Kenji shook his head slightly.
"You're assuming it was simple..." His tone hardened little. "Families like his don't let things stay simple, he continued, to them Relationships aren't just a relationships—they're liabilities, assets… and a threats."
Kenji added. "Even I hate it."
Senkai's his eyes tightened faintly. "So You think he was forced?"
"I think," Kenji said carefully, "he chose the option where she wouldn't get dragged into whatever mess he's tied to." Than a pause. "And knowing people like him," he added quietly, "that probably cost him more than keeping her ever would've."
Senkai leaned back slightly now, processing it.
"So the story about him just leaving her…" he murmured. "…Isn't the whole story," Kenji finished.
Senkai's gaze dropped for a moment, thinking... "…So she thinks he abandoned her, he said. And she doesn't know why he did that."
Kenji gave a small nod. "Most likely."
"And he thinks he saved her." senkai said. Kenji didn't answer that. He didn't need to.
Senkai let out a slow breath, a faint, almost conflicted smile touching his lips. "…That's messed up and He is stupid."
Kenji huffed quietly. "Yeah. Welcome to rich people's problems." But Senkai's expression didn't carry humor. It carried something else now— maybe a new kind of understanding.
He thought. "…So she built walls around to protect herself. "No. she build walls to protect her heart from getting hurt again." Than he said. "And he walked away to protect her."
"And now you're walking straight into the middle of it," Kenji replied. He didn't deny it. Instead, he looked up again, eyes steady. "…If what you're saying is true," he said, "then neither of them actually got what they wanted."
Kenji studied him carefully. "No," he admitted. "They didn't." A pause. Then Senkai exhaled softly, almost to himself— "…Then maybe this isn't about winning or losing at all."
Kenji raised a brow. "Oh?"
His gaze steadied, something quieter—but stronger—settling in. "…Maybe it's about fixing her because she is something that was never meant to be broken in the first place."
Kenji stared at him for a long second.
Then shook his head, letting out a tired sigh.
"…You really don't know when to walk away."
He just stared into his glass, the amber liquid catching the dim light—quiet, steady… almost too calm for someone standing on the edge of something this messy.
Then, slowly—he smiled. Not confidently. Not foolishly, but maybe Just… knowingly. "Maybe," he said at last, voice low, "I just don't want to."
Kenji clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he went back to polishing the same glass—though now it was more habit than purpose. "That's not how this works," he muttered. "You don't just walk into someone else's unfinished story and decide you're the one who gets to fix it."
He let's out a quiet breath. "I don't wish to fix their story, Senkai said. But I just want to pick the broken pieces of her for myself. Than it's upon on me, what to do with it maybe I just make a beautiful glass art out of it only for me to admire."
He continued. "And I couldn't be careless about Lemon. I don't give a fuck about him, cuz to me what my sister said was true. He was a coward, cuz to me what kind of love you have if you are not willing to fight for it."
Than senkai leaned back slightly, eyes drifting toward the glass windows—the city stretching endlessly beyond, lights flickering like distant thoughts. "Now I understand it finally," he said.
Kenji frowned. "Understand?
"Yeah. His voice softened, but didn't weaken. Before I decide anything… before I go any more further… in, I just wanted to know what actually happened between them and now I know it due to you."
"Thanks kenji-Senpai because of you now I know the both side of their story's."
Kenji kept polishing glass. "Do you know what is hardest to fix, the broken and make something out of it." Kenji didn't look up immediately.
The glass in his hand caught the dim light as he turned it slowly, inspecting something that wasn't really there. "…It's not the broken parts, at last."
Senkai's eyes shifted back to him.
Kenji placed the glass down with a soft clink. "It's what's left inside them after they break."
A quiet pause followed.
Kenji leaned his elbows lightly on the counter, voice calmer now—less sarcastic, more honest.
"You can fix cracks," he continued. "You can reshape something, polish it, even turn it into something beautiful like you said…" His gaze lifted, meeting Senkai's directly. "…but you can't erase what it remembers."
