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Akira was used to loneliness. He’d had years of experience growing up in his quiet hometown with few kids his age and even fewer who cared to know him. He’d endured a month of self-imposed isolation while he was presumed dead, then suffered another two in juvie while Shido was on trial. He knew the ins and outs of being shut-in and cast out, but all of his practiced skill fell away too quickly in the move to Tokyo, in the presence of people who cared about him, in their touching reunions and heart-wrenching goodbyes. Now he was alone again, mostly, and the days spent doing nothing at home stung in a way they never had before.
Akira couldn't even fault anyone but himself. It wasn't as if his friends weren't trying. At the end of March, the group chat was livelier than it had ever been, an effort to keep all of them in contact as Makoto and Haru readied for university and Akira moved back to the middle of nowhere. The flood of we-miss-yous and wish-you-were-heres in his phone had been sweet at first, before they soured into annoyance and then bitter resentment. All the missing and wishing in the world didn't change the reality of where his friends were and where he was not. The reminders just stung.
The conversation was still pleasant, for the most part–at least until someone would mention going out to eat or hanging out together and inadvertently remind Akira that he couldn't do any of that. Everyone was having a good time, maybe even a better time, without him. He'd held their group together when they needed a leader, but now he was unnecessary, a pointless holdover from a time everyone else was moving past.
He pushed the feeling down and waited for the subject to change, as it always did. He knew he was being too sensitive. Overreacting. He was sure he'd be welcome to come along, if only it were geographically possible (Wish you were here!). What kind of pathetic asshole was he if he couldn't even be happy that his friends were spending time together?
He couldn't bring this up with the others, but Morgana was always around to lend a fuzzy ear and a voice of reason. Between Morgana's reassurance and the majority of time when talking to his friends didn't make Akira acutely aware of their distance, Akira could reason that it was all in his head. Yes, he was lonely, but he wasn't alone. He convinced himself he wasn't being abandoned or ignored.
He couldn’t stay convinced for long.
Ryuji: Dude! U tellin me you LIKED our uniforms? The dumb plaid?
Akira: the jackets were nicely tailored!
Ryuji: Tailoring? Seriously?
Ann: It’s not like you would know, since you never wore your uniform properly
Ryuji: ur one to talk!!
Ann: ;p
Akira: i thought i looked good…
Ryuji: Good for a nerd maybe
Akira: :((
Ryuji: A cute nerd
Akira :))
Futaba: *gagging*
Ryuji: No one asked U
Ryuji: Oh hey are we taking the train or going in the van? My mom wants to know.
Futaba: move it to the other chat!!!
Ryuji: Oh yeah
Akira felt like he’d had the wind kicked out of him. The other chat. A trip big enough for Makoto’s van. A trip they didn’t want him to know about. He thought he’d been good about hiding his insecurities, but apparently his friends had picked up on them. They’d decided he was too fragile to know they were getting on better without him. The other chat. A calculated secret to spare Akira’s pathetic feelings, or a safe space to complain about him where he couldn’t see.
He turned off his phone and clutched it tightly in his hands. Part of him wanted to throw it across the room in frustration. But as much as this revelation stung, he couldn't bring himself to toss away his means of communication. Instead he hung tight on the tiny thread connecting him to the life that was rapidly leaving him behind.
Summer break was fast approaching. Before, Akira had been looking forward to it, hoping to sneak a few day trips up to Tokyo when his parents were out of town on business. Now, without the obligation of school, all he had to look forward to was a month-long stretch of nothing–nowhere to go and no one who wanted to see him.
His old friends kept up in the chat, either oblivious or indifferent to Akira's new radio silence. He'd try to say something, to crack a joke or contribute to a lighthearted conversation, but he kept freezing up before he could hit send. What could he possibly have to say that wouldn't be annoying or unnecessary? There was nothing going on in his life to actually talk about, and any response he might make to the others seemed like unsolicited commentary. Things were better when he kept his mouth shut and watched silently as the messages passed him by. Just watching hurt, though, so he found himself checking less and less, drifting further out of the loop. In the last two weeks he'd turned off his notifications and ceased checking his messages altogether.
So it surprised him when he got a phone call from Ann on his last day of school. They hadn't called each other since… well, since last year, when they'd hang out after school and Akira would pester her to let him know when she made it home safe. He did that with everyone. It was a habit he hadn't given much thought before. But God, even back then he'd been a mess, needing to know that everyone was okay, that the people in his life were still accounted for. Clingy, pathetic.
