Archive of Our Own

Nanami looked towards the far end of the room — the opposite side from where he was — where there usually was an automatic coffee machine working tirelessly. It was around 10 a.m., neither too early nor too late; the limbo of such a time was the perfect excuse for a second cup of coffee. 

On ordinary days, he wouldn’t hesitate to get up and have it, but there was one detail — the absence of the coffee machine — that seemed to bother only him. 

Unlike him, his colleagues in the room (a group of four people, two from the HR Department; Mei Mei from the storeroom, and Miguel from Occupational Safety) didn’t seem troubled by having to get up and go to the break room or another nearby department to manually prepare coffee — which wasn’t really the problem. Nanami preferred freshly prepared coffee over automatic machine coffee, but the idea of losing a few minutes that could be spent completing the payroll spreadsheet was, to say the least, irritating. 

And this feeling grew every time he looked in its direction and didn’t find it. Kento grunted, getting up. He mechanically straightened the non-existent wrinkles on his dress shirt, crossing the room towards the door; Nanami opened and closed it. He saw some heads turn in his direction, following his steps along the way to the break room, and some whispers as he finally reached it. Kento didn’t judge them. If he were another employee from a different sector other than HR, he too would be watching and listening closely near payday. But he wasn’t, and unfortunately, he was subject to this kind of attention and the occasional fear that new employees felt towards his department in general and, sometimes, towards him specifically. 

The break room was a medium-sized space with tables scattered throughout, some essential appliances on a counter, the coffee machine being essential in his conception, and a ceiling fan. Sometimes, employees had to take turns to know who would have lunch first and last — those who didn’t mind had lunch outside or ate in the break room, disregarding basic rules of coexistence and some sanitary laws as well. 

There were possibly more mites walking on those sofas than on the carpets. 

For the first time, it was unusually empty; there was almost always one or two employees talking to each other, with a cup of coffee or any other energy drink in one of their hands. The slightly curved posture and the unoccupied hand covering the mouth to prevent yawning was another common sight that everyone — except their superiors — shared. 

Nanami washed the electric kettle, even though it was already clean, put in water, coffee grounds in the filter, and waited. He had his back to the office — anyone looking towards the break room would see him through the glass walls — arms crossed and his foot tapping on the floor every two seconds. When it finally boiled, he uncrossed his arms, taking the kettle off the stand, grabbed one of the disposable cups available, and poured some for himself, almost to the brim — one drop of sweetener and stirred. 

He left the full pot on one of the tables so that others would know there was fresh coffee. He returned to his office with the coffee in hand and, even from a distance, noticed the door slightly ajar — that was the most subtle sign that his colleague from the R&S department had arrived. The other signs would be noticeable as soon as he crossed the door — just as he had now. The most obvious would be the voice echoing throughout the room — even though Gojo’s voice was melodious, it was still shrill by the choice of the speaker himself. 

The second, Nanami noticed as he silently sat down in his chair to avoid drawing the man’s attention to himself, was how he moved his swivel chair back and forth, unable to stay still for a second. 

When Gojo finally noticed him, it was like in Indian movies/soap operas — with several frames on the character’s face, showing his indignation, fear, or courage. In this specific case, however, the frame would freeze on the smile slowly spreading across Gojo’s face, with an almost predatory feline aspect at the edges. His eyes, as usual, were hidden behind the black lenses of his glasses. 

Nanami knew, at that moment, that his brief peace had ended. 

"Nanamin!"The confirmation. Kento did not dignify him with a response but with a nod and a sip of his coffee. He put his reading glasses back on and returned his attention to the computer. He heard a chair scraping. 

“How’s my pay-guy doing?” 

He was almost completely familiar with Gojo's disregard for his personal space. 

Gojo came up behind his swivel chair, his spine curved until his face was a few centimeters above Nanami’s shoulder. It shouldn’t be, but it was familiar — even though he expected this kind of behavior from him, Kento’s back stiffened, making him sit upright in the chair. 

He cleared his throat. 

“I’m fine, Gojo-San. Thank you for asking.” He wasn’t rude, despite his antipathy for the man. Gojo murmured something in agreement, still not moving away, with his head still perched above Nanami’s shoulder. From the corner of his eye, he could see him looking at the computer screen. 

“Look! My name is second!” He was referring to the next list. He pointed to it with his hand from the opposite arm, and Nanami found himself surrounded in his chair. On one side, Gojo’s face, and on the other, his hand pointing at the computer screen. 

“Yes,” he said softly. The weight of Gojo’s arm on his shoulder was something he had gotten used to, albeit reluctantly. 

“Wait!” The latter leaned even further forward, and his chest touched the back of Nanami’s shoulder. He didn’t dwell on this fact. Kento, however, did, being hyper-aware of his space Are those late deductions?” 

Nanami sighed, feeling the irritation from work creeping back in. Questions like this — about deductions or missing earnings — were routine. After payday, it was common for him to be bombarded with queries for nearly a whole week by most employees. This was the first time Gojo had asked about it, but the familiarity of the question stoked the growing frustration. 

Kento locked his computer screen, turning in his chair to face Gojo. The man was forced to straighten up. 

“Yes, you’ve been clocking in late for the past two weeks.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Gojo looked at him, mouth agape, stammering. 

Suddenly, his eyes widened. 

“Damn it!” He moved away from Nanami. The blond raised an eyebrow, questioning. “I forgot to clock in.” 

Then he dashed towards the door with his nearly two-meter frame. Nanami instinctively stood up, ready to shout at him. It wouldn’t help; his posture wilted, shoulders slumping. He sighed, sitting back down. He heard some laughter — his colleagues had witnessed the entire interaction, but, as everyone had been charmed by Gojo, they found the situation more amusing than desperate (Nanami seemed to be the only one seeing it from a different angle). 

He turned the computer back on, and as he typed in his password mechanically, he reflected: within him, there was a conflict. The irritation from work was the strongest of all his emotions and sometimes was all he could see, but he couldn’t — and didn’t want to — ignore the pang of affection for Gojo. 

He shouldn’t be captivated by the man’s inattentiveness or by the man himself—his few qualities and many flaws. To say Gojo was everything Nanami despised was a cliché, and reluctantly, it didn’t match reality. Nanami was always inclined towards vulnerability and honesty, and he could see, beneath Gojo’s careless expression and demeanor, a tangle of feelings and complexity that most people didn’t notice. And if they did, they were surprised to find it didn’t come from Nanami. The stoic Nanami, who loved romance and sci-fi books from the '80s, but from the — if they were in a teen show like “That '70s Show” — popular guy. 

Kento pretended not to see this vulnerability. The one time he dared to mention it, Gojo’s pestering began, and Nanami was now aware that he was paying the price for trying to address it. 

He sighed. He opened RH TOTVS, the timekeeping system, and requested approval for Gojo’s late clock-in. He was too engrossed in his task to notice the two rhythmic knocks on the door or the soft sound of it opening. 

A whistle. 

“Kento!” 

Nanami looked up immediately. With his torso half inside the room and a wide smile on his face, Yuu made a subtle head gesture. 

“Lunch?” The suggestion was obvious. Nanami glanced at him, then at the computer. He didn’t need to look back at his friend to see him roll his eyes at the indecision; Yuu would probably drag him by his tie if he said “no” or join him, missing lunch trying to convince him to eat. 

Kento sighed, turning off the computer screen. He couldn’t let Yuu starve, or himself for that matter. 

[...] 

Contrary to all the theories about Nanami — the infamous hallway gossip — he wasn’t as stoic or insensitive as most presumed. On the contrary, behind the rigid shoulders and the furrowed brow, he was a surprisingly calm and empathetic person. There was no mystery behind his stern expression — no dark backstory or other sci-fi-worthy background like the films and books he loved. 

The reality was that, like many people, Kento was forced to enter the workforce early. This allowed the corporate world's claws to dig deeper into him, keeping him in the company for ten consecutive years. Capitalism had seeped into his very being, bringing with it despair (from the stifling routine) and indignation (from the feeling of being stuck). He wasn’t a bad person, just a tired one. And Nanami, never good at hiding his convictions, often wore a somewhat bitter expression because of this. 

Unfortunately, he neither could nor had the energy to keep explaining himself — he had tried a few times — so he let others paint him as distant and grumpy. The lack of initiative to dispel these rumors led to him being relieved of recruitment & selection duties, leaving him solely responsible for finance (both being his initial roles). 

The reason for this, according to his boss, was that most candidates (future employees) were afraid of him. 

He knew that if it weren’t for his long tenure and, modestly speaking, his excellent performance in his primary role, he would have been drafting and signing his "Mutual Termination" letter months ago, under the pretext of: “the individual does not possess the competencies to perform the designated role.” He was constantly confronted by his lack of social skills, as now. 

