction earlier, you were content pretending the office, and one particular coworker, didn’t exist. Around noon, the smell of lunch drifted through the office as people began returning from nearby cafés. You barely noticed. Your stomach had been reminding you for the past hour that you’d skipped breakfast. “…Y/n.” You looked up. Nanami stood beside your cubicle.
Your heart skipped. He looked… strangely uncertain. Almost hesitant. In one hand was a small paper bag from the Japanese restaurant across the street. Without a word, he gently placed a neatly packaged takeout container onto your desk. “I know you didn’t have breakfast…” His voice was quieter than usual. “So…” He slid it toward you. “I thought you should eat.” You blinked. The restaurant’s logo caught your eye immediately. “…Nanami…” He shifted his weight ever so slightly. “I wasn’t sure what you preferred.” “So I chose something simple.” “…Thank you.”
You carefully opened the container. Beautifully arranged sushi. Fresh salmon. Tuna. Shrimp. It looked incredible. Your smile slowly turned into an apologetic grimace. “…But…” You looked back up at him. “I’m allergic.” Silence. Nanami stared. “…You’re…” You offered an awkward little smile. “Seafood.…All of it.” Another pause. He looked down at the sushi. Then back at you. “…I see.” The words came out almost automatically. You couldn’t help the tiny laugh that escaped you. “I’m really sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” He was already reaching for the container. “This was my mistake.” “…It was really thoughtful.” “I should’ve asked.” “It’s okay.” “No.” His expression remained calm, but you caught the faintest hint of frustration directed entirely at himself. “I assumed…and assumptions have not served me particularly well recently.” The comment slipped out before he realized he’d said it aloud. The two of you looked at each other. For the first time in weeks… There wasn’t embarrassment. There wasn’t awkwardness. Just an odd sort of understanding. You smiled. A real one. “…For what it’s worth…It looks really good.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “…It does… I’ll eat it.” “You’d better.” A quiet chuckle escaped you. “I don’t want your expensive lunch going to waste.” He nodded once, picking the container back up. He turned and walked back toward the break room, the sushi tucked carefully in his hands.
You watched him disappear around the corner before looking back down at your desk. A smile found its way onto your face before you could stop it. The whole interaction had been… Ridiculously awkward. Almost funny. The thought of Nanami standing at the sushi counter, carefully choosing something because he wanted you to eat lunch, only to accidentally pick the one thing that could send you to the hospital…
It was almost enough to make you laugh. “…Poor guy.” You rested your chin against your hand. He’d looked so genuinely disappointed in himself. Not because you’d rejected the food. Because he’d gotten it wrong. Your gaze drifted toward the hallway where he’d disappeared. He hadn’t needed to buy you anything. He could’ve ignored the conversation from that morning. Pretended not to notice you skipping breakfast. Pretended not to care. Instead… He’d gone out of his way. Even if he’d accidentally chosen the one meal you couldn’t eat.
The intention had been there. And somehow… That mattered more than the lunch itself. You smiled softly to yourself before opening the bottom drawer of your desk. Inside sat a couple of granola bars you kept for long afternoons. “…Guess these will have to do.” As you unwrapped one, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was Nanami’s way of trying to mend the distance between you. You weren’t sure. But deep down, you hoped it was.
Saturday arrived before you knew it. After one of the longest workweeks you’d had in months, your phone buzzed just as you finished cleaning your apartment. Lena’s message was blunt as always: You’re coming out tonight. You tried to resist, but she shut it down immediately, and a few minutes later you gave in with a reluctant Fine. Her only follow-up was a simple instruction: Wear something cute. A couple hours later, you stood in front of your bathroom mirror, realizing it was the first time all week you’d actually taken your time getting ready. You chose your favorite outfit, added a little more makeup than usual, sprayed perfume, and put on jewelry you usually saved for special occasions. By the time Lena picked you up, she stared at you for a second before breaking into a grin and saying, “There she is.” When you asked what she meant, she only replied that she’d missed this version of you, and you rolled your eyes even as she linked her arm through yours.
The bar was already buzzing when you arrived, filled with neon lights, music, and overlapping laughter. Pink and blue hues washed over everything while old pop songs thumped through the speakers. One drink turned into two, and then into something you stopped bothering to count. By the time karaoke was announced, Lena had somehow already signed both of your names up, ignoring every protest you made as she practically dragged you toward the stage.
The moment the opening notes of an early-2000s anthem played, you lit up, recognizing it instantly. Neither of you bothered with the lyrics, shouting every word from memory while dancing around the tiny stage like no one was watching. Lena nearly tripped over a microphone cord, and you caught her just in time, both of you laughing so hard she missed half the chorus. By the end, you were pointing microphones at the crowd, getting strangers to sing along, and when the song finished, you bowed dramatically as if you’d just performed in a sold-out arena.
Applause filled the room, along with whistles and calls for an encore, and your face hurt from smiling as you stepped off the stage. That’s when someone approached you, a tall, well-dressed man close to your age who complimented your performance. Lena immediately excused herself with a knowing look, leaving you to talk. The conversation flowed easily, covering music, work, and favorite places in the city, and when he eventually asked if you wanted to leave for dessert, you found yourself pausing.
For a moment, you considered it. He was kind, funny, and clearly interested, and there was nothing wrong with him. But something inside you simply wasn’t ready. Nanami flowed through your mind like he always did. You smiled apologetically and turned him down, and to his credit, he accepted it without pressure or disappointment. After he left, Lena returned with two waters and immediately asked what happened. When you told her you said no, she didn’t push, only linked her arm through yours and said it was time to go home. As you left together, still laughing about karaoke in the parking lot, you realized the weight you’d been carrying all week felt just a little lighter.
