The apartment door opens soundlessly. In the corner of his eye, Akira sees Akechi's lips curve into a small smile.

"I'm home," Akechi says.

"Oh, welcome home, dear," says the woman who steps forward and wraps her arms around him. She's Akechi's height, with his same shade of brown hair, tied into a low, loose ponytail over her shoulder. "Who's this?" she asks, stepping back with her hands on his shoulders and looking at Akira.

"Akira Kurusu," Akira says, eyes moving from the woman, to Akechi, and back again. They have the same shade of red-brown eyes.

"He's a friend I made the other day," Akechi says. "He's just moved here and is transferring to Shujin."

"Well that's lovely," says the woman, giving Akira a warm smile. "Please come in."

She gestures along as she walks back inside. Akechi follows her, slipping out of his shoes, and Akira does the same as Akechi shuts the door behind them.

"I'm sorry I don't have any food or drinks ready," the woman says, heading into the small kitchen off to the side and turning the sink on. "I had no idea you would be coming. I'll have some tea ready in a few minutes."

"I'm sorry I didn't let you know," Akechi says. "It was just… kind of sudden."

She looks at him, turning away from her half-full kettle. Immediately she puts it down, walking over to Akechi with hurried steps. "Are you alright, dear? You seem pale…"

"I… wasn't feeling well at the end of the picnic, so I came here since it's closer than Leblanc," Akechi says as the woman places one hand on his forehead and the other on her own.

"You're a little warm… why don't you lay down for a bit?"

"If you don't mind…" Akechi says, his eyes glancing over at Akira.

Akira shakes his head. "Go ahead. Feel better."

Akechi nods, before walking down a hall next to the kitchen passthrough.

"Thank you for bringing him here," the woman says, looking at Akira with a smile. "I'm so sorry I haven't introduced myself. I'm Sora Akechi, Goro's mother."

"It's nice to meet you," Akira says, giving a small bow.

"You don't have to be so formal," she says, smile turning into a little laugh. "Please, go sit down. I'll be over a minute."

Akira's eyes linger on her a moment before he walks past the kitchen and hallway and into what seems to be the living room. Pale blue walls compliment equally pale, nearly white flooring, and largely white decor. Akira sits on a cushion next to the centered low table. At its center was a small flower pot, a lone lotus blooming within.

His eyes drift to the shelves on the nearby wall. Lining them are various small plants, but it is mostly adorned with picture frames - images of Akechi and his mother, all the way down from to when Akechi was a preteen. In every picture they smile warmly, with Akechi's mother either holding him or having her hands on his shoulders.

"I always hope Goro isn't embarrassed by all the pictures I have out of us," Akechi's mother says as she walks into the room.

Akira's eyes linger on the photos. He stares at one in particular, one of an Akechi who was probably about fourteen or fifteen, his gaze not at whomever had been holding at the camera, but instead on his mother, with a smile that stretched his whole face. "I'm sure he's not," Akira says, a bit quietly.

"So," Akechi's mother says, sitting across from Akira, "how did you and Goro meet?"

Akira looks at her. "I was in Leblanc and he showed up to help out. We… just sort of clicked," he says. "We ended up hanging out afterwards… I needed a place to stay last night and he let me. And then he invited me out with his other friends today." Akira pauses, his eyes moving down, meeting his barely-visible reflection against the shined wood of the table. It's an image that reminds Akira of walking into Leblanc and seeing Akechi sitting there, staring down at the counter. "It's just easy to be around him, I guess."

"I know a lot of mothers say this about their children, but Goro really is the sweetest boy." She smiles fondly, looking up at the pictures. "He always sort of kept to himself at school though, so he didn't grow up with any friends really. But last year, he made so many… and he seems so much happier. I'm so thankful." She looks back to Akira. "Even then, he's never brought any of them over here. He must really trust you."

Akira's eyes shift from her and he moves a strand of his bangs.

"But tell me about you," Akechi's mother says, leaning in. "Are you transferring to Shujin for your last year?"

"Yeah," Akira says. "It's… kind of a complicated family thing, but yeah, I'll be doing my last year at Shujin."

"Have you thought about what you'll do after? Are you going to go to university?"

At first, Akira just shakes his head, slowly, gaze moving a bit down. "No… maybe. I don't know."

"It's so hard, isn't it? I had no idea what I wanted to do at your age, either," she says, leaning back with a small sigh. "I was surprised Goro decided so quickly… he did well in school, and he could have gone to almost any university he wanted, but he picked one close by… I hope he doesn't regret that."