He arrived at the company, crossing the lobby to the elevator, pressed his floor (the second), and waited. He could have taken the stairs and used it as an exercise excuse, but that would ruin his composed image. Nanami wasn’t overly vain — “self-aware” was the right term. He held the top of his beige suit (matching the dress pants) by the wrist. A tie was wrapped around the base of his neck and a wristwatch adorned his arm — walking without them would feel like walking naked; not literally, but the sensation would be the same. 

His messenger bag hung over one shoulder. He left a pair of glasses at work, as he spent many hours in front of the computer, and another pair at home, for his book-reading sessions. This made life easier. 

Nanami didn’t need to exert force to turn the doorknob; it opened at the slightest touch of his hand— it was ajar. He raised an eyebrow at this, finding it odd. Usually, he was the first to arrive, followed by his two other office mates — he knew, however, it wasn’t either of them who had arrived. Only one occupant of the room had the habit of leaving doors slightly open: Gojo. The oddity grew as the man rarely arrived early. He made his own schedule and even their boss didn’t question it. Nanami had given up doing so too. 

As he entered, he got his answer. 

Three people sat in chairs near the wall, all with anxious expressions and nervous smiles. Apparently, these were the new candidates from the selection process Nanami had helped Gojo prepare weeks ago. 

He smiled politely. 

“Good morning!” In response, he was greeted with other “Good mornings” in voices as tremulous as the candidates’ expressions. He went straight to his desk, hanging his messenger bag on a nearby coat rack. The air conditioner was set to 16 degrees, and Nanami, being the cold-sensitive person he was, knew he had made a good decision to bring the full suit. 

From his bag, Nanami took out a bento with his lunch, a small thermos of chamomile tea, and placed them on the desk. In another container, he had a fresh fruit salad prepared for the afternoon. He would need it to get through the next nine hours without resorting to one of the vending machines in the break room. He went to the company fridge to store his items and, on his way back, saw Gojo standing in the doorway, smiling broadly at a blonde girl with her hair styled in two buns on either side of her head — one of the possible trainees. 

Her nervousness wasn’t as apparent as it was in the boys in the room; either because the interview had ended or because Gojo was incredibly good at making people feel comfortable (when he wanted to). 

Having had the experience and with it being a recurring situation, being a large company, it was common for there to be a high turnover of employees at least once every two weeks. He knew that beneath all the nervousness of the first interview (or the interview itself), there were promising professionals, especially among the young. It didn’t hurt to admit, watching Gojo’s work up close and the girl’s smiling and hopeful expression, that he understood why he had been removed from this role. 

Seeing Nanami about to enter the room, Satoru smiled broadly: 

“Good morning, Nanamin!” His voice was, as always, energetic. 

“Good morning, Gojo-san,” came his soft voice. 

“Did you say good morning to our potential trainees?” He pointed with his thumb behind him, where three doe-eyed candidates waved timidly. 

“Yes. I’m sure you’re the most competent to find a profile that fits the company.” Nanami bowed politely to the candidates. “Good luck!” 

Then he headed to his desk. Even as he focused on turning on his computer, he vaguely heard Gojo say: 

“My dear kouhai is always formal, don’t mind him.” Kento had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. Since discovering the age difference between them, Gojo often referred to him with the honorific. Kento was sure that if he ever decided to call Gojo “senpai,” the man would short-circuit. 

“Well, Ino, now it’s your turn.” A black-haired boy stood up, trembling on his feet. 

Kento didn’t look much. Gojo was leading him to the door on the right, into the meeting room. 

He put on his ID badge and started his activities. 

Three days later, Nanami was confronted by a formally dressed Gojo. He had, to everyone’s surprise, donned a gray blazer over his cerulean blue shirt; even his pants and shoes matched—not that he usually dressed poorly, quite the opposite, but it was still a surprise. 

In his hands was a transparent folder, which he dropped with a thud onto Kento’s desk. The blond didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow. 

Gojo laughed. 

“The documents of our new trainee, Nanamin.” 

Kento’s eyes widened in understanding, taking the folder. Being transparent, all the resume details were visible even with it closed. Nanami recognized the black hair and doe eyes. “Ino Takuma,” according to the resume. 

“He’s coming this afternoon for training, alright?” It should have been a question, but Gojo didn’t bother making it sound like one. He imagined as much anyway. The moment he crossed the office doorframe, he noticed the new desk and a computer near his. 

Nanami looked at him. 

“Yes. I’ll check the documents and store them in our database. When I’m done, I’ll notify you to complete the contract issuance.” 

“Great!” Gojo smiled broadly, apparently satisfied. Nanami returned to his computer screen to finish what he had started before switching to the new task. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gojo hesitate before going to his own desk, but he eventually did... and stopped halfway, turning back to Nanami again. “Nanami?” 

“Yes, Gojo-san?” He glanced at him briefly. Maybe if he ignored him, he’d leave faster. 

“You’re coming to the gathering tonight, right?” he asked. For a split second, Kento was confused about which gathering he meant. He wasn’t sure if it was right to call it that. It was more of a custom, a gesture of false importance the company gave to new employees, granting a paid dinner for all staff. 

Nanami had attended many in his first year at the company, but eventually stopped participating. This, unfortunately, didn’t help his grumpy image. So, years later, he decided to give these gatherings another chance, even if it was just to stay for half an hour, drink some beer, and leave earlier than most. 

Since Gojo’s arrival, however, he found himself forced to stay hours longer — waiting for the first brave person to leave, so he could follow suit ten minutes later. 

He sighed in annoyance. 

“Probably,” he replied without looking at him. 

“What do you mean, Nyahnamin?”  Nyahnamin ? That was new. Gojo arched, leaning his weight on the hand he had placed on Kento's desk. “Don't make me bring the party to you.” 

Nanami pressed his lips into a thin line, keeping his hands still on the keyboard. Finally, he looked at Gojo. 

“I haven't decided yet, Gojo. I'll let you know eventually.” 

The man in question pulled his hand back, putting it into the front pocket of his pants. His lips were pressed together, and for a second, Nanami feared his directness had been taken as rudeness. His mind raced through a thousand ways to soften the situation. Gojo was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

“Sorry! What I mean is that if I'm not too tired, I'd like to join you all. I just don't know if I'll stay for long.” 

Gojo stopped rocking on his feet, smiling. 

“Of course, Nanamin, whatever you want." He made a mocking gesture with his hand, his humor returning to his features. Nanami wasn't sure if he should believe in this sudden change. “See you during the training, bye!” 

Gojo didn't give him time to say goodbye or to ask where he was going since they were both on work hours. Kento frowned. 

“Wait! Gojo!" He had already gone through the door and, surprisingly, closed it too. It reopened, but instead of the albino, a head of chocolate-brown hair came through. “Yuu.” 

“Let's go, Kento. I'm starving!” 

Nanami looked at the clock: 12:25 PM. 

. 

Punctually at two in the afternoon, there were two light knocks on the door. After a "come in" from inside, Ino Takuma entered, wearing a suit that was slightly too large for him. Gojo lit up the moment he saw him. He stood up to greet him, crossing the room with his long strides until he was beside the younger man. Ino smiled softly, bowing respectfully. 

“Ready for our training?” Gojo asked him energetically. Takuma responded with the same enthusiasm. 

“Yes!” Nanami smiled slyly, for a moment, touched by nostalgia. 

He vaguely heard Gojo say: 

“Before we start, let me introduce you to our colleagues.” Nanami waited patiently until the two were in front of his desk. He put his tasks aside and stood up. “This is our salary guy, Ino-Kun.” Gojo made an exaggerated gesture in his direction. Nanami resisted the urge to roll his eyes, bowing respectfully to the newcomer. 

“Welcome,” he said. Ino's face turned a vivid shade of red as he repeated Nanami's gesture, bowing so deeply that his forehead almost touched the surface of the desk. 

“He’s the one you’ll be working with,” Gojo said. 

“It will be a pleasure working with you, Nanamin-Kun,” Ino said, smiling. Absentmindedly, Ino tucked a strand of long hair behind his ear. 

“Likewise,” Kento replied. 

“Let's see the other departments,” Gojo's voice boomed. Ino looked at him eagerly for further instructions. “In a few minutes, I'll hand you back to Nanami-Kun.” Ino immediately looked at him upon the mention of his name. Nanami sat back in his chair. It was part of Gojo's job to acquaint new employees, introduce them to different departments, and organize the necessary equipment and badges for them. However, the bureaucratic part of the contract was Nanami's responsibility. Since Ino would be his assistant, part of the training was also his responsibility. 

The two started their tour. Nanami sighed, feeling relieved at moments like this that this was no longer his role. 

