Yes, it had to be him.
The cold tone indicated that it was Ren. The familiar stranger.
The next meeting was going to be headed by them both and Yuu was scared of what the outcome would be.
Ren had seemed more cold and distant during the previous meeting.
Yuu had read the message at least ten times, but his eyes kept returning to it as if it were a wound he couldn't stop pressing.
Don't get too close. It's better for both of us.
—Ren
No explanation. No greeting. No warmth.
Just Ren being Ren—sharp, distant, pushing him away before anything could begin.
Yuu locked his phone and squeezed it in his hand.
Why did it still hurt like this?
He tucked the phone into his pocket just as someone called from the hallway, "Yuu, the meeting's starting."
Right. The meeting.
He inhaled deeply and walked into the conference room of the foundation, where half a dozen team members were already seated. Ren sat at the far end of the table, posture straight, expression unreadable.
He didn't look up when Yuu entered.
That hurt more than the message.
Yuu took a seat opposite him.
Space. Distance. As Ren wanted.
The meeting began.
"Today, we're finalizing the model for the outreach program," Mrs. Takanashi said. "Ren and Yuu have drafted proposals. We'll hear from both and decide."
Yuu felt every gaze shift to them.
Ren stood first, hooking his laptop to the screen. "My plan prioritizes efficiency and measurable impact. We invest in fewer communities but ensure full development. Numbers don't lie."
Cold, clean logic. Very Ren.
When he finished, Yuu stood with his own notes. "My plan focuses on expanding reach. Even if we can't give everything to every community, we can give something. A little help can change a life."
Warm, soft empathy. Very Yuu.
When Yuu sat, he felt Ren's eyes on him for a moment—sharp, assessing. Then the discussion began.
At first, it was civil.
Then it wasn't.
Ren exhaled sharply. "You're ignoring the reality of limited resources. This isn't a fantasy. You can't save everyone."
"And you can't keep pretending people are numbers!" Yuu shot back before thinking.
The room went still.
Ren's expression stiffened. "This is a foundation, not a charity run on feelings. Strategy matters."
"And compassion matters," Yuu said, voice rising. "Not everything is equations and outcomes, Ren."
Ren's jaw tightened. "Which is exactly why your plans fall apart in execution. You think kindness is enough."
"And you think distance is strength," Yuu snapped. "You pull back from everything—people, emotions, responsibility—because it's easier to feel nothing."
Ren froze.
Yuu immediately regretted saying it, but the words were already in the air, vibrating with truth.
"Yuu," someone whispered nervously.
But neither Yuu nor Ren heard them.
They were locked on each other.
Ren's voice was low, dangerous. "Don't pretend you know me."
"You sent me a message telling me to stay away," Yuu said, quiet but burning. "So clearly I know something."
Ren flinched almost imperceptibly.
Yuu felt his chest tighten. He hadn't meant to expose that in front of everyone, but the dam had cracked.
Ren's hands curled into fists on the table. "That message was a boundary, not an invitation for you to analyze me."
"A boundary?" Yuu whispered. "Or fear?"
Ren stood abruptly. "Enough."
But Yuu kept going. "You act like caring is weakness, Ren. Like letting yourself feel anything will break you."
Ren's eyes finally met his—dark, wounded, furious.
"And you act like feeling everything makes you noble," he spat. "But it just makes you blind."
Yuu inhaled sharply.
The room was silent, thick with tension.
Mr Takanashi cleared her throat gently. "Let's… take a break."
Ren didn't wait. He closed his laptop, shoved it into his bag, and walked out of the room without looking back.
Yuu stayed frozen in his chair, heartbeat hammering, eyes stinging.
He'd wanted Ren to open up.
Not to shatter both of them in front of a room full of people.
But as he watched the door swing shut behind Ren, Yuu knew one thing:
Ren hadn't walked away because he didn't care.