Akira's eyes catch the photographs next to them again.

"I'm sure he won't," he says, a bit quietly.

There's a small whistling sound from across the room and Akechi's mother stands quickly. "Would you check on Goro and bring his tea to him?" She asks as she walks into the kitchen.

"Course," Akira says, standing after taking a lingering gaze at the pictures. He stands up and meets her at the passthrough to the kitchen.

"I'll bring yours to the table," she says, handing a cup to him. "Careful now."

Akira nods and takes the tea, walking down the hall that led to the other side of the apartment.

"Goro's room is right on the left there," she calls as she heads back into the living room.

Akira stops at the specified door. It's ajar, but he stops anyway. "Hey. I brought some tea your mom made."

The words feel foreign and weird as they come out of his mouth, but Akira's attention is brought back fully to Akechi as he says, "Oh, please, come in."

Akira steps through. Akechi's shades are closed, presumably to dim the room and help his headache, but it doesn't do much. The dimming sunlight still filters through, and the light blue color of his walls reflect much more light than they absorb.

Akechi himself sits up in his bed, closing the book in his hands and placing it on the nightstand next to him. His clothes from earlier have been replaced by a plain loose t-shirt and sweatpants, all of which hanging loosely and cutely on his nearly slender frame.

"Could you put it here?" Akechi asks, gesturing at the nightstand. Akira puts it down, careful to place it away from the book. His eyes wander along the cover of it - Night on the Galactic Railroad.

"Feel free to sit," Akechi says, scooting off to one side of the bed. Akira's gaze shifts from Akechi, to the empty spot next to him, and Akira slowly sits down.

"You probably shouldn't be reading if your head is bothering you," Akira says, a slight tease to his voice.

"I know," Akechi says, stretching an arm up. Akira notes the way the shirt rides up and provides a sliver of a glimpse of his bare, flat stomach. "I wasn't going to read long."

"You can read anytime," Akira says, leaning back on his hands. "You should just rest."

Akechi's small smile fades a bit, and his gaze falls. "Perhaps, but… it's a bit silly, but that story always makes me feel better when I'm not well."

Akira leans back forward, trying to meet Akechi's eyes. "Is there something else wrong?"

Akechi just shakes his head, quickly, gaze fully attuned to the book. "Have - you ever read this book, Kurusu-kun?

"No, actually."

Now Akechi meets his eyes, all but pouting. "It's a classic."

"I know, I know," Akira says, lips playing at a small smile. "I know the gist of it."

Akechi's gaze moves back to the book. "I always wanted a friendship like the one Giovanni and Campanella have. When I was younger, I admired Campanella the most, being brave enough to do what he did… but now I appreciate Giovanni as much, if not more." He pauses - one long enough that Akira is able to closely study the details of Akechi's expression, not that it tells him much. His eyes are dark, all the light behind his body, and as his gaze casts down, his hair only frames his face all the more. It's a look that makes Akira want to tilt his head up and see the light sparkle in his eyes again.

Eventually, Akechi says, slowly, "I think Campanella is lucky to have someone like Giovanni with him during that trip… and I think Giovanni is the one who made Campanella brave."

Akira just watches him - and then finally, Akechi meets his gaze, and Akira feels all sorts of words at the tip of his tongue.

Instead of speaking any of them though they leave his mind entirely as Akechi lets out a sharp gasp, one hand flying to his head and grasping it.

Akira is leaning in faster than words can come out of his mouth. "Akechi," he says, reaching a hand to Akechi's shoulder, "what's wro-"

"Don't touch me!" Akechi says, slapping Akira's hand off the instant it touches him.

The feeling left in Akira's skin stings and burns, but he brings his hand back and says quietly, "Akechi?"

Akechi looks at him, dead in the eye, body frozen as he stops breathing. It's a look that reminds Akira too much of Akechi's obscured face behind a cold black mask, a desperation that Akira even still doesn't understand. But Akira does understand that it rends his own heart, it forces onto him an overwhelming urge to reach out his still stinging hand and pull Akechi close to him.

But he sits there, paralyzed, until after a moment Akechi takes a shuddered breath. "Get out," he says, voice quiet as he casts his gaze downward and his bangs obscure his face.

"Akechi," Akira says, scooting just an inch closer, "I -"

"Get out!" Akechi nearly yells, swinging his arm in Akira's direction, preemptively shutting down even an attempt to get closer. "Go! Leave me alone!"