He returned to his duties, checking the employees' time sheet — cataloging new overtime hours, possible delays, and vacation requests. 

Surprisingly, Gojo had clocked in at the right time. 

Hours later, the door opened, and Gojo appeared with Ino in tow. 

Gojo directed him to the chair that would belong to Ino, the one near Nanami, and completed the rest of the integration process under his control — corporate email and the extension courses he had to complete within 90 days. Minutes later, Nanami was pulled from his reverie by a heavy hand on his shoulder. He looked directly at Gojo. 

“Now it's your turn, Nanamin.” A light squeeze on the shoulder. 

Kento nodded in acknowledgment. 

“Thank you, Gojo-San.” The man, in turn, said nothing. He gave two pats on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly before leaving. Nanami didn't follow him with his gaze, preferring to turn to the boy waiting for him. Ino was staring at him anxiously, his body and chair fully turned in his direction. “Let's get started.” 

Ino agreed, turning to the computer. Nanami moved his chair closer to him—first, click on RH TOTVS, and let's finish your orientation. 

When Gojo had brought Ino back, it was around 4:37 PM — the following hours and minutes passed quickly. Nanami showed Ino what his tasks would be in practice while he took notes in an agenda that Nanami had given him. At some point, Kento returned to his own duties while Ino started the integration courses and read the integration emails. 

“Nanami-Kun?” 

“Yes, Takuma-Kun?” Nanami looked at him. 

“Are you going to the get-together?” 

Nanami looked at the bottom left corner of the computer screen: 6:03 PM. 

“Yes.” 

“They’re waiting for us downstairs,” Ino said, already standing up. Nanami did the same, turning off the device before taking off his jacket and draping it over his arm. He grabbed his messenger bag while Ino waited for him at the door. When both left, some people were also finishing turning off their respective computers or wrapping up their activities; some were excited to see Ino passing through the corridor. 

“Hey, Ino, excited to max out the company card?” Yuu joined them, as always: smiling. Ino nodded in agreement, and the three entered the elevator. Nanami found himself between the two. “Where is Gojo-Senpai?” 

“He went to make the reservation,” Nanami replied. More people joined them in the elevator; floor selected, the doors closed. As the elevator descended, Nanami turned to Ino, smiling softly at him. “Welcome officially.” 

Ino Takuma's smile almost split his face. 

Nanami felt a pang of guilt for a second before storing the feeling deep in his stomach. It was like deceiving a child by saying that the lollipop they had in their hands was the tastiest when there was an infinite number of them that the company had robbed him of the opportunity to experience. Such was the corporate world. 

“Thank you, Nanami-Kun!” 

. 

The restaurant wasn't very far. The company was well-located, and shopkeepers, restaurant owners, and bar owners never missed the opportunity to open a business near a place where the potential number of alcoholics was higher. 

Gojo was indeed waiting for them, sitting at one of the many tables he had asked to be joined together — and, again, it was difficult for a restaurant to refuse, knowing the reputation salaried employees had. It was a relatively new restaurant, open for just under seven months, but its popularity had grown, especially because they had karaoke. The tables were made of polished wood, covered with a white cloth. The environment had a yellowish light, making the place cozy. Their table was near a wall of neatly arranged brown bricks, and every two tables, small chandeliers helped with the lighting. 

Nanami felt chills just remembering the orientation of the girl Mai Zenin — the company constantly hired her design skills — months ago. Some people had lost their dignity that day. 

As always, before the food arrived, there were four bottles of soju and some beers on the table, along with several shot glasses — Nanami had his own, but unlike his colleagues who drank one glass after another, he didn’t drink so desperately. Even though it was Friday, he didn't intend to get drunk. The only people who didn’t drink at the table were Ino, Yuu — who never needed alcohol, just an energy drink or a Coca-Cola — and Gojo, who had a suspiciously yellow non-alcoholic drink. Judging by the garnish on the glass, it was a pineapple cocktail. 

The albino was sitting across from him. Nanami looked away when he realized he was staring too much. He took a sip of his beer, still caught between Yuu and Ino, both talking animatedly with exaggerated gestures. Nanami asked if they wanted him to switch places so they could talk better, but he was stopped by Yuu's protest and a hand on his knee — recognizably Takuma's in a panic that he would stand up. Nanami nodded and was soon included in the conversation. Vaguely, he felt the weight of blue eyes on him. 

Due to his condition, everyone was used to seeing Gojo with glasses. It was rare to glimpse his blue irises, and when they had the opportunity, the hue became a topic of conversation. Unlike most albinos, Satoru apparently had no trouble seeing but was still incredibly sensitive to light — sunlight, computer light. Nanami had gotten tired of processing his medical certificates. 

Kento loosened his tie, feeling strange under the attention. He looked at his wristwatch; 8:36 PM — he had stayed longer than expected. The conversation between Yuu and Ino had really distracted him. Nanami excused himself and stood up, adjusting the vest of his gray suit in the process. 

“I hope everyone has fun, but my time has come.” No one was really surprised by his departure; considering his temperament, everyone already expected it anyway. Even Yuu didn’t try to insist he stay, and he had already told Ino beforehand that he would only stay a few minutes. Nanami grabbed his bag, slinging it across his chest. He said goodbye to Ino once more, pushing the chair aside to leave. Looking ahead and greeting everyone with a friendly nod, his eyes locked with Gojo’s. His head moved, but his eyes remained fixed on his before he looked away, smiled, and left. 

Kento brought his hand to his neck, rubbing it as he crossed the restaurant's door. Outside, it was dark — not dark enough to make the streets dangerous. There were several streetlights illuminating the area, and the high moon in the sky contributed. It was Friday; finding any empty neighborhood was humanly impossible. Cars passed on the streets, others parked, and one or two pedestrians walked together, preparing to enjoy the night. Nanami saw a taxi, raised his hand, and waited for it to stop before getting in, but someone called out to him. 

It was Gojo. 

He had just crossed the door. Nanami closed the car door, going to the window to apologize to the driver. He didn’t mind the insult (a complaint for wasting his time) and soon turned to the other man who had caught up to him. Satoru made a head gesture, a non-verbal "follow me." 

“Did something happen?” he asked as they both stopped by the side of the restaurant. Opposite side of where the glass window was, where no one inside could see them. 

“No.” He put his hand in the front pocket of his pants, rocking back and forth on his feet. “I just wanted to say goodbye.” 

Kento frowned. 

“I just dismissed the taxi.” He crossed his arms over his chest. 

Gojo laughed. 

“My bad.” 

He didn’t feel bad at all; it was evident in his voice, his relaxed posture. 

Nanami squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing a sigh. Resigned, he turned to stand beside Gojo rather than facing him as he had been. 

“I’ll wait for the next one.” He took advantage of the silence and the brief wait to talk about something that had been on his mind since the afternoon. “Sorry for—” he looked at Gojo “being insensitive this afternoon.” 

He pressed his lips into a thin line, lowering his gaze to his own feet. Not that apologizing or acknowledging a mistake made him uncomfortable, but he and the man had never been close. Nanami still felt a certain resentment and hesitation to refer to him and end up with both treading carefully; just as they were now. 

"You’re forgiven, Nanamin." The man smiled at him, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Don’t take it personally.” He reinforced. 

“I didn’t,” he simply said. “I should—” he pointed a finger accusingly “—but I didn’t.” They both laughed after that. Kento more out of relief than anything. 

After the laughter died down and got lost in the air, he knew the right thing to do was to look away; turn his face forward and find another topic to talk about or simply embrace the silence he didn’t oppose, but it was against his will that he found himself admiring Gojo’s profile. The prominent chin, the upturned nose, and the slight curvature of the full lips. The white and thick eyelashes, only easily noticed because the light hit his face directly, creating a shadow on his pale cheeks. 

His smile slowly died on his lips as a thought he didn’t usually entertain frequently formed. He probably made a face because Gojo looked at him with a raised fine eyebrow. 

Nanami's ears immediately burned. 

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat, looking away quickly. But not for long; Gojo’s soft hand found his chin, directing his gaze back to him. 

Gojo was now fully turned towards him, his lips pressed into a thin line with something very close to annoyance at the edges. 

“You’re much more functional than I am.” He said. “I don’t know why it’s so hard to admit you like me.” 

Nanami's heart leaped in his chest as he felt a gentle caress on his chin, the finger grazing a few centimeters below his lower lip. His shoulders relaxed, and he needed a lot of effort not to close his eyes and enjoy the touch like a cat about to purr. 

It was obvious Gojo was waiting for an answer. He licked his lips with the tip of his tongue. 

“Me neither,” he confessed. Then came the safer answer: “The company doesn’t allow relationships between employees.” 

Gojo clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, making a face. 

