Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

He confessed to me. Natsusawa did. Even now, my brain struggles to fully comprehend it. Of all the people he could have chosen, why me? What could he possibly see in me?

Months blurred into a haze of college entrance exams, and before I knew it, we were swept into separate worlds. He went into T-University studying education, while I buried myself in law school. Over the years, our communication grew sparse… dwindling into the safe bubble of mere friends.

When he first said those words, I couldn't take them seriously. It was the very first time anyone had ever told me they liked me romantically. I was stunned, yes, but mostly I was entirely bewildered. I hadn't caught a single hint or sensed any shift in the air that could have pointed to his feelings leading to it.

So, when he finally told me, standing outside after our end-of-semester party at Patisserie Plain, the sweet scent of pastries still hanging in the night air, I froze. I had absolutely no idea how to respond.

Our relationship stagnated right there. For the first month following his confession, I did nothing, paralyzed by my own uncertainty and insecurity. He tried to reassure me, insisting that things were fine between us just the way they were. He never explicitly said he would wait for me; he just told me that everything was okay. 

But it didn't feel okay. 

I racked my brain every single night, desperately trying to figure out how to ease the sudden tension between us. I valued his friendship too much, and the terror of ruining that had kept me awake most nights. 

Maybe he sensed my panic then because he texted me one night: “Don’t overthink it too much, Hoshina.”

But it was already too late. I had already overanalyzed every word, rendering it impossible to forget a single detail of his confession.

It took three years for the fog to clear, only for me to be left standing in the wreckage of my own denial. The truth is sharp and undeniable: I loved him. I loved him then, and I love him now. But I let fear dictate my silence, choosing the safety of a comfortable limbo over the risk of reaching out. Now, my heart is refusing to stay quiet in the space we built as just friends.

I want him. That much is painfully true now.

Which is why sitting here, watching him at his part-time job at Sumika, the realization hits harder. He’s standing by the bar, talking to his girlfriend that makes my chest tighten. I can't deny the dull, agonizing ache blooming inside me.

A year ago, he introduced her to us. Serena.

She was a student at T-University too, but the real twist of the knife was that she was in the exact same college department as me. Because of that, I knew her painfully well. She had this soft, tumbling brunette hair, and I remember vividly the bright gleam in her eyes when Natsusawa finally introduced her to us: his inner circle. His friends.

The rest of the guys were surprised, but my reaction went far deeper than mere shock. It was an awakening. 

That was the exact moment the floor dropped from beneath me, and I realized my feelings for him were infinitely stronger than I had ever dared to admit. In my naivety, it had completely slipped my mind that Natsusawa wouldn't just wait in limbo forever and that he was allowed to move on and belong to someone else.

The worst part? Serena was a genuinely good person. She was sweet, effortlessly beautiful, and began joining our group hangouts regularly. But watching them together ignited an ache in my chest so sharp it made it hard to breathe.

To survive, I did the only thing I knew how to do: I built walls.

Whenever Serena was invited, I suddenly became the master of excuses. I was too buried in my law syllabus, too tired, or already booked. I systematically phased myself out of the group. It was a desperate attempt to hide, but Kaoruko noticed the pattern almost immediately, and she knew exactly what kind of quiet, suffocating heartbreak I was drowning in.

What if I had just given him a chance? 

The regret was consuming me, and I couldn't stop the wave of self-pity from washing over me. The chance had been right there in my hands. He had handed it to me, and I just failed to hold onto it firmly.

“Are you okay, Miss?”

A light tap on my shoulder pulled me from the spiral. I was sitting at the far end of the counter, a safe distance away from the section of the bar where Natsusawa was working.

“I’m fine,” I told the man, forcing a polite smile.

Years ago, a random interaction like this would have paralyzed me. I had spent so long terrified of men, unable to even look them in the eye. But I worked through that fear. Now, I could converse with them freely, without the grip of anxiety or dread. It was all because of the support of my friends… especially Natsusawa. He had been the anchor throughout that entire journey.

Yet, thinking about him now, sitting here in the corner and secretly watching him without his knowledge, felt pathetic. 

It wasn't healthy. It wasn't how someone moves on.

But I needed to see him. And seeing him genuinely happy with someone else was the brutal, necessary reality check I needed to finally kill these feelings.

“Do you want me to order you another shot?” the man asked. When I actually looked at him, he seemed to be around my age, though maybe a year or two older.