Monday mornings were rarely exciting. The office hummed with its usual rhythm, phones ringing, keyboards clicking, coffee brewing somewhere in the break room. You’d just settled into your chair when the receptionist appeared beside your desk. “Y/n?” you looked up. “There’s someone here asking for you.” Your eyebrows knitted together. “For me?” She smiled. “Yeah. He said he’ll only take a minute.” Confused, you stood and followed her toward the front lobby, several curious heads lifting as you disappeared around the corner, including Nanami’s.
The man from the bar stood near the reception desk, dressed casually in dark jeans and a navy button-down. The moment he saw you, he smiled. “Hi.” Your eyes widened. “What are you doing here?” “I know,” he laughed sheepishly. “This is probably a little weird.” “A little?” He rubbed the back of his neck before revealing a bouquet he’d been hiding behind his back, fresh white roses mixed with pale pink roses. “I realized I never really got a chance to make a proper first impression.” He held the flowers out. “So… I thought maybe I’d try again.” The receptionist quietly covered her smile, and a couple of nearby coworkers shamelessly pretended not to watch as your cheeks warmed.
“…These are beautiful.” “I wasn’t sure what kind you liked.” “I…” You hesitated before carefully accepting them. “Thank you. They’re really thoughtful.” His shoulders visibly relaxed. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Then, smiling hopefully, he added, “Maybe dinner sometime this week?” You looked down at the bouquet in your hands. He was sweet, genuinely sweet, kind, patient, and you hated what you were about to say. “I’m really flattered. You seem like a wonderful person…” A pause. “But… I think I spoke too soon.” His expression shifted slightly, uncertain but still patient. You exhaled softly. “I’m not… not ready. I just… panicked a little last time.” His brows lifted slightly. You gave a small, embarrassed laugh. “I’d actually like to get to know you better.” A beat.
Then you looked back up at him. “So… yes. Dinner sounds nice.” For a second, he just stared at you like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly. Then his face broke into a relieved, genuine smile. “Yeah?” You nodded. “Yeah.” “Great,” he said quickly, like he was afraid you might change your mind. “I’ll… I’ll text you. We can pick a place you like.” “That sounds perfect.” “Okay,” he laughed softly, clearly trying to contain his excitement. “Okay, good.” he held out his phone and you gave him your contact. He stepped back toward the exit, still smiling. “I’m really glad I came in today.” “Me too.” With one last wave, he disappeared through the front doors.
From across the office, Nanami had witnessed almost the entire exchange, enough to see the flowers, your smile, and the way the man looked at you. And now… your answer. Something unfamiliar twisted quietly in his chest. Jealousy. He almost laughed at himself. What right did he have? None. He looked back down at the report in front of him, the words blurring together. Meanwhile, you returned to your desk carrying the bouquet carefully against your chest, immediately drawing smiles and questions from coworkers. “They’re gorgeous.” “Who was that?” “Someone from the weekend?” You laughed awkwardly. “…Just someone I met.” You set the bouquet down, but this time your expression was lighter. Less conflicted. More certain. Still, you adjusted the ribbon gently, almost thoughtful. Across the room, Nanami noticed it, the difference, the ease in your shoulders, the way you didn’t look at the flowers like a problem anymore. He looked away first.
The office had settled back into its afternoon lull. Most conversations had died down. The bouquet still rested neatly in the corner of your desk. You were halfway through reviewing a report when a familiar shadow stopped beside your cubicle. “…Y/n.” You looked up. Nanami. Your heart gave an involuntary little jump. He glanced toward the flowers before resting a hand lightly against the edge of your desk. His fingertips brushed one of the pale pink roses. “…Who was he?” His voice was calm. Curious. Not accusatory. You hesitated. “Oh… I met him over the weekend.” He nodded once, silently encouraging you to continue. “He came to the bar Lena dragged me to.” “…I see.” “He asked me out.” “And?”
You smiled sheepishly. “I said no.” His eye lifted to yours. “But…” You laughed quietly. “He showed up with flowers this morning.” “…So I changed my mind.” Another small nod. “He seems kind.” “He is.” Silence settled between you. Nanami looked down at the bouquet again before speaking. “…What day are you seeing him?” You frowned slightly. “Thursday.” “Hm.” The thoughtful hum lingered between you. You watched him, completely unable to guess what he was thinking. Then… The faintest smile touched his lips. One you’d almost forgotten he was capable of. “…I’d like to take you out on Friday.” Your entire body went still. “…What?”
His gaze remained steady. “I’d like to take you to dinner.” The office around you disappeared. Phones. Keyboards. Conversations. Everything blurred into meaningless background noise. You simply stared at him. Surely… You’d misheard him. “…I’m sorry…” Your voice came out barely above a whisper. “…What did you say?” A hint of amusement flickered across his face. “I asked if you’d allow me to take you to dinner.” Your heartbeat thundered in your ears. This had to be a dream.
Only a week ago you’d convinced yourself he’d never wanted anything to do with you. Now… He was standing at your desk asking you on a date. “I…” Words completely abandoned you. Nanami noticed the stunned look on your face and gave a small, understanding nod. “You don’t have to answer now.” He glanced toward the flowers one last time. “Go on your date Thursday.” His eye found yours again. “If, afterward…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “…You’d still be willing to spend an evening with me…” The corner of his mouth lifted again. “…I’d consider myself fortunate.” He inclined his head politely.
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This will be a small story, probably only another part! Hope you guys like it :3
