The rain had been falling for hours, tapping softly against your bedroom window. The room was dim, lit only by the pale glow of your phone screen. It felt too quiet—too empty.

You lay curled on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about him.

But that was impossible.

For ten years, Shisui Uchiha had been the one constant in your life. Your best friend. The person who knew every embarrassing story, every dream, every stupid inside joke. The person who would text you at 2 a.m. just because he saw something that reminded him of you.

And now… it felt like he was disappearing.

For months, things had been different. His messages were shorter. Sometimes he wouldn’t reply for days. When you tried to make plans, something always came up.

Busy. Maybe another time. Sorry, something came up.

At first you told yourself he was just stressed. Life happened.

But the distance kept growing.

And tonight, after another message left on “read,” something in your chest finally broke.

Your vision blurred as tears slipped down the sides of your face. You grabbed your phone again, hands shaking slightly, and opened his contact.

Shisui.

Your thumb hovered over the call button.

Maybe he doesn’t want to talk. Maybe you’re just bothering him.

Your throat tightened.

But the thought of losing him without even understanding why hurt even more.

Before you could change your mind, you pressed call.

The ringing started immediately, loud in the quiet room.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

Each second felt heavier than the last, and your heart sank deeper with every unanswered tone.

You were just about to hang up when—

“…Hello?”

His voice.

Low. Familiar. Warm in a way that made your chest ache.

Your breath caught in your throat.

For a moment you couldn’t say anything. All that came out was a shaky inhale that you tried—and failed—to hide.

There was a small pause on the other end.

“…Hey,” he said again, softer this time. “Is that you?”

That was enough to break the fragile control you had over your emotions.

Your voice came out small and uneven.

“Shisui…”

You heard the shift in his breathing immediately.

“…Hey. What’s wrong?”

You tried to answer, but the words tangled with the lump in your throat. A quiet sob slipped out before you could stop it.

The silence on the other end became tense.

“…Are you crying?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassed even though he couldn’t see you.

“I didn’t mean to call you like this,” you whispered shakily. “I just—I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

Another pause.

But this one felt different. He hadn’t hung up. He was still there.

Your fingers tightened around the phone.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked quietly.

The question came out more fragile than you intended.

“…What?”

Your voice cracked.

“You’ve been acting so strange lately. We barely talk anymore. You cancel every time we try to meet, and when we do see each other you’re… somewhere else.” A shaky breath escaped you. “It feels like you’re avoiding me.”

Rain continued tapping against the window, filling the silence that followed.

Your chest hurt.

“We’ve been friends for ten years,” you said softly, tears sliding down your cheeks again. “You’re supposed to be the person who doesn’t disappear on me.”

On the other end of the phone, Shisui didn’t answer immediately.

But you could hear him breathing.

Slow. Uneven.

“…You didn’t do anything wrong,” he finally said.

His voice was quieter now.

You wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie.

“Then why does it feel like I’m losing you?”

“Are you still crying?” he asked gently.

You sniffed.

“…Maybe.”

For the first time during the call, you heard a faint, familiar chuckle from him.

The sound made your chest ache with a strange mix of comfort and sadness.

“You always cry when you’re worried about me,” he said softly.

“Stay on the phone with me tonight, okay?”

You wiped your eyes again, nodding even though he couldn’t see you.

“…Okay.”

And for the first time in months, the distance between you didn’t feel quite as heavy.