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There was one week until Kimizuki’s birthday and only four days until Yoichi’s. A few years ago, he would’ve thought that this time of the year, late November, was one of the best. But now, and for the past two years, his opinion had shifted. It wasn’t the span of four days that held both his and his boyfriend’s birthdays, one after the other, but instead the week it became glaringly obvious that Yoichi wasn’t there anymore.
There were some times it popped up throughout the year. When Yu would make a reservation for a restaurant for six people instead of five, when news about local, regional, or national archery events would make its way to Kimizuki’s apartment’s mailbox, when he’d run into Tomoe or Yoichi’s parents in public and get briefly stunned by just how similar they looked to their son, when clips of him from old archery tournaments would appear in his social media DMs by some dickhead he went to high school or college with.
His apartment felt disgustingly normal at times. He hadn’t gotten rid of a thing, hadn’t even worked up the nerve to move some items from their original spot. Yoichi’s archery equipment, the soft storage case he’d had for upwards of nine years, remained in the armchair right next to the front door, where he’d hastily dumped it after coming home from practice one night. Kimizuki remembered it sometimes; he’d been standing at the stove fixing a late dinner and the door had slammed open loud enough to warrant a noise complaint. Yoichi had nearly thrown his shoes off, dumped his gear in the chair, and flung his arms around Kimizuki from behind, simultaneously asking him about his day and excitedly rambling about the sequence of shots his archery coach had praised him for. Kimizuki had smiled and welcomed him home. They’d kissed, they’d eaten, they’d fooled around a bit before Kimizuki remembered he had a shift starting at seven the next morning, they’d kissed again, then they’d gone to bed. And when Kimizuki had woken up, Yoichi had been gone.
Yoichi’s parents and sister had asked him to help them file the missing person report. He’d been the last person to see him, after all. His wallet and phone were gone, but that was it. No sign of a struggle or anything, and even if someone had broken in and taken him, Kimizuki would’ve heard it. Mr. and Mrs. Saotome, the optimistic people they’d always been, wanted to classify him as a runaway. Tomoe had been resistant at first, not wanting to believe her brother would actually run away like that, but had conceded with little struggle. So that’s what they did.
Tomoe had approached after and asked if he was okay with it. He told her it didn’t matter what he thought. She and their parents, they were his family. He had just been Yoichi’s high school boyfriend.
Maybe given another month or two, he’d have been more than that. But he hadn’t been given another month.
Yoichi had been considered ‘missing’ for two years now. He’d never been presumed dead. There was always just enough evidence to keep his case open. A picture from security camera footage of a head of messy brown hair, a man in his early twenties lurking around archery ranges around the country, a surprise charge on one of his credit cards that had never been canceled. Maybe it was better, for his family to know he was okay at least. Or maybe it was worse, knowing that he’d run off with no warning or explanation. Not knowing how they could’ve prevented it or helped him.
And, of course, there were the letters. Perhaps the most damning evidence of all.
The first one had come two months after Yoichi disappeared. Kimizuki had gotten home from another hellish twelve-hour shift with no one to greet him at home, and while skimming through the usual mail, he’d found a white envelope with only his given name written on it.
Exactly three people called him Shiho. His mother, his sister, and Yoichi. His mother only called, disliking the hassle of sending a letter or actually attempting to send a text, and Mirai was roughly in the same boat but texted more often than not.
But Yoichi had taken his phone with him. Yoichi obviously had Kimizuki’s number saved. And maybe he was too stressed out from work and conversations with Yoichi’s family, their friends, and the police department, or maybe he was just so mad at everything that had been happening that he neglected to open it for a month. Until another one showed up.
And the first letter explained nearly nothing.
Shiho,
I really don’t want you to worry about me, so I guess I’m writing this. You don’t need to worry about me at all. I’m fine, I promise. I’m taking care of myself and I’m doing well. I thought about texting you, but my handwriting is harder to fake so I’m writing a letter instead. I’m not kidnapped or anything like that. Everything is voluntary, I promise. I can’t tell you why I’m gone like this. Just know that I’m okay.
Say hi to Mitsuba and the others for me, and say hi to Tomoe and my parents. Say hi to Shinya and his husband too!
I love you, and I’m sorry,
Yoichi
He’d just stared at it. Because what the fuck? What the actual FUCK?
He’d balled it up and thrown it away. Then he’d fished it out of the trash and read it through again.
Yoichi was fine. Perfectly fine, from the sound of it. Doing great, even. And he was gone because he wanted to be.
