((A.N.: Would like to once again thank everyone for their patience with this fic, and for following it this far. The reviews and kind words have been lovely, as has been the writing progress. Hope it doesn't disappoint, enjoy~))

With Takao's doubts, his pace on the route hastened and slackened without any particular rhythm.

Despite Midorima saying he'd be home in the note, Takao couldn't help feeling uneasy about barging into the doctor's private space, unannounced, just like that. What if Midorima had decided to go to work after all? What if he went out for groceries? What if he was actually, well, out on a date? He'd never let on in any way that he was attached, but he'd never explicitly shown otherwise either.

Still, Takao's legs continued carrying him, out of sheer, numb determination, towards Midorima's apartment. Ryou's words rang clear in his mind; even if he fell face flat on this one, all he'd need to do was claw his way back up again. His mind kept playing down the importance of the whole issue to back his nerves off a bit, but recollecting each and every encounter he'd had with Midorima had him cautiously lusting for that faint, shimmering chance of success.

It felt too soon to be standing in front of Midorima's block when he eventually did get there, and it was another eternity later that he punched in the call number to Midorima's apartment.

The door clicked open, Takao wondering for a moment how careless the doctor was with security until he noticed a little camera overhead. A wave of warmth seized him as he shuffled through the glass door. On his way up, his pulse thundered in his ears, amplified by the dimmed whirring of the elevator.

Midorima was already outside, leaning on his door waiting for his guest. He was smiling gently, as if to hide that smidge of underlying curiosity that showed perhaps a bit more than Midorima had intended for it to.

Suddenly stricken with nerves, Takao had to muster every squick of restraint he had to keep himself from bolting back into the elevator and calling it quits.

"Just thought I'd drop by, since you were free and all." He gave the other man his usual smile, forcibly ejecting every word from his mouth. Thankfully, the look of curiosity had faded.

"I was just beginning to wonder what to do with my day." The doctor chuckled, gesturing towards his sofa and smoothly heading into the kitchen.

A peek, and Takao almost laughed. Midorima was carefully weighing his coffee beans like some connoisseur. But the way he fussed over even the tiniest of things seemed oddly endearing.

It was then that Takao knew it was pointless trying to cheat himself into ignoring this any further. In the short period of time since they'd met, Midorima was no longer a friend, a casual fling, or an innocent teenage crush. He was different, it all felt different. It was simply too intense for this all to be something trivial and fleeting.

Failure or no, Takao knew, watching the doctor methodically grinding coffee beans, he would never be able to let go of this without a fight.

Steeling himself, he parted his lips. "Say, Midorima, actually I…"

A sharp ring from further in the apartment seized Takao from his borderline trance, also prompting a knowing sigh from his host.

Looking down at the boiling kettle in his hands, Midorima's shoulders sagged as he turned towards the living room. "I can't really free myself right now, would you mind getting that for me?"

Takao unconsciously stepped back, as if he'd been caught snooping, not asked to go further into the apartment. "Er, sure," he muttered, hoping that Midorima wouldn't find it odd that the voice wasn't coming from the living room where he'd left his guest.

Tracking the sound of the doctor's phone, Takao padded deeper into the apartment, footfall silent for reasons he didn't quite know.

Eventually, he followed the sound to what must've been Midorima's study. The door swung open to a neatly organized desk and several shelves full of books with titles he couldn't even read; he shuddered imagining the content. A pristine white coat hung from behind the door, a stethoscope slung around the neck of the hanger.

Right, phone. Takao headed to the desk, picking the gadget up just as the screen flickered black, too fast for him to even catch the caller's name.

Well, that was a whole load of nothing, Takao shrugged, turning on his heels to exit the room.

But something snared his attention, barging from his peripherals into focus. Sitting on the desk, next to a stainless steel frame, was a plush toy keychain that looked somehow oddly familiar. Though, Takao could've sworn he remembered it being much more hideous than this.

Memory escorted him back to his own apartment, his bedroom, that old creaky closet and a jar bursting with colors. A glasses lens, movie stubs, candy wrappers and an assortment of curios. Among them, a keychain that looked almost identical to this one.

Unsure of himself, Takao reached to brush his fingers against the plush toy's head, eyes then shifting to the picture frame.

A group of… 6 boys. Though Takao could've sworn at first glance he'd only seen 5. It looked like some sort of commemorative championship photo; the boys huddled together around a trophy and a basketball. Words of gratitude and signatures were scribbled onto the blank sides of the photo in varying colors.

"Akashi..." Takao muttered, wondering why Ryou's paper cranes were invading his thoughts; there was something about him being a busy, important guy, and drinking outings. A lot of them. His eyes travelled across the photo, picking out name after familiar name. "Whaddaya know… There's Midorima." Truthfully it wasn't at all difficult; Midorima didn't look very much different after the intervening years, from his hairstyle down to the sort of glasses he wore…

His gaze travelled to another word, the information filling in its' own blanks as he moved his fingers slowly over the picture. "Murasakibara… Heh, it really is a mouthful." There was a sense of creeping dread, almost like following a fragile string leading down a darkened corridor.

A string of paper cranes, perhaps.

He froze at the next name, rolling it across his tongue.

"Aomine."

Something clicked there, like the final, unmistakable piece had been nudged lazily into place.

Suddenly, he started scanning the picture, frantically, for a new name. Whoever's name he didn't recognize was sure to be the mystery tenant that Takao had forgotten to search for. Though, admittedly, never in his life had he expected to find the missing link here.

He froze. As a pretty, delicate face smiled up at him, the name "Kise Ryouta" hit home like a lungful of water.

[Thanks for all these 3 years Midorimacchi! It's been painful, yet fun. I'd never exchange it for anything in the world. These years will always be precious to me. I hope the best for your future, keep in touch!]

There was no mistaking the excited upward slant, or those swift, confident pen strokes.

"Takao?"

He swung around to Midorima standing at the doorway, still frozen in place, his toes and fingertips going frigid. There was a weird feeling of something tickling his nose, and his eyes stung as he clutched the stainless steel photo frame he couldn't remember picking up.

Midorima's eyes travelled from the other man's eyes to the frame he held in his hands. Though, why the man held it as if it was something personal was lost to Midorima entirely. Flicking on the light, he noticed the redness in Takao's eyes.

"Are you alright?"

For a suspended second or two, Takao gave no reply. "... Name."

"Pardon?"

Takao swallowed, eyes fixed on the taller man. "You said your name was… Shin?"

The doctor crossed his arms, by this point thoroughly confused. "Shintarou, actually... Midorima Shintarou. What of it?"

Suddenly feeling like something was stuck in his throat, Takao lowered his hands, slowly setting the picture frame back down on the desk where it'd been, his gaze dropping to the floor like the browning leaves outside the window.