A/N: I meant to wait to post this chapter until Sunday but I really loved writing this one so... surprise! I'm proud I've made it this far as usually my gumption for fanfics starts to fizzle out by now. But I'm not giving up! (Also, side note, I've seen a lot of people who dislike Haida, especially after this last season. As flawed as he is, I'm curious why some haven't taken a chance on him, especially since character growth is such a great way to practice writing.. but maybe I'm just easy to please?) Anyways, as always, I hope you enjoy!


Retsuko could just make out the sound of the pitter-patter of light rain as she felt her heavy eyelids part open. It was then that she noticed she was surrounded by the pastel pink tones of her bedroom. The lamp in the corner of the room reflected her shadows behind her head, dancing alongside the water droplets whose shadows dripped from the windows.

She groaned, turning towards the single view, and felt her body glide between the smooth sheets of her twin bed, the fresh linens smelling faintly of lavender.

Her eyes slowly opened more, readjusting to the faint glowing lights in the apartment. The night sky sparkled with the glistening of autumnal equinox stars and the gentle downpour. She turned her view towards the middle of the room, feeling a stiffness in her lower back and a pulse of heat throughout her entire body, yet it felt frigid under the layers of covers.

Retsuko felt a rush of icy relief spread over her forehead, a gentle pressure settling itself as she tipped her head back against the plush pillows: an ice pack was secured across her brow. She cautiously poked at the cold compress with a trembling finger, having little to no recollection of how it got there.

Or how she ended up in her bed for that matter.

The clinking sound of something that resembled glassware soon filled the small bedroom and Retsuko noticed the door was open. She heard the rushing of water from the spigot outside in the kitchen.

Someone was in her apartment.

Wordlessly, the young accountant wrapped the top sheet around her body. She attempted to scoot towards the end of the bed, but a rippling ache shot across her body. It felt as if time were moving in slow motion. The feverish girl let out another soft grunt and lowered her head between the cushioning of her pillow. She fixed her gaze towards the door frame once more. Normally her panic-stricken self would have snatched a broom from her storage closet, holding it high above her head in order to defend herself from the perpetrator. But for some reason unbeknownst to her, Retsuko knew it wasn't an intruder that was shuffling about the next room over.

Through her feverish-vision she noticed the shadowed figure who had now shifted into the living room and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. She followed the outline of their long back, arching over the table. Long, familiar arms appeared to be tasked with preparing something that was occupying the table, possibly a bowl or container? Her tired perception gave up on identifying the objects and returned to the figure.

She inhaled with a sharpness that nearly caused her to choke on her own saliva: Haida was in her living room.

His button-down shirt had freed itself from the waistband of his slacks. Her coworker's normally long-sleeves were rolled up over his forearms, exposing his sepia skin that was littered with freckles that emerged even more under the golden hues of the ceiling lights.

His hair, while ordinarily untidy, had been pulled backwards from his face, as though he had ran his hands through the dark strands multiple times. Retsuko glimpsed towards his furrowed brows fixed above unwavering eyes, the green orbs holding a gaze of tenacity yet exhaustion. A piece of gauze had been taped sloppily to fit the bridge of his bloated, discolored nose. Retsuko was then struck by vivid recollection, her temples pounding.

The intrusive memories that her body continued to relive, the harrowing sensation of her tottering over onto the sidewalk only to have darkness pool around her.

Her breakdown in the karaoke room.

Haida appearing over her crestfallen face as her initial reaction of agitation transpired from her heart, to her head, to the base of her foot, crashing into his face.

She felt her skin—if possible—begin to burn even more; how could she have reacted that way? Granted, she had been frightened; how did he know she was there? And she never was that jumpy, at least not around other people. But to kick him in his nose?

Guilt washed over her once more as Retsuko twisted her torso away from her door, catching a glimpse of herself in the full length-mirror poised in the corner of her homely bedroom. Her eyes had become misty again, her ruddy face appearing as a single apparatus in the glass as the rest of her body remained swaddled neatly under sheets. Her light red hair was plastered to the sides of her cheeks and it looked as though someone had drawn with a charcoal pencil under her lashes. She felt the chill of her fever run down her spine.