He’d stared at his phone, debating who the hell to tell about this. Yoichi’s older sister, Tomoe? Yoichi’s mother, or his father? Shinoa, who probably had the most potential to actually do something about this? Yu, who’d probably completely throw himself into the task of finding and recovering their friend then drag his fiancé into it too?
He’d called Mitsuba. Asked her to come over. Then showed her the letter.
Mitsuba was Yoichi’s best friend. They’d known each other since middle school, they’d even dated for two months before they had realized they were gay. Yoichi himself had once said that Mitsuba saw through him more than anyone else. So he figured, if anyone was going to be calm and normal about this, it would be her.
She was not, in fact, calm and normal. But after about twenty minutes, she had calmed down enough to ask questions and actually give Kimizuki time to answer them.
“Have you told Tomoe?” was the first.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Why?”
That single word had caused rage to bubble in his chest. He had calmed down since high school, but without Yoichi’s presence as an automatic regulator, there was nothing to keep him in check.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to tell his parents that you have zero idea why their son ran away? Why he basically abandoned everyone in his life?”
Mitsuba hadn’t even flinched. “Do you think that? That Yoichi abandoned you?”
He’d really hated how she looked at him then. “N-no, I just-”
“Do you know where he is?”
“…no, I don’t.”
Mitsuba had sighed. “Okay… okay. So we know nothing. Except that he’s okay.”
“Has he said anything to you?”
She had given him a pointed glare. “If he had, I would’ve told you.”
“I was mad.”
“At him?”
“Yes. I was. I am.”
“No one’s telling you you don’t get to be mad. Hell, I’m mad.”
“Are you going to tell anyone else?”
She’d hesitated, then crossed her arms. “No. You’re his boyfriend. And I guess by choosing to contact you, he wants you to be the mediator. So I’ll do what you say.”
“You want to read the second letter?”
“I take it back. Fuck you.”
And, after that, there had been one every month. None revealing where Yoichi was or why he’d left, just… general updates. Reassurances that he was sorry, and he loved everyone, and he missed them, and he loved Kimizuki. And eventually, the Yoichi-shaped hole in his life just kind of… half-filled itself.
On one hand, Yoichi was alive. On the other, he made zero hints that he was planning on coming back anytime soon. And everyone else minus Mitsuba was going about their lives acting like he was dead. But he wasn’t. He was fine. But Kimizuki’s apartment was still empty and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out during the night and expecting to come into contact with Yoichi’s body, lying next to him in bed.
“This is… what, the twenty-sixth letter?” Mitsuba asked, sorting through a stack of the plain white envelopes.
Kimizuki shook his head. “The twenty-seventh.”
Mitsuba frowned. She was sitting on the other end of the couch. Kimizuki could see Yoichi’s archery bag on the chair just past her. “I thought he didn’t send one the first month.”
“He didn’t, but he sent me double one month to make up for it. One had an… um, interesting picture of him included.”
Mitusba laughed. “God, I hate him.”
“Yeah, he kind of sucks.”
She folded the envelope back over and set it on the coffee table, tugging her jacket off and folding it into her lap. “Your anniversary is in a week, isn’t it?” She asked, her voice a bit softer than usual.
Kimizuki nodded slowly. It didn’t hurt like it should to talk about Yoichi. “Yeah. Eight years on the twenty-sixth.”
“Your birthday.”
“Yes.”
“You were too much of a coward to confess on his birthday, so he confessed on yours instead. On your seventeenth.”
He reached down and collected all the envelopes in order, shoving them into a small box he’d brought out from his bedroom. “That’s what he told you, huh?”
“Is that wrong?” Mitsuba asked, tilting her head a little. Kimizuki, in all his almost-twenty-five wisdom, felt his face flush and sputtered out a, ‘shut up’.
Mitsuba smiled easily and leaned back against the couch. Kimizuki sighed a little. “Is it… is it even an anniversary if I haven’t seen him in two years?”
“Kimizuki…”
“Fuck, is he even my boyfriend anymore? Did the six years we dated before he fucked off actually mean anything?”
“He signs his letters with ‘I love you’,” Mitsuba offered. “So… I’d say those six years still count. Shinoa and I were on and off the first three years we dated, but I still count those as being in our relationship.”
He was silent for a bit. “I think Yu’s actually gonna kill him if he comes back.”
Mitsuba laughed again, standing up. “Yeah, probably.”
“Thanks for coming over.”
“Happy to.”
“See you next Sunday.”
“See you, Kimizuki. Take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
The door closed behind her, and the apartment was empty again. Kimizuki spared another glance at the archery bag before he stood up with the box of envelopes and retreated to the bedroom. He set it back on the shelf and sat down on the edge of the bed. The bed that was far too big for him now. Yoichi’s clothes sat untouched in the dresser and his shirts hung in the closet. In case he came back and needed them.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Probably Mitsuba, forgetting something.
