Watari returned to work looking worse than when he'd left: dazed, distracted, desirable. Tatsumi noticed this. He wished he'd been the one to but the blond in such a condition.
He hated himself for noticing. He was frightened that he wished it.
"There are people you can talk to," he told the scientist, concerned, but distant, aloof. He won't become involved.
He saw the blond, head rested in hands. "You look tired. You should sleep."
The door closes, something crashes. Tatsumi doesn't turn around.
He doesn't want to love Watari. Love is painful.
You always hurt the one you love.