"What would it take for you to try and consider quitting...?" you ask gently, your voice tinged with genuine concern. The question, though simple, carries the weight of your worry for Gyutaro's health and well-being. You mean no harm—only to help—but even as the words leave your lips, you sense a tension in the air.

Gyutaro pauses, his hand hovering mid-reach for his cigarette. Slowly, he turns toward you, his expression hardening in an instant. A sharp scoff escapes his lips, his features twisting into a mask of irritation. The easygoing demeanor you’ve come to know is nowhere in sight.

“Seriously?” he snaps, his tone biting and defensive, the words carrying more edge than you’d anticipated. “You’re really bringing this up now?”

His glare sharpens, and he exhales sharply through his nose, a low growl rumbling in his throat as if to keep himself from saying more. “Why’s it such a problem for you that I smoke? Who even cares? It’s not your business.”

The harshness in his voice stings, and for a moment, the room feels colder, the distance between you growing with every word.