He almost let her go to voicemail, but that same clingy part of him picked up the call at the last second.
"H-hey! Ann!"
"Akira?!” She sounded surprised to hear his voice.
“Who else would it be? What's up?”
“I wanted to see how you were! Haven't heard from you in a while."
"H-ha, yeah…"
"Yeah! How have you been?"
"Oh, same-old. Life of crime and debauchery, you know how it is." He cringed at his shitty excuse for banter and changed the subject. "What about you?"
"I've been good! Shiho's visiting and we're going to a book signing tomorrow for this manga artist she likes. I never would've pegged her for a comics person, but she had a lot of free time when she was in the hospital and got into a few series." Ann trailed off, cutting off her rambling with an uncomfortable laugh.
"Huh." Akira hoped the monosyllable conveyed the appropriate amount of interest and surprise. He could feel how little he was bringing to the conversation, and he was sure Ann could, too. So why was she bothering?
"So, do you have anything planned over the summer?"
Akira shrugged, a gesture inaudible over the phone.
"Any... wild parties out in the country? Tipping some cows?”
“There aren’t cows out here.”
“Right. Um… Are you getting out of town at all?" Ann's voice sounded strained.
Akira sighed. "Stop."
"Stop what?"
"Asking me what I'm up to, when it's obviously nothing." Akira's voice had a bitter edge to it. The words caught in his throat, but he pushed them out anyway. "Fishing for reasons to make fun of me behind my back."
"What?! Akira, what are you talking about?"
“I know about the group chat. Ryuji let it slip a while back. You’ve all got a space where you can talk without having to deal with me.”
“That’s not– Just because you’re not in every conversation doesn’t mean anyone’s making fun of you.”
Akira hadn’t been certain that everyone else was in the chat–the only known variables were Ryuji, Futaba, and, presumably, Makoto with her van–but Ann wasn’t denying it, and that was enough to validate the worst of his suspicions. “Just enjoying not having to tiptoe around me, then.”
“Where is this coming from? Why are you acting like we hate you? I called to check on you because I’m worried about you. We all are.”
"Some way of showing it," he mumbled. Immediately he regretted it.
"I-?" Her voice cracked,and Akira could hear a sniffing sound on the other side of the phone. "This is me showing it! This is me trying to reach out to you!"
"By calling to rub in the fact that there's absolutely nothing worthwhile going on in my life." He knew he was being confrontational, even mean. He knew he should stop, but part of him thought maybe the distance would be easier as a quick break than a slow drifting apart.
“Akira, what–”
“Asking if I have plans? You can’t think I’ve got a life out here.”
"How would I even know? You barely talked for weeks, and then you disappeared completely."
“That’s–” Akira didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to answer for his virtual disappearing act. “No one else seemed to notice.”
“Are you kidding me? Have you even checked the chat lately? We’re all worried sick. We didn’t know if something happened to you, or if…" Akira heard sniffling. "... or if you just decided you were too good for us all of the sudden.”
He blinked hard, pushing brimming tears past his eyelashes and down his face. Him, too good for anyone? It didn’t make sense. His throat felt tight as he tried and failed to process what Ann said. He didn’t speak, but his breath was coming sharp and ragged from his chest.
“... Akira?” Ann’s voice turned gentle. “Hey, it’s okay… I mean, not okay okay, but like, you can talk to me. We can try not to get mad at each other. I want to know what’s wrong.”
The shift in tone shook him. Ann was mad at him. Justifiably upset. But here she was trying to comfort him, when he'd just accused her of a whole string of cruelties. Akira was struck with the conviction that he was being profoundly manipulative. Ann deserved better, deserved for him to stay out of her life so he couldn't hurt her again– but that was what had caused so much trouble in the first place, wasn't it?
Slowly, Akira collected himself, forced his breathing back to a mostly regular pattern. “I didn’t think anyone would care if I was gone. I stopped talking, and no one said anything about it at first. After a while, I stopped getting my hopes up and... quit checking at all, because it hurt too much.”
Ann was quiet for a moment. “I think I sort of get the last bit, but I don't know why you had to stop talking in the first place. Why did you think we wouldn't care about you? Has anyone done something to make you feel like that?"
He thought about that. There was the secret group chat, but… Akira didn't think he could bring that up without getting confrontational again. Other than that, all he could think of was his string of ruminations on the fact that his friends were enjoying themselves without him. Nothing that anyone had done to him. "I just feel left out."
