It had been two months, fourteen days, six hours, and thirty five minutes since he had last seen her.

For the most part, Konoha had tried to return to his normal life. After everything that had happened concerning Miu, he felt he had worried his friends enough; they didn't need to be worrying about him anymore. No. Even she had said so; he had to find his own path. Make his way in the world. Live his own life. Share his gifts with the world.

But I was only able to write because she was always here to inspire me, He had often reminded himself. Since she's been gone, I haven't been able to write anything.

The two months, fourteen days, six hours, and thirty five minutes since he'd last seen her were two months, fourteen days, six hours, and thirty five minutes too many.

Konoha sighed, laying on his bed, flat on his back, eyes directed toward the ceiling. He ran a hand through short, brown hair. He began to count the little spots of drywall that littered the ceiling. He tried to pretend they were stars, constellations ... like he and Miu had done when they were kids.

He found he couldn't do it. His inspiration was gone. It left with her, those two months, fourteen days, six hours, and thirty five minutes ago.

Konoha noticed what was happening, and he sat up, shaking his head and slapping his cheeks to prevent himself from going into another emotional trip. He needed a distraction.

Miu. Miu would be a good distraction. Miu would love to be his distraction. He had to call her.

His hand reached into his pocket for his phone, a smile gracing his lips. Yes. He would call up Miu, spend some time with her, and forget all about the fact that it had been two months, fourteen days, six hours ...

As he scrolled through his contacts list, however, his train of thought stopped short.

Ah, yes. This happened every time. He would go to call Miu, but the name before hers was always ...

Amano Toko.

He still had her cell phone number, though he had never dared to call it. Certainly, he had thought about it. Several times, in fact. But every time he came close to pushing the call button, he stopped short.

No. She was probably busy. Hokkaido must be keeping her busy. She probably didn't even have the time to talk to him.

Still, he wanted to talk to her.

He needed to talk to her.

Konoha highlighted her name, his thumb trembling, hovering over the call button.

It was just a button.

Just a button.

He just ... needed to press it. Press the button.

Press the button, Konoha.

A beep sounded. As if he were mechanical, Konoha lifted the phone to his ear, just in time to hear a voice on the other end of the line.

"This number is no longer in service. Please check to make sure the number you are dialing is correct."

Konoha didn't even notice the tears rolling down his cheeks as he dropped the phone from his ear, ending the call.

And then pressing the button again.

When he was met with the same message as before, he ended the call, and did it again. He pressed the button again. He pressed the button, over, and over, and over again.

It was as if he were making up for all of the times he hadn't pressed it. Finally, he pressed the button for the final time, bringing the receiver up to his ear again.

"This number is no longer in service. Please check to make sure the number you are diaing is correct."

"Toko-senpai?" He said into the receiver, his voice shaking with the emotion that poured down his cheeks. He knew she wasn't picking up. He knew that the voice on the other line wasn't even hers. He didn't care.

"It has been two months, fourteen days, six hours, and fourty five minutes since I last saw you. I just wanted to tell you that I miss you. I miss you ... and I love you. And I want you to come back. I know you want me to ... t-to just ... c-continue on without you, but ..." His voice broke further as he continued to talk. He pressed the end button, his numbed body dropping the phone to the floor beside his bed.

"I-I ... I-I can't. T-The stories ... m-my stories are gone again. They left with you. They left me, two months, fourteen days, six hours, and fourty six minutes ago."

He buried his face in his hands, heaving a giant, heavy sob.