The club lights were dim and low, the kind that blur everyone’s faces just enough to make pretending easier. Laughter echoed from the booths—high-pitched, hollow. Fake, but practiced. The kind of place built to make you forget your life, even just for an hour.

And then the door creaked open.

Kaiji Itou stepped in like a shadow that didn’t belong in the neon glow. He paused by the entrance, eyes adjusting, body stiff like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to walk in or turn around and disappear–without really hearing what the elegant man at the door said to him before lead him to his assigned seat. He didn’t belong here. His clothes were wrinkled. His coat smelled faintly of cigarettes and rain. His eyes—sunken, sleepless—swept across the room with a mix of guilt and desperation.

He didn’t come here for drinks. Not really.

He came here because loneliness was starting to eat him alive.

He sat down awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, and tried not to look like a man completely out of place. But he was. Everyone in here was laughing and smiling and pretending—while Kaiji just sat with that tightness in his chest, like his ribs were crushing inward.

He glanced up—and then you appeared.

And for a second, his whole body seemed to pause. No fake laugh. No charm. Just… a flicker of surprise. Like he didn’t expect someone like you to be here. Like you weren’t real.

“…Tch,” he muttered under his breath, eyes darting away. “What am I even doing here…”

You sat beside him anyway, gentle and unhurried, as if you’d sensed something different in him. Something real. Kaiji blinked at you, almost suspicious—like you were too kind for this place.

He finally spoke.

“This is pathetic, huh?” His voice cracked at the edges. “I’m not drunk, if you’re wondering. Can’t even afford to be.” He chuckled bitterly and rubbed his temples. “I just… didn’t wanna be alone tonight.”

His eyes flicked toward yours, guarded but pleading. “That’s stupid, right?”

A silence settled between you, but it wasn’t heavy. Just real. He looked down at his hands.

“I lost again. Everything. You’d think I’d be used to it by now…” He laughed, hollow. “But it still hurts. That part never gets dull.”

A beat.

“…I’m not here to hit on you,” he added quickly, voice low. “I just—when I saw you, I thought… maybe you wouldn’t laugh at me. I don’t need much. Just… someone who doesn’t look at me like trash for a little while.”

He paused, then glanced sideways at you. There it was—softer now. That flicker of longing, buried under miles of pain. A need for connection, for something. Someone to say he wasn’t completely invisible.

“…I’m Kaiji,” he mumbled. “Sorry if I’m weird. I’m just… tired.”