Akira bites his tongue hard enough he nearly tastes blood.

But he nods once, and stands up. And he walks out and shuts the door behind him.

When he turns the corridor corner back into the main room, Akechi's mother is standing and looking at him like she's about to cry. "Is he okay? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Akira says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I… I guess he just wants to be left alone."

"I heard," she says with a soft sigh. "I'm sorry." She gestures over to the table. "I have your tea here. Why don't we sit?"

Akira just nods and follows her, taking his seat at the same side of the table as he did last. The tea is hot against his hands and nearly scalding still in his mouth, but he doesn't feel it much.

"It's been years since he yelled like that," she says. Akira looks up at her, but she simply stares down at her tea. After a moment, she meets his gaze. "Can I ask what happened?"

Akira's eyes fall. "I… guess I'm not really sure. We were just talking, and…" His fingers twitch and clench a bit into his palm. "I think I just pushed him."

For a moment, Akechi's mother says nothing. She leans back a little, and gives a short, contemplative sigh.

"Sometimes I feel like Goro pushes people away when he needs them most," she says eventually. "I said I hadn't heard him yell like that in a long time… the last was when he was much younger."

The room, already quiet, seems to become dead silent for all but her voice.

"I'm sure you're wondering where Goro's father is. The truth is… he's in jail," she says, lowering her voice. "And he's been there for many years now. He was a rising politician, and I was young then, but that's not an excuse."

There's a pause as she looks up and meets Akira's gaze. "I want to tell you this because… I don't think Goro has talked about his past with any of his friends. And I think it's necessary to really understand him… and I don't know if this sounds silly, but I feel as though if anyone can understand Goro, it's you."

Akira nods once. "Please… go on."

Again, Akechi's mother sighs. "I… never married this man. So when Goro was born… it was hard. As soon as he found out I was pregnant, I could never get in touch with him. He wanted to protect his image, I'm sure. I wanted to protect Goro from how harsh reality was… but it's not easy as a single parent, especially when your child is as precocious as Goro, and especially when… I wasn't the best mother, at first. I was young, and I wasn't ready, and I didn't have anyone to rely on. I… don't really know how I lived past those first few years. We had to move so much, poor Goro was constantly changing schools… It's a miracle, really. And once he understood things… Goro would be so, so upset. Upset at his father, upset at the world… And then finally, one day, the truth came out about his father. About all the underhanded deals, about his history with women… his career was finished. It was largely due to one woman's work who had been involved with him that it came to light… I went to thank her personally. Even if it didn't solve our problems, she had helped bring justice to the man who made our lives so hard. We ended up becoming close after that - she was a single parent herself. Her daughter was at that picnic today - Futaba."

It's only when Akira's elbow bumps into his teacup that he realizes how far he's leaned in, and he sits back just a bit. "Futaba S - Isshiki?"

Akechi's mother nods. "Right. And they're very close with the man who runs the Leblanc café… who was also involved, to an extent. So that's how Goro and I got to know him… and they've all helped us so much. Things have gotten so much better, but it's still hard, sometimes. Just last year some new information regarding his father's crimes came out, stirring up all the old news again… which is why Goro transferred to Shujin for his last year. I think maybe he sees a bit of himself in you, and that's why he lost his temper… old feelings coming to the surface." She sighs. "What I'm trying to say is, I hope that didn't give you a bad impression. He's a good boy… he's very sweet. And very lonely, even still, I think."

A silence comes between them. Akira stares down at his tea, his reflection watching him in turn.

Amidst the quietude, the tick of the clock as a new hour comes is loud.

"I'm going to make some quick dinner," Akechi's mother says, a light smile returning to her face. "Do you want to stay the night?"

"If you'd have me," Akira says.

"Of course. Any friend of Goro's is more than welcome here. Make yourself at home."

"Thank you so much."

She gives him a warm smile and walks back to the kitchen, and Akira is left alone in the living room. His eyes wander back to the picture frames - until his phone starts to vibrate in his pocket.

Hurriedly he takes it out. The icon of an incoming call greets him, from an unknown number. The top of his screen still reads "No service."

"Oh, is that your parents?" Akechi's mother calls through the passthrough to the kitchen. "Feel free to step out onto the balcony if you want privacy."

Akira stands up and makes a brisk pace toward the sliding door on the opposite end of the room, making sure it's shut tight behind him before answering the call.

"Trickster. Can you hear me?" A voice greets him as soon as he presses the phone to his ear.