“Forget work, Kento.” He moved a little closer, fully cupping the left side of Nanami’s face with his hand. 

Nanami felt compelled to say something provocative or morally correct. Perhaps insult Gojo for his behavior, but instead, he couldn’t resist the urge to turn fully towards him — his body language completely open — and, in a moment of courage, gently kissed the palm of the hand holding his face. He saw a full-body shiver cross Gojo's body, and he slightly flexed his fingers on his face. 

“I will.” He held the wrist of the hand on his face, bringing his own hand towards Gojo's nape. The older man understood immediately, leaning in to meet him halfway and kiss him. 

It was a gentle kiss, initially a firm press of lips. Nanami held Gojo’s wrist and nape, while he, in turn, held the side of Nanami’s face with one hand and circled his waist with the other — this simple gesture changed the dynamics of the kiss. 

Once confident, Nanami was not a man who needed affirmation all the time; he slid his tongue between Gojo’s lips, and he opened. 

Nanami began his exploration, his tongue curling around Gojo’s. He tasted like caramel candy and pineapple cocktail. 

Satoru pulled their bodies closer, tilting him slightly back. Nanami could feel the tension in his neck from being curved, standing on tiptoe, holding Gojo's nape with both hands. Satoru grunted against his lips, murmuring something Kento didn’t bother to listen to. Vaguely, he felt the hand that gripped his waist slide down the line of his spine to his butt and grab it. Nanami sighed, breaking the kiss abruptly. The action and occasional car horns reminded him of where they were and where he intended to go. Even if he was fully conscious from the alcohol, he would never allow himself to go beyond kissing in the street — for starters, if it weren’t Gojo in question, he doubted he would kiss anyone so explicitly in public. 

The alcohol really got to him. He cleared his throat. 

Gojo followed him, but he seemed to have the same lapse of consciousness when he saw it in his eyes. 

He removed his hand from Nanami’s butt to circle his waist again, burying his face in his neck, the bridge of his nose grazing the skin with deep, unsteady breaths. 

Kento, in turn, embraced him. His hand gently stroked Gojo's back in a soothing gesture. Shivers ran down his skin from the way Gojo brushed his nose against his neck and left small, wet kisses. 

“Come home with me?” Satoru’s voice sounded needy and hopeful. Nanami rested his hand on the back of his neck, pulling away to look at him. 

“I will, but another day.” He smiled softly. “I think I need to digest this first.” 

“Alright.” Gojo cleared his throat, nodding repeatedly. “I understand.” 

He smiled. 

“Really?” 

He laughed. 

“Yes, definitely. It’s typical of you.” 

Nanami couldn’t deny it. 

“I’ll call a taxi then.” Gojo nodded in agreement, still holding him. Nanami raised an eyebrow. “People are waiting for you, Gojo.” 

“I’ll go soon,” he replied, letting go of the hand circling Nanami’s waist to hug him by the shoulder. “I’ll wait for the taxi with you.” 

“Okay.” 

It wasn’t hard to get a taxi; they only had to raise a hand, and one stopped by the curb. There was some reluctance as they parted, but eventually, they did. Nanami was caught by surprise by the kiss left on his temple before he left. He thought about it the entire way home and while taking a bath, lying down in bed. He wasn’t euphoric — perhaps the beer in his bloodstream had something to do with that, slowing his thoughts a bit — but he felt a warm, heavy, and comforting realization in the pit of his stomach. It was with this feeling that he fell asleep. 

[...] 

Nanami woke up on Saturday morning still with the same persistent feeling in the pit of his stomach — it wasn't heavy or difficult to digest; on the contrary, it seemed to float in his belly with ease. The awareness that he and Gojo had kissed and the promise that they might do it again hadn't vanished from his mind like an "alcohol-induced amnesia." 

He was grateful to himself for not joining his coworkers in the drinking spree. 

Without the rush and hustle of the week, he took his time getting out of bed, enjoying the comfort of the room and the sheets. The windows were closed with blackout curtains that allowed little or almost no light, making the environment inviting for a second round of sleep, but Nanami knew himself and knew that once awake, he could hardly sleep again. 

Like the rest of the house, his furniture and wall paint were in the scandi/japandi style — shades of beige, salmon, sage green that he had strategically chosen to have nothing in his home that remotely reminded him of work. On the ceiling, there was a chandelier — an abstract figure of horizontal lines and shapes. Nanami pushed the checkered duvet off him, putting the first foot out; he slipped on a pair of slippers and, before heading down to the kitchen, he washed his face. 

In the comfort of his home, Nanami spent almost the entire morning in pajamas — a blue checkered set with buttons and pants — and his hair loose, covering his forehead, incredibly homely. He descended the stairs and prepared a cup of bitter coffee in the electric kettle, one of the luxuries he allowed himself to have. Nanami felt a certain pride in admitting that his kitchen was probably the most modern room in the house, with an almost frightening variety of appliances — that was the kind of luxury he liked to flaunt. 

Hours after noon, Nanami decided it was time to take a break from reading — the realization came after looking through and seeing that, contrary to what he expected, the sun was no longer as strong on the horizon. He got up and stretched, leaving the book on the armchair and grabbing the cellphone from the coffee table, heading to the kitchen. Nanami had picked it up earlier to check messages, although realistically, the only one who talked to him on the phone was Yuu, but he forgot to check. 

He opened the refrigerator door. With one hand, he took out the ingredients to prepare the meals for the week, and with the other, he turned on the cellphone screen. He almost let the bag of vegetables fall into his hand when he saw a message from Satoru Gojo in his DM. 

It was prudent that, as coworkers, they had each other's numbers saved, but they hadn't talked — except for the two times when Gojo had messaged to complain that he was too "obtuse" and then invent a story that he (Nanami) had sold his soul to the company, so he worked so many overtime hours. 

Something inside Kento stirred. He left the bag of vegetables on the table and opened the message. 

Its content didn't surprise him, but the time it was sent did. 9:45 PM, shortly after Nanami got home and passed out in bed. It was a sticker: a white kitten sitting on a counter. It seemed to have been captured from above, making the incredibly blue, moist, and teary eyes evident. 

Nanami [3:11 PM]  

Hello, Gojo-San.  

This kitten looks exactly like you.  

Nanami decided to return to his activities. Gojo probably was doing the same, and there was a good chance he had forgotten he had sent a message. Kento tried not to cling to that line of thought. He needed a little more discipline than expected not to keep checking his phone every 5 minutes. But eventually, he got distracted with meal preparation until the phone vibrated again on the counter. 

If he had cat ears, they would have turned towards the sound. 

Nanami washed and dried his hands before picking up the cellphone. 

Satoru Gojo [4:01 PM]  

Nanamin!!! I thought you were ignoring me :(  

I know  

That's why he's my cat  

I edited the photo and added some emojis to make it cuter, what do you think?  

Nanami [4:02 PM]  

No, it simply slipped my mind to check my messages. Sorry.  

Nanami [4:03 PM]  

I didn't know you had a cat... really, the edit looks cute.  

Gojo responded almost immediately. Nanami didn't have time to lower the cellphone onto the counter before it vibrated repeatedly, indicating a sequence of new messages. 

They started chatting then, so it wasn't like they spent the rest of the afternoon exchanging messages. Nanami was focused on finishing his meal prep, and Gojo probably had his own tasks. However, that didn't stop them from exchanging sporadic messages initiated by Satoru. 

Nanami found himself caught in a heated debate about the differences between milk chocolate and dark chocolate — this led to another debate about their preferences. Gojo and his fascination with sweets (except for the bitter ones) and Nanami defending his preference for savory foods, especially his love for bread in general. At some point, he ended up agreeing with Gojo about the "ichigo cream sandwich" (a sandwich made with sliced bread filled with cream and strawberry). 

The conversation was only interrupted around 8 PM. Nanami was lying down, wearing a new pajama set and his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. The yellow light was on, creating a cozy atmosphere; the duvet covered him up to just above the waist; incredibly homely, just the way he liked it. 

He had left the cellphone on the side table to charge, and meanwhile, he got distracted again with reading, and Gojo stopped with the uninterrupted messages. 

As he unplugged the charger, Nanami quickly turned on the screen. A gesture seemingly without intentions, but it hid within it the excuse to check if there was a new message; 0 notifications. However, this didn't discourage him; his sleep was lighter that night than the previous one. The floating feeling still lingered softly in his gut. 

He turned off the bedside lamp and turned his face in the opposite direction, snuggling into the mattress. 

Nanami fell asleep so quickly that he didn't even notice sleep coming; he only realized it was another day when his own biological clock beeped, and he found himself awake around 7 AM sharp. He allowed himself the indulgence of lying down longer, after all, it was Sunday. There was nothing on his list besides relaxing, having a glass of wine, or any alcoholic beverage as a way of gearing up for the start of a new week looming over his head. 

