"Yo, Haruto. How about we grab a cigarette up on the roof?"
Haruto's eyes widened at the voice, his head instinctively snapping toward the door. There, in all his battered glory, stood Daiki—the man he despised most.
Bandages covered Daiki's body, barely concealed by the hospital gown, and his face was swollen, his nose visibly broken.
'Damn, do I look that bad too?'
Haruto thought, his mind momentarily wandering to the toll the fight had taken on his own appearance.
Without his face intact, how could he ever get close enough to steal what Daiki held most dear?
"What are you zoning out for? Come on, dumbass."
Daiki's voice went from calm to irritated in seconds, his mood shifting so quickly that even someone with bipolar would be ashamed of him.
'Goddamn it. Can he just leave me alone?'
Haruto bit back the urge to scoff, but Jin's advice echoed in his mind: get close, and stab him from behind.