Senkai's fingers tightened slightly around his glass.
Kenji went on. "People aren't like glass," he added. "They don't just break once and stay still. They change after that. The way they trust, the way they love… even the way they look at you—it's different."
He exhaled slowly, but didn't look away. Kenji's tone sharpened just a little. "And the hardest part?" he said. "Is that sometimes… they don't want to be fixed."
Silence.
The low hum of the bar filled the space again.
Senkai's gaze dropped to the amber liquid in his glass, watching the faint ripple settle. "…Then I let her be," he said quietly. Kenji frowned. Than He continued, slower now—more certain. "And I'll understand her till she wish to be changed herself."
That made Kenji pause. He picked up another glass, finally starting to polish it again, slower this time. "…Just answer me one thing," he said.
Senkai raised a brow slightly.
Kenji didn't look at him when he asked. "How far are you willing to go… in the name of love?"
The question that hung there. Heavy and Unavoidable.
Senkai didn't answer immediately. He looked out at the city again—at the lights, the distance, the unknown paths ahead. And then—quietly, and firmly—"I don't know yet."
Than a pause.
His gaze hardened just slightly. "…But I know I won't stop halfway." Kenji closed his eyes for a brief second, exhaling. "…That's exactly what I was afraid of."
The glass in his hand stilled.
And somewhere—far beyond the bar, beyond the city lights—a story that was never truly over… was beginning to move again.
———
"Than after a while..."
He changed the topic.
"By the way Kenji–San. Who was that one person. Senkai said, Who took the place in your heart? and what's did you mean by worst than you? So... what is the less worst than me she has done to you."
"Kenji didn't answer immediately.
The question didn't land like the others.
It didn't hang in the air— but it settled. "Heavy."
The kind of weight that didn't belong in a place filled with dim lights and half-empty glasses.
The soft clink of glass against wood echoed as Kenji placed it down, slower this time. Not out of care—but hesitation. "…You really don't know when to stop digging, do you?" he muttered, "You really are very observent aren't you."
He didn't smile this time. Didn't push either. But just waited. And that more than anything was what made Kenji annoyed. "Her name was Light," It came out simple.
But something in the way he said it was different, like it had been sitting In there for a long time, like something untouched in his memories. It made the air around whole room feel different.
Kenji continued. "I met her when I had nothing," he said. "No business, no stability… just a bad temper, ideas and a lot of confidence I didn't deserve."
He continued, "I've met her in a high school, back when everything just felt… simpler. Or maybe we were just too stupid to see how complicated things really were."
He leaned back slightly, eyes drifting somewhere far past the bar walls.
A faint, almost ironic smile touched his lips.
"She was the kind of person who was like a sun to me, she came into my dull and boring life and filled it with a bright arey of light." Light... Kenji paused for a moment. He picked the glass up again and as he pour a scotch in it.
His voice too gentle maybe for a second like a someone who experienced a lot of things in past. "Just a... considence was that I once also made a stupid deal just like you in the past but a difference was, it was much more pure, gentle and true. After all we both were pretty young and innocent back than."
"We both started off as pretending, I remember how I first met her... He said remineceing, I have caught her when she was showing my picture around saying that I'll was her boyfriend when she actually found that picture off the internet."
Kenji's fingers paused around the glass, as if the memory itself had caught him mid-motion. "…There's more to it," he admitted, voice quieter now—rougher at the edges.
Senkai didn't move. Didn't speak. But Just quietly watched. Kenji exhaled slowly. "At the start… I didn't just go along with it. A faint, almost bitter smile appeared. I used it." The air shifted.
"She was the one pretending that I was her boyfriend, right? he continued. So I told her that I wouldn't expose her… as long as she played along when I said so."
A soft clink as the glass touched the counter again. "…at first it was just petty things. Walking with me in front of people. Sitting where I have wanted. Letting the rumors spread. His eyes lowered slightly. I called it a deal."
A pause.
