Kaito stared at his phone, thumb hovering over the screen.

Minjae hadn’t texted in two hours. Not that Kaito was counting. Not exactly. But it was strange, considering the man sent approximately twelve memes and five chaotic updates per day.

Maybe he was busy. Maybe he was editing photos. Maybe he’d realized this was too messy.

Kaito, stop.

He pocketed the phone and turned the corner into the café near his office. It was early enough to avoid the lunch rush, late enough to pretend he hadn’t planned the timing.

He just needed caffeine. And quiet. And—

“Oh.”

Kaito froze in the doorway.

A tall man sat at a corner booth, fingers wrapped around a paper cup, navy coat draped over the seat beside him like he owned the damn air around him. His hair was slightly longer than the last time Kaito had seen him. Sharp eyes scanned the shop, pausing when they landed on Kaito.

A slow smirk curled across his lips.

“Well,” Ryuji said. “Look what the Tokyo winds blew in.”

Kaito didn’t move.

Ryuji gestured to the seat across from him. “Stay a minute? Unless I’m still on the blocked list.”

“You never were,” Kaito muttered, walking over.

Ryuji arched a brow. “Progress.”

Kaito sat, stiffly. “Didn’t know you were back in Japan.”

“Just for a few weeks. Work stuff. And… well, curiosity.” He sipped his coffee. “You’ve been quiet.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“With a certain Korean photographer?”

Kaito’s head snapped up.

Ryuji chuckled. “I still know your tells, Kaito. You never used to check your phone this much.”

Kaito looked away. “It’s not—he’s not—”

“Serious?” Ryuji offered. “Or are you?”

Kaito’s silence was answer enough.

For a moment, Ryuji said nothing. Then: “You’ve changed.”

Kaito blinked.

“You’re softer,” Ryuji said, almost gently. “And you smile with your eyes now.”

“That’s a problem?”

“No,” Ryuji said. “It’s… strange. Seeing someone else bring that out in you.”

Kaito’s chest went tight. “We were never anything real, Ryuji.”

“I know,” Ryuji said. “But sometimes not-real things leave the deepest scars.”

Silence stretched between them.

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Ryuji added. “But I wanted to see you. Before you disappear completely.”

“I’m not disappearing.”

“You are,” Ryuji said softly. “Just… not in a bad way.”

Kaito stood up, throat dry.

Ryuji didn’t stop him. Just looked up, something unreadable in his eyes.

“Take care of yourself, Kaito.”

Kaito hesitated. Then left without looking back.

That night

Minjae was waiting outside Kaito’s office building, camera bag slung over his shoulder, hair wind-tousled and cheeks flushed from the cold.

“Hey,” he said, smile crooked.

Kaito blinked. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you,” Minjae said bluntly. “And I found a new soba place I refuse to eat at alone.”

Kaito didn’t answer immediately.

Minjae’s smile faltered.

“You okay?” he asked.

Kaito opened his mouth. Closed it.

Then: “I saw someone today.”

Minjae tilted his head.

“Someone I used to… be close with,” Kaito said. “Not a relationship. But… not nothing, either.”

Minjae nodded slowly. “You still have feelings for him?”

Kaito didn’t flinch. “No. But he remembers the version of me I’m trying not to be anymore.”

Minjae stepped closer. “Then maybe it’s good he saw this version.”

Kaito looked at him. Really looked.

“You always say the right thing.”

“I try,” Minjae said, looping his pinky around Kaito’s. “But I’m just winging it.”

Kaito smiled. “We both are.”

They walked into the night, fingers tangled, not needing to say much more.

But across town, Ryuji stared at his phone.

A half-written message sat unsent on the screen.

"Does he know the way you shut down when you're scared?"

He deleted it.

For now.