A/N: Wow, I love seeing everyone's kind comments and favorites/follows! I just was given the opportunity of a full-time job (6-month contract), but I still plan on writing as much as I can! My goal is to do one chapter per week, and I also edit constantly. Oh also, I decided to change the title since the initial one felt a bit cliché to me. But I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I had writing it!


Haida watched his beer-clouded breath hit the cold nighttime air as he anxiously cracked his knuckles under his jacket. He had sent for an Uber about ten minutes ago, yet he still was standing here, his leg impatiently bouncing on the edge of the rugged sidewalk curb.

He turned his head upwards at the sky, the stars vaguely visible between a thin layer of the city's light pollution and the setting sun. His mind still could hear the gasps of Retsuko's cries and his leg jiggled even more. He knew she was at the karaoke club, there was no doubt. There was this unspoken connection between her and that venue; it's where she had taken Tadano during the evening of their breakup. It's where she bonded with their superiors, Gori and Washimi. Yet there was something else about that lounge that he couldn't place a finger on...

He bit his lip in shame, as an uncontrollable thought filled his head: why hadn't she ever taken him there? Friends take friends karaoking, everyone knew it was a standard move in the game of companionship. Had Fenneko ever gone to the karaoke club with Retsuko?

A strong gust of wind pelted the fretting accountant's back, breaking his string of worries.

'Right, focus on getting to Retsuko. Focus...'

The blinding headlights flooded Haida's vision before he saw the car approach the curbside as the vehicle came to a halt as another crisp breath of air pushed against Haida. He shivered, thankful for the cab driver's timing.

Opening the door, he was met with boisterous, "Evenin'!" to which Haida returned with a mumbled greeting. The driver, who was holding a lollipop in the side of his mustache-hidden mouth, sped off down the road, glancing up at the stranger in the mirror. "Sorry for the wait. Shouldn't take too long to get there."

"No worries." Haida had already drawn his attention to the window, his tired eyes hovering over bright street lights as the cab accelerated forward. The slight scent of artificial sweetener and cigarette ashtray clouded the air and Haida felt sick to his stomach. The reflection of the driver's phone GPS screen was also too bright for his liking.

'Please be okay, Retsuko.'

"Great weather to paint the town red." drawled the driver, whose name he had already forgotten. His bushy eyebrows and facial hair bristled when he spoke and Haida secretly wondered how he could see the road through all those tresses, let alone maneuvering a vehicle at night.

"Yeah... it sure is." said Haida, half-listening. He rearranged his legs so they were splayed diagonally instead of squished up against the passenger's seat, his long limbs able to relax. Well, as much as they could. His left thigh had resumed its nervous bouncing again, though he was careful to avoid part of the carpet where a melted, repulsive looking pink substance that suspiciously resembled chewing gum was smeared.

The apprehensive young man began to sweat from underneath his jacket, which felt heavy against his collar as warm air trailed from the front of the car's vents.

It abruptly occurred to him that he had only seen Retsuko cry very few times; he himself may have even expressed his emotions on a much higher level than his good friend. She had cried while roaring into the microphone during their showdown, but even then he struggled to know how to react. His first inclination, no, impulse had been to wrap her up in his arms, to safeguard her from the world.

Yet the energy, the absolute fury she had emitted warned him otherwise. It was difficult enough to clutch her hand in his, breaking her from her reverie of wrath. Her clenched fist that had once gripped the microphone with incredible strength had trembled under his grasp and he yet again had to deny his susceptibilities as her flushed face materialized into his hazy mind.

The swaying of the vehicle grounded Haida, his midsection cramping as the two pints of beer swished against his abdomen with the turning of the wheels. He felt his throat tighten when the driver soon yielded at a right turn signal before reaching the main road, an all too familiar stretch to Haida. It wouldn't be much longer until they reached the incandescent red sign that towered high into the city sky.

"You okay buddy?" He met the kind, sagging eyes of the elderly chauffeur in the rear-view mirror. Offering him a small smile, Haida croaked, "Yup, I'm alright. Just... need to pick up a friend from the club."

He dug out his phone to glance at the time. It wasn't even 7:30pm, yet the sky had already blackened and Haida could make out the faint silhouettes of figures bustling throughout the shop and restaurant windows. The stalky accountant wondered how many hidden individuals were spending their Friday evening's alone...people like Retsuko.

Well, she wouldn't be alone for long.

"So what are you going to tell her when you decide to quit?" Fenneko's snide comment echoed throughout his conscious, a previous spat they had gone through last time they went out for drinks.

"I'm not quitting, Fenneko!"

"... yet."

He rubbed his temples, recalling the first time he had proposed the idea to his fellow coworker. She had let out a shrill yelp so abrupt that they received several glares from diners who were sitting in adjacent booths. Haida was pretty sure some Kirin Lager spewed from her nostrils as well.

It normally would have made him chuckle if he wasn't feeling so miserable about the whole situation.

But nothing was set in stone. A plastered Fenneko just had, once again, misconstrued his words.