He stretched, slipping on the sandals on the floor next to the bed, and went to do his morning hygiene before heading downstairs. He left the cellphone on the kitchen table, starting to prepare his black coffee strong as he liked, with little or almost no sugar. From the cabinet, he took out a loaf of bread and peanut butter; he sat on one of the chairs near the table and started to drink his coffee. 

There were some message notifications. Yuu had finally replied during the night, some unread messages from the work group, but none from Gojo. Nanami replied to those of his interest — only Yuu, in this case — and, after finishing his coffee, he took out one of the meal preps he had prepared the day before for himself. He left it on the sink counter, washed the cup, knife, and plate used during breakfast, and dried his hands. 

The house had also been tidied up the day before, giving him the final green light to use the day for rest. 

Nanami went to the living room, passing by the sofa and coffee table. Next to the window, he had a bookshelf the height of a shoe rack, with a variety of VHS movies — his not-so-secret passion, but one that surprised those who didn't know him. His eyes almost immediately landed on the precious collection of Jurassic Park (1993), but it didn't take long, really, for him to decide he wasn't in the mood. 

Squatting down — the cotton pants material creasing in the process between his knees — Nanami decided to pick another cassette tape. 

He had watched "My Beautiful Laundrette" only once and a few years ago; a 1985 gay romance that had caught his attention because of the premise. He remembered all the vivid sensations he felt during the movie, engaged by the drama and sexuality portrayed. For a second, as he reflected while putting the tape on to play, he wondered why he hadn't watched it again. 

Kento sat on the couch, once again caught up in the storyline of the movie. 

He was very resolved about his sexuality and other aspects of his life, although, really, he had never stopped or dedicated himself exclusively to looking for someone. There were other pleasures in life he preferred to enjoy, and as insistent as people were, most were content with pre-programmed answers like "it just hasn't happened." 

His afternoon was filled that way: by movies he had watched only once. Although, at some point during the hours, he rewound and predictably put Jurassic Park on the VHS player. 

During the one hour and fifteen minutes of the movie — still a few minutes from finishing — Nanami felt his stomach growl. He got up, pausing the TV with the remote. He crossed the kitchen door and took the meal prep he had left on the sink counter, putting it in the microwave. While waiting for the 2 minutes to heat the food, he remembered the cellphone on the table. 

Nanami didn't have the habit of clinging to the cellphone at home. He already spent enough time looking at screens at work; it made sense, to him, to ignore them. 

He picked it up from the table and leaned his hip on the kitchen counter. There were new messages, and among them, Nanami's eyes caught Gojo's at the top of the notifications. 

He tried not to seem as anxious as he felt, opening the message. There were 2 in total. 

The first message, in fact, was a photo: a transparent Starbucks cup containing a sickeningly purple liquid. Nanami could see some black balls floating inside it. Next to the cup, there was a half-bitten slice of ichigo cream sandwich. The caption read: 

Satoru Gojo [11:40 AM]  

Good morning, Nanamin!  

He had sent another message hours later. Another photo, this time of himself. 

Gojo responded with a selfie where he was surprisingly naked from the waist up — from the angle, you could see the waistband of the sweatpants hugging his waist. Nanami knew that, due to his condition, Gojo was incredibly pale, but seeing him with nothing to cover his torso made him sure that knowing and seeing were two completely different things. He could see the fluid muscles, not as pronounced as his own — which had been described more than once as a strong and firm rock under touch — and he could imagine them rippling with every movement, no matter how small. 

Nanami swallowed hard. His cheeks gaining a rosy hue like Gojo's nipples as he raised his gaze from his chest to his face. To his surprise, the other's expression was far from contentment or any spark of sensuality and, rather, closer to pain than anything else — on his arms, he could see the reason for it. 

The cat he had sent stickers of the day before was caught by the cellphone camera at the exact moment it bit him on the cheek and tried to wriggle out of Gojo's arms. 

Nanami wanted to laugh. 

The caption read: 

Satoru Gojo [15:25]  

I think my cat is trying to kill me  

Considering their dynamic, Nanami found it fairer to criticize him for his eating habits and say that if he were Gojo's cat, he would try too. 

Satoru Gojo [16:55]  

Nanamin! (crying emoji)  

I feel things every time you're mean to me  

Keep going  

Nanami went to bed that night after two glasses of wine and the recognition of a tingling sensation crawling under his skin. He could use Gojo's behavior to justify why, even dressed in one of his best pajamas and lying under soft sheets, his skin felt itchy and uncomfortable, but there was no one to blame but his own desire. 

They hadn't gone far, but Gojo had made it clear that if he could, he would have materialized at his house the second Nanami replied to him. 

Other people would probably feel suffocated by the intensity of Satoru's desire, but not Nanami — he admitted a certain pleasure in seeing him so desperate to have him, and although he was more restrained in his reactions, he shared the same intensity. 

He wasn't playing hard to get. Nanami was a person of simple nature; he did what he thought was right by his own convictions, but that didn't make his thought process linear or obtuse, as Gojo himself had called him once. In fact, it sharpened his empathy, making him more sensitive to situations that people didn't see in the long run. 

It was in his nature. 

His apprehension about Gojo had nothing to do with self-punishment, but with the fact that his mind constantly reminded him that the forbidden fruit had the terrible habit of becoming trivial once attained. 

The next morning, Monday no longer being a shadow looming over his head but becoming reality, he followed his morning routine as usual. He brushed his teeth and styled his hair with gel, parting it to the side. 

Instead of wearing his battle suit, he opted for a white dress shirt and, over it, a dark blue sleeveless sweater with a V-neck. The dress pants followed the same tone as the sweater; the black belt hugged him at the waist. To avoid worrying about his socks slipping down, a garter with clips tightened around his calf. 

Before leaving home, Nanami put on his usual glasses and exchanged the messenger bag for a briefcase. 

Upon arriving at the company, passing through the turnstile and heading to the time clock next to it, he thought he would be the first as he usually was. But, when talking to the reception, they told him that someone had come earlier and taken the key. It wasn't strange, but it wasn't common either. Already on his floor where some people were beginning to settle into their seats and the cleaning crew passed with their brooms and mops, he placed the badge around his neck. 

When his hand touched the doorknob, he didn't need to make any effort for the door to open. It was slightly ajar. In his mind echoed a loud “ah.” 

Nanami expected Gojo to keep his normal schedule as he usually did. He cleared his throat — not to attract attention, but to have something to do — and crossed the door. As he closed it, his eyes were automatically drawn to the man in question. 

Satoru was looking at him with a smile on his lips and a plastic straw between his teeth. He was half lying, half sitting in his chair with no apparent concern. His eyes were usually hidden behind dark lenses, but Nanami could feel, as he took cautious steps towards his desk, the intensity with which he was being stared at. 

“Good morning, Gojo-San,” he said as he passed by him towards the desk. If Gojo's chair wasn't new, it would probably creak under his weight, since he turned while still sitting in it to follow him with his gaze. 

Ino's desk was the only barrier between them. 

“Good morning, Nanamin-Kun,” he noisily sucked the straw, making the sound echo throughout the silent room. The drink clearly was finished, so he was only doing it to be unpleasant. “How was your night?” The question itself, coming from anyone else, wouldn't have been biased, but Nanami could feel the bite underneath the tone. 

Gojo stopped biting the straw to keep moving it inside the cup. 

Kento closed his eyes, leaving the briefcase on the floor next to his chair; he thought about what to say and how to say it. He knew he would eventually encounter Gojo — they worked in the same place, after all — so ignoring him was out of the question. However, he wanted more time before seeing him so early in the morning. Changing his work schedule wouldn't happen if Gojo didn't think he was in control of the situation. 

Gojo could, at best, define his dynamics with the company by setting a schedule that most employees envied, but Nanami wasn't willing to let him dictate his dynamics. Especially if they were going to have one outside the corporate world. 

“Yes, I did,” before he could sit down, he said: “Gojo.” He was confident enough to skip the honorifics. The other man, in turn, stopped playing with the straw in the cup, perking up like a Golden Retriever having its name called by its owner. 

“Yes?” He even straightened up in his chair, improving his posture. 

“I don't know how to say this, but” he cleared his throat, “I've never had a relationship with someone from work, so-” 

“Ah, I figured that. You're so predictable, Nanamin,” arrogance dripped from his words. Nanami was fully aware that he was about to have a conversation and a supposed "friends with benefits" relationship (clarifying: frenemies with benefits) with the most vain and egocentric man in Japan. 

Kento narrowed his eyes, considering whether to ignore the rudeness of being interrupted. He sighed. 

