"Luke. You had an appointment with that handsome ex-detective today, didn't you? He's already here—and he's worried. He couldn't reach you."

At Megan's words, I dropped the controller I'd been holding. I tried to pick it up in a hurry, but my head swam and I had to crouch down where I stood.

"Are you okay? You're really not at your best, are you?"

"...Sorry, I might be worse off than I thought."

When I managed to retrieve the controller and answer honestly, Megan—usually so brisk—spoke from the other side of the monitor with an unusual softness in her voice.

"Want me to tell him and send him home for today?"

At her suggestion, I carefully shook my head.

"No, if he's already here, let him come up. Can you tell him I'm really sorry?"

"Okay."

She said it gently and briefly, then ended the call. I let out a deep breath toward the darkened monitor. Come to think of it, I'd left my phone in my bag.

Feeling bad about Brian but too drained to go check, I dragged myself back to my desk and started tidying the scattered notebooks and cables.

By the time Maria took me to the hospital for a head exam and I drove myself back to the office, I was already well past my expected return time. I'd assumed I wouldn't be able to work once I got back, but apparently I was more capable than I gave myself credit for. By the time the call came from reception just now, I'd somehow completed all my tasks.

The moment my concentration broke, the physical and mental exhaustion came rushing back. I'd had plenty of busy days before, but it had been quite a while since I'd been this thoroughly drained.

The doorbell announced Brian's arrival. Grimacing at the heaviness weighing me down, I headed to the entrance to welcome my childhood friend. The moment I opened the door, I met familiar grayish-blue eyes.

Brian's expression changed when he noticed the bandage wrapped around my head.

"What on earth happened to you...?"

"I just hit my head during work. When I went to the hospital, they made a bigger deal of it than—"

The more I tried to reassure him, the grimmer Brian's face became. Then, as I slumped against the doorframe, he reached out and touched me, his hands betraying his concern.

At the dry, cool sensation brushing my cheek, my body flinched.

"Luke?"

"Well, um..."

I hastily dropped my gaze, my voice cracking. Damn, my mental state felt like sponge cake—far more fragile than I'd expected. Maybe I should have spent today alone after all.

"...Sorry, I'm more tired than I thought."

"This isn't just a work injury, is it?"

"Well, no."

On my way to work, I got dragged into a police interrogation, ended up seeing Alan's room and passed out kissing the floor. Then I listened to Maria—who'd lost her child—while sinking into despair at my own uselessness.

"I'll listen if you want to talk."

"Mm, thanks."

I gave a safe response, unsure how much of today's events I could actually tell this good-natured childhood friend.

"Come in for now. Want coffee?"

"No, go lie down on the sofa. What do you want to drink?"

Brian adjusted the cotton-linen bag on his shoulder as he stepped into my office.

"I bought some things you can eat right away. Are you hungry?"

"Ah, come to think of it, the last time I ate anything was before noon."

"I figured as much."

With a sigh, he continued.

"I'm borrowing your kitchen. What do you want to drink? Anything but coffee."

"How kind. Are you worried about me because I hurt my head?"

"I just can't be bothered to grind beans. I can't brew it well anyway."

"Is that so. Well, I'll accept my worrywart friend's kindness and skip the caffeine. Cinnamon rooibos tea. The tea bags are in the lower left cabinet."

"I appreciate you choosing something I can actually make."

With that retort, Brian disappeared into the kitchen. Soon I heard Brian—who already handled my kitchen better than I did—starting to prepare his version of "something to eat right away." In my definition, it meant snacks or pre-made dishes, but Brian's definition was slightly different. I'd only realized this in the past few days. Would his partner find that endearing or uncomfortable...?

The moment I lay down on the sofa with those thoughts still in my mind, I must have fallen asleep without realizing it. The aroma of steam carrying spices and herbs, along with fingertips gently brushing my hair, guided me back to reality with remarkable gentleness.

"You all right? You seemed to be having a bad dream."

"...I can hardly believe it myself, but I think I actually dreamed in that brief moment."