Nevertheless, between the restless sleep in his forlorn apartment, the unsatisfactory feelings that shadowed over his day to day routine, and now the ultimate endeavor to terms with the fact that Retsuko would more than likely never feel the same way that he did…

The temptation was certainly not nonexistent.

"We're here," announced the driver, shifting the gear stick into park with his gloved hand. Haida felt his heart skip a beat as he reached for the door handle.

"Thanks, I'll be back shortly." Haida made a mental note to tip the grey-haired man, as he had configured two stops for his ride. Highly appreciative of his patience, Haida leapt from the car and rushed into the club.

He approached the employee at the front desk, an apathetic-looking bespectacled teenager who couldn't have been older than 19. Resisting the urge to sprint down the hallway and flinging open every door that he could, Haida breathed in deeply before stating to the aloof employee, "Hi, uhh... I'm here to pick up a friend. They had too much to drink."

He received a sharp glower from above the glasses' frames of the disinterested man (who he realized was reading a comic book from under the desk). "Whatever, head on back."

"Thanks."

And then he was off, rushing to the back while feeling the eyes of the young man bore into his jacket. He glimpsed as quickly as his eyes would allow through each of the narrow door windows, sometimes awkwardly catching the eyes of an unsuspecting performer. But he didn't have time to fret over mildly impeding on others. He continued to stoop over each door, scouting as quickly as possible. Had there always been this many rooms?

'Where the hell is she?'

And then Haida saw it; the strawberry-blonde color standing out from the analogous maroons of the furniture and walls.

There was Retsuko: she had tucked herself under the guest table of the room, her bright locks of hair disheveled, curly in different directions across the carpeted room.

And the look on her swollen, red face was enough to shatter his heart. She hadn't stopped crying since he had first heard her sniffles over the phone.

His chest tight, Haida instinctively reached for the door but then flinched, the words that the same dejected girl he was staring at had pierced him with only a mere few weeks ago:

"Your feelings aren't my responsibility. You barged into my bedroom without a second thought... where do you get off telling me how to live? How dare you!"

Their contentions had haunted him, not only in his dreams but during his waking hours. Never had he envisioned hurting her or provoking her in this manner. But she must have realized his intentions; less than 72 hours later they had returned to the office, exchanging shy smiles and fawning over Anai's newest lunchtime creations.

But this was not the same young woman he had shared a Koraku bento with, as he sullenly watched her shoulders shake from outside of the windowed door.

Switching tactics, Haida breathed, knocking several times above the handle before he pulled the sturdy door open and slowly slipped into the room. It was as if he could physically feel the atmosphere of grief. The quiet gasps Retsuko emitted were painfully loud over the silent booth. The music had ended long ago and it was eerie not experiencing the typically kaleidoscopic lights and whoops of delight that normally filled these insulated walls.

"R-retsuko?" he whispered, squatting down beside the table. Her petite form was huddled between the four legs, her hands cupping over her eyes as she continued to whimper.

She hadn't heard him.

He tried again, slightly louder, and dipped his head further down beside her.

"Retsuko are y— AACK!"

He felt the sharp pain before he even saw the foot, as it shot out from under the coffee table and collided with him square in the nose.

She squeaked, shifted her shoulders up from the carpet so quickly that she smashed her head against the underside of the table.

"Ha... HAIDA?!"


Retsuko wasn't sure what stunned her more: the fact that Haida had suddenly appeared right before her out of thin air or that she had just kicked him in the face.

"Ha... HAIDA?!" Her voice cracked and she attempted to push herself out from beneath her makeshift sanctuary, striking her head against the side of the table in the process. She groaned, clutching her throbbing forehead before scrambling out from underneath the furniture to where her friend now laid, sprawled on his back. His eyes were scrunched together in pain as a warm liquid began to ooze from his nose.

"I'm so, so sorry! I'm so sorry!" Retsuko repeated. She neglected her own injury and tripped over towards Haida. "My reflexes... just… oh no, please, let me look!"

Haida fluttered his eyes open before realizing a set of shaking hands had steadied themselves on top of his arm. He blinked, his vision readjusting back into focus and he was confronted with a pair of deep hazel eyes and rubicund puffy cheeks. Color rushed to his face and Retsuko began to snivel again when she caught sight of the trickling blood. She bounded over to the end table near the door to retrieve some tissues for him.

"H-here." she held out her hand, clicking her toes together with worry.

"Thanks," Haida accepted the wipes. He winced as he pressed them against his nostrils, the cotton fabric seeping with red. Tears still brimming at the corners of his eyes, he felt himself snicker through the pain before deadpanning, "You know, I've heard of a fist fight before, but never a foot fight."

He jolted back in shock as his cringe-worthy joke was met with an outburst of bawling from his accounting colleague, her beautiful, wet face warping from an expression of sadness to remorse.

"H-hey, it's okay!" Haida panicked and extended an arm towards her quivering shoulder, attempting to console her, but it was no use.