“Are you sure?” I asked, too emotionally drained to put up a fight. Right now, the company was a relief. It felt dangerously good not to be entirely alone with my thoughts.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” he replied easily. He turned to the bartender and ordered two shots of tequila.

I blinked, surprised as the small glasses slid toward us. “You said you were just getting me another shot.”

“Well, looking at you, it seemed like you needed more than just one,” he said, offering a small, sympathetic smile. I could hear the genuine concern in his voice.

“Thank you,” I murmured, my fingers wrapping around the cold glass. I stared down at the amber liquid, the heavy bass of Sumika's music thumping against my chest. “I guess I really do.”

“Wanna share what’s on your mind?” he asked, propping his elbow up on the counter and resting his cheek against his palm, looking at me with easy curiosity.

“No.” I answered instantly.

“Aww, come on. I just treated you to two shots.”

I leveled a look at him. “I don’t make a habit of pouring my life story out to strangers.” I sighed, breaking eye contact to down the first shot. The sharp burn tore through my throat, a welcome distraction.

He cleared his throat, entirely unfazed. “Okay, let's fix that. For starters, my name’s Zen. And you are?”

I let out a breathless, incredulous chuckle. “Seriously?”

“Yeah! I mean, think about it… everyone starts off as a stranger.” He grinned, extending a hand toward me.

The sheer absurdity of it broke through my mood, and I laughed before I could stop myself. 

“Hoshina Subaru,” I said, finally placing my hand in his.

“A beautiful name for a nice lady.”

“If you’re expecting me to flirt back, don’t even waste your time imagining it,” I warned, pulling my hand away.

“Hey, that’s a serious accusation!” Zen laughed, raising his hands in mock defense. “Seriously, though. I just came here tonight looking for some decent company, so please indulge me, Miss Hoshina.”

“Me? Indulge you?” I snarked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, why not?” He shrugged, his gaze shifting past my shoulder. “Besides, it feels like you've got some pretty heavy history with that guy over there.”

Before I could ask what he meant, he casually nodded toward the main bar. My eyes followed his gesture, landing right on Natsusawa, who was laughing easily while chatting with a customer.

My chest tightened. “I don't know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, I can see the longing practically radiating off you,” Zen said, picking up his own glass and throwing back the shot. He let out a low whistle as the alcohol hit, then locked his eyes back onto mine. “Let me guess. He’s in a relationship with that brunette girl, and you’re sitting on the sidelines, feeling sorry for yourself watching them together.”

The bluntness of his words should have offended me. I should have snapped at him, defended my pride, or walked away. But hearing it laid out so clinically by someone who didn’t even know me made the truth hit harder. My feelings were bleeding out of me, a raw, aching yearning so obvious that a complete stranger could read it across a crowded room.

A sudden knot formed in my throat, choking back the defense I wanted to mount. The room seemed to blur at the edges as a familiar heat pricked the corners of my eyes. 

I blinked rapidly, desperate to hold onto my composure, but a single tear escaped anyway, tracking a slow path down my cheek. 

“Are you some kind of psychic?” I whispered.

I choked back a gasp and wiped it away immediately, but I was a second too late. Zen had already seen it.

“Hey, sorry,” he said softly, his playful demeanor instantly dropping. He slid a clean napkin across the sleek wood of the bar. “I didn't mean to push. I’m just... a little too good at observing people, I guess. Especially when they catch my attention.”

I turned my stool to face him fully, gripping the napkin tightly in my palm. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Zen replied, a gentle, understanding smile returning to his face. “Because I think, more than anything right now, you just really need someone to talk to.”

I stared at him for a moment, the heavy isolation that had been crushing me all evening finally loosening its grip, just a fraction.

I managed a small, genuine smile. “I appreciate the company then, Zen.”

“So, what’s your story, Hoshina Subaru?”

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I downed the second shot, letting the liquid burn a temporary path through the numbness settling in my chest. 

Then, we ordered another round. 

And another. 

Somewhere between the third glass and the steady, rhythmic thumping of the bar's bass, I opened myself to him. Time simply swept past as I poured out everything I had been carrying: the suffocating regret, the silent years of distance, and the words I should have said at Patisserie Plain.

There was a strange, liberating comfort in confessing my pain to a stranger. Zen didn’t hold the baggage of my past; he didn’t look at me with the pity my friends might have shown. He just listened with a quiet, genuine concern that I hadn't realized I was starving for.

