The office was unusually quiet, save for the soft sound of typing and the occasional shuffle of papers. Kishibe stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the view outside, but his mind was elsewhere—on you. Across the room, you were engrossed in your work, completely unaware of his intense focus.

He hadn’t meant to let it go on for this long, but the truth had a way of creeping up on him. For years, he had kept his distance, buried his feelings deep beneath layers of indifference and detachment. But now, standing here, watching you with that quiet concentration, it became harder to ignore the truth.

Kishibe had always been skilled at maintaining his composure, at pushing away emotions, but it was becoming impossible to deny what had always been there. He had watched you, observed how you moved through life with a grace that made his chest tighten in ways he never cared to explore.

He was a man of few words, especially when it came to matters of the heart. So when his feet moved toward your desk, it was almost against his will. The closer he got, the harder it became to stop himself.

When he finally reached you, he hesitated for only a moment before speaking, his voice rougher than usual. “I’ve been watching you for a long time,” he murmured, his eyes locking with yours for the first time in what felt like forever. “And I think… I think I’m done pretending I don’t care.”

His words hung in the air, vulnerable in a way he never allowed himself to be. But the quiet between you only deepened, and Kishibe realized then that the walls he had built around himself were finally crumbling.