Noa prided herself on being emotionally waterproof.
She had perfected the art of eye-rolls, sarcasm, and politely ignoring people she didn't want in her orbit. She was, by most definitions, socially weatherproof.
So why was Ren Kurosawa starting to leak through?
It was Day 3 of the internship, and somehow, he had found her again in the break room. Same time, different excuse.
"You're stalking me," Noa said flatly, stabbing her instant noodles with chopsticks.
Ren took a seat across from her like he belonged there. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm stalking the vending machine. You're just… bonus content."
"Right."
He popped open his yogurt drink and made a face. "This tastes like regret."
"Maybe stop buying things that look like medical experiments."
He grinned. "Where's your sense of adventure?"
"I lost it the second I saw your face again."
"Ouch."
They sat in semi-silence after that. The kind of silence where one person is eating and the other is very obviously trying to think of something to say.
Finally, he leaned forward. "Can I ask something?"
Noa sighed. "You're going to anyway."
He ignored that. "Why do you always look like you're five seconds from quitting this internship?"
She blinked. "Because I am."
"Oh."
A beat.
"You don't like it?"
"I don't like... most things."
Ren looked almost impressed. "That's the most honest thing anyone's ever said to me before lunch."
She stirred her noodles. "Why are you here? Really."
He tilted his head. "You mean, in this company, or in your personal space?"
"Both."
Ren thought for a moment. Then shrugged. "I need credits to graduate. And you... you're just fun to annoy."
"You have a strange definition of fun."
"Maybe. Or maybe I like people who don't pretend to be anything."
That made her pause.
No comeback came. No sarcastic reply queued up.
She just stared at him, uncertain whether she should be annoyed or... something else.
Then someone called from the hallway. "Team B! You're needed on set!"
Noa stood quickly, grateful for the interruption.
Ren stood too. "Let's go, partner."
"Don't call me that."
"Fine. Co-victim?"
"…Better."
—
They walked side by side down the hallway, neither of them talking.
But their steps synced up naturally.
And neither one noticed.