Years ago, Natsusawa had been the one to offer me this kind of unconditional safety. Now, craving that exact warmth from a different source felt like a bitter irony.

My eyes drifted back across the crowded room, instinctively tracking the line of the bar until they landed on Natsusawa. 

Look back, I pleaded silently, a desperate, childish prayer sent across the expanse of the smoke and neon light. Just turn around. See me.

But the distance between us wasn't just measured in feet and inches; it was measured in years of silence. And worse, it was blocked by the presence of the girl standing beside him. 

Reality crashed over me once more: he wasn't going to look. 

I felt utterly miserable. A pathetic spectator in his new life.

The sting was magnified by the realization that I hadn't even known he worked here. Natsusawa, the boy who used to share his quietest thoughts with me, hadn't mentioned a part-time job at a bar. 

But why would he? Who was I to him now? Just the girl who had panicked, overthought, and casually tossed his genuine feelings back in his face because she was too afraid to hold them. Three years had given us both room to grow. I had conquered my fear of men; he had built a life on his own track. 

As I watched him laugh at something Serena said, a dark, clawing desperation took root in my throat. 

I didn't want growth if it meant growing apart. 

I wanted him to see me. 

I wanted him to know that the girl who had frozen under the night sky three years ago was finally awake. 

I wanted him to realize how deeply I loved him, that I was still standing right here, waiting.

Shit.

The thought caught in my throat, and another tear slipped out, cutting through the blur of my conversation with Zen.

The truth didn't just dawn on me; it mangled me. 

I really love him. 

Not just as a lingering attachment or as a comfortable habit. 

I loved Natsusawa deeply, completely, and with a maturity I hadn't possessed when he actually belonged to me.

Maybe that was the real reason I kept dragging myself back to this bar like a glutton for punishment, hiding in the dim corners just to catch a glimpse of him. It was the same reason I found myself staring at our old group photos late at night, zooming in on his face until the pixels blurred, wishing with every fiber of my being that his shoulder was pressed against mine instead of existing as a frozen memory on a phone screen. 

I was haunting my own life.

“You’re in that deep, huh?” Zen’s voice broke through the suffocating spiral.

“Huh?” I blinked, my vision swimming.

Before I could pull away, Zen reached out, his thumb gently catching the tear before it could track down my jaw. His touch was kind, completely devoid of expectation, but it only highlighted how hollow I felt inside.

“Wanna get out of here then?” Zen asked softly, his eyes searching mine. “Somewhere we can actually hear ourselves think?”

His offer was undeniably tempting, and a part of me craved the escape. But as much as Zen’s presence comforted me, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Not yet. 

A pathetic, stubborn shred of hope kept me anchored to my stool. I was still waiting and wishing that by some miracle, Natsusawa would turn around, lock eyes with me across the crowded room, and choose me all over again.

“But hey, no pressure,” Zen added softly, catching the hesitation in my eyes before I could even formulate an excuse. “I’ll just hit the restroom for a minute. Give you some time to think.”

He gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, stood up, and slipped past me toward the hallway near the back of the bar.

Once he was gone, the temporary distraction of our conversation faded, and the volume of the alcohol we had consumed finally caught up with me. The heavy baseline of the music seemed to vibrate directly through my skull, and the neon lights blurred into dizzying streaks of color. My eyelids felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and a cresting wave of intoxication.

Needing to steady the spinning room, I folded my arms on the sleek wooden surface of the counter and rested my forehead against them. 

Just for a minute, I said to myself, closing my eyes. Just until Zen comes back.

With my eyes shut, the ambient noise of Sumika blurred into a dull hum. The alcohol was fully kicking in now, making my limbs feel like metal and my thoughts move like molasses.

But even through the hazy, dizzying warmth, my pathetic heart refused to shut down. Just look back, I thought, the words a repetitive, silent chant in the dark behind my eyelids. Turn around. See me. Leave her and choose me.

A heavy thud beside me broke the rhythm of the music.

"Hey, pretty lady. Left all alone?"

The voice wasn't Zen's. 

It was unfamiliar and entirely too close. I groaned internally, too drained to raise my head immediately. I felt the stool beside me shift as the weight of someone new settled into it. I kept my eyes closed, hoping that if I played dead, whoever it was would get bored and walk away.

"Aw, come on, don't be like that," the man muttered. Through the fog in my brain, I heard the faint, distinct clink of a glass being moved on the wooden counter, followed by a sharp, subtle splash. "Here. Have another drink with me. It'll wake you right up."

