You sit in your living room, wondering when the roles had changed.

In the past, it had always been you who left. Inter-High, national team training, America, even. Each time you left him without a word, without telling him you were leaving and when you were returning, trying to pretend he meant nothing to you, like the rest of the world thought.

You knew better, though. While away, you’d surreptitiously check your hand phone for messages from him, or missed calls. Sakuragi once teased you, wanting to know if you were “waiting for a message from your porcupine lover” and you conveniently distracted him with a retort of “do’ahou”.

Some things never change.

Others do. He’d never left you behind, not even once, until that day.

That day, he was late for your basketball one-on-on for the first time.

And when he ran up to you, he was panting heavily and his face was without its usual silly grin you pretended to loathe, but missed when it disappeared, because it meant there was something wrong.

”I’m sorry, Rukawa, but I really have to leave for a while, to attend to some family matters,” he told you, regret written on his face. ”Will you be okay?”

You’d snorted at the question, dismissing it. Why would you miss him? What was there to miss, apart from sharing water bottles and towels, the way he’d suddenly appear out of nowhere, smiling that lazy grin of his and asking if you wanted to go fishing, the late-night one-on-one games that you never told him you wanted to have, but when you reached the basketball court, there he was, waiting for you with basketball in tow.

Maybe it was the short, silly messages he’d send you throughout the day, consisting of nothing more than an emoticon usually, messages you’d delete in a fit of pique and then wish you could retrieve. Perhaps it was the way he seemed to know when you needed cheering up, and then a long, thoughtful message would come in, or if you got lucky, a voice mail, full of his babbling and laughter, that you’d save and play late at night when you couldn’t sleep.

You suspected, though, that it just had to be the way he would look at you and smile, a special smile, not the one he showed the world, but a smile just for you. ”Rukawa-kun,” he’d say. ”I like you.” And you’d huff and walk off, pretending not to hear him, while your heart rebelled, wanting to reciprocate, but you couldn’t find the words.

And that was the crux of it, really. He still sent messages and voice mails every other day – so much so that you wondered if he really was busy – and you didn’t miss that. What you missed, though, was the nearness of his presence.

A day passed.

Then a week.

A fortnight.

A month.

He still hadn’t returned, delayed further. He’d apologised to you through e-mail, a call, and countless messages, so much so you wanted to ask him what was happening, but hearing the strain in his voice, you decided it was better not to. And yet you couldn’t find any words to comfort him, or to let him know you were waiting for him. Speech had never been your strong point, after all.

Some nights when you couldn’t sleep, you’d trudge to the court, ball in hand, hoping against hope he would appear, even if you knew he wouldn’t, because he’d already informed you he wouldn’t be coming back then.

He never appeared. And slowly, you gave up going to the court to wait for him; instead you moped around at home, staring at your hand phone, waiting for his newest message or call.

He hadn’t sent anything tonight, not even a message, and you wonder if he forgot. Maybe you could replay an old voice message to lull yourself to sleep…

“Ding-dong!” the doorbell rings, and you jump, startled. It’s late at night; the postman never comes at this hour…

You walk to the front door, opening it.

And then you halt there, frozen.

He’s in front of you. Alive, in the flesh, real, three-dimensional, the one and only Sendou Akira, porcupine spikes slightly flattened, smile strained, eyes drooping with exhaustion but it was still him.

“I’m home,” he says. “Finally. I’m so sorry I took so long-”

You hush him impulsively. “It’s okay.” And the month of waiting suddenly feels like it had gone by in a flash now that he’s here, in front of you.

He stares at you, looking confused. “Did I miss something?”

You avoid his eyes, hand trembling as you reach out to grasp his and lead him inside the house.

“Welcome home, Akira.”

The End