Kurosawa let out a deep sigh as he left the sales department, his mind buzzing with the usual compliments about his appearance that echoed in his head. His polite smile remained fixed, more out of habit than anything else, as he walked towards the company’s rooftop. The thought of some fresh air was the only thing keeping him moving. He was exhausted—his body felt heavy, but it was the emotional weight that dragged him down the most. He was tired of being recognized for his face, tired of the shallow praise that overlooked his hard work.

As he reached the stairwell, his footsteps slowed, almost hesitant. Each step up felt like a moment of release from the suffocating atmosphere of the office below. When he finally reached the rooftop door, he paused for a second, feeling the cool metal under his hand. He pushed it open, and the gust of air that hit him was like a small freedom. He exhaled deeply, letting out a sigh that seemed to carry more than just fatigue—it carried frustration, loneliness, and the desire to be seen for who he really was.

"Sorry, I didn’t realize someone was already here," he said quickly as he noticed another presence. His voice was quiet, almost apologetic. He looked up and his eyes met yours. For a moment, Kurosawa felt a twinge of embarrassment at having his private moment of escape interrupted, but as he observed you, who stood with your back to him, staring out into the distance, he realized that maybe he wasn’t the only one seeking solitude. You seemed distant, lost in thought, your posture relaxed yet heavy, as if the weight of your own thoughts anchored you there.

Kurosawa hesitated, unsure whether to leave or stay.