Chapter Text
Your internship was coming to an end, and the realization hit you like a truck.
Six months ago, walking into that office had been terrifying. It was your first taste of adulthood. your first real step into a world of polished desks, case files, and people who spoke with a certainty you were still trying to grasp and learn.
Now the final week was slipping through your fingers, and the entire experience felt dreamlike, as if someone had quietly pressed fast forward on your life.
You were not ready to leave. Because you somehow had grown deeply attached to the office. Despite the daily exhaustion, you still felt a small spark of excitement every morning when you stepped into the building.
And you knew exactly where that excitement came from.
Mr. Higuruma.
From the beginning, he had treated you differently than you expected a superior would. He was patient, attentive, never dismissive and never condescending.
There was a firmness to him, deliberate and controlled.
When you stumbled over a legal term, mispronounced a name in a case file, or forgot a single comma, he would make you repeat the correction again and again until it was perfect. Never harshly. Never with malice or cruelty. Instead it felt strangely gentle, like he was guiding you through unfamiliar maze that he knew you needed to hold his hand through.
“Precision matters,” he would remind you in that calm, even voice. “Especially in our line of work. A mistake you dismiss can cost lives.” Most your coworkers mocked the dramatic tone of that statement. But you understood. Perhaps because you spent so much of your time in this office with him, picking at his head and swimming through his thoughts that you thought were genius.
But you understood it ao well. Precision mattered.
And six months later, that exact sentence had become your motto in life.
Inside the office, Mr. Higuruma was the embodiment of professionalism. composed, meticulous, measured in every word he allowed himself to speak.
Yet the moment he stepped outside the building, something subtle shifted. A loosened tie. A slower smile. And sometimes a look that lingered a moment too long.
You first noticed it one evening when he walked you to the tram stop after keeping you in the office until seven, correcting the same file repeatedly.
Outside, his tone shifted and his posture relaxed. Almost as if he felt guilty for pushing you so hard.
And suddenly the man who had spent hours correcting your paperwork felt dangerously close to something else entirely.
You never knew what to call the connection between the two of you. Mentorship, perhaps? Or maybe respect?
All you knew was that there was something he never crossed. Boundaries.
Yet beneath all of that, something reckless stirred inside you.
Despite your best efforts to ignore it; despite the ten-year age gap and the strict professionalism of the office and his -sometimes- scary demeanour. you could not deny the effect he had on you.
Mr. Higuruma awakened fantasies you had never entertained before.
For six months now, you could not remember the last time another man had occupied your thoughts in that way. You tried to push those thoughts away.
But the way you wanted him felt biblical. Like a big ball of fire starting in your loins everytime he breathed in your direction.
And they were scary, these thoughts. But they always returned.
His voice.
His eyes.
The quiet authority in the way he pronounced your name.
It was ridiculous. Embarrassing, even.
And yet every morning you walked into the office secretly hoping to make a mistake, just so you could spend two quiet hours alone in his office, imagining everything you wanted him to do to you.
“Tomorrow is your last day with us, huh?” Andrew’s voice pulled you abruptly from your thoughts.
He leaned against the coffee counter, attempting a casual posture that did not quite suit his adorable self.
Andrew had never mastered casual. And his fingers visibly trembled slightly around his mug.
“So… uh…” He cleared his throat. “I was thinking maybe we could grab dinner tomorrow? Celebrate the end of your… sentence.” He giggled immediately. Like he was really proud of his joke.
“I mean your internship.”
You blinked.
Andrew was a sweet coworker, harmless even.
The type of coworker who always offered to bring you coffee and somehow remembered everyone’s birthdays.
But confrontation had never been your strength; Being a people-pleaser made the word no feel nearly impossible to say. Cruel and nasty.
You liked Andrew well enough as a coworker. Nothing more.
Yet the horrifying truth was that you could already feel the word yes forming on your tongue. not because you wanted to accept, but because silence felt worse than rejection.
