Chapter Text
The stale scent of cigarette smoke clung to Sasuke Uchiha’s black coat as he stepped out of the elevator, the sharp click of his polished dress shoes echoing down the sterile hallway. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a cold glow over the glass doors of his office.
He didn’t greet anyone. No one expected him to.
The receptionist—a mousy girl who flinched whenever he passed—quickly averted her eyes as he strode past, his expression unreadable behind the dark sweep of his hair. The air smelled of cheap coffee, printer toner, and the faint, cloying sweetness of someone’s over-sprayed perfume.
Disgusting.
His office was immaculate. Black leather chair. Sleek, minimalist desk. A single framed photo—old, faded—of two dark-haired boys standing stiffly in front of a traditional house. A lifetime ago.
Sasuke exhaled through his nose, loosening his tie just enough to breathe before sinking into his chair. His computer screen flickered to life, emails flooding in—urgent, unimportant, irritating.
Then came the noise.
"BELIEVE IT, TEME!"
A loud, grating voice shattered the quiet. Sasuke’s eye twitched.
Naruto Uzumaki—blond hair sticking up like he’d been electrocuted, tie perpetually crooked—was somehow a senior sales associate. And currently, he was slamming his hands on some poor intern’s desk, ranting about… ramen?
Why is he even employed here?
Sasuke pinched the bridge of his nose. Across the room, Shikamaru Nara—the so-called "strategic analyst"—was already asleep at his desk, head pillowed on a stack of unfinished reports.
Lazy bastard.
And then—the worst.
"SASUKEEEE!"
Sakura Haruno and Ino Yamanaka, the two HR reps who had made it their life’s mission to "melt his icy heart," were at it again. Today’s battle? A screaming match over who had "noticed him first."
"Back off, Ino-pig! He looked at ME in the break room!"
"In your DREAMS, forehead-girl!"
A loud thwack—someone’s clipboard hit the floor. Sasuke didn’t look up. He didn’t need to. He could feel the entire office holding its breath, waiting to see if he’d snap.
He didn’t.
Instead, he lit another cigarette against company policy, but who would stop him? and took a slow drag, the burn in his lungs grounding him.
This place is a circus.
And he was the only one not laughing.
The rooftop door creaked as Sasuke shouldered it open, the metallic groan swallowed by the wind. The city stretched below him—a sprawling, indifferent beast of glass and steel. He exhaled, watching the smoke curl from his lips and vanish into the cold air.
Idiots. Every last one of them.
He leaned against the rusted railing, the metal biting into his elbows through his tailored suit jacket. The cigarette between his fingers burned steadily, the ember pulsing like a tiny, angry star. He took another drag, the nicotine a temporary balm against the irritation festering beneath his skin.
How did this company even function?
Naruto, who couldn’t file a report without spilling coffee on it. Shikamaru, who treated napping like an Olympic sport. Sakura and Ino, whose daily screaming matches should’ve gotten them fired months ago. And yet, somehow, the quarterly reports kept showing profit.
Maybe the boss is laundering money.
The thought almost amused him. Almost.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Again. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.
Itachi (3:14 PM): You should come to dinner.
Sasuke’s thumb hovered over the screen. Then he flicked it away, unread.
Like hell I will.
Itachi had left first. Moved out, moved on, like their parents’ deaths were just another item on his to-do list. "Take over the family business." "Raise your brother." "Forget the past." As if any of it were that simple.
The wind picked up, carrying the distant honk of traffic and the greasy scent of fast food from the street vendors below. Sasuke ground his cigarette under his heel, the butt joining a small graveyard of others near the rooftop’s edge.
He didn’t do attachments. Didn’t do family. Didn’t do anything that required more effort than a one-night stand or a well-placed glare.
And yet.
The office was full of people who insisted on trying. Naruto with his idiotic challenges. Sakura and Ino with their delusional fantasies. Even Kakashi, their perpetually late CEO, who left cryptic notes on Sasuke’s desk like "Try smiling. It won’t kill you."
It might.
Sasuke lit another cigarette. The flame wavered in the wind before catching, the paper crinkling as it burned.
He didn’t need anyone. Didn’t want anyone.
But the city stretched on below him, endless and uncaring, and for the first time in a long time, the smoke in his lungs didn’t feel like enough.
Sasuke leaned against the rusted railing, the cold metal biting into his forearms as he flicked the ash from his cigarette. The smoke curled around him, a temporary shield against the world—or at least, against the idiots who populated it.
He exhaled slowly, watching the gray tendrils dissolve into the sky.
Another day in this circus.
His phone buzzed—another message from some woman whose name he barely remembered. He swiped it away without reading. It didn’t matter. They never did.
Sasuke wasn’t cruel. He didn’t make promises he wouldn’t keep. Didn’t pretend to care when he didn’t. If they cried afterward, that was their problem. He’d been clear from the start.
His looks made it easy. Dark hair, sharper features, eyes that could cut glass. Women flocked to him like moths to a flame, stupidly believing they’d be the one to change him.
Pathetic.
The rooftop door slammed open with a bang.
"Sasuke-kun!"
That voice. That godforsaken voice.
Sakura stood there, bubblegum-pink hair whipping in the wind, her too-bright smile already grating on his nerves. She clutched a file to her chest like some kind of prop, as if she’d actually come up here for work.
As if.
"I—I was just looking for you!" she chirped, stepping closer. "I thought maybe we could—"
"No."
She pouted, undeterred. "You didn’t even let me finish!"
"Don’t need to." He took another drag, eyes scanning the skyline. "Whatever it is, the answer’s no."
Sakura huffed, but her gaze flickered down his body anyway. He could practically see the fantasies playing out behind her eyes.
Marriage. Kids. A life she’ll never have.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t fucked her before. A closet here, a storage room there—quick, dirty, meaningless. She’d begged for it just as much as the others. But unlike the rest, she still hadn’t gotten the message.
"You’re so mean, Sasuke-kun," she whined, but there was a smirk playing on her lips. "But I know you don’t really hate me."
Delusional.
He crushed his cigarette under his heel. "Go bother someone else."
She giggled, undeterred. "You’ll change your mind~!"
He didn’t dignify that with a response.
The wind howled again, drowning out whatever nonsense she muttered next. Sasuke didn’t care. He didn’t care about her. Didn’t care about any of them.
But as the door clicked shut behind her, the silence felt heavier than before.