My eyes snapped open, my legal training and baseline survival instincts flaring through the alcohol-induced stupor. I forced myself upright, blinking against the neon glare. A man I had never seen before with a flushed face and reeking of alcohol and cheap cologne was pushing my half-empty shot glass back toward me. But the liquid inside wasn't clear anymore; a faint, oily film was swirling at the top, dissolving rapidly.

Before I could even find my voice to yell, a shadow loomed over the guy's shoulder.

Zen had come back. And he wasn't smiling anymore.

"Hey. What the hell do you think you're putting in her drink?" Zen’s voice was dangerously low.

The man smirked, completely misjudging the situation. "Relax, pal. Just making sure the lady has a good time—"

BAM.

The sound of flesh striking bone echoed sharply over the music. Zen didn't argue. He simply grabbed the man by the collar, hauled him backward off the stool, and delivered a clean right hook straight to his jaw.

The guy crashed hard against a nearby table, sending empty glasses shattering to the floor. The sudden violence cut through the atmosphere of the bar. The music didn't stop, but the surrounding conversations died instantly. Screams erupted from a few customers nearby, and a chaotic commotion broke out as the man scrambled on the floor, bleeding from his lip and reaching blindly for Zen's legs.

"Hey! What's going on over there?!"

A loud voice commanded the room from across the main counter.

My heart stopped. The dizziness vanished, replaced by a cold dread.

Natsusawa.

He was vaulting over the low bar partition, his face pale and eyes blazing with authoritative anger as a staff member. He stormed toward the disturbance, ready to break up a standard bar fight and kick out the instigators.

"We don't tolerate this shit here, break it up—" Natsusawa started, his voice firm as he stepped into the dim light of our corner.

But then his eyes shifted from Zen, down to the groveling man on the floor, and finally landed directly on me.

The color completely drained from Natsusawa's face. The authoritative, professional anger vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated terror.

"Hoshina...?" he breathed.

"He spiked her drink," Zen barked, pointing a furious, trembling finger at the dissolving liquid in my glass. "I caught him dropping a pill into it while she was resting."

The words seemed to hang in the air for a fraction of a second. I watched Natsusawa's eyes dart from the suspicious, oily film in the shot glass back to me. He saw my wide, terrified eyes, my pale face, and the vulnerability of my posture. The realization of what had almost happened to me, or of what would have happened if I had been entirely alone, seemed to flash into him.

Something inside Natsusawa snapped. I saw it.

The guy who was usually the mediator and the level-headed figure who always told me to calm down and breathe, completely lost control. A terrifying, primal rage took over his features.

Before the suspect could even stand up, Natsusawa lunged forward. He grabbed the front of the man's shirt, hauling him up with a strength I didn't know he possessed, and drove his fist squarely into the center of the man's face.

The force of the blow knocked the guy completely unconscious, his limp body slumping heavily against the base of the bar stools.

"Natsusawa!" Serena's voice echoed from the main bar, filled with panic as she ran toward the scene, but Natsusawa didn't even hear her.

He didn't care about the rules, he didn't care about his job, and he didn't care about the crowd staring at him in shock. He spun around instantly, ignoring the unconscious man, and practically threw himself to his knees right in front of my stool.

"Hoshina! Look at me. Did you drink it? Tell me you didn't drink it," Natsusawa pleaded, his hands flying to my shoulders. His palms were shaking violently, his grip tight and desperate. His eyes searched my face, completely frantic, filled with a terrifying vulnerability. "Are you okay? God, Hoshina, please answer me..."

For years, I had prayed for him to turn around and look at me. I had begged the universe for him to see me, to notice me, to care.

And now, he was right here. Holding onto me as if his entire world was tearing at the seams, his heart beating a rhythm that I could feel against my own skin. He had looked back. 

But as I stared into his panicked eyes, the weight of reality settled back down. Because even in his terror, the question remained: was this the protection of a man who still loved me, or just the agonizing reflex of a friend who couldn't bear to see his friend get hurt?

“No, I didn’t drink it,” I told him quietly, my voice barely a whisper above the ringing in my ears. My head was pounding, the adrenaline finally warring with the heavy fog of the alcohol.

Natsusawa let out a ragged, trembling breath, the relief momentarily washing over his face before it was replaced by a simmering intensity. Without another word, he wrapped his fingers around my wrist and pulled me up from the barstool.