Tomoe (Yoichi’s sister)
Are you busy on Thursday?
Thursday was the twenty-third. Also known as Yoichi’s twenty-fifth birthday. Also known as the third birthday he wouldn’t be present for.
Me
not at the moment
Tomoe (Yoichi’s sister)
Really? Your friends don’t have anything planned?
Me
just for mine on sunday
why
Tomoe (Yoichi’s sister)
I want to talk about him
Our parents have their thirtieth anniversary on the twenty-fifth and won’t be available
You’re the only person I can talk to about him
Me
i’m off for thursday
got used to requesting his birthday off and forgot again
you can come over for lunch
Tomoe (Yoichi’s sister)
Ok
Thanks Kimizuki
The next three days passed in a blur of long agonizing hospital shifts and sparse texts to respond to the bullshit his friends sent in their group chat. No one mentioned Yoichi. They’re planning something at Shinoa’s place for Kimizuki’s birthday. The previous year had been at a bar, but featured a lot of drunk sobbing from everyone involved, so they thought a private occasion would be something better. Then came the twenty-third.
Kimizuki woke up feeling extra shitty, thinking about Yoichi. Of course. He forced himself up, made himself breakfast, stared at the stupid archery bag again, and waited for the doorbell to ring. When it did, he stood up and went to open the door for her.
Some part of him hated seeing Tomoe because he always thought she was Yoichi for a brief moment. Really, they looked nothing alike. Yoichi took after their mother and Tomoe took after their father. Her hair was a lighter shade of brown and a bit reddish, and her skin was paler than Yoichi’s was. She was also taller and more well-built than him, but their dark green eyes were the exact same.
Kimizuki awkwardly held the door open. “Tomoe. Come in.”
She awkwardly smiled at him. “Thanks.”
He wouldn’t say they were friends, but they got along. Back when they were seventeen and started dating, Kimizuki found it completely necessary that he would be able to get along with Yoichi’s older sister. Over the years, Yoichi had insinuated that she was a fair bit protective, but still fiercely loving and caring. All those years later, those facts still rang true.
She took a seat on the couch and began fidgeting with her hair. “So, I… I was thinking. If he never… you know, if he never-”
“If he never comes back?” Kimizuki finished for her.
She nodded reluctantly. “If… if that happens, I need to tell you something. That I’ve been hiding. About Yoichi.”
Kimizuki frowned, feeling a bit nervous despite himself. “What about Yoichi?”
“Has Mitsuba told you anything about him? Like… before he left? Right before”
“No?”
She tugged at the hem of her sweater like she was nervous. She looked down, refusing to meet Kimizuki’s gaze. “He was… he was going to propose, I think.”
Fuck.
He dropped his head into his hands. “Oh my… fuck.”
“Mitsuba really didn’t tell you?”
“Mitsuba knew about it?”
“She helped pick out the…” Tomoe trailed off.
“The ring?”
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “The ring.”
He just sat there. Because really, what could he say to that?
“I was going to propose too.”
Tomoe snapped her head up. “What?!”
“Yeah. I was planning some time in September or early October, but he disappeared in August. And I kind of forgot about it.”
She took in the information, then cracked a small smile. “Maybe you would’ve proposed at the same time. If he didn’t disappear.”
If he didn’t disappear.
“He didn’t disappear,” Kimizuki corrected. “He left by choice. He wanted to, or something.”
Tomoe’s smile disappeared. “What? How do you know that?”
“Because he-” he had to set his jaw to stop himself from saying anything else. And now Tomoe was staring at him with a look that was too familiar. It was the same look Yoichi would make when he knew Kimizuki was hiding something. He stood up and walked to his bedroom, grabbing the box of envelopes and bringing them back out to the living room. He set the box down in front of a still-confused Tomoe and sat back down on the couch. “Because he told me, Tomoe. He told me.”
She picked up the first envelope and took the contents out, unfolding the thin sheet of paper. She just stared at it, her eyes skimming over the words. Kimizuki watched as she re-read it, then re-read it again, then as her eyes drifted to the stack in the box.
“Are these,” she began, her voice shaky. “Are these all from my brother?”
He just nodded. There went any chance of Tomoe liking him.
“Why?”
“I don’t kn-”
“This is one letter every month,” she said, her voice gradually dropping any ounce of shock she held in favor of anger. “Why didn’t he send these to me, or Mom or Dad, or even Mitsuba? Of all people, why did he send these to you?”