"Lavenza."

"Good. My trickster… you need to seek a way out of this world you are in."

Akira's grip on his phone tightens. "Did something happen?"

"It has taken me quite some time to get in contact with you," Lavenza says. "I still don't know exactly what kind of place you're in… but I can guess, and if I'm right, it's not a place you can stay in much longer," she explains, her voice becoming sporadically muffled.

"What is it, Lavenza?" Akira says, covering his other ear.

"It's not - for someone like you, Trickster," she says, her words cut off part way. "I think - a place for -"

"I can't understand you," Akira says hurriedly.

A static overtakes the call, Lavenza's voice almost inaudible behind it. "I'm trying to - soon. … careful, and remember that - impossible to -"

"I need you to repeat, I can't understand -" Akira cuts himself off as the call goes dead quiet. "Lavenza?"

The silence is unending. After a moment, Akira looks back at his phone screen - there was no sign a call had ended, or even began to start. He sighs and slides it back into his pocket.

Leaving this world - or space, or whatever it was - was something that hadn't occurred to him all this time. Or perhaps it had, in passing, and Akira had just chosen to ignore it.

He doesn't think about why, or he chooses to ignore that, too.

The breeze is cool against him, and cool against the stinging pain still left in his hand. It doesn't physically hurt anymore, and the pink mark on his skin is barely noticeable. He holds his hand up, and it blends into the orange and pink twingles of the sunset. The colors are warm like Akechi was on his hand, however briefly. Warm like the space between them, sitting in the attic of Leblanc watching DVDs together. Warm like cookies they made together, warm like the way Akechi smiled at him. Warm like their conversations at Leblanc, what felt like ages and ages ago, with Akira making him coffee and talking with ease between them.

Instinct tells him to go back inside, to peek in Akechi's bedroom and see that he's there and he's okay. To see that a shutter hasn't closed between them with Akira's last look at him being his red brown eyes shrouded in emotion he had yet to decipher. And he was already much too late.

But it was also true that Akechi obviously didn't want him. Akira wouldn't - as he had never - push him. Pushing was a way to break things. To break people. Akechi had already had enough - his Akechi - of that. Though this Akechi was different - he too, deserved happiness.

Akira's hands tightly grip the balcony railing.

This Akechi, his Akechi. They had to be different people. But they were Akechi at their core. Akira saw that in his smile, in his eyes. In his heart.

Though it was silly to think of the Akechi he as "his." Heat creeps into Akira's face.

This Akechi - was still a relative stranger. Akira really did need to leave. He had learned things, and that was satisfactory. Perhaps that was the reason he was able to come here. After all, it was his Velvet Room that had allowed him access - his space. A place for the refining of his own soul. By spending the time he did here, perhaps it was a way for him to achieve some closure on what had occupied his mind for the last months.

His next breath is shaky.

It was probably time to find a way out. However that may be.

He shifts his focus back to the sunset - which had turned, for the better part, to darker colors of twilight. He's not sure when that happened.

A soft tap brings his attention behind himself, and Akechi's mother meets his gaze through the glass, motioning at a plate of food on the table.

He slides the door open and the wind blows between them.

"Thank you so much," he says, shutting it and sitting at the table again.

"You're more than welcome. I'm going to check on Goro and bring him his serving. I hope you enjoy it," she says with a smile.

As she leaves, Akira slides his chopsticks into the still steaming rice and vegetables, and takes a bite. It's a warmth that makes him realize only now that he was cold.

Less than ten minutes later the bowl only has a few singular grains of rice left, and Akira is bringing his bowl to the sink. Akechi's mother had yet to come out of Akechi's room, and this time the door was shut tight, not even a slight murmur escaping the room.

As Akira steps back into the living room he feels his blood run cold and his insides twist - a sudden nausea overtaking him, and he promptly sits on the couch. He had definitely eaten much too fast.

With a sigh, he lays back, staring at the white ceiling above him. Instantly he feels heavy; his body is hard to move, and his eyelids are like sandbags. Cold continues to wash into his body. It doesn't keep him from being pulled under the tide of sleep.

Knock, knock.

Akechi's eyes peer through the darkness of his room.

"Hi dear. Can I come in? I have your dinner."

"Of course," Akechi says.

His door open and the light from the hallway floods in. "If you're not going to sleep, you should at least open your curtains," his mother says with a soft smile. "It'll be better for your mood."