“Come on,” he said, his voice dropping into a dark, low register that vibrated with a mix of fury and worry. “Let’s get you home.”

I stumbled slightly, my legs were somewhat numb, but before Natsusawa could guide me toward the exit, a figure stepped directly into our path.

Zen.

He didn't look intimidated by Natsusawa's outburst, nor was he backing down. He stepped in close, blocking the walkway between the barstools. 

“Hey, man. Hold on a second,” Zen said, his voice calm but firm. “She’s with me tonight.”

I stood between them, my brain moving too slowly to process everything. My eyes drifted blearily from Zen's stern expression to the rigid set of Natsusawa's shoulders.

Natsusawa didn't break stride. He adjusted his grip on my wrist, pulling me subtly behind him, sheltering me from the entire room. He leveled a look at Zen that could have cut through glass.

“Well, she’s with me now,” Natsusawa said. The tone was lethal and completely stripped of the gentle, easygoing boy I knew.

Zen didn't budge. He crossed his arms, his eyes shifting down to where Natsusawa was holding my wrist, then back up. 

“Look, I get that you know her, and I respect that you just handled that guy. But I’m the one who brought her a drink, and I'm the one responsible for her tonight. You can't just drag a drunk girl out of a bar because you feel entitled to.”

The air between them turned entirely electric. Natsusawa took a single step forward, crowding into Zen's space. The anger radiating off him was almost suffocating.

“If you were actually looking out for her, this wouldn’t have happened,” Natsusawa hissed, his words cutting through the ambient noise of the bar. His eyes flashed with a bitter, protective fury. “She was left alone. Now move.”

Zen opened his mouth to retort, but he caught the desperate, pleading look in my eyes, or maybe he recognized the terrifying sincerity in Natsusawa's rage. He hesitated, his posture softening just a fraction as he realized Natsusawa wasn't a threat to me.

Slowly, Zen stepped aside, raising his hands in a silent surrender. 

“Keep her safe,” he murmured and I only nodded.

Natsusawa didn't answer but he also didn't waste another second. Keeping his grip secure around my wrist, he guided me through the murmuring crowd, past the shattered glass and the security guards finally rushing in, and straight out into the cool night air.

The heavy doors of Sumika swung shut behind us, cutting off the music, leaving only the sound of our echoing footsteps and Natsusawa's heavy, ragged breathing in the quiet alleyway until we reached the rear parking lot.  

The chilly night air did nothing to clear the heavy fog in my head, but the moment Natsusawa guided me into the passenger seat of his car, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of us. 

He leaned over me, his movements a careful, deliberate contrast to the violence he’d just unleashed earlier.

As he pulled the seatbelt across my chest, the sudden proximity made my breath hitch.

There it was; the familiar, comforting scent of him that I had starved myself of for years. It washed over me, intoxicating in a way the alcohol could never match. My hands twitched in my lap, fighting a desperate urge to reach up, wrap my arms around his neck, and pull him into me. 

But I forced my fingers to stay locked together. I had no right.

"I didn't know you were at the bar tonight," Natsusawa said softly, his fingers lingering on the seatbelt buckle as it clicked into place. His face was only inches from mine, his eyes dark with an emotion I couldn't quite read in the dim light of the parking lot.

"Sorry..." was all I could manage to whisper.

He let out a long, weary sigh, finally straightening up but keeping one hand on the roof of the car, framing me. "I would've looked out for you if you'd just told me you were coming."

Something inside me snapped. Maybe it was the fear of the incident, or maybe it was the liquid courage finally overriding my chronic overthinking. I had built a fortress of silence around my regrets, but looking at him now, the truth bled out before I could stop it.

"I came every night since the moment I found out you were working there," I confessed quietly, staring down at my lap because I couldn't bear to see the pity or confusion on his face.

The silence that followed was suffocating. I braced myself for the rejection, for him to clear his throat and gently remind me of my place.

Instead, a soft, bittersweet chuckle broke the quiet.

"I know..." Natsusawa responded.

My head snapped up so fast the parking lot spun. I blinked through the haze, staring at him in utter disbelief.

"You... you know?"

"Hoshina," he said, his voice dropping to a tender, aching register as he reached out, his thumb gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch was warm against my flushed skin. "You're not exactly subtle when you're hiding in the corners. I've watched you walk through those doors every single time."

“I just didn’t catch you earlier, so I figured you hadn’t come tonight,” he continued quietly, stepping back. 

