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The red flags had all been there. Akira hadn't even missed them; he had deliberately ignored them. He'd been so intrigued by Goro's mysterious past-- by the private life they never discussed-- that he had forgotten something vital:
Goro Akechi was trouble.
That fact had never changed. Even if Akira had been determined to save him, it didn't mean Goro wanted to be saved. How many times had Goro told him it was a mistake? How many times had he told Akira not to get invested?
So it should have come as no surprise when Akira woke to an empty bed, an unspoken breaking of a promise. Goro hadn't graced him with a goodbye; there was no excuse, no explanation, nothing that Akira could tie the disappearance to.
It wasn’t long before he began to realize that this was the ending they'd been writing all along. Every clandestine meeting, every kiss shared like a secret for only the two of them, it all led here: to Akira, hollow and alone, wondering when he’d gotten in so deep.
Maybe it was Akira's fault. Maybe he should have stopped Goro from doing something he was bound to regret. Or maybe he shouldn't have gotten attached in the first place. That night on the subway, he should have made boring small talk-- better yet, should have kept his mouth shut. He never should have kissed Goro. Because now that harsh, intense, needy boy was gone, and Akira couldn't help but feel like it was for good.
Where are you?
He'd sent the text hours ago, but there was no reply. He shot another text or two, just in case one got lost, and then when that didn’t work, he caved and called. Still no answer. All Akira could do was sit with his phone out, waiting for anything, any sign that somewhere out there, Goro Akechi was still alive and kicking.
He couldn’t bring himself to leave the bed to go to school. His sheets still smelled sweet and warm, like Goro. It was childish, but maybe if he closed his eyes, he’d wake up and Goro would still be there.
Akira was a fool.
As the day dragged on, texts from his friends began to roll in. Each vibration caught his breath in his throat, but it was never Goro. It was Ryuji, and Ann, and Makoto, and all the other broken people that he had saved somehow, even though he had been unable to help the boy he was falling for.
Hey man, where are you??
Are you coming to school today?
Should I bring you the homework?
Akira??
Dude are you ok?
He couldn’t mope forever.
Around lunchtime, Akira pulled himself out of bed, donned his uniform, and went to see Futaba. (Sojiro gave him a dirty look on his way out, but Leblanc had customers, so Akira managed to escape a scolding for the time being.)
“They’re worried about you,” was all she said at first, peering at Akira through her glasses.
“I know.”
She watched him for some time, knees pulled up to her chin, a tanktop slung haphazardly over her shoulders. Akira hadn’t spoken about Goro to anyone, but with Futaba, he didn’t need to. She knew he’d been out, and if she was that curious, he had no doubts she could hack his phone to see what he’d been up to.
“You got hurt,” she added eventually. “It was a bad idea.”
“I know,” Akira said again, because he did. He had always known it was a bad idea. He’d thought it might be worth the risk.
Futaba pulled him into her arms, and Akira buried his face in the crook of her elbow. For a long time, neither of them said anything as she stroked through his hair comfortingly. It was nice. Akira hadn’t had much physical contact, not with anyone except Goro, at least. And now that was gone.
Goro was gone.
It hit Akira suddenly, with all the force of a plane crash. What if he never saw Goro again? Worse yet-- what if he did? He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, could only wonder where he’d gone wrong, what he’d done that was so bad Goro left him in the middle of the night, without notice, without returning his texts or his calls.
“It’s okay,” Futaba whispered, smoothing his hair. He’d been there for her, when she couldn’t bring herself to get out of bed, when she refused to leave her room, when the weight of depression was too much to bear; it was her turn to shoulder his pain.
“He’s gone,” Akira managed helplessly.
Futaba’s hand stilled, resting on the back of his neck. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“What’s there to talk about?”
“Well, you’re going to get him back, right? What’s your plan?”
A plan? Akira hadn’t made it that far. Besides, sometimes people were lost causes, and maybe Goro was one of them. Maybe he didn’t want to be taken back.
“I don’t think it works that way,” Akira said.
“You’re talking about Akechi, right?” When Akira looked up at her, she added, “You aren’t very good at hiding it. I mean, everyone else is oblivious, because of course they are, but-- whenever he’s on TV, you light up. And since he’s in the limelight, there are rumors he’s seeing someone. It isn’t that hard to put two and two together.”
“You’re too smart for my own good,” Akira mumbled half-heartedly into Futaba’s arm. “But it’s over. I need to move on.”
As far as it mattered to Akira, Goro Akechi was gone.