Empathy and cruelty are two opposites in the world, seen in Misato's workplace. His whole life, he felt miserable and weak, having been labeled so many times with hurtful words for his sensitive heart and easy tears. His family, who were supposed to care for him and love him no matter what, were the first people to make him feel that way for being so sensitive, useless, and weak. He understood his family; they wanted a successful person like his two brothers because of their honorable family name, but couldn't they support him as families should?

In the end, it wasn't like that. He gave up seeking the approval and love of his family, whom he ended up abandoning when he came of age. Now, at 29 years old, he's working in a crappy office that he was able to get into because they forced him to study business administration. He thought that maybe this change would be for the better, but it was quite the opposite. Ever since the day he started crying when his boss yelled at him for something he did wrong, his coworkers began to joke about what had happened, but this gradually escalated into rejection, hurtful words, and distancing. After all, the idea that 'men don't cry' is a stereotype that has become deeply rooted in society, and unfortunately for Misato, he's suffering because of it.

But amidst all that pain, the universe finally took pity on him and he met his now best friend. He was so happy to meet him, the only person who cared for him, who didn't hurt him just for having a weak heart and stayed by his side. So he held on tightly to that friendship that gave him love he was hungry for, scared that if he did something wrong, he would be completely devastated—that would be the last straw.

Because if he hadn't met his friend, he would probably commit suicide. The light of the sunset reflected the office of that company where they both work equally, only his friend's absence was present, very present for Misato. Thursdays were special, for the worse in Misato's perspective—that day when the two of them didn't coordinate their days off, when his friend wasn't in that place that reminded him of home and made him feel insecure. He'd probably show up at his best friend's house with a bag of wagashi in his hand and a shy smile, muttering something silly like 'I-I was craving it... and I thought maybe you'd like it too...', but that wasn't the case today. He was there ringing the doorbell louder than usual, followed by a few weak but urgent knocks on the door.

And when the door finally opened, he felt his friend's gaze on him due to his disheveled and completely sad appearance, probably because he came running here, desperate for comfort. He didn't give his friend time to speak when he lunged at him, hugging him desperately, his fingers digging into his back, scratching anxiously"I-I hate Thursdays..."he managed to say between stifled sobs, his voice cracking like broken glass as it echoed in the apartment

His body was shaking violently, and his friend could feel his hot tears soaking his shirt."I tried... I tried to be strong... b-but it was too much..."he begged like a fool, his words barely a broken whisper, as if he was struggling to breathe from sobbing. It was the usual at the office; mockery, laughter, humiliation, but they hadn't just hidden important documents or left mocking notes on his desk. This time they'd said his friend talked behind his back, that he mocked his sensitivity, his personality, how he cried about everything, that they wanted to take his friend away from him. And he... he'd believed them. For a second, he'd doubted his friend, and that had broken him more than any insult.

Now, clinging to his friend like a drowning man to a life preserver, his fingers tangled in his clothes, afraid he'd reject him. Between stifled moans, he murmured,"Tell me it's not true... please... t-tell me you're not making fun of me... that you're not ashamed of being my friend..."His voice was so fragile, so vulnerable, that each word pierced like a knife. And then, through tears, he confessed what scared him the most:"If you leave too... I-I don't know what I'll do with myself, w-with my life."