She was a wreck.

There was no denying it; for the past nearly three weeks she felt as though she had been sprinting, no, marathoning through life. It was a painful undertaking simply to look at her person in the mirror anymore; she harbored such loathing towards her appearance nowadays that it took every ounce of discipline not to chuck each item with a reflective surface out the window (her mother would notice in an instant upon her next arrival, as well).

Staring back at the pitiful face poking out from the throng of pillows, Retsuko's memory shifted to a particular evening with a similar scene; when Haida had been administered to the local hospital due to pneumonia.

When he had confessed to her.

'I… I really l-like you, Retsuko.'

Her eyes widened as the avowal Haida had made towards her nearly a year ago fizzled in the back of her mind; there was no chance her penitence could seep further into her consciousness tonight, was there?

She could still conjure up the sight of her dear friend with a superfluity of IVs dangling from his arms, the unmissed look of despondency as she quietly gave her candid response:

'I'm sorry… I like you, but as a friend. I think a friend is all I can be right now.'

Retsuko felt bile rise up in her throat. Why was she thinking about this now, when he was here inside her apartment nonetheless? Being tucked between bedsheets was—without a doubt—a vulnerable position in itself. But to be confined with needles, a depleted immune system, and to take a leap of faith in order to potentially risk a friendship?

Her guilt continued to rise, wondering if Haida truly understood just what it would mean to get to know her.

Feeling the heat rise to the cool pack on her forehead, the young accountant experienced another sickly contemplation: what if he simply felt sympathy towards her plight? A consolation confession? It was a heedless thought. But two boyfriends down and she had suffered from both her recklessness and failure to distinguish between infatuation. And… and… that allusive sense of emotion.

Affection. Devotion. Adoration.

Or as some might simply call it: love.

Retsuko swallowed the bitter taste in her throat. She wouldn't deny that she could not provide Haida with the same amount of fondness towards him; she deemed it even more likely that, at that moment in time, he was not capable of recognizing the genuine feelings he possessed towards his coworker.

'If he even truly is fond of you… even then, name one instance where you where there for your own friends. When you put their needs before your own.'

She felt a tear dribble down the side of her mottled cheek; she wanted to scream, to pull her hair out. It felt like a black hole had formed within her, taking in every memory, every unfortunate event that it could towards her core: The hospital, skipping drink outings with her workmates to pull another late-nighter, screaming at Haida in the karaoke lounge after he had whipped out Gori's dating app (which she also thought was a load of crap)... and that night she might have nearly become incapacitated.

Or dead.

How could she ascertain what it was like to cherish another human being, to hold a truly meaningful relationship when she couldn't even fathom what it was like to love oneself? The past half year had been one of nothing but inquietude, loathing, and sorrow. Pushing her colleagues, friends, and even family members away had been like pushing over a line of dominoes; quietly at the start, but all at once, the final pieces crashing together like breakers on a shoreline.

Maybe she was better off alone.

Retsuko was still lost in the depths of her doleful thoughts when the door parallel to her bed quietly opened, Haida's weary face appearing from behind.

"H-hey." he greeted. The bed-ridden young accountant locked wide eyes with him, attempting to quickly brush away wetness from her round cheekbones.

"Hi."

She caught a whiff of something utterly spectacular, an aroma of chicken stock and cracked pepper wafting from the plastic tray he was sporting on his hip.

"Lookit, I brought you some soup and tea. I… thought it might help you feel better."

'I really am terrible at relationships.'

His hands hovered, clutching the platter over the side table and Retsuko watched as the soft smile he had worn instances earlier drained from his face. He was staring at her, his sanpaku eyes prominent against the purpling of his inflamed bridge.

"Are you… crying again?" It may have gone unnoticed to most, but Retsuko could hear the crack in his tone, a waver that surfaced in the past when he had offered to help her with last minute financial records that Director Ton had ceremoniously relished in dumping onto her deskside.