Before I could even attempt to unpack that, he gently closed the passenger door. I watched his silhouette glide across the front of the hood before he opened the driver’s side and slid in beside me.

The engine roared to life, a vibrating rumble that shook the quiet atmosphere of the parking lot. Oddly, the low hum of the car started to ground me, the sharpest edges of my dizziness beginning to recede. 

But clarity brought a whole new kind of panic.

He knew.

The realization felt heavy in my stomach. Every single time I had sneaked into that bar, hiding in the corner and thinking I was being clever, he had already seen me. He watched me watch him. I felt exposed, stripped of my armor, and entirely unequipped to manage the weight of this silence.

I had a million things I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry and that I was stupid to not realize what I truly felt. 

But a cold, rational spike of fear pierced through the alcohol in my veins. What right do I have to turn his life upside down now? 

I had spent years suffocating under my own regret, but Natsusawa? Natsusawa had survived my silent rejection. He had moved on and built a new relationship. Pouring my heart out now wouldn't be a romantic confession, it would only be a selfish act of sabotage, ripping open wounds he had undoubtedly fought hard to heal.

Right now, he was acting out of the pure, protective instinct of a friend. And as much as it broke my heart, I had to force myself to be satisfied with that.

Natsusawa shifted into drive, and the neon lights of the city began to blur past my window as we hit the open highway. The silence inside the car was thick, suffocatingly intimate.

“Is it still the same?” he asked, breaking the quiet without taking his eyes off the road. “Your apartment? Where you live?”

“Yeah,” I murmured, pulling my jacket tighter around myself. “It’s still the same.”

“Okay.”

As the familiar street signs slid past, a bittersweet ache settled into my chest. He didn't even need to plug the address into a map. He just knew.

“You still remember the way,” I whispered, almost testing the waters.

“Of course I do,” he said, his voice dropping into a quiet, raspy register that made my eyes sting.

Another stretch of heavy silence followed, the only sound being the soft click of the turn signal. Then, out of nowhere, Natsusawa’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white.

“Who was he?” he asked, his tone suddenly clipped. “Your boyfriend?”

“Oh... Zen?” I blinked, caught off guard by the undercurrent of tension in his voice. “No. I just met him tonight. He was... he was good company.”

“I can be good company, too,” Natsusawa said instantly. He didn't look at me, but the muscle in his jaw clenched hard. “Why did you never call for me?”

My breath caught in my throat. The irony of his question flared through me, mixing with the volatile cocktail of alcohol still in my system. He was frustrated? He was demanding to know why I hadn't reached out?

I turned my head to face him, my lips pursing into a tight line. “If you knew I was there every night, Natsusawa... why didn't you ever come over and talk to me?”

The car fell dead quiet. The question hung between us and Natsusawa’s chest rose and fell in a slow, jagged breath, his eyes locked firmly on the road ahead as he refused to answer.

“Just... be careful about meeting strangers,” he muttered after a long silence and choosing to deflect. “Look at what happened tonight. It could have been so much worse.”

“That was a small mishap,” I snapped, my defensive walls slamming upright. My tone came out sharper and more aggressive than I intended. “It won't happen again.”

Natsusawa caught the edge in my voice, and his calm demeanor cracked. 

“I was just worried, Hoshina…” he said, his voice rising as he finally glanced at me, his eyes wide and burning with a terrifying sincerity. “Who knows what that man would have done to you if that guy, Zen or I hadn’t been there? You were completely defenseless.”

“I know, and I appreciate what you did, okay?” I threw back, the suffocating reality of his new life finally boiling over. I couldn't take the mixed signals. I couldn't take him acting like I belonged to him when he had already given his heart to someone else. “But you shouldn’t have left Serena there. She’s your girlfriend, Natsusawa. It’s really not a good look to just abandon her to drive off into the night with another woman.”

The moment the word girlfriend left my mouth, the temperature in the car plummeted. I turned back to the window, my heart hammering against my ribs, hating myself for how bitter I sounded, but unable to take back the truth.

The screech of the brakes was loud as the car slammed to a halt at a red light. Natsusawa whipped his head around to face me. 

“What the hell are you even talking about?” he asked, his voice a mix of sheer disbelief and exasperation. “That wasn't Serena, Subaru. That was my older sister. She was visiting the bar with her friends from work.”

“Huh?” I blinked, the alcohol in my system suddenly making me feel like I was underwater.

