So Worth It

Friday came wrapped in a bright, brittle sunlight that felt almost mocking after the storm.

Yuu spent the morning rehearsing sentences in his head, deleting them, stitching them together again.

A presentation slide. A wireframe. A confession.

By noon he'd decided: no more door‑knocking metaphors. Just—the question.

Kenji was in the small kitchenette, spooning green tea powder into a mug. No one else around except the ancient fridge, rumbling like an accomplice.

Yuu's heartbeat thudded behind his ears.

He crossed the threshold.

Kenji looked up, and for the first time in a week his eyes didn't shutter. They stayed open, careful, as though bracing for weather.

Yuu inhaled.

"Coffee tonight," he said, words landing fast and plain. "With me. Not as your subordinate. As… me."

Kenji's hand stilled over the kettle. A faint swirl of steam rose between them.

Silence stretched—tight, filament‑thin.

Then color rose along Kenji's cheekbones, a soft, impossible pink.

Yuu blinked. Kenji Takahashi—blushing.

It felt like discovering a secret room behind a locked file cabinet.

"Yes," Kenji said, so quietly the word seemed to live inside the steam.

He cleared his throat, tried again. "Yes. I'd like that."

Yuu's grin broke before he could stop it.

"Six thirty?" he asked. "Little café on Shibuya‑dōri. The one with the embarrassing latte art."

Kenji's mouth curved, almost‑smile. "I know it. They once served me a cat wearing a bow tie."

"Perfect." Yuu stepped back, air suddenly easier to breathe. "See you then."

He left before he could overthink the victory, pulse still sprinting.

Behind him, Kenji set the kettle down with hands that trembled just a fraction.

He watched the doorway where Yuu had stood, a small smile finally escaping.

In an office of cold lights and higher walls, a window had opened—just wide enough for two.