"No, i-it's n-not! I kicked y-you in the f- face! I'm a h -horrible person!" She slumped forward, hiding her blotchy features behind her delicate hands. He watched as the girl he had cherished for so long fell apart before him. He wondered how this was the same death metal singer that had screamed into the microphone and put him in his place. Her eyes which had once burned with flames of anger were now washed over with such hurt. He wanted to wrap her up, to take her into his arms. But he also knew that he didn't want to spend another second on the karaoke lounge's floor, which smelled vaguely of stale popcorn and sweat.

Stuffing the tissues in his nose as dignified as he could, Haida stood up and gently took Retsuko by the hand, his heart fluttering.

"Retsuko, it was an accident." he soothed, as she turned her head up at him. He had forgotten how short-statured she was; the top of her head barely reached the same level of his shoulders.

"Here, come with me."

He could feel the bruising already begin to form, but he ignored the stinging sensation throughout the bridge of his nose. The miserable duo wordlessly faltered towards the door. Haida caught a glimpse of himself in the reflective rectangle of glass that was built into the entryway and he mentally gave a sigh of relief: his nose, as busted up as it was, didn't appear to be broken. Though there would definitely be some bruising that followed within the following days.

The two tired accountants trekked through the long hallway of the club, Haida continuing to lead a sniffling Retsuko past the front desk to where the bespectacled employee huffed under his breath, "I don't get paid enough for this crap," and earned a scowl from Haida. His hand wrapped tenderly around hers reminded him of their cathartic shared encounter that took place in the very same building. Except Retsuko's hand that had been so tightly clenched around the microphone now shook in distress against his own clammy palm.

Haida glanced down at the disconsolate young woman, and suddenly realized how scarlet her forehead and cheeks were. Yet her features were pale and off-colored.

'Is... is she sick?'

Hit with a sudden wave of determination, he pushed the revolving door aside with his shoulder and guided Retsuko towards the stalling grey car. By now it was completely dark out, the headlights of the grey vehicle flashing up onto the hill that rose above the main square. Opening the car door, Haida took great care in helping lower Retsuko into the car. He caught sight of her tear-stained face in the overhanging street lamp and felt his mouth go dry: it looked like she hadn't slept in days, dark circles forming both under her lashes and blotches of deep crimson covering her from neck to scalp.

He quickly shut her door and skidded around to the other side of the car, whipping his phone out to punch in their final destination. He had only been to her apartment once during a small get-together with Fenneko, but he remembered vividly the convenience store that was located across the store. It sold the best fruit popsicles ever. Using that as an access point, he quickly found the address and sent it to their driver.

Haida was soon met by another hearty hello as he seated himself in the car before the elderly man took notice of the mangled pair in his mirror. "Eh, what happened here?"

"N-nothing! I just tripped, is all." Haida said, forgetting the tissues that were still plugging his nostrils. He yanked them from his nose, stuffing the wrinkled fabric into his front jacket pocket. Thankfully, some of the bleeding had stopped. As the car roared to life and hastened forward, Haida looked down at a weary Retsuko, whose watering amber eyes trailed over the padded flooring of the vehicle. Her shoulders were hunched up to her ears and her hands tucked under her thighs: she was nervous.

Subconsciously, he scooted closer towards her but careful not to touch her. She probably wanted nothing more than to be alone in her bed right now.

As the car purred on, Haida found his mind spurring, even faster than the current speed of their lift.

'Should I ask her what's wrong? I don't want to overstep my boundaries... but I know she has a tendency to put on a facade. Maybe I should just reassure her... ugh, why am I making this more complicated than it needs to be?!'

He huffed slightly, his breath fogging up the glass, which was slowly now drizzling with fresh rain. He felt his heart palpitate as he snuck another peek over at his coworker, friend, and the only individual he had adored from afar for as long as he could remember. He noted his underlying despondency at the word 'afar;' he desperately, painfully wanted to get to know her. What was her favorite color. What was her favorite way to have her tea?

What were her biggest hopes? Fears? Dreams? Would he... not ever be a part of them?

Haida wanted to slap himself. 'It doesn't even matter now. If I'm going to move on... really move on, I need to let go of these stupid mindsets or nothing good will come of it. The best I can do for now is simply... is to simply be there for her.'

Snapping from his stupor, he felt a weight rest on his right shoulder and his eyes widened.

Retsuko had placed her head on him, swaying slightly from the unevenness of the road. The lanky accountant, crossing both his arms and feet, hoping that—to any invisible witnesses—he appeared disinterested.

'See? Piece of cake.'

But there was no denying the warmth in his cheeks, the shakiness of his hands, and the soft thu-thumps of his racing pulse.

'Dammit.'

The two sat in silence as Haida felt Retsuko's limbs start to relax, succumbing to what he thought was hopefully some much needed sleep. He watched her as her breathing slowed, and he himself felt a wave of calmness, knowing that in this very moment she was somewhere where he could also be. After all, that's what friends did for other friends; they were there for each other.

So what was his excuse to be if he were to leave and start over because of a friend?