So yeah. It's been close to a year or so, I think. Though, I haven't been able to bring myself to actually look at the last update date so.. But yeah. I hope this lives up to you guys' expectations of what happens next, and even if it doesn't, I hope you enjoy it at the very least. Thank you for being patient and supporting me despite the year long hiatus. Here goes.

EDIT: It took me so long to figure out where exactly I was going with this chapter lmfao I had an actual argument with myself until I decided on a direction and stuck with it. Hopefully a good direction? Let me know pls It's been so long since I've properly written, I may be horribly out of practice.

Disclaimer: I don't own Junjou Romantica, nor the characters associated with Junjou Romantica.

Even as Akihiko woke up from his peaceful slumber, he could tell something was wrong. There was a stillness in the air that shouldn't have been there. Ever since Misaki had moved back in, whenever the author woke up there were the soft noises of something cooking. Maybe the faint clinking of dishes being washed. Or even just the quiet drone of the morning news.

But today, in the dim light of the early morning, there was only silence. No warm body next to Akihiko, or sounds of any other living soul. Something in the man's gut clenched painfully, a feeling akin to dread. Akihiko peeled his eyes open slowly, blinking the bleariness of sleep from them.

Violet eyes were immediately drawn to the lit lamp on the desk, which contrasted painfully with the low light filtering through the window. An envelope rested in the circle of artificial light. The dull throb of apprehension in Akihiko's gut strengthened into a sharp knife of fear. He'd seen enough dramas to know what this was. It was goodbye.

Despite the all-consuming wish to abandon the note and go searching for Misaki, the man knew there would be no point. From the cool sheets, the author could guess the brunette was already long gone.

With shaking hands and a stuttering heart, Akihiko picked up the unassuming, white envelope, marred only by his own name in neat handwriting. He forced his numb fingers to fumble with the flap of the envelope long enough to get the single piece of college-ruled paper out.

Akihiko. Usagi-san. The man who holds the pieces of my heart.

I'm sorry for this-making you a one night stand and running. It wasn't fake, or fucking with your feelings, or getting revenge, as much as it may seem that way to you. Last night meant everything to me. I wasn't lying when I told you that I love you. But please understand that I have to go, and I can't tell you or anyone else where I'm going. This is something I must do alone.

We most likely won't see each other again. I'm sorry, again, that I ended things in such a way, but I'm so glad that I got one more night with you.

Just please promise that you'll move on from me. Be angry with me, hate me, curse my name every single day of your life from now on, I don't care-just move on. If you do that-if you go on with your life despite me-I will forgive you for everything you've ever done that hurt me. I'll forgive the fact that you cheated on me and left me in the dust. The only things that I ask for in return is that you don't let the pain I'm surely causing consume you, and don't come looking for me.

Goodbye, Akihiko.

Misaki

Akihiko's breaths were coming in pants, and tears stained the piece of paper responsible for them.

"Misaki," the man whispered, the name trembling with emotion, and fell to his knees clutching the letter to his chest. "Misaki."

-Six Months Later-

"Misaki," Akihiko gasped as he awakened. Sweat coated his skin, making silver hair stick to his forehead and temples wetly. The author could still hear his lover's (Ex-lover, he reminded himself) parting words echoing in his head. He was thankful that he at least wasn't crying when he woke up, that time. He'd been trying to keep his promises to Misaki and move on, instead of pining and searching endlessly for the lost brunette.

It was difficult to ignore his instinct to utilize his every resource and scour the very Earth to find him, especially with a reminder of the younger man around every corner. The kitchen, where he would always cook meals for Akihiko, despite his exasperation with the childish man. The living room, where he would read with the tv playing quietly in the background, often falling asleep on the couch despite his claims to never be comfortable in the penthouse. The laundry room. His office. The spare bedroom. The toy room. The entryway. Every single room in the penthouse had a ghost of Misaki wandering it, haunting Akihiko's every footstep.

The man often wondered if this was how Misaki had felt the months he'd lived there. Every step dogged by phantoms he couldn't get rid of. It made Akihiko feel even worse for having practically forced Misaki to live there and relive all of those painful memories, along with the sweet memories bittered by betrayal. And then, after wondering and regretting what he had done to Misaki, he always berated himself for thinking of the man so often.

