Bachira's routine is nonexistent. There was never any consistency or repetitiveness; each day was a little different than the previous. But that was his normal. That was what he considered consistent. Life is too big to be cut short by repetitive daily routines.

That isn't to say Bachira doesn't like it. In fact, he does have a repeating, consistent presence in his routine, and it's his favorite part of it. Whether he comes later in the day or he wakes up to him right by his side, he never fails to brighten his day.

Isagi is his constant.

That's why he can't help but spiral into a panic when Isagi starts ignoring him. Did he do something to upset him? What did he do wrong? Did he do anything wrong? Bachira doesn't remember ever doing anything to make Isagi ignore him.

Bachira tries to shout and yell at Isagi, making as much noise as he can, but Isagi doesn't even bat an eye. He's in tears by the end of the morning. There's no way he can work in his current state, so the best solution now is to ask his friends if he did anything. Except he can't find his phone.

He practically upturns his and Isagi's shared apartment while searching for the device. Isagi had long left by the time he gave up and flopped on their bed in anguish. He cries, sobbing into the pillow. The apartment is dead silent.

He doesn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke up to the bed dipping as someone sat down. Bachira rolls over and is met with Isagi's back towards him. Bachira quickly sits up, wiping his tears.

"Isagi... I don't know what I did, but I'm really sorry...!" Bachira says, his voice trembling. Isagi doesn't move from his spot. It's almost enough to make Bachira cry again, but he tries to hold it in. He begs, "I-... Please talk to me... I hate this, Isagi..."

Nothing. Isagi stays unresponsive. This is cruel. Isagi is being cruel. Bachira knows he would never do this to him, even if he was really mad. Right? Right . . . ?

It hurts. Bachira can feel his chest ache, like something heavy is pressing against it, refusing to relieve him. It hurt even more how he cried, and Isagi just remained silent.

Bachira curses himself; he curses Isagi. This isn't the Isagi he knows anymore. Isagi would never leave him like this. What could he possibly have done to warrant this? He wants an answer.

And as if on cue, Isagi finally makes some sort of reaction—a quiet, muffled sob. What?

Bachira instinctively reaches out to him but jerks back when Isagi's phone suddenly starts ringing, startling both him and Isagi. Isagi pulls his phone out, staring at his screen for a moment. Bachira takes a peek over Isagi's shoulder and sees it's Chigiri.

Chigiri! Maybe he could get Chigiri to—

"Isagi." Chigiri's voice echoes from Isagi's phone. Bachira didn't even realize that Isagi had answered, leaving his phone on the bedside table and on speaker.

And for some reason, the way Chigiri greeted Isagi—his usual tone gone and more serious and careful—made Bachira hesitate.

There's a beat of silence before Isagi finally speaks, "Hey..."

Distantly, other voices could be heard from the other side of the phone as Chigiri hushed them. Chigiri sighs. "Are you still..." he trails off.

"Nevermind that! We're going out tonight!" He exclaims, his voice firm as if he isn't going to take no for a response. "You can't stay cooped up in that apartment and ignore everyone."

"I know..." Isagi mumbles, sniffing and wiping the few remaining stray tears away, "...it's just hard."

"Remember, we're all here for you, Isagi." Chigiri's voice is soft, and Bachira can see the way Isagi's shoulders relax. "You can lean on us when things get rough. We're your friends."

"Okay," Isagi says as he nods. He stands up from the bed, picking up the phone and placing it close to his ear.

"What time?" Isagi asks, but Bachira can no longer hear Chigiri's response.

"Yeah, let me just grab my stuff. Just send me the location." Isagi puts his jacket back on, walking out of their room and grabbing his bag on the way.

Bachira scrambles off the bed. He can't stand being alone in the apartment any longer. "Isagi, wait!" He calls out his name—the lingering hope of not being ignored is fleeting, but he still tries.

"Can I come? I— um..." Bachira fumbles with finding the right words. He didn't want to make whatever he did worse by saying the wrong thing, and watching Isagi put his shoes on was making him anxious.

But then Isagi looks back at him, the door pulled open, and Bachira takes it as a yes, grabbing his shoes and putting them on as he runs out of the door. Isagi follows not long after, closing the door behind them. It doesn't escape Bachira's notice that Isagi is continuing to ignore him.

It hurts. Bachira wants to hold his hand so badly, chatter his ear away, and watch him smile again.

The walk to wherever they were headed was painful. Bachira was holding back his tears the whole way. But a breath of relief finds him when he sees their friends waiting outside a fancy-looking restaurant.

"There you are!" Chigiri waves at them, walking over with the rest to meet them halfway.

Bachira can't help but feel at ease. Maybe he could finally find some answers. "Guys!" He calls out to them, "Hey... I—" and they walk past him.

Bachira feels his heart shatter again, his eyes trembling, and tears threatening to spill once more. "Are you guys ignoring me too...?" His voice is wavering as he watches them gather around Isagi.

Bachira couldn't hear whatever they were saying. All he can tell is that they were smiling and laughing. Isagi . Even he was cracking a smile and a chuckle alongside them.

They ignored him.

It was getting hard to breathe. Bachira felt something clawing at his chest. It ached, burned. He wanted to shout, cry, scream. He hugged himself, he was his only comfort at this point. What did he do to deserve this?

