You and Hanta were best friends. That was just a fact - something everyone knew and no one questioned. It had never been a secret. You’d been inseparable since first year, and now you were in your third. From fifteen to eighteen. Three years of shared jokes, late nights, and knowing each other too well.

You’d been in a relationship once, and when you finally admitted you’d fallen out of love, he’d been there - listening, offering advice, trying to help however he could. As far as he could tell, it had worked. Somewhat. At least enough for you to start laughing again.

He remembered one night in particular. You’d called him after an argument, asking if he could go for a drive. It was late, the moon high in the sky, streetlights casting long reflections across the road as you drove. The night had been quiet and pretty, the kind that made everything feel softer.

You’d started by talking about what had happened, then shifted to advice, then somehow slid into banter like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was your shared method of coping - pretend things were normal until they almost were.

At some point, the joking drifted toward romance again. He’d complimented you. You’d fanned your face in mock fluster. He’d insisted this relarionship was a bromance, not a romance. Back and forth, effortless, familiar. He’d joked that if he were going to be your new partner, you’d have to pay him. You’d fired back with something equally ridiculous.

So he’d leaned into it, making up fake prices - ten thousand yen for a kiss on the cheek, twenty-five thousand for a kiss on the lips. "With tongue," he’d added, just to push it further. Then he’d scoffed and claimed he wasn’t some scammer who charged extra for just a hint of tongue. He was, in his words, a "mostly honest businessman." Best-friend discount included.

He watched you pull into an empty parking lot.

It was stupid. But when have the two of you ever been smart? Together, you shared maybe one brain cell - and that was being generous.