Akechi just nods, not looking her in the eye. He was still sitting on his bed - he hadn't moved since Akira had left. He had simply sat here, staring at his lap, for the last five minutes.

It felt like five minutes. And yet in that time the sun had gone down and his mother had made dinner.

After shutting the door, she turns on the lamp on his bedside table, placing the bowl of food next to it.

She sits next to him. "How are you feeling?"

"About the same," Akechi says truthfully. His head had ceased to hurt, but that malady had only been replaced by another.

His mother places the back of her hand to his forehead. "You don't feel quite as warm." She runs her touch a bit up his head, and a shiver runs down his body and he flinches.

Pulling her hand back, she furrows her brow. "What's wrong?"

Finally, Akechi meets her gaze. His mother's eyes were similar to his own, perhaps a shade brighter, a shade more vibrant. Full of life. That's how he had always thought of them. Hadn't he? They gave him a sense of calm, they grounded him. Hadn't they always?

Now his insides crawl as he looks into his mother's eyes.

"I think my sickness is just making me feel weird," Akechi says finally.

"I think you probably feel guilty, too," she says softly.

Akechi's fingers dig into his thighs.

"I'm sure he understands," his mother says. "He's not upset at you. He's still staying over."

Akechi feels something. Not something he can name. Something like his heart leaping and his stomach twisting at once. It's pleasant and unpleasant. Familiar in the way that it feels nostalgic and unfamiliar in the way he can't remember how it is.

"I want you to get a lot of rest. Try to sleep after you eat, okay?" His mother says, standing up slowly.

Akechi only nods. He knows the words are supposed to comfort him - they had so many times in the past - hadn't they? - but her voice seems off, different, out of place, it's not what he wanted or needed.

But that didn't make sense. This was his mother.

He looks up at her as she reaches the door.

"Call me if you need anything," she says with the gentlest of smiles. A smile that makes him look away.

"Goro?"

The response stops in his throat, and he forces it out. "Yes, mother?"

"I love you."

His body feels cold and hot at the same time. He wants to hear it again and he wants her to leave before he has to reply.

"I love you too."

She smiles at him again and shuts the door.

Immediately he feels the strange urge to chase her, to open the door and see her again, to see her really there. To see her and Kurusu.

He bites his tongue hard.

Sleep. This would surely be over in the morning.

He takes the warm bowl in his hands, pulling it onto his lap and staring at it. It reminds him of the picnic that was only hours ago but felt longer. The cookies he made with Kurusu had turned out so well. He seemed naturally inclined to cooking. He seemed naturally suited in Leblanc. Sojiro would like him. He was at ease even around people he didn't know well. He already seemed like he belonged with Akechi's friends.

The image of Kurusu sitting amongst the cherry blossoms, eyes constantly shifting to Akechi, sends a near shiver down Akechi's body. Not like the one from moments ago, but one that makes his heart jump and his face warm.

Yet when Kurusu had touched him, both times today, Akechi felt like his body had seared and burned.

He tightly grips his bowl.

Overstimulation, surely. Meeting someone new, being sick. Nothing a bowl of his mother's homemade food and a good sleep wouldn't solve. It always had.

Hadn't it?

He tries to remember the last time he felt like this, the last time his mother had made him feel better. It doesn't immediately come to his mind.

Any sort of appetite is nonexistent. He finds himself standing and walking to the door. Not because he wanted to see Kurusu. But just to apologize.

He opens it and steps into a hallway that seems glaringly bright. At the other end, the door to his mother's bedroom is cracked, and he sees her laying on her bed with a book.

Quietly, he walks down the corridor. It gets darker as he goes, the only light being a dim lamp in the corner of the living room. It's dark enough that he doesn't see Kurusu at first, barely noticing his dark silhouette on the couch.

His chest rises and falls in the steady rhythm of sleep. Obviously, Akechi has no reason to linger, but he finds himself unmoving.

In the dim light, it's nearly impossible to see the individual curls and locks of Kurusu's hair, but they still twist around his face in a cute way. They contrast starkly against his pale skin. Too pale, really.

Slowly, slowly, Akechi reaches out and brushes the back of his fingers to Kurusu's face. Even through the feather-lightness of it, Kurusu is seemingly cold to the touch.

Akechi walks over to the chair on the other side of the room, picking up the folded blanket that lays there. After quietly unfurling it, he drapes it over Kurusu in a way that can only be called delicate.

Tomorrow. He'd apologize tomorrow.