"You're always welcome to chime in whenever, though." Ann sounded confused.
"I mean… IRL I guess. I see you all getting together and hanging out while I'm just. Here. And it feels like everyone's better off without me, because when I was around no one ever got together this much."
"That's because when you were around, we were busy being phantom thieves. We didn't have time to just hang out very much."
"Oh. Right." Even though Akira clung to those days in his memory, they seemed a lifetime away. The bonds he'd made then had been forged under intense pressure. Why should they break now, under far less weight?
"And- and it's not like we don't miss you! Personally, I just stopped bringing it up all the time because I figured you'd get sick of hearing it. Shiho did, when she transferred schools."
"Thanks…” Akira sighed. She’d read him so well, given him exactly what he couldn’t say he wanted a month ago. Why did that hurt?
Ann paused for a moment. “I can’t tell if you’re being genuine or bitter.”
“No, I mean that! That's… a good call, actually.” Akira suddenly felt stupid for getting upset when well-meaning words that pricked like thorns had ceased to come up. He tried to untangle that feeling as he spoke. “I just didn't realize you stopped out of courtesy and not, I don't know… loss of interest, I guess."
“Hm…” He could practically hear her pursed lips.
“What?”
“Are you okay? Or, better than a minute ago, at least?”
He took stock of himself. His eyes hurt, and he certainly didn’t feel good, but the tightness in his chest and throat had passed for the most part. “Better, yeah.”
“Good. Because I need you to like, hear what I’m saying.”
“Ominous, but I’m listening.” He heard an irritated sigh over the phone. Not the time for jokes, then.
“What you did, disappearing like that, worried everyone. What you said to me today hurt me. Assuming that we’re avoiding you, or making fun of you, or that we don’t care about you... Is that really what you think about us?”
“No- I just… I’m not used to this…”
“To being lonely?”
“No, that I know,” Akira laughed bitterly. “ I’m not used to missing people. Or having other people miss me.” That realization hit him squarely in the chest. He continued. “When I’ve been lonely before, it was because no one wanted me around. I think part of me assumed that had to be the case here, too. Even though it’s not, and I know you and everyone else are better than that. I’m sorry. For lashing out at you, for assuming the worst of everyone, for hiding away and not thinking about how that would feel for anyone else, all of it. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” Ann said quietly.
It wasn’t the response he’d expected. With an ‘it’s okay,’ he might have further ingratiated himself, insisted that it wasn’t okay, given her express permission to hate him where his prior accusations hadn’t sufficed. He didn’t know how to respond to a thank you.
Ultimately, he didn’t have to. After an uncertain pause, Ann spoke again. “I forgive you, but you should say it to the others, too. When you’re ready.”
“Right. You’re right. I will.”
“And hey, Akira?”
“Yeah?”
“For what it’s worth, I am sorry I didn’t notice how bad things were for you.”
“It’s fine. I mean, how were you supposed to know? It’s not like I’ve been open about this stuff.”
“You can be, though. I don’t mind listening to your problems. God knows you’ve listened to plenty of mine.”
“Yeah, I’ll try to lean on you more. Thanks. I mean it.” He did mean that, but he could hear the fatigue in his own voice. “But, can we actually, uh... are we okay, Ann?”
“Huh? Yeah, I think so.”
“Okay. I know I started this, but can we stop for today? I’m kind of exhausted. It’s been a lot all at once.”
Ann sighed with what sounded like relief. “Oh god, yeah, we can stop with the heavy stuff for now. Just don’t think you’re off the hook for talking about your Feelings™.”
“Did you just say TM out loud?” Akira laughed.
“Yeah? What about it?"
"I- I haven't trademarked my feelings yet. They're still patent-pending. Very experimental stuff."
"You dork." She sounded like she was smiling. "Feel free to call and workshop them if you want."
"Yeah," he laughed again, then was quiet for a moment. "... can I? Actually call, I mean? I missed talking to you. Doesn't have to be about feelings, just. My parents are gonna be out on a long weekend, so I can actually make noi-" he backtracked. "So I'll be free whenever."
"Oh! Of course!" Her voice seemed suddenly much bubblier than the conversation warranted. "You know I miss you too."
"Cool!" He said, trying to match her energy. He hadn't expected her to say no, exactly, but he hadn't prepared a response for how chipper she was.