"But let's not dress it up, he added flatly, I was bullying her." The word sat there—
Uncomfortable, undeniable. "I thought it was harmless," Kenji said. "She never fought back. Never got angry the way most people would." His jaw tightened faintly. "And that just made it easier to keep going." Senkai's gaze sharpened a fraction—but he still didn't interrupt.
Kenji let out a quiet breath. "Sometimes… I'd push just to see where her limit was." His grip around the glass loosened again. "And every time, she'd just… look at me." He stopped for a second, like the memory itself had weight. "Not scared. Not even annoyed, or hurt, at least not on the surface." A faint crease formed between his brows. " but she was Just… patient."
The word sounded like something he still didn't fully understand. "And that pissed me off more than anything has." A humorless chuckle slipped out. "So I kept going. Told myself it was just a game. That she started anyway."
Silence stretched. "…But somewhere along the line," he continued more quietly, "I have started noticing things I wasn't supposed to." His eyes drifted again.
"The way she'd wait after school just to walk with me—even on the days, I didn't ask for."
"The way she'd remember stupid details I have mentioned once and bring them up weeks later."
"The way she has never once used that 'fake relationship' for anything selfish." along the time spent with her I have started noticing small and small details about her that how emotional and sensitive she is...
"And some how that thing used to make me feel bit a guilty, and maybe that's when it started, I started missing her bit by bit, when she was not there at first I thought that I missed not having someone to annoyed to or bully too, so I started picking onto the new people's and that's when I realized that it's not I liked bullying people, but I just liked bullying her..."
Another pause.
Senkai said, talking a sip. "Senpai you sound so bastard, You know."
"Oh I know I am. He replied, but it was just... I was unaware of my feelings and maybe that when it stopped being funny. I was just a stupid highschooler kid to understand what it was between us that I felt for her in past. I used to thought that having her close was my only enjoyment. And you know that was fun for me just the kind that used to make my day.
Kenji leaned back slightly, expression tightening. "And when I realized I loved her, I wasn't in control of it anymore." A faint scoff. "Not the situation… and definitely not myself."
He glanced at Senkai briefly. "I didn't wake up one day and decide I liked her." He shook his head. No. "It was worse than that." His voice dropped. "I just… couldn't stop."
The bar felt heavier now.
"And the things I used to do?" he added, quieter still. "They didn't feel like jokes anymore."
A long pause followed.
"I tried to pull back," Kenji said. "But by then… the damage was already there. His eyes lowered to the glass again. She never called me out for it. Never threw it in my face. A small, strained breath. She just stayed the same even when she became my girlfriend."
That same word again—unspoken this time.
Patient. Kenji's fingers tightened once more before relaxing. "…That's the part that messed me up more," he admitted. "Not what she did."
A beat.
"But what she didn't do." Silence settled again—thicker than before. "And by the time when finally I understood what I actually felt…" he finished, voice almost hollow now, "I had already become the kind of person who didn't deserve to say it...
———
"In the past... back than, actually she needed a help. Came to me once and said there was this guy who was behind her and wouldn't leave her alone. Confessions, following her around, and making scenes. She didn't like him… but she didn't know how to make it stop either."
"So she told me let's make a deal. A kind of a deal where I was granning nothing, but I still did in the end. He said, I was just a kind soul, and I just didn't like stalking bastards, And I was not that bad of a guy, I took a pity of her situation that she was being stalked by a creepy bastard."
"And later... I was stupid thinking that she will change her mind, and fell in love with me. But I was wrong, later I learned in life, people's who are meant to leave will leave. You can't stop them, whatever you do."
Kenji let out a quiet breath, the kind that carried years in it. He swirled the scotch in his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the dim bar light like a memory he couldn't quite let go of.
Senkai looked at him quietly than asked. "And why did she leave?"
"That's the question, I don't knew the exact answer for it. Because later I learned that she had lied to me. He said, "she said I had a temper issue," kenji continued, voice low, almost amused—but not really, "Funny thing is… maybe she wasn't even wrong."
