He disappears on the first day of their summer vacation, leaving nothing behind but a note to Rio that asks her to keep an eye on Ryouko. At first Ryouko is only peeved by this notion, the idea that she needs to be watched over and cared for like a wayward child, but confusion eventually replaces her discontentment when she realizes that he is gone. He has taken only a few things with him - there are only a few items of clothing missing from his room - and has left no details on where he is going or why. Ryouko frowns and bites her lip and stares at the note, at first more irritated with the illegibility of his handwriting than the message on the paper, but after a few minutes she feels a familiar pang of worry within her chest. Kousuke is gone, and...

Rio sees her worried face and gives her a soft pat on the shoulder, telling the brunette that everything will be okay, that Kousuke-kun will be back soon. Rio doesn't know, either: neither of them know where he hurried off to, or why he kept them in the dark, but it is in his very nature to exclude them from anything he considers harmful. They can all stand their own against the demons that pursue them, both real and imagined, but Ryouko knows that he will do everything in his power to protect her from these things.

She sits on her couch with the crumpled piece of paper in her hands, looking sadly at his lopsided kanji - you need more practice, stupid - and in her tiny house she has never felt more alone.

A week later she is lying half-asleep on her bed, tossing and turning in the sticky summer heat, and when her cell phone rings she is startled out of a dream. She reaches for the buzzing item on her bedside table and looks at the unfamiliar number on the screen, and there is a lump in her throat as she flips it open.

Hello?

Silence.

... hello?

She can hear breathing. Nothing else, no sounds, but there is light breathing. She hesitates, clutching her free hand to her aching chest, and she knows suddenly that she has heard this before. She has rested her head on the shoulder of the person who breathes like this -

The name slips from her mouth without warning - she does not want to say it -

Kousuke?

The breathing stops and the line goes dead. For a moment she is frozen, but then she lowers the phone from her ear and closes it with a resounding snap. Her eyes close and she feels the lump in her throat grow tighter, harder. Her chest is aching and her heart is throbbing, furiously beating away the silence in her ears. She knows, with certainty, that it was him. It had to be him.

You coward.

She falls back into her pillows and refuses to cry.

She doesn't tell Rio about the call. A few days pass and the gray-haired girl is trying to cheer her up, dragging her to a little cafe and buying her the biggest ice cream sundae on the menu. It isn't as if she's worried, Ryouko tells herself - they have gone through so much already that Kousuke won't stand to be killed like this, far away with no one by his side. But once she realizes that, she has trouble placing her feelings, trouble understanding why she can't sleep at night and why the very thought of him sends her fumbling to distract herself with something that will keep her from crying.

She does a lot of running these days.

Rio gives her a sympathetic look from across the table, prodding the half-empty sundae glass with a spoon. The usual things have already been said - don't worry, I'm sure he's fine and I know he'll be back soon - and there is not much else that either of them can talk about. Their vacation has been nothing but summer heat and concern, occupied by little distractions and a preoccupation with the unknown. They can't do anything now. They can only wait, and hope for the best, and -

He'll be back, Ryouko-chan.

The brunette lowers her head and looks at her ice cream, her mouth set in a tight line. She can't be sure of that -

Kousuke-kun loves Ryouko-chan.

The words come so easily that at first she isn't startled, but once she realizes what Rio has said it is a completely different story. She is about to jump out of her chair and scream when she notices the smile on the girl's face, a smile so sweet and kind that there could be no lie beneath it. There is silence for a moment, and then Rio nods, resolutely, her eyes bright. That's how I know he'll come back, she says. Because he loves you.

Ryouko isn't sure how, but she finds herself believing it.

She believes.

A week later she is running again, her feet pounding hard against the sunbaked track, a bottle of water clutched hard in one hand. The heat is getting unbearable now, and she fears that she will faint if she pushes herself much more. But she needs to prepare, needs to keep up with the others - she can't fall behind, can't lose a single race. She tells herself that she is getting stronger and pretends that she is not trying to forget something.

There is a screeching noise behind her and she whirls around to see him on that bike, that stupid bike -

Yo, Ryouko.

The reaction is immediate and violent. She throws the bottle of water at his head and he falls off the bike.

Don't act so casual after you've been missing for almost three weeks, stupid!

He looks up at her from the track, his bike nearly on top of him, and the bewildered look on his face is enough to make her laugh for the first time in weeks. She laughs and then the tears roll down her face, and then she is crying and laughing at the same time. She doesn't know what she's feeling now, whether this is joy or relief or sadness or amusement or any combination of those things -

Ryouko.

He gets up, leaving his bike abandoned on the ground, and she doesn't fight him as he pulls her into his arms. It is the first time he has held her and she has not pushed him away.

This time she knows why he is holding her.

I'm sorry.

No. She shakes her head and loves him, loves him far too much, feels her heart about to burst as it drums out a rhythm within her chest. It doesn't matter where he's been or what he's been doing or why - he is back, now, here with her, here where he belongs. He is here and she loves him. It doesn't matter, she says, and she means it now. It really doesn't matter because he is home.