Even having resolved that, Akechi stands still in the quietude of the living room, his eyes fixated on Kurusu. Kurusu, a truly ordinary boy, whom he had the off-chance of meeting. Whom he had the off-chance of spending all this time together. Whom he had the off-chance of feeling at ease around.

The unease that had plagued Akechi's body since Kurusu left his room was gone, replaced now by his heart jumping in his chest.

Akechi crouches next to the couch, putting himself at eye level to Kurusu. His black hair, his figure itself blend into the darkness. As if he belongs there. And yet his face stands out, something that would catch someone's attention without doubt. Like a phantom. Something to follow in the darkness.

Akechi reaches a hand slowly toward one of Kurusu's.

But Kurusu shifts slightly and Akechi immediately stands.

He gives him a lingering look, and then quickly heads back to his room.

The door shuts behind him with the a soft click. Akechi sits on his bed with a sigh, and takes his bowl of food into his hands. His hunger has yet to appear, but he brings a bite of food to his mouth and swallows it quickly anyway.

It's warm. But it doesn't taste like much.

His eyes drift to the bedside table. The characters that comprise the title of Night on the Galactic Railroad shimmer with a silver gloss that reflect the light. It seems blindingly glaring.

He sets the bowl down back on the table with enough force that the book shifts and falls to the ground. He doesn't bother to pick it up before he turns off the light and pulls his covers over his head.

He stares in the empty darkness of his blanket for a minute. And then another, and another. His eyes are heavy but sleep refuses to take him. His mind reels with images of his friends, of his mother, and mostly of Kurusu. He sees Kurusu's face in the crowded streets. Nothing special about him, but Akechi feels rooted anyway when they lock gazes. He sees Kurusu wearing the apron of Leblanc, like he had been when they made cookies. It suits him too well. Kurusu instinctively knowing where things were behind the counter. Like he already worked there. Kurusu blending in with his friends as if he'd known them forever.

Kurusu sitting in a Shujin classroom for his next year. Wearing the Shujin uniform. It would look natural on him. He'd wear the blazer buttoned up. Akechi can see it perfectly. He can see Kurusu with a bag slung over his shoulder, running a hand through his ever-messy hair. Maybe Sojiro would take him as a part-timer so he could have some money. Akira would work well at Leblanc. Akechi can see that perfectly, too. And maybe he'd come in as a customer. Getting served coffee by Kurusu with a natural ease of conversation between them. Finally, a place Akechi could relax.

His bed feels cold. He thinks, distantly, about pulling another cover over him, but his body is weak. He falls further into this cold and this cage of darkness.

It feels like water. Like drowning. A cold barricade keeping him from the world. A steel shutter. One that separates him from Kurusu. He can see Kurusu's last look at him, eyes wild with an emotion Akechi couldn't place at all. One that simultaneously tore Akechi's heart in two and made it whole.

He lays in the cold, though the feeling of falling still overtakes him. All is quiet as he moves into a world of sleep.

He can see Kurusu's quiet promise even through the barricade. He doesn't want to sleep. He doesn't want to go. But he's stuck where he is and it's what he has to do, it's where he belongs, where he's put himself, but every part of him aches to -

His blood runs ice cold and Akechi's eyes snap open as he jolts upright.

His breathing comes in ragged and heavy, lungs burning for oxygen like they hadn't had life in months.

His eyes shift around his room. His room, which seems somehow unfamiliar. But it's his room. Isn't it?

It's enough to tell himself it's a nightmare, even if he feels like he hadn't slept at all. Reaching under his pillow, he takes out his phone, cracked screen greeting him. March 21, 5:59AM.

He pulls his curtain back a sliver. The purple sky of a sun that has yet to truly rise greets him.

It's deadly quiet. The darkness of his room seems eerie, and when he shuts his curtain again it feels like it's encroaching.

He knows Kurusu - and his mother - are surely still asleep. But the darkness seems closer and his heart beats faster.

Swinging his legs off his bed, his feet collide into Night on the Galactic Railroad, staring at him from the floor. His insides twist.

Wasting no time, he leaves it there, hurrying to his door and opening it. The hall is almost as dark as his room.

He only realizes as he's already walking toward the living room that he didn't even bother to check if his mother's bedroom door was still open a crack. And by the time he's at the living room, his stomach already feels like lead. Because Kurusu isn't there.

haven't done any kind of A/N and i just want to say thank you for everyone reading this, and i'm sorry for the delay between last chapter and this.
anon reviewer: if you're going to just complain that you had to wait a bit don't bother leaving me a review