The harshness in her voice cut a bit deeper than Kimizuki liked to admit. “I don’t know.”
“Did you ever talk to him? Or, just, send a letter back at all?”
“No. It was just from him to me.”
She dropped the letter in the box without putting it back in the envelope. She looked up at him. “And you kept this for two years?”
“Uh… yes?”
“Fuck, Kimizuki. What the fuck? Why was my brother dating you? Who keeps something like that a secret?”
This was gradually becoming very uncomfortable, and he squirmed a bit in his seat. “I told Mitsuba. And I honestly don’t know why he didn’t send anything to you. I’d prefer if he sent them to you, Tomoe.”
She stood up and headed for the door. “Yeah. So would I. You don’t deserve to hear anything from him.”
He forced himself to keep his mouth shut. “Goodbye, Tomoe,” he managed, his voice tight.
She pulled her shoes back on and grabbed the doorknob, briefly looking back at him through her hair. “Have a nice birthday.”
She slammed the door behind her and it made him wince. He took off his glasses with one hand and rubbed his eyes. “Fuck. There goes that.”
Me
tomoe knows
Mitsuba (blonde girl in 2-C/Yoichi’s friend)
yoU TOL D HER??????
Me
yeah
Mitsuba (blonde girl in 2-C/Yoichi’s friend)
how did she react???
Me
not well
essentially called me an asshole and said she didn’t know why yoichi had been dating me
implied I don’t deserve him
which is something I’ve pretty much known since high school
Mitsuba (blonde girl in 2-C/Yoichi’s friend)
shittt
fucking SHIT man
how’d she even find out??
Me
she asked to come over on sunday, then the first thing she tells me is that yoichi was planning on proposing
then I told her I was planning on it too, then she mentioned some hypothetical where we both proposed at the same time if he hadn’t disappeared
then I mentioned that he HADN’T disappeared, and she got confused, and I had to clarify
so I showed her the letters and she got mad
Mitsuba (blonde girl in 2-C/Yoichi’s friend)
fuck that’s so bad
think she’s gonna tell their parents?
cause…
yknow…
his case is still open and that’s technically withholding evidence from the police…?
and isn’t their mom a lawyer…?
Me
he sent the letters AFTER they interrogated me
I don’t have a single fucking obligation to turn over yoichi’s letters
he’s MY boyfriend. whatever he sends me is private
Mitsuba (blonde girl in 2-C/Yoichi’s friend)
fair, I guess
also cause one of them basically included a nude?
Me
yeah that too
fuck. well.
Mitsuba (blonde girl in 2-C/Yoichi’s friend)
listen, tomoe likes me
I might be able to convince her to hold off?
if you want
she might just be mad and wants to simmer with it?
Me
that’d be helpful
thanks mitsuba
Mitsuba (blonde girl in 2-C/Yoichi’s friend)
np 💪
hey! don’t mope! your birthday is in three days
I’m sure it’ll work out fine
Yu was drunk and heaving into the downstairs toilet in Shinoa and Mitsuba’s house, Mika busy making sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit. Shinoa was also drunk and curled up against Mitsuba, who was silently fidgeting with a strand of straight blonde hair. Kimizuki, too, was drunk, but not enough to feel overly bad about himself or just blow straight chunks for thirty minutes.
The distant heaving ceased, and a few minutes later, Mika came into the living room, an apologetic look on his face. “Sorry for having to leave too early, but Yu’s had far too much.”
“It’s fine,” Kimizuki said loosely. “Don’t want him vomiting and drunk sobbing on me again.”
Mika winced and re-adjusted his fiancé over his shoulder. “Yeah, sorry about that. It won’t happen again. That’s a Yuichiro Amane promise.”
“Yuichiro Amane is currently drunk off his ass.”
Mika flashed him a smile, beginning to tug Yu towards the door. “That he is.”
“Make sure he drinks plenty of water,” Mitsuba called out.
“I will. Good night!”
“Night, Mika.”
“And so the prince takes his leave,” Shinoa whispered, curling up against Mitsuba further. She tilted her head backwards, grinning up at Mitsuba. “You’re so cute…”
“Thanks,” Mitsuba said.
“I think I just wanna… I wanna…” Shinoa trailed off. Not even a minute later, she started snoring, and Mitsuba sighed.
She looked over at Kimizuki, her purple eyes glinting in the dim light. “Heard anything?”
Kimizuki slouched further into his chair. “Anything from who?”
“Yoichi. Tomoe. The Saotome parents. Anyone, really.”
“No, no, and no.”
“Do you have his parents’ numbers?:
“Mitsuba, I was planning on proposing to him. Of course I have his parents’ numbers.”
