The bitter night air numbed his hands, making everything painful to the touch. Usami Akihiko's eyes narrowed, colder than the wind lifting his hair. He'd stopped on an abandoned stretch of road on the outskirts of the city. The glow of his burner cellphone half- illuminating his features to any passing cars, not that there seemed to be many. Usagi-san waited as it rung out, tinny and small in the vast night. Eventually — "Akihiko." His father's voice said silkily, as though he'd always expected him to call. "Father." He replied stiffly, eyes on the abandoned factories and dilapidated warehouses lining the opposite side of the road.

"I don't have him, you know." Fuyuhiko mentioned in a casual voice, as though discussing the weather. Akihiko's eyes widened, fist clenched around his car keys. The wind whipped through him, leaving an ache in his bones. Fuyuhiko chuckled "Ryuichiro told me, of course." The old man whistled to himself, twirling a fountain pen in his fingers. The screen before him showed his son, shoulders hunched and scowling as he ended the call. "As though I don't have eyes everywhere." Fuyuhiko said, shaking his head in amusement.

Aikawa-san shuffled impatiently, the elevator seeming to take twice it's usual time to arrive on her floor. The literature editing department being the top floor, Eri was accustomed to waiting impatiently, almost always working on a tight deadline. She bustled out of the doors the second they opened - nearly bumping headlong into Kyo Ijuuin, Misaki's favourite mangaka. "Oh, my apologies sensei!" She said, stepping back from the man. To her relief he was smiling good naturedly. "It's so nice to see you again, Aikawa-san." Ijuuin remarked cheerfully. "I don't think I've seen much of you since the interview with Usami sensei." The mangaka reflected, almost nostalgically. Aikawa forced a smile and nodded "I'm sorry, i've just seen the time. I really have to run." She told him quickly, bowing apologetically. He grinned "not to worry, I hear Isaka's a difficult man to catch a meeting with."

Ijuuin Kyo waved goodbye until the elevator doors separated the two of them. Aikawa sighed, remembered herself, and dashed down the corridor only to collide with the very man she'd been heading to see. "Ah, I see you've brought me the manuscript at last." Isaka said loudly, for the benefit of the stray office workers huddled by the vending machines. "So sorry about the delay, sir, it's just sensei is in another one of his ruts." Aikawa-san answered cordially, as she had done many times before. The file she handed him consisted of two magazines Eri had found on the floor of her car and the cellphone "the caller" had rung.

"I'll look this over immediately." Ryuichiro winked, turning on his heel to leave. The cluster of editors exchanged glances as she made her way back to the elevator. "You can't seriously think they're dating Shizuko, she's in love with Ijuuin Kyo!" One of them hissed, loud enough to catch Aikawa's attention. "What about Usami Akihiko? He's dreamy..." Shizuko mused.

"Its just like shoujo manga" Another murmured, almost wistfully.

Aikawa-san frowned as the women tittered. How can they be so entertained by my love life? Her eyes prickled with tears that she furiously swiped away. Eri didn't know what to do now. She had done her part.

Akihiko waited, and waited. Until finally all of the lights in the traditional one-story house were extinguished. That's when he used the key he'd found under a nearby plant pot. The building was silent, despite a hammering in Usagi's chest. Anything could be happening to Misaki, right this second. He paused, listening intently. If Keiichi Sumi was attacking his Misaki, there wasn't much to indicate this. No creaking of a mattress, no soft moans or panting. Akihiko had only visited Sumi's house once before; to save Misaki from his clutches. But Sumi hadn't wanted Misaki, it was Usagi he'd desired.

Akihiko stalked through the shadows, eyes sweeping over framed family photos. Sumi aged five, skinny and sly and half-smiling. Him aged thirteen, serious and skeptical. His eyes were cold and calculating. "Hello, Akihiko." Keiichi Sumi breathed over his idol's shoulder. The author turned - the man had grown since their last meeting, towering over Akihiko with a satisfied smirk on his pale face. "Misaki get tired of you?" He questioned, placing a hand on the side of Usagi's face.

A Summer Rain lay open on his desk on the title page. 'Usami Akihiko is the esteemed winner of the Shukima Literary Prize for his novel 'Fallen Meadow'. Usami is critically acclaimed as the voice of his generation. His newest novel, A Summer Rain, has been a global bestseller since its publication in July of 2018."

Keiichi chuckled darkly, flicking lazily through the novel. "As pretentious as ever, Akihiko." He said reprovingly, closing the book with a snap. The house felt eerily quiet as he returned it to the bookshelf. Every title Akihiko had ever written lived there, all immaculate, in perfect condition. As though Sumi Keiichi hadn't rifled through their pages night after night, searching for an answer.

"I don't write for you." Akihiko retorted, eyes still scanning the room. Had Misaki been here? Keiichi laughed again, running a forefinger down the spine of Ocean Essence - Usami Akihiko's debut novel. "No. I suppose you don't." He murmured, his gaze fixed beyond the dozen or so books. "Enough bullshit. You know why I'm here." Akihiko snapped, dragging him across the room by his collar. Pinned against the wall, Keiichi grinned, heart pounding under his cool exterior. "I always dreamed it would happen like this." He confessed feverishly.

The blow came like the call, fast and unexpected, bringing with it an untold string of consequences. Keiichi recoiled, visibly shocked. He slumped to the floor, unable to face the man he'd loved for so long. "The last time I saw Misaki was three months ago. He admitted his love." Keiichi spat, fingers tracing the throbbing pain where a black eye bloomed over his skin. "He claimed to love you more than I do." The now trembling boy snarled, a wildfire flickering in his brown eyes. "You think he'd take this from you?!" Keiichi screamed, tears trickling from the burning embers of his eyes. "Has he read your every word? Watched interview after interview? Written you letter after letter?" He howled, slamming his head back against the wall.

"Being a fan... you may as well have Stockholm Syndrome." Usagi muttered, turning to leave. Behind him, Keiichi drew himself up. "So be it." He hissed, shaking with fury.