“Sorry, Andrew…”
The voice cut through the room with quiet authority.
Calm. Deep. Certain.
“Y/N and I already made plans for tomorrow.”
You felt your heartbeat rise dangerously.
Mr. Higuruma stood several steps away, one hand resting against the counter. His expression remained neutral, perfectly composed, But his eyes were fixed on you. As if Andrew’s presence barely existed.
You had never seen him look this cold before.
For a moment you simply stared at him, confused. Until your gaze met his and something flickered there. You suddenly understood that he was saving you.
Andrew’s shoulders drooped. “Oh… right. Of course,” he muttered, forcing a strained smile before retreating with a hurried excuse about paperwork.
Silence settled between you and Higuruma. And that was when you realized something curious about him.
He never spoke in questions, and he never hesitated. Every sentence he uttered sounded like a decision already made.
You approached him cautiously. “Thank you,” you whispered. “It must’ve been obvious I didn’t know how to reject him. I’m terrible at confrontation.”
For a moment he simply studied you.
“I will pick you up at six,” he stated evenly. “Send me your address.” You blinked in surprise at his sure demeaner and calm expression.
“Wear something nice.” He turned toward his office, already walking away before you could even respond. And then he paused, glanced back over his shoulder.
This time you could sweat that a faint smirk curved his lips. “Preferably that tight red skirt you wore at the Christmas party.”
Heat rushed through your entire body. For months you had convinced yourself that the way he sometimes looked at you was merely a product of your imagination.
But now you knew, that He had noticed.
He always noticed.
And before you could process the moment, he disappeared into his office as though nothing unusual had occurred.
~
The next day passed in a blur, as a type A personality. You had planned everything carefully; your final shift, the goodbyes, the conversations. Who deserved a longer moment, who would get a hug, what jokes to use to keep things light. But ever since the break room conversation you and mr higuruma had yesterday. your mind had been chaos.
and six o’clock dominated every thought.
And by the time the clock stroke five. You had already packed your bags. and sat there waiting, playing with the hem of your tight, red pencil skirt that was personally requested by the man you touched yourself to last night.
“SURPRISE!” You jumped as a crowd surrounded your desk.
Andrew stood proudly at the center holding a cake decorated with uneven frosting that read Good luck Y/N!
Your coworkers clapped and laughed. Some pulled you into hugs that lasted longer than you wished for and others congratulated you on your “newly found freedom”.
Your chest tightened. And at that moment you laat six months played in your head.
In that short time these people had become part of your daily life. They took over your lunch breaks, shared complaints about deadlines, whispered jokes over coffee. And in that moment you realised thy You had been lucky.
These were good people you surrounded yourself with. And a wave of sadness suddenly hit you.
Your gaze drifted across the room, trying to memorize every face; But one person stood apart.
Mr. Higuruma leaned silently against his office doorframe. He did join the crowd. He not clap. He did not step forward. He simply watched like a hawk across the office.
The clock moved from five to six to six-thirty. And the plans he had made quietly dissolved as you remained surrounded by coworkers.
His eyes followed your every movement and every laugh. Every hug and every polite smile your -clearly- overstimulated face gave.
“Well… since it’s your last day,” Andrew ventured nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, “I could give you a ride home.” and suddenly the room grew quieter.
You hesitated. Then the words slipped out before you could reconsider. “That would actually be great.”
Andrew’s face lit up immediately. And across the office, higuruma remained leaning against the door frame to his office. His posture was still relaxed, but his gaze had sharpened.
Arms loosely crossed, his expression remained calm. The same detached composure he carried into court.
A faint tension appeared in his jaw as Andrew was already reaching eagerly for his keys. As if he was worried that giving you a second to thinn would change your mind.
“Let’s go, Y/N,” he urged cheerfully. “My car’s downstairs.” You laughed softly and followed him.
Unaware of the storm quietly brewing behind you.