“They were practically teasing me the whole time I was on shift,” he muttered, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“So... that wasn’t Serena?”

“No. I think you were just too drunk to even see straight,” he murmured, turning his eyes back to the windshield, though the tension in his shoulders didn't ease a fraction.

“I just... I didn’t see clearly. Sorry,” I whispered, looking down at my lap, my face burning with a sudden, humiliating wave of embarrassment.

“No worries,” he said quietly.

The light turned green, and the car rolled forward into the dark, quiet streets. The silence stretched between us again, but it wasn't the same heavy, awkward atmosphere from before. It was charged, buzzing with an electric current that made it hard to breathe.

“Serena and I broke up five months ago,” Natsusawa said, his voice dropping into a low, flat tone.

“Huh?” The word left me before I could stop it. That caught me completely off guard, shattering the entire reality I had constructed over the past year. “But... I thought you two were going strong.”

Natsusawa let out a long, weary sigh. “We just didn't announce it publicly. It's not something people need to gossip about.”

I knew what he meant. 

Natsusawa had a reputation at the College of Education. He was easily one of the brightest students in his track, but his charm and good looks meant he was always noticed by the girls on campus. When he and Serena had started dating, the student body treated them like the blueprint of a perfect couple. Serena was beautiful, effortlessly graceful; even I had felt small and plain compared to her when I saw them together.

“You know how people talk,” he sighed, adjusting his grip on the wheel. “I didn't want her to feel miserable or have to deal with everyone poking into our business.”

I stared out the window, watching the streetlights blur into streaks of amber and white, trying to process the massive shift in my reality. 

He was single. 

He had been single for five months. But as the shock subsided, a bitter realization still took its place, cutting through the protective fog of the alcohol.

“But why... why didn't you ever tell me about it?” I asked, my voice cracking slightly. I turned to look at his profile. “Don't you think I realize how much distance you’ve put between us, Natsusawa? You completely shut me out.”

“Don’t turn this back onto me,” Natsusawa snapped, his voice suddenly sharp, laced with a raw, buried hurt that made me flinch. He didn’t look at me, but his jaw was clenched so tight the bone showed. “You did the exact same thing to me when I confessed to you.”

The words hit so hard tjat the air inside the car became suffocatingly tight. I stopped breathing, the weight of his resentment laying bare the unspoken truth of the last three years. Natsusawa seemed to realize the gravity of what he said; he closed his mouth instantly, his eyes locked on the dark pavement ahead as a tense, agonizing quiet descended over the car.

Minutes passed in total agony until the car finally glided to a halt in front of my apartment building. He shifted into park. The engine hummed quietly, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside my chest. 

I stared at the dashboard, knowing I should open the door and walk away, but my feet were glued to the floor. I didn’t want to go inside. I wanted to stay right here, trapped in this painful, beautiful orbit with him for just a little longer.

“I was confused back then,” I told him quietly, my voice trembling as I forced us back into the conversational minefield he tried to close. “When you told me how you felt... I didn't know what to do.”

Natsusawa’s shoulders dropped a fraction, the anger seemed to bleed out of him, leaving behind something much more fragile. 

“I know...” he said softly, staring down at the steering wheel. “And I'm sorry for pushing my feelings onto you back then, especially when I knew what you were going through with... everything. It was stupid of me. I should have thought about your boundaries first.”

“No... it wasn’t that,” I whispered, tears blurring my vision as the armor I had worn finally crumbled. “It was because I was afraid… not of you, but of what it would all mean.” 

Natsusawa reached forward and turned off the ignition. The sudden silence that followed made the night feel infinitely longer, the dark interior of the car swallowing us whole.

“My feelings for you were just so damn strong, Subaru,” he confessed, his voice breaking as he finally turned his head to look at me. His eyes were wide, reflecting the distant streetlights, filled with vulnerability. “I was on the verge of completely losing it if I didn’t say anything to you. It felt like I was being unfair by keeping it a secret, as if I was lying every time we hung out. But looking back at it now... it just feels like I was being selfish. I was only thinking about clearing my own conscience, not how it would affect you.”

I shook my head, a single hot tear finally spilling over my lashes. 

“I appreciated it, Natsusawa. Everything you said to me that night at the patisserie... it was something I needed to hear. It made me feel valued in a way I hadn't felt in a long time. I just...” 

I choked back a sob, my fingers gripping the fabric of my skirt tightly. “I just didn’t know how to respond to love like that.”

