see through

Bachira's routine is nonexistent. There was never any consistency or repetitiveness; each day was a little different than the previous. But that was his normal. That was what he considered consistent. Life is too big to be cut short by repetitive daily routines.

That isn't to say Bachira doesn't like it. In fact, he does have a repeating, consistent presence in his routine, and it's his favorite part of it. Whether he comes later in the day or he wakes up to him right by his side, he never fails to brighten his day.

Isagi is his constant.

That's why he can't help but spiral into a panic when Isagi starts ignoring him. Did he do something to upset him? What did he do wrong? Did he do anything wrong? Bachira doesn't remember ever doing anything to make Isagi ignore him.

Bachira tries to shout and yell at Isagi, making as much noise as he can, but Isagi doesn't even bat an eye. He's in tears by the end of the morning. There's no way he can work in his current state, so the best solution now is to ask his friends if he did anything. Except he can't find his phone.

He practically upturns his and Isagi's shared apartment while searching for the device. Isagi had long left by the time he gave up and flopped on their bed in anguish. He cries, sobbing into the pillow. The apartment is dead silent.

He doesn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke up to the bed dipping as someone sat down. Bachira rolls over and is met with Isagi's back towards him. Bachira quickly sits up, wiping his tears.

"Isagi... I don't know what I did, but I'm really sorry...!" Bachira says, his voice trembling. Isagi doesn't move from his spot. It's almost enough to make Bachira cry again, but he tries to hold it in. He begs, "I-... Please talk to me... I hate this, Isagi..."

Nothing. Isagi stays unresponsive. This is cruel. Isagi is being cruel. Bachira knows he would never do this to him, even if he was really mad. Right? Right . . . ?

It hurts. Bachira can feel his chest ache, like something heavy is pressing against it, refusing to relieve him. It hurt even more how he cried, and Isagi just remained silent.

Bachira curses himself; he curses Isagi. This isn't the Isagi he knows anymore. Isagi would never leave him like this. What could he possibly have done to warrant this? He wants an answer.

And as if on cue, Isagi finally makes some sort of reaction—a quiet, muffled sob. What?

Bachira instinctively reaches out to him but jerks back when Isagi's phone suddenly starts ringing, startling both him and Isagi. Isagi pulls his phone out, staring at his screen for a moment. Bachira takes a peek over Isagi's shoulder and sees it's Chigiri.

Chigiri! Maybe he could get Chigiri to—

"Isagi." Chigiri's voice echoes from Isagi's phone. Bachira didn't even realize that Isagi had answered, leaving his phone on the bedside table and on speaker.