Allowing a few more droplets to escape from her eyes, she croaked, "I'm… I am deeply sorry, Haida. For hurting you… your nose. For not going out for drinks. For everything." She continued to blubber, feeling her stomach knot as her loss of dignity continued to spiral downwards. "I didn't even apologize to you after that night. When I yelled at you…"

The young woman continued to snivel and noticed through her dripping lashes that Haida had abandoned the succulent meal by her bedside, instead taking a seat next to her, rearranging some of the pillows around his backside. Amid her second round of crying she felt a single hand rest on her shaking one, Haida's thumb running over her small fingers.

"Hey," he cooed, in a low voice. "Hey, it'll be okay. You don't have to apologize for expressing your feelings, you know? Not to mention it's been a rough time for you."

Retsuko nodded slowly, turning to look back up at him. "It's not… broken is it?" She winced, pointing at his crudely bandaged snout.

He gifted her with a lopsided grin, rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand.

"Don't worry about it," he tittered, though Retsuko had no idea how this was in the slightest bit comical to him. "It's just a little a little swollen. Nothing a little painkillers and ice can't fix."

He really was a dork sometimes.

Retsuko leaned forward to inspect the damage, her eyes awakening further as she caught sight of the reddish-brown streaks under the swabs. She could smell the faint aftertaste of beer on his breath and—in her feverish stupor—failed to register how she had filled a considerable amount of space between the two colleagues.

A silence had fallen between the pair as Retsuko felt her skepticism grow, angling her back so that she could search Haida's features for any sign of pain. His jaded eyes refused to meet hers, instead focusing on the fraying thread of one of her pillows.

Haida bit his lip before letting out something that sounded like a cross between a whimper and a yip, pulling away from his coworker as she tried to get a closer look. It didn't go unnoticed by the Retsuko when the warmth from where his hand met hers had disappeared.

She sniffed, narrowing her eyes.

"How did you know where I was?"

He studied her, now pensively twisting his long finger around the unraveling yarn. A thick, dark eyebrow raised above his head, a quizzical frown on his face.

"H-huh?"

"At the karaoke club." Her ears felt like they were on fire.

"Oh. I was out with Fenneko and you called me. I… had a hunch you'd be there."

Retsuko knew it was innocent enough of a statement, yet it was enough to redden her entire face as she began to fidget ever so slightly beneath the covers.

'Could you be any more of an idiot?'

She turned her gaze towards her rose-colored sheets, falling back against the soft cushioning of her pillows in humiliation. "Oh… I don't remember doing that …" It wasn't a lie; she was exhausted. She reached up to her face to wipe her doused cheeks, her skin burning under her fingers.

Another interlude of awkward stillness filled the pastel room and Retsuko could feel his eyes observing her. A sudden shower clattered against the rooftop, dewdrops beading against the single bedroom window. She listened to the drizzle fall from the autumn sky; it occurred to her that it could have been nine o'clock or one in the morning and she would be equally as knackered.

"Retsuko," Haida broke the quietude, coaxing a glimpse out of his coworker. She felt her bright hair fall behind brow, silently wishing her cascading bob was longer so she would never have to make eye contact with another human being again.

But he was looking at her. And for some unknown reason, she couldn't tear herself away from him.

"Retsuko, please… just tell me if there is anything you need to talk about. Even if it's only one sentence. I… I won't even say anything."

And then it fell out of her, like she was gasping for air. Except the partial relief she felt came from the expulsion of her outburst.

"I—I just don't like myself." she heaved. "A lot. Ever since the OTMGirls… I've felt so lost. I don't know how to explain it," It was only partially truthful. She inhaled for what seemed like hours, catching her breath. "I'm sorry… that was probably a lot to take in." How had this been the same man she had roared at through a microphone weeks prior to this?

'I'm trying to see a therapist because life is pointless and my nightmares keep me up past dawn, but I'm too much of a wuss to talk about my fears of failing at life and, and—

"Well," her colleague interjected, popping her stream of conscience. "Just know that I will always be here for you. Even if I don't know the best way to handle things. I, uh, I'll just… be there."

