"I’m sorry," Haru whispered, the words barely audible over the sound of his own ragged pulse. "I... I can't do this right now. I'm sorry."

"Haru, wait—" Kaito’s voice was urgent, reaching out through the phone, but Haru couldn't bear to hear any more. He ended the call, the sudden silence of the car feeling deafening. He dropped the phone into the passenger seat as if it were burning his skin. It began to vibrate almost immediately, a relentless sequence of notifications that he didn't have the capacity to acknowledge.

He didn't look. He couldn't.

Haru put the car in gear and drove. The city lights were no longer beautiful; they were aggressive, stabbing at his eyes which felt hot and gritty from the salt of his tears. The administrative, the OR, the look on Nakamura’s face, it was all swirling in a dark vortex behind his eyelids.

He arrived at his apartment building and made his way inside, his footsteps heavy and dragging on the floorboards. The apartment was cold, stagnant, and completely dark. He didn't bother to turn on a single light. He didn't care about the dinner he hadn't eaten or the lingering sensation of the sterile operating room that seemed to be stuck to his skin like a second, toxic layer.

He walked straight into the bedroom.

He didn't unbutton his shirt or wash his face. He simply reached the edge of the mattress and let himself collapse backward, his body hitting the bedding with a soft, final thud.

His eyes were swollen and burned. He stared up at the ceiling, though he couldn't see it through the shroud of the darkness, and he felt the immense, crushing of exhaustion.

The phone, discarded somewhere near his pillow, buzzed against the mattress. *Bzz. Bzz.*

It was a sharp, annoying sound. Then it stopped. Then it started again.

Haru reached out with a trembling hand, and shove it further away, pushing it toward the edge of the bed until it fell onto the carpet with a dull *clack*.

He pulled the duvet up to his chin, his limbs feeling heavy. The quiet of the room pressed in on him, heavy and suffocating. He closed his eyes, and within minutes, the exhaustion dragged him under, pulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep where the memory of the scalpel couldn't reach him.

At Kaito side, he stared at his phone. The silence of the room amplifying the sudden, jarring cut-off of the call. His thumb hovered over the screen, ready to redial, but he paused. He knew the sound in Haru’s voice, a second call wouldn't be answered anyway since Haru already hung up just now... Clearly didn't want to talk further.

He began to type, trying to craft words that wouldn't sound like professional advice or patronizing comfort.

"Don't be alone with your own head right now, Haru."

"Whatever you are thinking, whatever weight you are putting on your shoulders, just stop." "You are not at the end right now."

He hit send. The "Delivered", but the "Read" receipt remained absent.

He didn't stop.

"I am not asking you to process it. Just breathe. That is enough for tonight."

"Haru, please look at your phone."

"Even if you don't reply, just know that you aren't invisible right now."

The screen glowed in the dim light of Kaito’s study, reflecting in his eyes. He watched the timestamps tick by—five minutes, ten minutes, twenty—with no shift in the delivery status. The silence from the other end was absolute, a heavy, suffocating wall. Kaito felt the distinct, uncomfortable of helplessness that he usually avoided at all costs. He knew he couldn't reach into the phone and pull Haru back to the surface.

He took a slow, deep breath, forcing his own heart rate to stay steady. He needed to provide a destination, something that Haru could latch onto if the darkness became too much.

He started typing again, erasing and re-writing until the tone was perfectly balanced, not forcing, but an invitation.

*I know you’re exhausted."

"I’m not asking for a breakdown, and I’m not asking for a plan."

"I just want to have coffee with you at my office tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM."

"Not a therapy talk."

*Come if you can. Just to sit.*

He hit send. The message hung there, unread.

Kaito set the phone down on his desk, face up. He sat perfectly still, staring at the blank screen, the quiet hum of his own office feeling like a vigil. The phone would probably stay silent until morning. But he hope for Haru to read it or reply by tomorrow... anytime...

He would wait, whether tomorrow Haru walked through his office door or not. Kaito would be there, waiting with the coffee and the silence.