The fact that he was absent that day made my stomach do flips. What could have happened? Why wasn't he here? He was always here; he has never ever missed a day of school. Ever since kindergarten, he had perfect attendance. But then it was December and there was a high chance of getting sick. So, shooing the thought away, I tried to concentrate on the English teacher's dull lecture.

When lunch came, I tried calling him. I know, I know! 'But Meiko, you're not supposed to be using cell phones during school hours!' Well, I do what I want when I want.

After three unsuccessful calls, I gave up. He must be really sick to not answer a perfectly beautiful lady.

I continued the day with a heavy heart. I just knew something was wrong.

But I can't quite figure it out.

. . .

"Meiko? Meiko! Are you even listening?"

My friend, a blonde girl with big doe eyes named Rin, snapped me out of my trance. We were at the subway, waiting behind the yellow line for the train to come. I blinked.

"Actually, no." I replied. "I don't know guys; I'm just sort of worried. Kaito didn't show up today. And he didn't answer my calls."

"Oh, just shake it off. The guy obviously has a bad fever." Rin observed her cuticles, disinterested. But I knew well how she felt – Kaito was like a brother to her; she was as worried as I was.

"That's so mean," my other friend, a young girl with teal-dyed twin tails (a.k.a. Miku), replied. "Kaito-senpai would be very upset with that reply!"

"Like I care." But the falter of her voice told otherwise.

"Guys, do you think I should visit him?" I asked. "He's in the same apartment as I am, after all."

"Go crazy," replied Rin, waving her hand flippantly. "Tell me how it goes."

"Totally!" chirped Miku. "Oh, take some dumplings on the way home. They're his second favorite food aside from ice cream!"

I smiled. "Okay."

. . .

I walked towards my apartment building, the white plastic bag of freshly brought dumplings and fried rice swishing against my thigh. Alright, Meiko. This is it – you're going to confront him. It's nothing big, absolutely nothing big. Just say, 'Heard you were sick. Brought some dumplings to make you feel better.' Then maybe smack him a little for not answering your calls.

As I entered the old worn-out building, my heart started thumping. I was so close to meeting him. It will be like old times when Kaito got sick in summer – me visiting him and reading him books until he falls asleep, maybe even watching a little television.

Books! I should have brought books. But by the time I realized this, I was already in front of his door. Well, too late now.

I took a deep breath. "It's going to be okay, Meiko," I whispered to myself. "It's going to be okay."

But why is there a part of me that told me, "No, don't! It's not going to be okay; don't open that door!"

Slowly, reluctantly, I brought my fist in front of the door. The gold-painted plate number seemed to taunt me.

Knock, knock.

I stood there, holding tightly onto the strap of the plastic bag in my hands. This is it. The moment has finally arrived.

It took a while before someone opened the door. His mom was the one who answered. Her eyes were tinted red and bloodshot. Her hair was a tousled mess. She had bags under her eyes.

"Hey, Mrs. Shion, I came here to visit Kaito. He didn't come to school today." I lifted the bag of dumplings, just enough so she could see it. "I brought him something to eat."

Mrs. Shion burst into tears. I blinked. Her sobs were loud and raw.

"H-Hey, Mrs. Shion, you okay?" I reach out to touch her, but she lifts a hand of disapproval. She looks up, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Meiko, he's dead. He hung himself in his room."