#yippeee

There were only a few things in this world that Harumasa hated, and on the top of his list was the scent of a hospital waiting room. It was a suffocating cocktail of sterile linen and heavy-duty antiseptics—a scent that had been stuck in the back of his throat since he was a kid, long before he could even form proper memories of his own.

He was currently hunched in a hard plastic chair, his hoodie pulled low enough to serve as a makeshift blindfold. To the casual observer, he was just some guy catching a nap, but truly, he was just counting down the seconds until he could secure his suppression meds and get the hell out of there.

But then you showed up.

He hadn’t really paid attention when you took over the nurse’s station. Another face in another shift, he assumed. But a few minutes passed, and somehow the room didn’t feel quite as suffocating anymore. You were talking with the other nurses, voice soft enough that he couldn’t make out the words from where he sat. Then you laughed—quickly stifling it behind the back of your hand, though not before your eyes crinkled at the corners and your shoulders lifted with the effort of holding it in.

Huh…

He wasn’t used to seeing people smile like that here.

Hospitals were tired places. The patients were exhausted, the families anxious, and even the staff—people whose jobs revolved around reassuring others—usually carried the same quiet weariness in their eyes. But you seemed untouched by it.

And when you stepped out from behind the counter to tend to the other patients waiting in line, you didn’t do that fake, overly bubbly customer-service act either. You were just normal, genuinely nice. Harumasa peeked from under his hood, watching you give a quick, small smile to some old guy a few seats over before going speaking him in a hushed yet comforting voice.

He let his gaze linger for only a moment before leaning his head back against the wall and letting his eyes fall shut. He couldn’t decide whether the sight left him relieved... or strangely sorry. Because someone like you still existed in a place like this.

A soft clink on the empty seat next to his pulled him out of his thoughts.

Harumasa blinked, glancing down. Sitting right next to him was a small, brightly wrapped hard candy shaped exactly like a tiny Bangboo.

When he looked up, he was mildly startled to find you standing over him. You had a clipboard tucked under one arm, hands casually resting in the pockets of your scrubs. You weren’t looking at him with pity—A.K.A. the standard expression people gave patients in this specific wing—nor were you starstruck the way people who recognized him tended to act.

“This for me?” he asked, picking up the candy between his fingers.

“Well,” you began with an easy, pleasant lilt. “It isn’t everyday you see the famous Masamasa sitting in our waiting room. Did Section 6 let give you a day-off?”

Harumasa huffed out a laugh. “Mm. Pretty sure Tsukishiro thinks I’m playing hooky again.”

“As your reputation would suggest,” you chuckled. “Oh, sorry. Where are my manners…”

You quickly introduced yourself, tilting the laminated ID clipped to your chest pocket so he could see it, before filling him in on why he’d only started seeing you around today.

“I used to be in the E.R., but I requested a transfer over here because…” You paused briefly, clearly filtering what was appropriate to tell a patient. “Let’s just say high-pressure environments aren’t really my thing. But it’s fine, I’m way more in my element here.”

For some reason, he wholeheartedly believed that.

But before Harumasa could keep the conversation going, the inner office door buzzed open, and the doctor’s assistant called his name. You perked up at the sound, stepping back with a sheepish smile.

“It was nice to see you, Mister Masamasa.”

“Please, just Harumasa is fine,” he said, pushing himself up from the chair and dropping the Bangboo candy into his pocket. “What’s the sweet treat for, anyway?”

For a second, the question caught you completely off guard. Then, a slight, warm color rose to your cheeks. “I, uh... saw on your chart that today was your birthday,” you admitted, offering one last genuine smile before turning back toward the desk. “So... Happy Birthday.”

Before he could even process the words, you turned on your heel and practically bolted back toward the nurse’s station. Harumasa stared after you, a faint trace of a stunned laugh trapped in his throat.

“Asaba Harumasa? Sir?” the doctor’s assistant called out again.

“Yeah, yeah. Coming,” he mumbled.

He shoved his hands deep into his hoodie pockets, his fingers immediately brushing against the smooth, plastic wrapping of the Bangboo candy.

Harumasa still hated hospitals.

He hated the smell, the long waiting time, and what his presence here meant for the ticking clock hanging over his own head. But as he glanced back one last time over his shoulder, watching you peek out from behind a computer monitor with that same inherently awkward grin, he might just look forward to his next check-up after all.

✦ afterword. this was absolutely not proofread at all, so please don't kill me if you find any mistakes NYAHAHA. thank you for reading!! it's been a while since i last felt great abt my shorter pieces waugh...