“Yes,” he decided to ignore it. “As I was saying,” he emphasized this part, “I've never had any relationship with someone from work, so I wanted to ask to keep this just...” He tried to elaborate a better explanation but gave up. “Between us. If that's okay with you. I don't want people to comment more than they already do.” 

During Nanami's speech, Gojo had thrown the now-empty cup into the nearby trash and approached like a sly fox. 

“So are we in a relationship then?” His selective hearing showed itself once again. 

The vein on Nanami's forehead bulged; from Gojo's teasing tone, he knew what Nanami meant by his choice of words, but he was trying to make everything personally difficult. 

He crossed his arms. 

“I believe you have enough brain cells to understand what I meant, Gojo-San.” 

The man in question furrowed his eyebrows; for a second, a pout formed on his lips upon noticing the return of the honorific titles. 

“Right, right. Sorry.” 

“What I'm trying to say is that we should keep this casual.” Nanami still had his arms crossed in front of his chest, but less defensively than before. Gojo refrained from making another sarcastic or deliberately irritating comment. Nanami's tone of voice seemed to have finally reached the synapse of his brain. 

Satoru sighed, resigned. Kento wasn't sure what was going through his head — probably weighing the pros and cons just like he had done the day before. There was a hint of surprise in his expression, as if the idea of Nanami setting his own terms hadn't crossed his mind. 

“Don't worry, I can be quite casual, Nanamin.” It was no surprise when he reverted to using the annoying nickname. Somehow, Gojo had crossed the remaining centimeters that defined a healthy distance between coworkers. 

Kento raised one eyebrow in acknowledgment. 

“I have doubts about that.” Gojo's left hand fingers had found the skin of his cheek, gently stroking the line of his jaw to his cheekbones, and back. It was a continuous caress that Kento wasn't expecting, but it was no less welcome. 

Nanami had to make a great effort not to lean his face into his hand. 

Gojo smiled without showing his teeth as if he had been caught red-handed (he, in fact, was); half guilty, half shy, half affectionate, and things that shouldn't be. 

Something shapeless and warm lodged itself in the center of Nanami's chest, making his blood pressure rise. 

“Yeah, I lied.” The honesty almost elicited a weak laugh from him. “But I promise I won't be so obvious.” Nanami didn't make any witty remarks in response, as he was starting to feel his iron will weaken in the face of how quickly and seriously Gojo simply accepted his demands. He swallowed hard, seeing himself reflected in the dark lenses of Gojo's glasses. Nanami held the wrist of the hand that was gently stroking his face, not to push it away, but because the nature of feeling him and touching him visible on Gojo's face also became his own. 

The touch didn't go beyond that, though. In fact, it was gone as quickly as it appeared, because the sound of the doorknob turning stole both their attention, and Nanami broke away from Gojo as quickly as he could. 

He remained static in his place. 

“Oh!” Ino's voice came. He closed the door behind him, completely unaware. It wouldn't be strange anyway, since everyone was used to Gojo invading Nanami's personal space and the fact that Nanami, in turn, had put a safe distance between them. “Good morning, Gojo-San. Good morning, Nanami-Kun.” Ino bowed respectfully. 

Nanami didn't need to look directly at Gojo to know what he was thinking; a quick glance from the corner of his eye and he saw the mocking expression on the albino's face. Ino clearly wanted his validation, which, for Nanami, was worrying — not only because the younger one was using him as a benchmark for something — but also because he knew that once Gojo had realized this, he would use the fact to intimidate him for his own amusement. Kento ignored him. 

“Good morning, Takuma-Kun.” He bowed slightly. 

“Gojo-San?” Ino called him. Gojo was still facing away, in the same position he was left when Nanami abruptly moved away. He turned to the boy with a smile on his face. It took a few seconds for him to realize, but when he did, he laughed. 

“Good morning, Ino-Kun,” he said, stepping away to make room for Ino to pass and take his place. “Sorry. I was trying to convince my dear kouhai not to scold me for forgetting to clock in again.” 

Nanami thought about responding but shook his head in denial; it wasn't worth the effort, not yet. Instead, he turned his attention to the trainee who was leaving his bag next to Nanami's on the coat rack behind the chair. 

“I don't think you'll spend much time with me today,” he said. 

Takuma agreed. 

“Yes! Today I have the brigade training.” 

“Hmm,’ Nanami murmured in acknowledgment, sitting in his chair. This was also an important part of the training phase, not only for trainees or interns. Even those who were hired by the company without going through the extensive process like the newcomers still needed to undergo fire brigade training. 

“I understand. I hope you brought comfortable clothes.” He turned on the computer. 

“Yes, I did!” 

“Great,” he replied, sitting properly in his chair. “And Gojo,” the latter had turned around towards the door, possibly to do something else. “Please clock in this time, okay?” 

“Sure, sure!” He continued to walk away, waving his hand randomly. Already at the door, Gojo looked back at him. “What don't you ask me to do crying that I won't do smiling?” Then he left. 

Nanami found it safer to stare at the computer screen than to meet Ino's curious eyes and his raised eyebrow. 

Kento could feel eyes following him as he crossed the office to put his lunchbox in the fridge and returned. The attention wasn't strange, and he also knew that it had nothing to do with the conversation with Gojo hours ago. It was the fifth business day of the month, meaning: payday. Most of the employees leaving here would head straight to some bar to celebrate the salary hitting their accounts — Nanami didn't really care what they did. But it was no less stressful when, as soon as he was released, he had people knocking on his office door until the end of the day. 

He barely had time to enjoy his own salary drop. 

After a sigh, he sat down in the chair — "collapsed onto it" was the more accurate phrase — leaving the coffee cup nearby. He looked to the side; Ino's chair was empty. He had left around 9 am to attend the brigade training with the members of the CIPA (Internal Committee for Accident Prevention) and other employees who were also waiting for the same training. They probably wouldn't be back until the afternoon. 

He took a sip of his coffee. Even his classmates were cautious when talking to him—a clear sign of compassion, as everyone knew how stressful it was. Mei Mei couldn't be talking to him right now, but she would probably know the moment the salary hit the account just by reading his expression. 

Nanami was practically alone; the woman must have been in some warehouse — it was always a busy day for her too, considering there were constantly incoming and outgoing orders — and Miguel was on his "Day Off," due to his birthday. Gojo had his supervisory work to do, which he constantly confused with annoying the employees. 

He and Yuu were a terrible pair when they were together. 

The door opened, the click of the lock echoed through the room. Nanami looked up, but it wasn't Mei Mei or Ino. He raised an eyebrow but decided not to pay much attention; not for now, when he had work to do. 

Gojo's footsteps competed with the sound of typing from Nanami's keyboard. The latter, in retrospect, kept his attention firmly focused on what he was doing, ignoring the slight tingling in his skin from being alone with Gojo. 

The man in question was unusually quiet. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his khaki dress pants, a seemingly casual pose that contrasted with the rest of his attire. A light blue dress shirt with the top button undone, one side of the hem tucked into his pants and the other loose. The shoes were dressy, and as usual, his hair was slicked back, covering his forehead, and his glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose. The man was annoyingly stylish, as well as annoyingly handsome. 

He circled around Nanami's desk, positioning himself behind his chair. 

Nanami felt large hands land on his shoulder and squeeze strategically. He wanted to close his eyes, but instead, he pronounced the other's name in a warning tone. 

“Gojo.” 

“Don't worry, Kento, I'm not doing anything,” he replied in the most fake and innocent tone he possessed, still not stopping his shoulder massage. Kento didn't respond, let alone look at him; he kept his iron will intact, staring at the computer screen as he checked, for the thirtieth time, for possible errors. Vaguely, he felt Gojo's hands descend on his biceps and then rise up to his neck. But it wasn't this specific action that made his hands freeze on the keyboard, but the sound and sensation of Gojo's breath in his ear. 

He couldn't help the shiver that followed, nor the impulse of his hair standing on end. Gojo laughed in recognition of that, brushing his nose softly against the side of Nanami's neck as if searching for something. From their position, Kento could smell Gojo's cologne — predictably sweet, but not cloying as he imagined — and the scent of gloss on his lips. His throat struggled to work and reprimand him. 

But as quickly as the contact came, it was gone. Gojo straightened up again, leaving only his hands to massage Nanami's stiff shoulders. 

“Wanna go shopping with me tonight?” Nanami looked at him. Gojo let him go completely to lean on his desk, almost knocking over his coffee. He caught it; didn't drink it but sniffed it and grimaced afterward. “Smells like manure.” 

Nanami tried not to feel offended. 

“No. You're the one with childish taste.’ He took it from his hands, placing it on the other side. Gojo rolled his eyes, but Nanami didn't dignify him with a comment on how disrespectful that was. “Besides, why would I agree to go shopping with you?” 