"Cool!" She echoed back. "So I'll see– I'll talk to you soon, yeah?"
"Yeah. Later." Akira could hear his own tone sagging compared to Ann's. He hoped he didn't sound rude. He was just tired.
“Okay, loveyoumissyoubye!!"
"Bye," he chuckled as the phone beeped to signal the call's end.
Akira flopped backwards from his sitting position to fully lay on his bed, sighing at the soft impact. A few moments later, he heard a soft scratch at his bedroom door.
“Hey,” Morgana pushed the cracked door fully open and slid inside, not waiting for Akira to let him in. “You okay?”
“I think so, yeah. How much did you hear?”
“Not a lot, and only your end. I tried not to listen once it got tense." Morgana hopped gracefully onto the bed, coming to sit gently next to him. "Do you want to talk about it?”
Something between laughter and a sigh left Akira’s mouth. “I am entirely talked out for the night.” He saw what he’d learned to read as concern on Morgana’s features. “But I’ll tell you tomorrow, promise. I’m okay."
And, strangely, he was. His phone lay beside him on the bed, his notifications an uncertain minefield of affirmation and rejection, but he let himself believe he'd find more of the former when he finally opened it. He breathed, deep and slow, as Morgana settled warm and soft against the cathartic ache in his chest. He was okay.
The next morning, Akira's thumb hovered perilously over the chat icon and it's notification badge. 200+ unread. It was honestly fewer than he'd expected. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. The messages felt like a Schrödinger's box with his heart inside. If he didn’t open it, his friends simultaneously cared about him and didn’t, but Akira didn’t have to face the latter outcome with certainty. Ann, at least, seemed to think there was something in these messages to prove that he had been missed, that he mattered. He’d have to trust her.
He held his breath and opened the chat, watching it scroll and load two week’s worth of discussion. The first few pages were the same kind of casual conversation he’d expected. Still, it took surprisingly little time for his name to come up.
Ann: Saw my homeroom teacher from last year while I was getting a crepe
Ryuji: Oh did you know she’s like wicked good at fishing?
Ann: What? Why would you know that? She wasn’t even ur teacher!
Ryuji: It’s true! kira and I saw her one time when we went to the pond last year
Ryuji: Back me up dude!
Ann: Idk, he’s being awfully quiet on the subject
Ryuji: He hasn’t been around much lately in general
Ann: Yeah :(
His name popped up that way a few more times, his friends awaiting and quickly giving up on his response. Gradually the messages shifted from expecting a response to something more overtly concerned.
Ryuji: Anyone heard from Kira lately? I texted him the other day and never heard back I’m kinda worried abt him
Futaba: he wont respond to me either
Haru: If you’re reading this, Akira, we miss you!
Makoto: I hope he’s alright… I know he’s not the chattiest here, but it’s concerning to see him around even less than I am.
Yusuke: I second our friends’ sentiments. It would be a great relief to hear from you.
The rest of the chat was peppered with more worry, more of his friends asking after him, increasingly to each other rather than assuming he would be reading. He felt twinges of guilt as he scrolled through, finally landing on the most recent parts of the conversation.
Ann: Still no word from our fearless leader?
Futaba: nada
Ryuji: Nothing
Makoto: I suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope he was focused on his studies this whole time?
Ryuji: Nah he only did the hardcore studying thing when you were around
Yusuke: Did he ever mention his home life?
Futaba: not to me. he did call sojiro dad a couple times tho
Ryuji: Dude never brought up his folks with me
Ann: It never came up. Why?
Yusuke: Isolation is a cruel form of punishment, but not an uncommon one. If his parents are particularly strict…
Haru: Oh......
Yusuke: The radio silence may not be entirely his choice.
Yusuke: This is purely speculation.
Ann: I’m gonna call him and see if anyone picks up. If someone else does have his phone, they should be able to answer a call even if they can’t open his texts.
Ann: I’ll let everyone know how it goes.
Ann: He picked up. He’s having a rough time but he’s ok
Ryuji: Whatd he say?!
Ann: I’ll let him speak for himself when he’s ready
Right. He’d promised to talk to the others, to apologize. He just. Had to do it. He started to type, but kept erasing and rephrasing his message. His compositional process didn’t go unnoticed.
Ryuji: aw shit! Kira's typing!!! Welcome back dude where have U been?
Futaba: !!!!!
Futaba: wait he stopped. you scared him away inari!
Yusuke: Me?
