Motoki had so many questions he would have liked to ask Chiba Mamoru on an almost daily basis.

"Why do I always get your answering machine when I call?"

"Where did you get those bruises from?"

"When is the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

"Who do you mutter about when you fall asleep in class?"

"What is going on in your life?"

He wanted to ask all of that and more as Mamoru wandered into the Crown Arcade an hour later than he normally did, walking stiffly and looking distracted, as he always did. Motoki wanted to tie him to a chair, nail his feet to the floor, and do anything else he could do to restrain his friend until he got a straight answer. He wanted to know what was going on. He wanted to help.

But he couldn't. Close as they were, they weren't close enough for that. Mamoru had never let Motoki get too familiar to begin with, and now they seemed more at a distance than ever before. Whereas before it seemed like a character trait, now Motoki sensed a deliberateness in his evasions. The space between them could have been a foot, but Mamoru still would have been miles, even leagues away. And there was nothing Motoki could do to fix that.

So all Motoki did was smile and wave, offer another cup of coffee when it was asked of him, and remain as close to Mamoru as he was allowed. It was all he could do for him now.