Gojo crossed his arms. Nanami actively ignored the veins standing out on his pale skin. 

“Because dear kouhai, that's the kind of thing an adult like you enjoys doing. And...” Here came the real reason: “...the last time I did the shopping alone, Suguru almost kicked me out of the house.” Nanami didn't find the name strange; it made sense that Gojo shared a house/apartment (or whatever it was) with a friend. 

He had seen the man, Suguru, once or twice in the company (he often picked Gojo up from work). 

“I can imagine why,” Nanami could. He imagined that Gojo didn't know how to do market research or, much less, knew how to buy the right amount to last a month. Surely he had also forgotten to buy some basic items. 

Gojo, upon hearing his response, pretended to be offended, placing his hand over his heart. 

“Rude, Nanamin! Very rude.” He looked him up and down with feigned disdain. Nanami chuckled, holding back a laugh. He stared at the computer screen, then at Gojo, and finally sighed. 

“Fine.” He grabbed a blank sheet of paper and handed it to the man. “Make a list, and then I'll help you.” 

The man seemed surprised for a moment, eyes wide behind his glasses. He took the sheet of paper, still disbelieving. 

“Really?!” 

“Yes, now get off my desk.” He gently pushed him away, returning his attention to work. 

“Okay, okay. I'm going.” He raised his hands in surrender. 

To his surprise, during the late morning hours, Gojo actually stayed in his chair, writing something. Nanami could see him sticking his tongue out of his mouth every time he concentrated too hard; a gesture he probably wasn't even aware of. Kento wanted to laugh, but instead, he pressed his lips together. It was dangerous — his brain reminded him — to find Gojo cute or his mannerisms remotely attractive. That line of thinking could lead him off a cliff. 

Two taps on the door, then it opened. 

“Nanami-San?” It was Mai Zenin; she had been hired a few months ago. “Can I talk to you real quick?” 

Kento swallowed a sigh, turning to his professional persona. 

“Yes, of course. Come in.” He gestured to the chair in front of him. 

. 

When Mai left, it was a few minutes before noon. Gojo had apparently finished his task, leaving him alone. She was from the sales department, and as usual, she had an extremely creative mind for attracting clients, which he, from the finance department, needed to address. Nanami contemplated whether it was worth skipping lunchtime to finish or if he could postpone it. 

He decided with a sigh, sitting back in his chair and unlocking his computer screen: it'll be quick, he promised himself. 

It was no surprise when reality turned out differently than planned. What shouldn't have taken more than 10 extra minutes ended up exceeding the time, and before he realized it, everyone had already returned to the room, occupying their respective places. 

No one commented on his negligence, not even Yuu showed up to bother him. 

On payday, it was more than common to see him in such a situation; Kento didn't even feel hungry — well, he did, as it was a biological imperative, however, not enough to make him get up from his chair. 

A few hours later, around 5 p.m., a commotion erupted outside—the excited sounds of "ahs," cheers, whistles, and incomprehensible sounds of celebration indicated that the salary had been deposited into their accounts. The group from the company began to stir soon after, with a sequence of emojis and stickers celebrating in various forms, although somehow all agreeing on a beer at the end of the day. 

“Finally!” He heard Mei Mei exclaim. He and Ino silently watched as she got up from her chair and headed for the door, probably back to the stockroom or any room where she could hide and spend the remaining time. 

The click of her heels and the turning doorknob indicated her departure. 

"Is payday always this lively?" Ino asked, after a moment of silence. 

“Almost always,” Nanami replied, finally looking at him. His curiosity was justified. “You'll experience this feeling soon too.” He smiled with pressed lips, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He couldn't shake off the feeling of deceiving a child from the pit of his stomach. 

Empathy. 

Ino, on the other hand, was too young to understand the nuances on his face. That didn't make him naive, though. Many things are only learned in life after they are experienced. 

“Claro!" Takuma replied excitedly. “I can't wait to receive my first paycheck! I'll give it my all!" As if that were all the motivation he needed, he went back to checking the reports he had received with renewed vigor. 

Nanami sighed, moving his neck from side to side. Bringing his hand to the base of it, he felt the tension stiff in his shoulders. He opened his eyes, barely recognizing that he had closed them, feeling the sensation of daggers piercing his temples. It was Gojo, watching him; the swivel chair turned completely toward Nanami, as well as his entire body. 

Kento raised an eyebrow in question. The only response he got was a partially written sheet of paper being held up. 

He rolled his eyes. 

[...] 

With a sense of great satisfaction and a long sigh, Nanami finished his shift. 

Normally, he would be the last to leave the room with Ino following close behind. Not finding him was the first strangeness; the second was that, in fact, it was Gojo who was waiting for him. Oh, Nanami remembered, he had promised to help Gojo with shopping. Grocery shopping, specifically. 

Nanami grabbed his briefcase, and that was all the cue the other needed to materialize by his side. 

"Are you okay?" he asked. Nanami didn't immediately respond, but he nodded. His expression probably appeared more tired than he expected, because Gojo didn't make any inappropriate comments, just followed him towards the door and, with exaggerated manners, held it open for them to pass through. 

He didn't verbalize his gratitude but made it visible. He was notoriously — since they had created that reputation for themselves — stern but would never be rude. 

As expected, the hallways were practically empty; only two or three were still in their chairs. Three or four were in the cafeteria, drinking some coffee or doing overtime. Nanami almost audibly groaned as he entered the elevator alone — not exactly alone, since Gojo followed him, but it was equally satisfying to have only the two of them in the cubicle, instead of the overcrowding during peak hours, like at closing time. 

Satoru pressed the ground floor button, and the doors closed. 

“Are you sure?” It was a surprising change of tone to have Gojo concerned about someone else; concerned, more specifically, about Nanami. “We can do the shopping on another day.” 

Kento shook his head vehemently. 

“No.” He leaned against the elevator mirror, closing his eyes for a second. “I've mentally prepared myself for it already.” 

Gojo laughed, moving closer to stand beside him. 

“Since we're friends with benefits now,” he said teasingly. If Nanami had his eyes open, he would have rolled them at the choice of words. Since he couldn't, he made his discontent obvious in his expression. “I could relieve your stress tonight.” 

Nanami's eyes opened. He almost cursed himself for how quickly his body responded, feeling his ears burning and his eyes locking onto Gojo's with obvious interest. The man in question had a teasing smile on his face, as if he knew Kento would accept. 

“Alright,” he moistened his lips, looking away. 

Apparently, that was all the consent Satoru needed as his self-assurance made him approach Nanami, embracing him from the side by the waist. He buried his face between the gap of Kento's shoulder and neck so quickly that the other barely had time to react. 

The shiver on his skin was instantaneous. 

“Not here!” he exclaimed through gritted teeth, pushing him away. The elevator stopped. 

“My bad,” Gojo sniffed. “You look really hot when you're angry.” Nanami didn't dignify him with a response, leaving as soon as the doors opened. 

. 

Nanami cracked his neck from side to side, relieving the tension in his shoulders. It didn't help much, really, because the realization that he was at Gojo's place and alone with him lingered over his head like a reminder. The sensation was far from regret and closer to the taste of anticipation. 

If someone asked Nanami what texture exactly this kind of feeling had, he would describe it as warm honey sliding down his throat into his esophagus. 

He looked back, where the albino was coming with some bags in both arms, stepping aside so Gojo could put the groceries on the table. 

Kento took advantage of these few minutes to quickly survey where he was getting himself into. 

It was a flat, on the fourth floor, typically modern — Nanami could see the industrial style in the wall tones, in the custom-made furniture, and partially metallic gray appliances — somehow, more organized than he had supposed it would be. Except for the small pile of dishes on the black sink, but he didn't judge him and understood to a certain extent: it was already a surprise that Gojo's apartment wasn't a complete mess (Kento could bet that had to do with his colleague) and as much as he was a clean freak, the last thing on your mind when you get home after an 8-hour shift of work is doing the dishes. 

Satoru was probably chattering away, but Nanami was more focused on observing the environment. 

Near the boundary from the kitchen to the living room, his eyes were drawn to a canvas on a wooden easel in the middle of the room. It was blank, but there were some buckets of paint around it and paintbrushes on the coffee table. 

Nanami felt Gojo's presence behind him; a wall of pecs pressed against his back. He had already resigned himself to the man's disregard for his personal space; he expected it. 

“Suguru decided he wants to be a painter now and leaves his stuff lying around,” he didn't need to justify himself, but he did anyway, and still spoke as if he were talking about the weather. 

Then came a weight on his shoulder, something pointed poking Nanami's shoulder. Gojo's chin. 

Kento turned his head to look at him. 