Retsuko watched as he resumed retrieving the meal tray, his hands now busying themselves opening a package of saltine crackers. She followed his movements as he pivoted towards her bed, placing the surface onto her covers as if he were handling a newborn kitten.

"And for the record," he continued, now taking a seat beside her on a footstool she normally used to reach up into her closet. "I think that's totally valid. What you're feeling, that is. And I'm sorry if I felt like you could never voice your true emotions around me." He sighed as though he also was attempting to relieve himself of an unseen force. She noticed that his eyesight went back and forth from her to the tray, eager for her to sample his concoction.

Retsuko offered a small smile, feeling the sadness that continued to pool in the back of her mind. She grasped both hands around the hefty mug, it's floral print dripping with condensation from the steam emanating from the hot tea. Sipping at its sweet contents (had he put honey in this?), the beverage began to serve as a calming catalyst, leveling her rattling gulps of air.

"Thank you Haida for helping me get home safely," Retsuko said, gracing him with the first expression of the evening that she truly believed wasn't one of discomfort. "I know I haven't been a good friend to you in the past, but I truly do appreciate it."

"No, that's not true—"

"It is." she stated. Her heart pounded against her chest; she had surprised herself from the firmness in her tone. "And… and if you'll let me, I'd love to practice being a better friend."

She continued to drink from her tea, eyeing as her discombobulated coworker nodded, his hair flapping up and down at the top. His crooked smile assured Retsuko that she hadn't overstepped her boundaries and she felt a quick puff of air escape her lips as she settled the ceramic mug back onto its coaster.

"Of course." he remarked. "Now eat up, or I'm going to have to order a feeding tube for you."

Retsuko stifled a giggle as she slid the adjacent bowl closer to herself. She allowed the aromatic flavors of the chicken broth to float towards her, the essence of carrots and onions clouding her senses.

Sipping the savory nectar with the spoon Haida had provided, she caught sight of her friend fishing the tea bag from the side of the cup, curling a finger around the damp string.

And then she saw it.

The raised rouge flesh on the underside of his palm. It was a long scar that reached from between his pinky and ring finger towards the base of his wrist. The surrounding area had paled from the rest of his bronze skin, and it contorted against his grip as he dangled the paper filter onto the soup saucer. Retsuko felt herself instinctively reach for him and caught his arm under her precarious touch.

"H-how did this happen?" she breathed.

A flinch ran through her workmate, his limb trembling.

"It… it's nothing." he muttered, slowly drawing away from Retsuko's precarious graze. "Slip up with a kitchen knife."

Haida's lowered eyes had shifted back over towards the fabric of the bed's cushions. She searched her friend's face, feeling uneasy as she resumed spooning a pile of peas and diced chicken into her mouth, delighting in the warmth of the food. It must have been in the earlier hours of the morning since she had a proper meal and her stomach growled with gratitude. The saltiness of the broth and the steam that filled her lungs engulfed her in an aura of coziness.

Yet something was still there that made her skin prickle, even if it was the slightest bit of… gloom? Apprehension? Anxiety? The glower in Haida's expression had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. He wouldn't... it really was a cooking mishap, wasn't it?

But then she heard it.

It started as a rumble, like thunder in the distance. And then Haida was snorting, his laugh exploding off of the tip of his tongue. His bubbling of hysterics flooded her ears and she looked up from her soup. Brown eyes met green and she suddenly felt color flush over her cheeks, which were still recovering from the fever, nearing its breaking point.

He was laughing at her.

The weight that tugged above her lips grounded her back to reality and she licked the top of her cupid's bow. The elongated noodle that was the source of Haida's amusement dangled for a split second before she slurped it from her face. It left a ribbon of broth across her mouth, a Fu Manchu of saltiness that tickled her nose.

And for the first time that day—no, that year— she allowed herself to laugh, really laugh, the strangest amalgamation of emotions rushing throughout her nerves. It felt natural, the two of them gasping, as though the tears she had shed throughout the night had never occurred. It was almost soothing in a way.

It felt like home.