A pause.
"I still remember, She came to me one day, and out of nowhere said let's broke up, I'm done. I asked her, why? Did I done something wrong?"
Kenji didn't answer immediately.
The question didn't echo this time, but It just… stayed. Heavy.
His fingers tightened slightly around the glass before loosening again. The faint clink as he set it down sounded louder than it should have. "And she just looked at me."
The sound of ice melting at the glass of senkai.
Kenji let out a quiet breath, eyes lowering—not to the glass, but somewhere deeper. Somewhere older. "That same look, he murmured. The one she always had. Calm. Patient. A faint, bitter smile touched his lips. "…And distant."
Silence stretched between them... Senkai looked down at his glass too for a second.
"She said—" Kenji stopped for a second, like the words still didn't sit right even now, then he continued. "She said, You didn't did anything wrong Kenji.''
"Funny, right?" Kenji gave a soft, humorless chuckle. He said, "That's supposed to make it easier. His jaw tightened faintly. But it didn't instead."
Another pause.
"It made it worse." The bar felt quieter now. Like even the noise knew better not to interrupt. "She told me…" He continued slowly, choosing each word like it still mattered, "'This was never real for you in the beginning… and somewhere along the way, it stopped being real for me too Kenji-san.'"
His gaze sharpened slightly, He looked up from his glass once again.
Kenji's fingers brushed against the rim of the glass absentmindedly. "I didn't understand it back then, he admitted, I thought she was just making excuses."
A faint breath left him. "So I got angry." Of course I did. I told her she was running away," he said. "That she was the one who started all this."
His eyes darkened just a little. "And for the first time…" he paused, "…she reacted." That caught something in the air. as Kenji looked up slightly, but not at Senkai—just past him. "Not loudly," or "Not dramatically." He added.
A beat.
"But she smiled." just not with a warmth or softness. But with Just… something quiet. "And she said—" He stopped again. This time longer. Like the memory itself resisted being spoken. "…'I stayed because I thought you'd eventually see me.'"
A Silence. Real silence. He didn't interrupt. Didn't breathe too loudly.
Kenji's voice dropped, "…'But you only ever looked at the version of me you created.'"
That landed. Heavy and clean, unavoidable.
Kenji swallowed slightly, though he didn't look shaken but just… tired. "I didn't know what to say after that," he admitted. "So." A faint scoff followed. I said the worst thing I could've said."
His eyes shifted slightly. "What?"
Kenji's lips curved—not in amusement, but recognition. "I told her… Then why didn't you leave sooner?" A pause. "And she just—" He exhaled, "…nodded."
That was it. No fight. No tears. No scene. "And she said, 'I am leaving now than." The finality in his tone made it clear—
That was the moment she had left him.
"That's it?" He asked quietly, Kenji gave a small nod. "That's it." But it wasn't. They both knew it wasn't. Kenji leaned back slightly, finally picking up the glass and taking a slow sip. "When someone leaves like that, he said, it's never sudden."
His gaze drifted. "They've already been gone for a while already. Silence filled the space again. His fngers tightened slightly around his own glass. "…Do you regret it?" Senaki asked.
Kenji didn't answer right away. This time, he actually thought about it. Not defensively, or casually. But Honestly. "…Yeah," he said finally, a simple answer. But it carried weight.
"Not because she left, he added. But because I only understood her… after she did." A pause.
"And by then... He exhaled, it didn't matter anymore." Senkai looked at him for a long second. Then—quietly—
"…So you're warning me," He asked.
Kenji glanced at him, "I'm not warning you," he said. A beat. I'm telling you what happens when you're too late." And that landed harder than anything before.
The bar returned slowly—the low hum, the distant chatter—but something between them had shifted. He looked down at his drink again. The amber liquid hadn't changed But something in his eyes had.
"…I won't be late," he said quietly. Kenji didn't respond immediately. Then he let out a soft breath, almost a laugh, but without humor. Yeah. "…That's what I thought too...
———
To be continue...
———