Natsusawa let out a ragged breath, the sound catching in his throat as he closed the small distance between our seats, leaning inward. 

“Why were you at Sumika every night, Hoshina?”

I looked back at him, my vision blurring behind a fresh wall of tears. In the dim, shadowed interior of the car, his eyes were searching mine. Not just asking a question, but whispering a desperate, silent plea for the truth. 

He was giving me the opening I had prayed for across the crowded, smoke-filled room of the bar. I knew exactly what his look meant, and I knew how much my next words would weigh. If I spoke now, there would be no turning back, no more hiding in the corners, and no more safe distances.

“I was there just to see you...” I whispered, my voice trembling so hard the words almost broke.

The silence that followed was thick and agonizing. I could hear the frantic rhythm of my own pulse, or maybe it was his. 

Natsusawa didn’t move. He didn't blink. He just stared at me, his gaze dropping to my lips before snapping back to my eyes, trying to gauge if this was just the alcohol talking or the truth he had been waiting years to hear.

“Just to see me,” he repeated, his voice barely a rough murmur. A million unsaid questions flared in his eyes: Why now? Why didn't you just say something?

“I was a coward,” I choked out, the confession tearing from my throat as I finally reached out, my fingers trembling as they lightly brushed the sleeve of his jacket. “I spent three years overthinking, Natsusawa. Three years convincing myself that I’d ruined everything, that you deserved someone better, someone who wasn't broken or afraid. But seeing you move on and actually be with someone other than me... it completely mangled me.”

Another tear track burned down my cheek, but before I could pull my hand away in shame, Natsusawa moved.

His hand came up, warm and steady, catching my wrist. His grip was firm, identical to the way he had pulled me away from the danger at the bar, but this time, he wasn't pulling me away from a threat. He was anchoring me to him.

“Subaru…” he breathed my name, his voice fracturing into something raw and desperate. “Do you know why Serena and I broke up?”

I shook my head slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it felt deafening in the quiet car.

“It was because no matter how hard I tried, I could never give her my heart,” Natsusawa confessed, his eyes locking onto mine with an aching sincerity. “She was giving me everything she had, loving me so genuinely, and I was just... empty. It was unfair to keep holding onto her when I couldn't reciprocate those feelings. Because the truth is, Subaru, my heart never actually left that night outside the patisserie. It’s been stuck with you ever since.”

The words hit me with the force of a tidal wave. The guilt, the jealousy, the agonizing months of watching them together, it all dissolved in an instant. It was replaced by a breathtaking clarity. 

He hadn't moved on. He had been just as trapped in our past as I was.

“Natsusawa…” I whispered, a fresh wave of tears blurring my vision.

“I tried, Subaru. God, I really tried to move forward,” he murmured, his grip on my wrist softening as his fingers slid down to entwine with mine, squeezing tightly. “But then you started showing up at the bar. Do you have any idea what it was like? Working my shifts, trying to focus, and seeing you sit in that dim corner night after night? Wondering if you were there because you finally missed me, or if I was just overanalyzing it?”

A breathless, self-deprecating laugh escaped his lips, but his eyes remained intensely focused on me.

“I wanted to walk over to your table a thousand times. I wanted to drag you out of the shadows and demand to know why you were there. But I was terrified that if I pushed you again, if I read the signals wrong, you’d run away and disappear from my life completely.”

The weight of our missed connections, the years spent torturing ourselves in a prison of our own hesitations, settled heavily between us. We had both been running from fears that didn't exist.

“I'm not running anymore,” I said, my voice finding a sudden, fierce certainty despite the alcohol and the tears. I leaned in slightly, closing the distance I had spent years maintaining. “I don't want to hide in the shadows, Natsusawa. I love you. I’ve loved you for so long, and I’m so sorry it took so long to finally have the courage to say it.”

Natsusawa froze, his breath hitching as the words hung in the air. For a second, the universe seemed to stop spinning. Then, the last of his restraint crumbled. He reached out with his free hand, his palm cupping the side of my face, his thumb catching the tears on my cheek as he pulled me into him, slowly.

“Subaru… you are the fond of my affection and my desires. Don’t ever forget that.” he murmured, his voice a low, rough whisper that trembled with all the time we had lost. “And right now, I want to kiss you so badly.”

A soft, breathless smile broke through my tears. I didn't hesitate this time. I didn't overthink. I simply closed the remaining distance between us, letting the past slip away as my lips finally met his.