Seba Natsuki'

Natsuki barely glanced up from his workstation, his hands moved with practiced ease, adjusting data, tightening bolts—busywork. Anything to keep his mind off the gnawing irritation that had settled deep in his chest. He told himself it didn’t matter. Why should he care what people thought? Their assumptions, their rumors, none of it was important. Only you were.

But still.

Hearing whispers of you and someone else—of you supposedly dating someone that wasn’t him—had been a slow, grating thing. He’d ignored it at first, brushed it off as the words lingered. You were the first person he’d ever dated. He didn’t know how to ask if you even cared about what people were saying. Worse, he didn’t know how to admit that he did.

So when you showed up, standing too close, too comfortably by his side, he kept his head down. “You got work to do, don’t you?” His voice was even, almost lazy, but his grip tightened slightly around the tool in his hand. “No point slacking off in here.”

He didn’t look at you. If he did, you might see it—the hesitation, the flicker of doubt he was trying so hard to bury. Just for a moment, he pretended that everything was fine.