Akihiko had promised that he would try to move on, and not look for the man, and he would rather go to Hell than break his promises. They were the very last things that Misaki had asked of him, and they would be promises he would carry to his grave.

With his resolution set in place, Akihiko silenced his alarm, which he had only just realized was blaring away in his ear, and slid out of bed, grimacing at the grimy feel of sweat dried on his skin. He'd laid there for longer than he thought.

Akihiko quickly showered, shaved, and dressed in his three piece suit-sans the jacket. He moved around the apartment without feeling. If the author allowed himself to notice and take in every memory, he would spend all day doing nothing but regretting, and he couldn't allow that.

So, with purpose, the man left the apartment and made his way to a coffee shop not far from the penthouse. After Misaki left, Akihiko couldn't bring himself to even use the kitchen, let alone allow someone else cook for him in it, so he often ate his meals at restaurants and cafes-save, of course, the home-cooked meals Minami often forced on him.

The particular cafe that was Akihiko's target was only two blocks from the apartment building, and had some of the best coffee the author could ever have had. The only exception, perhaps, was Misaki's. If Akihiko could ever bring himself to resent Misaki, he would blame the younger man for all of his suffering, but something deep in his chest told the author that there was more to it than Misaki running away out of self-preservation.

No, the silveret berated himself. You promised you wouldn't look for him, so drop it.

It took concentrated effort to push the thought process from his head. Thankfully, the cafe was just to his right, and he could distract himself by reading over the menu and pretending he was going to get something other than plain black coffee. Akihiko did exactly that for a few moments before walking up to the barista at the register, whose name tag read 'Rae'. The author vaguely remembered seeing the man before, his black, blue-streaked hair making him memorable.

"A large, medium brew coffee and a slice of strawberry cake, sir?" Rae asked cheerfully, a perfect customer service smile on his face.

Akihiko was almost surprised that the man remembers, but he'd surely served the sliveret before. Strawberry cake wasn't exactly a popular item at 7:15 in the morning. The older man just nodded in assent and passed Rae his credit card without prompt.

It was only a few moments before Akihiko was seated at a table in the corner of the small cafe, cake and coffee placed in front of him. As he picked up his mug of coffee from the small, ceramic plate, he saw a small slip of paper float from the bottom of the mug. With a frown he picked it up and examined the small, neat handwriting packed onto it.

Meet me at this address tonight at midnight. It's about Misaki Takahashi.

Akihiko's eyes widened slightly, and he glances up at the barista behind the counter. He's humming quietly to himself and wiping the counter down, paying the author no mind. The violet eyed man quickly finished his coffee and cake, leaving crumbs and a quarter of the cup behind as he hurriedly evacuated the shop.

He needed to talk to someone, before his whirling thoughts caused him to do something rash. Almost without realizing, Akihiko was dialing Ritsu's house number, well aware that his lover could be there. They had a tentative friendship going, with Takano, Ritsu's lover, giving his reluctant blessing to it. It was his show of trust to Ritsu, who had a much easier time of getting the lover he'd cheated on to come around than Akihiko had.

Of course, Takano was the one that answered, instead of Ritsu.

"What is it, Usami? Ritsu isn't here right now," he said shortly. For all that Akihiko and Ritsu had a slowly forming friendship, Takano held no love for Akihiko, with fair reason.

"I-I needed to talk to someone-about Misaki," the author stuttered, a strangely out of character act. This, perhaps, was what prompted Takano to respond with something other than a dismissal.

"Come over," the publisher ordered curtly, though slightly softer than his greeting. "Then you can explain." And then he hung up.

I know it's not super long, but I have an idea of what I'm going to do next, so it shouldn't be too long before I have something more for you guys. And I know it's been a long time, so I wanted to give you guys some hope before you gave up on me. I really, really, really hope this lives up to what you guys expect from this story.

NOTE:Seriously though, I have so many problems with tenses right now, so if you see something in the present tense instead of in the past tense, please let me know so I can fix it. I'm trying to keep with the theme, but I had to correct myself like ten times while typing this up.

I can't really promise when I'll have something new for you, but I promise, promise, promise that I will try to have in within the next couple weeks another chapter. Please favourite, follow, review, and PM me. Give me all of the awesome feedback you want. Until next time…

~O'Malley out!