"Doesn't seem like it was a pleasant one."

"Yes, it was a dream where I got everything I wanted."

"I see. Then what you want isn't what you truly desire. Can you eat? I made an omelet, soup, and avocado dip. There's more toast if you want. And, as requested, cinnamon rooibos tea."

"Brian! Thank you!"

The loneliness from my dream faded, and I sat up in high spirits. Brian immediately caught me when I wobbled.

"Don't move so suddenly."

"Sorry, sorry. Hey, I just noticed—you're wearing a different cologne than usual."

Only then, caught in Brian's arms, did I notice the unfamiliar scent—and, curious, I found myself leaning closer to his neck.

"I like it, but it feels a bit younger than what you usually wear."

Looking down at his clothes again, his outfit also seemed more casual than usual. No—to be precise, it went far beyond just "casual."

A dark gray T-shirt and distressed jeans—an outfit that seemed designed to completely overturn Brian's usual image. The properly fitted clothes—neither too tight nor too loose—suited him so well I couldn't help staring, yet they cleary weren't Brian's taste. Maybe he'd been working somewhere today where these clothes would draw less attention.

"Anyway, I can eat this, right?"

I slipped out of Brian’s motionless arms and resettled myself in front of the plates arranged on the table. The fragrant aroma of the soup, and the avocado-cream cheese dip mashed just the way I liked it—slightly coarse—made my cheeks relax on their own.

“Rosemary consommé soup! This is my favorite from this brand’s soup set.”

Brian didn’t respond to my obviously cheerful voice. When I glanced up at him, a little puzzled, he was still staring at me through narrowed grayish-blue eyes, his gaze lingering, a hint of irritation in his eyes.

“Um, was this soup maybe not meant for me?”

At my flustered reaction to his reproachful gaze, Brian answered, “It’s fine,” then sat down beside me. Much closer than usual. What the hell.

“Just so you know, mate. Even if you broadcast your bad mood, I can’t figure out why! No matter how close we are, maintaining a friendly relationship requires conscious effort from both sides to actually communicate.”

“You’re right. After you finish eating, shall we start a discussion?”

“Maintaining a friendly relationship also requires the effort to reflect on your own actions, you know. Can you at least give me a hint what I did?”

Brian grinned, then immediately slipped into a sulky look.

“Honestly, it’s that part of you that—never mind. Let’s eat for now. That soup is yours.”

“Yes! Thanks, Brian!”

I picked up the spoon and immediately dug into the soup. The beef shank consommé and pepper pleasantly stimulated my tongue, while the refreshing aroma of rosemary drifted through my nose. Even though I’d had high-end tempura at a fancy restaurant for brunch, this felt like my first real meal of the day.

“…Delicious.”

At my genuine reaction, Brian let out a small sigh.

“Well, I’m glad you seem to be recovering.”

“Thanks to you, Brian. Seriously, thank you for coming today.”

“Don’t mention it. Compared to what you did for me three years ago, this is nothing.”

“Ha ha, no, that’s…”

I laughed reflexively, then found myself at a loss for words. It felt like he’d suddenly stepped into a vulnerable part of me. Since our reunion, we’d both been carefully avoiding this delicate topic.

I could feel my face stiffening despite myself. Just as I was about to open my mouth to brush past the subject, Brian spoke over me.

"Thank you for reaching out to me when I was at my lowest point in life. I've wanted to thank you for a long time."

"I only did what I could. Anyone could have done the same."

"...You have no idea how much what you gave me then meant to me."

"What's that supposed to mean? Are you making fun of me?"

At my prickly, defensive tone, Brian simply shrugged and uncrossed his legs.

"Don't get so combative. Have some omelet."

With that, he pulled the omelet from the far side of the table toward me. Faced with the golden omelet presented with such ceremony, I managed to collect myself. I took a bite while deliberately furrowing my brow.

"Delicious!"

"I'm honored by your praise, my lord."

My lips almost relaxed, and I hurriedly forced my scowl back into place.