She threw one hand up in surrender, the other gently stroking Shinoa’s hair. “Didn’t want to assume anything. Did you do anything earlier today for your birthday?”
“I saw my mom and Mirai for lunch.”
“Mirai,” she nodded in recognition. “Is she doing better?”
“Yeah. The doctors think she should finally be out of the hospital in a few months.”
“That’s good.”
The conversation faded and Shinoa rolled over onto her stomach, Mitsuba readjusting her position so Shinoa’s head lay flat on her lap.
Kimizuki’s phone buzzed. He glanced down to see who the notification was from and instantly shut the screen off and flipped it face-down on his thigh.
“What happened?”
“Yoichi’s mom texted me.”
“The mom that’s a lawyer?”
“Does he have any other moms?”
“What’d she say?”
“I didn’t see.”
“Yoichi’s mom is a nice woman,” Mitsuba began, picking up a can that was sitting on the coffee table. “Maybe, if Tomoe did tell her, she’d understand?”
“Sorry, how long have you been friends with Yoichi?”
“About thirteen years.”
“Has his mother ever been lenient regarding her son?”
Mitsuba frowned, looking down. “No. Just see what she sent you.”
“Fine. Okay.”
Emiko Saotome (Yoichi’s mom)
Happy birthday. Tomoe and Ikuro send the same. Thank you for being in my son’s life.
“Just a… birthday message.”
She wrinkled her nose, confused. “That’s it?”
“It’s ominously written, but that’s it.”
“Let me see.” He handed her his phone and she studied the message. “Huh. Maybe Yoichi gets his dramatic subtle messaging from his mom.”
“Maybe.”
“Mitsu,” Shinoa suddenly whined, picking up her head. “Wanna go to bed. You’re so cute, wanna have you holding me…”
Mitsuba seemed a bit reluctant to dismiss the near only person she could talk about Yoichi with, so Kimizuki stood up to dismiss himself. “I should go. I have work tomorrow anyway.”
“You need to fix your schedule,” Mitsuba chides. “Twelve-hour nursing shifts aren’t good. And you always come out of them pissed off.”
“I need the money. And I didn’t used to come out of them pissed. Because-”
“Because you had Yoichi to look forward to.”
“Yeah.”
She just nods in acknowledgement. “Have a good night. See you.”
“Thanks, Mitsuba.”
Shinoa and Mitsuba were wealthy because Shinoa was a Hiragi, even if a shunned one. Yu and Mika were wealthy because Yu had been technically adopted by the husband of a Hiragi and Mika was some sort of weird European heir. Because both couples were wealthy, they lived close to each other. Kimizuki, meanwhile, was from a regular middle-class family, brought a bit lower by his sister’s medical bills. So he lived in an apartment nearly twenty minutes away from his friends.
He parked, took the elevator five floors up, and just stood in his apartment. This was it. He was twenty-five. And Yoichi wasn’t there to see it.
Kimizuki glanced at the archery bag. It was black with a strip of blue masking tape on one side, Yoichi’s name written in faded black Sharpie. He’d gotten it for his sixteenth birthday from his sister because the old one was literally decomposing. Kimizuki had been there. Seeing just how excited Yoichi had gotten, how his face had lit up, made him realize the crush he’d been harboring.
Right. Today wasn’t just Kimizuki’s birthday, but his and Yoichi’s anniversary. And he was alone for both.
He looked at the archery bag again. Fuck. He was a grown man getting torn up about a single bag sitting on his armchair. He hated seeing it sit there. He hated knowing it was the only part of Yoichi’s belongings that actually reminded Kimizuki of him.
He grabbed the strap and picked it up, noting the dust cloud that wafted off of it. Right. It hadn’t been moved in two years. He walked to his bedroom and prepared to hurl it into the closet and never think about it again when the doorbell rang.
His fist tightened around the strap. He contemplated ignoring it. Let whoever the hell was out there, maybe Tomoe coming to take some of Yoichi’s stuff back or coming to yell at Kimizuki for whatever reason, wait around until they got so bored they left. But then the doorbell rang again and he gave in.
He pulled the door open, prepared to yell at whoever was bothering him, but the words died in his throat. Because standing there, with a duffel bag over one shoulder and a plastic grocery bag in the opposite hand, like nothing had ever happened, was Yoichi. Hair a bit longer, a deeper sense of some unknown emotion lingering in his eyes, but it was Yoichi. Regular five-foot-five perpetual smile Yoichi. His Yoichi.
He smiled. “Happy birthday, Shiho.”
…
What.
The.
Fuck??????????????