His friends start walking over. Bachira furrows his brows. They were going to walk past him again, weren't they? And just as he thought, they did, with Isagi trailing behind.

"Isagi..." Bachira watches him, his back facing him, and he can't take it. "Please..." He clenches his hands into fists. He rushes forward, his hand stretching out.

"Please! Don't leave me behind...!" Bachira reaches out for Isagi's hand—

. . . and his hand passes through it.

Isagi whips his head around, recoiling his hand close to him as he rubs his other hand over it, his eyes darting everywhere in confusion. A shiver ran through his spine.

"What's up, Isagi?" Kunigami snaps Isagi out of his daze. Isagi turns back and finds everyone staring at him with concerned looks.

"You forgot something?" Nagi asks in his usual monotonous tone, but Isagi can see the worry in his eyes.

Isagi shook his head. "No, I just thought I felt something..." He adjusts his jacket, zipping it all the way up. "Must've been the wind..."

Everyone looks at each other for a second, shrugging and continuing back to the restaurant. As they walk, a breeze brushes past them that sends shivers through all of them. They all paused before bursting out into soft laughter.

"I think... we just felt the chill you're talking about!" Reo laughs through his words.

They entered the restaurant with smiles all around.

"Isagi, everyone, please! I'm right here...!" Bachira's pleas fall on deaf ears. "Wha— No..."

Bachira stares at his hands; he recalls vividly how his hand passed through Isagi's hand . . . how he passed through everyone when he tried to stand in front of them and block their path. They all passed through him like he . . . wasn't even there.

He looks up.

And then he runs away.

Did Bachira know where he was going? No. Was there even a destination? No. He simply let his feet take him anywhere. Anywhere away from everyone.

Being left alone with nothing but his thoughts, and the alarming revelation that he's what? Invisible? A ghost? No! He didn't want to believe it. No! Because that would mean—

"Bachira," a voice—one he knows all too well—calls out to him.

Bachira looks up, and it is then that he realizes he stopped walking at some point and is now sitting at some bench with Isagi standing a few feet in front of him with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

"Isagi..." He whispers. He really wants to believe that Isagi can see him. That what occurred a while ago was just a dream, a hallucination even.

"Can you hear me? Can you..." He asks desperately, standing up from the bench, but Isagi's gaze doesn't follow his eyes up. Isagi keeps his gaze down at . . . a tombstone? "...see me?"

Bachira looks around, and he sees gravestones everywhere. They were at a graveyard. He walks around the tombstone Isagi was staring at. His eyes fixed on it as he made his way to the front.

His breath hitches as he reads the name, "Bachira Meguru" , and the world suddenly goes quiet.

The only sound left to break the silence was Isagi's voice. "I'm sorry for not visiting until now. I'm sorry for not coming to your funeral too..."

"I was still bedridden at the time... but maybe it was for the best. I don't think I could've kept it together even if I did manage to go."

Isagi crouches down but still keeps his eyes on the tombstone. "I'm such a coward. I was scared to see you again," he mumbles, running his hand across his face as he sighs. "I thought that if I didn't come here, then maybe... I could believe that you'd come home one day."

"I'm sorry... I sometimes wish I was the one who..." He stops himself and shakes his head. "But, no. I know that it wouldn't have been better if I was... and you were..."

A sob escapes his lips as Isagi quickly attempts to wipe it away. "God... I promised myself I wouldn't cry."

He takes a moment to calm himself down before continuing.

"Your mom is okay, well , as okay as she can be. She lives with my parents now, and I visit them as much as I can."

"Our friends are... trying to move on. Some of them probably have moved on, but the hole left behind is still there."

Isagi pauses.

"I can feel it, and I know they feel it too," he mutters. "I've..." He inhales, "I've been a mess..." and breathes out.

"I still feel you everywhere. I miss you." Isagi places the flowers down, a smile forming on his face.

"I love you, too," Isagi whispers, his cheeks dusting a light pink. "I never did manage to say it back..." He chuckles sadly.

— — — — —

Isagi didn't remember most of what happened, but he cried the second he woke up.

He wanted to blame the truck driver who rammed into their car out of nowhere. Until he learned that their truck's motors had gone out of control and they had died during the accident.

So he blamed himself. He was the one driving. No matter how many times everyone told him it wasn't. The fact still remains that . . . Isagi Yoichi is alive.

And Bachira Meguru is not.

He still remembered Bachira's last words before the accident. How he had snapped his head towards him as soon as those words left his mouth.

"I love you, Yoichi," Bachira had said, and when Isagi turned to gawk at him, his eyes were trained on the window behind Bachira and the incoming truck driving straight at them and—

— — — — —

"I love you, too, Meguru," Isagi says one more time as Bachira stares at him, speechless.

His knees give in, and he falls, his face buried in his hand. No way would Isagi ever leave him behind. He feels dumb for ever thinking he would.

Isagi didn't leave him behind. Instead, it was him.

He left Isagi behind.

— — — — —

I hope I didn't break your hearts too much :,)

Tell me your thoughts! :P

— — — — —

You can come and chat with me on X (twitter) (@fran_unseen). I sometimes post sneak peeks of future fic ideas there and scream about stuff I like.