Ann: C'mon guys let the man type!
Futaba: FINE
The chat stopped abruptly, leaving Akira acutely aware of how long he was taking. He wrapped it up quickly before he could second-guess himself further. He could be more eloquent later.
Akira: i wanna apologize for disappearing and worrying everyone. ive been in a weird place lately but im okay. i miss you all a lot.
Several people are typing.
After some well-meaning prodding, Akira explained himself the same way he had to Ann on the phone, minus the hasty accusations he hadn’t really meant in the first place. It was still hard, still left an ache in his chest and a tightness in his throat, but it was easier now than it had been the first time around to admit that what he'd been spiraling over had been a byproduct of garden variety loneliness. He’d missed them, had felt miles farther away from them than geography accounted for, but as the conversation shifted back into lighter territory, he felt that distance gradually close.
He took up Ann's offer to call the next day. It was a relief to talk about something normal again after their tense interaction two days before. Ann talked about photoshoots she’d been in, what Shiho had been up to, which continent her parents had flown off to this week. Through all of it, Akira could hear faint chatter on the line, as well as what sounded distinctly like highway road noise.
"Where are you right now? I'm getting some weird background noise on your end."
"Oh, uh, just on the train! Hope the reception is okay."
It didn't sound like the train, but Akira guessed it made sense for the sound to come through strangely over the phone. He was ready to drop it when he heard a bright, hearty laugh in the background.
“Shhh!” Ann practically hissed.
“You’re shushing people on the train?”
“There’s uh, a baby here trying to sleep!”
“That’s thoughtful of you…” Akira wasn’t sure he bought it, but he wasn’t about to start an argument now. If she wanted to tell him, she would.
After a while, Akira put the phone on speaker and let Morgana talk, too. As Morgana and Ann exchanged I-miss-yous, Akira noticed the road noise on Ann’s end had stopped, followed by what sounded distinctly like a car door opening and closing. Before he had a chance to question it, he heard another sound: the doorbell ringing out through his empty house.
“Oh, is someone at the door? You should get that!” Ann had the same giddy excitement she’d had in her voice the other day. This time, however, Akira had a decent idea where her good mood was coming from.
He rushed to the front door, Morgana matching pace at his heel. He fumbled with the lock and flung the door open to see his friends packed in on his doorstep.
“Surprise!!” Their voices came in a chorus, echoed a half second later by the phone still in Akira’s hand.
“Hi–” Akira barely had time to react as Ann, Ryuji and Futaba pushed through the door and wrapped him in a tight hug. Makoto and Haru attached themselves to the outer edge of the circle, and Yusuke reached his hand through the tangle of bodies to give Akira’s an affirming squeeze.
“Hey, hey! I want in on this, too!” Morgana whined from the ground. Haru picked him up, and he leapt onto Akira’s shoulder, precariously positioned with him at the center of affection.
After the group parted from the hug and properly said their hellos, Akira had a pressing question.
“So, who was the baby, Ann?”
“The what?”
“Who were you shushing earlier on the phone? You said someone was waking up a baby on the train.”
“Oh!” She laughed. “That’d be Ryuji!”
“Aww, Rooji, awe you baby?” Futaba chimed in sickening baby talk.
“H-hell no! Obviously I was the one wakin’ up the baby!”
"Someone has to be baby," Futaba insisted.
"Guys? I made the baby up," Ann laughed.
“If there were anyone Ryuji ought not disturb in the van, it would be the driver,” Yusuke mused.
“So Mako-chan is baby!” Haru giggled.
“I- I’ll have you know I’m older than all of you!” Makoto’s tone was indignant, but she couldn’t keep the laughter from creeping into her voice.
Through the open door, Akira could see Makoto’s van parked neatly in the driveway. He remembered the message that had set him off weeks ago. Oh hey are we taking the train or going in the van? Well that answered that question, and quelled Akira’s lingering worries about what might have been in the ominous other chat. His friends weren’t excluding him; they had been trying to surprise him. He laughed at himself, not his usual, hollow, self-deprecating chuckle, but a sound of sheer, joyous disbelief.
Akira was used to loneliness. But as his friends began to bicker over what to do now that they were in the middle of nowhere–now that they had driven out specifically to see Akira, refusing to abandon him when they easily could have, when he was out of sight and had given them reason and opportunity to put him out of mind–now that they were here and smiling and laughing and spending time together like the distance between them had never existed– Akira thought he could get used to this, too.