Satoru had his chin resting on his shoulder, already looking at him over his sunglasses. The white, curved eyelashes, the upturned nose bridge, and the mischievous smile; Nanami immediately felt drawn to the whole ensemble that composed the man. His expression, however, didn't align with his train of thought; instead, his face relaxed in the same way Gojo had done earlier: as if he had been caught red-handed doing something wrong. 

Probably reading his thoughts, arms circled Nanami's waist, bringing their bodies closer. A kiss was left on the side of his neck. It wasn't quick; Gojo stayed like a vampire glued to his neck, inhaling his scent as if he needed the cologne and Nanami's natural odor permeating the air he breathed. Underneath the sweater he had specifically chosen for that day, Kento felt his hairs stand on end. His head tilted to the opposite side, leaning the weight against Gojo's chest. 

It was an intimate position. Anyone looking at them from afar would probably think they were a long-standing couple already familiar with each other's quirks and habits, sharing a mundane yet essential affection. 

Still not letting him go, arms firmly wrapped around his waist, Gojo turned so that he could face Nanami. The latter, in turn, only had to open his eyes — still not digesting or impressing himself for having closed them — to close them again and let himself be kissed. 

It was a crush, a firm press of lips. Anyone who thought that from then on, they would kiss each other desperately, thirsty and hungry, would be mistaken. Those feelings existed, after all; they were deeply rooted in their dynamic, as were Gojo's annoying teases or Nanami's false apathy; however, at that specific moment, what they shared was closer to mutual adoration and admiration. 

It was Nanami who pulled away first, with moist lips. He opened his eyes, contemplating Gojo's stuck eyelashes before the latter opened his eyes to look back at him. Kento hated to be wrong, but it was naive to think that they were only going to fuck that night or in the next ones. It was written on the other man's expression: any promise to keep the relationship as casual as possible would be disregarded. 

Nanami ignored the train of thought, pulling Gojo by the nape, crushing their lips together. 

The initial spark turned into a wildfire, and within minutes, they were in the bedroom; clothes scattered on the floor, sweater folded over the nightstand, and on it, sunglasses resting. Nanami's hands were wandering across the expanse of Gojo's back, feeling the ripples at the tips of his fingers. 

There hadn't been penetration yet, they weren't even naked. For a Monday night, Nanami and Gojo were more focused on foreplay than worried about the time. 

The albino was fervently kissing his neck, hands squeezing the slightly hairy and toned thighs. The discovery of a garter belt to hold stockings at the ankle made him pause. 

A silent satisfaction resonated within Kento as he observed Satoru disheveled. Not the typical disheveled look of his, with his hair methodically spiked and sportswear composing the "cool" style, but rather a specific type of disheveled that sent a tingling sensation straight to his clothed cock. His hair was pointing in all directions; there was a blush on his cheeks and swollen lips — details that Nanami could only see thanks to the flickering light of the lamp on. 

“Damn!” Gojo exclaimed as if he had been punched in the stomach. He settled between Nanami's legs, sitting up. He placed one leg over his shoulder, kissing his calf. “I always wanted to know if you wear this.” Then he pulled the fabric of the garter belt with his teeth. “It's fucking sexy.” 

Gojo made a motion to climb on top of Nanami again but was stopped by a foot with a sock on his chest. 

“Hurry up, or we're done here.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

EXTRA

“So that's your type, huh?” Nanami, who was focused on the task of moving a document from one folder to another, stopped abruptly, caught off guard by the choice of words. He grunted, rubbing his forehead. He looked at Gojo; the man had taken large steps toward him, stopping by Nanami's side. 

He was standing tall like an exclamation mark and, despite the wide smile showing all his teeth, that smile didn't reach his eyes. Nanami could see the mockery and other conflicting feelings, jealousy lurking. 

His hair tousled over his forehead, the glasses remained undisturbed on his face, hiding his eyes. He wore, as usual, a light blue dress shirt and light-washed jeans. 

After some consideration, Nanami clicked his tongue, turning back to the computer screen again. 

“I don't know what you're talking about.” He returned to his previous action. 

“Come on, Nanamin.” He leaned his hip against the table. “I saw the way you looked at each other, as if you were sharing a secret.” Nanami ignored the fact that he said the last sentence with obvious disgust. “He's totally your type, isn't he? Tall, stiff as a door.” With each revelation, Kento's ears burned. “I bet despite his poker face, he likes to beg in bed.” 

Nanami's fingers froze on the keyboard. He couldn't — and wouldn't — ignore the burning sensation all over his face. He could feel it spreading along his neck. 

He pushed the chair back, still sitting on it, and stared at the older man as seriously as he could. 

“Gojo, forgive me, but I don't see how this could be any of your business.” 

As in many situations, Satoru ignored him. 

“I can beg too if you want.” Nanami had a protest on the tip of his tongue and a speech about his previous relationships being only his, but any and every word he could say died before it was spoken. The blond man was wide-eyed as he watched Gojo, in all his glory and height, kneeling in front of him, shrinking himself to fit in the space between his legs. 

Unconsciously, Nanami spread his knees wider so that he could be comfortable there — but that didn't lessen the shock. 

“What do you think you're doing?!” He didn't shout, whispered as if they could be caught red-handed, which they could. Despite the low tone, his voice still came out shrill and indignant. 

“I'm begging, see?” Gojo patiently placed one of Nanami's legs over his shoulder and leaned forward. The action caused his glasses to slide down his nose, revealing the white lashes and blue eyes. Nanami felt uncomfortable with the attention. 

Upon realizing this, Gojo leaned into his personal space so that they were face to face; not close enough for their noses or mouths to touch. There was a three-finger gap between them, and the scent of Satoru's cologne, his breath, took shape in that space, entering directly through Nanami's taste buds. He swallowed hard. 

“No, we're not doing this here.” He removed his own leg from Gojo's shoulder, pushing him back with a hand flat against his chest. Nanami could feel the heat of the man's body beneath the dress shirt. 

“Why not?” He remained in the same position, and Nanami's hand stayed in place. 

“We're at the workplace.” He said simply, but even the other could tell his conviction was lacking. Not that engaging in any explicit act in the workplace had any appeal, but surrendering to Gojo easily anywhere they were, did. He cleared his throat. 

“If it was Higuruma, would you?” Nanami's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding. He felt offended by the implication that, by pressing one or two buttons, he would open to anyone. He stood up abruptly, the chair hitting the wall. 

“You're offending me.” The other man stood up patiently; Kento vaguely heard him clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 

“Right. My bad.” He genuinely felt sorry for unintentionally offending Nanami, but he didn't feel the slightest bit guilty for the intrusion. As part of Gojo's personality, he made sure to make this obvious in the most irritating way possible. 

Nanami pursed his lips into a thin line, debating whether to give him a mercy vote. When it became clear that Satoru wasn't going anywhere without an answer to the implicit question, he agreed. 

“Higuruma and I haven't...” The word felt strange on his tongue. “...been together since he became the company's lawyer. That was years ago.” Behind the glasses, Nanami saw a thin, white eyebrow raise. The arms Gojo had crossed tightly in front of his chest (the force of the action had left some veins visible along the pale skin) relaxed slightly. 

It was a bit satisfying to see the power of his words over the other. 

Satoru's hands fell placidly by his sides. Whatever thought had convinced him — whether it was the fact that they had nothing concrete or the irrationality of the intrusion — he audibly sighed, defeated. He brought one hand to Nanami's earlobe, caressing it. 

“Right, sorry.” From interrogator, the tone had become gentle. 

“It's okay, but I don't want to see you making accusations like that in my workplace.” 

Gojo nodded, looking down. Nanami quickly decided that this insecure behavior didn't suit him. He held the hand that was playing with his ear and kissed the wrist gently. 

It was a surprise to see Gojo's face take on a rosy hue on his cheeks. He probably would have said something else, but the door opened, and Nanami's reaction time was faster. 

Gojo cleared his throat, scratching his nose at the same time, and then headed to the door. If Mei Mei and Miguel noticed any strange behavior, they made a point not to show it. Nanami sat back in his chair, watching from the corner of his eye as Gojo's back receded into the distance. 

As the door closed, he sighed, biting his lower lip between his teeth. 

They really didn't fuck that night — the sun had risen 61 times and the moon had appeared 60 since then —, however exhilarating it may have been, it wasn't just a carnal exchange like any other time they met.  

Gojo really didn't leave him alone the next day; sporadic text messages, small provocations throughout the day — which wasn't uncommon before — and hot nights of love contemplated the new routine. They hadn't yet given a name to what it was, but Nanami knew he would soon, and, knowing himself as he did, Nanami knew the initiative would come from him, something like: yes, I like you. I'm afraid to say the stronger word* .  

* Adapted from one of Virginia Woolf's letters.