Chapter Two

When Makoto first hears that Haruka Nanase had killed himself, he initially doesn't know what to think.

He stares blankly at Miss Amakata, not really believing what he just heard.

"Excuse me?" A girl a couple rows to the right - Izumi Tenga, Makoto recalls her name - asks in an airy voice, twirling her lavender ponytail mindlessly around her fingers, which are covered in sparkling gold and silver rings.

Miss Amakata sighs dryly, leaning back on her desk and pinching the bridge of her nose. Dread seeps into her tired-looking eyes, like she can't bear to repeat the sentence - saying it once was hard enough. "Nanase Haruka committed suicide yesterday morning."

The air seems to have been knocked out of Makoto as he slouches back in his uncomfortable desk chair. His hands rush to his hair, running through the locks as his eyes widen.

No, he thinks, refusing to believe it. No, this can't be happening.

Though, the more he thinks about it, allowing the bombshell to sink in, the more it makes sense.

While wandering the halls that morning, Makoto had sensed what felt like a storm of gloom and depression looming over the halls; he saw clumps of teachers huddling in the hallways, whispering to each other furiously, looks of grief and horror on their faces.

His eyes travel to his left, where what used to be Haruka's desk sits empty. There is something like that of a cloud of depression hanging over his chair, drawing towards waves of negative energy.

"Wait, who's Nanase Haruka?" A brunette boy from the back of the classroom shouts loudly. "You mean the freak?"

Makoto snaps his head to the side to glare at the boy, who has a confused expression on his face. His arms are crossed defiantly in front of him, threatening to wrinkle his school uniform.

"He is an important member of our student body and this community, Takahito-san," Amakata retorts with an edge in her voice, taking her reading glasses off her nose to look at him clearly. "And I do suggest you never to speak that rudely about Nanase-san again."

His face going pale, the boy slinks down in his seat as the eyes of every other student widens. Miss Amakata never spoke so harshly, and towards a single student, no less...

This was bad.

"Anyway..." Miss Amakata focuses on the paper once again. "This is the only information we have officially received on the circumstances surrounding the event. I know we are all saddened by Nanase-san's death and the faculty sends our condolences to his family and friends. Nanase-san was truly a wonderful young man. Crisis stations will be located throughout the school today for students who wish to talk to a counselor. His parents are scheduling to host a funeral. The time and date will be announced later today, and students may attend with parental permission."

Before she even finishes talking, Makoto knows he is going to attend the funeral. It is the least he can do, out of respect. Though, it puts him at unease; he's never been to a funeral that he can remember - the last one he went to was for his grandmother when he was six, and he was too young to understand the complexities of mortality back then.

Miss Amakata then swoops into an in-depth explanation about how death was hard to cope with and how it is unhealthy for people to bottle up their feelings, especially about an incident as sensitive and triggering as this one. Instead, she explains, the student body should focus on the positives of Haruka Nanase's life, to remember the happy memories instead of his death.

Makoto has no plans     to share any of his feelings; he is doing just fine keeping them to himself. There is no point, in his eyes, in making others worry about his problems. That is for him to handle.        

He couldn't focus on the rest of her speech, and it is the piercing ring of the school bell that alerts him out of his reverie. Makoto grabs his bag and rushes out the door, tucking his head down before anyone else can even react.

The knot in his stomach refuses to subside, and Makoto isn't quite sure why. It's not like he even knew Haruka that well; he was merely the boy who sat next to him in homeroom, not to mention the school's social pariah. He was so quiet, he never showed up on Makoto's radar - then again, he really didn't pay attention in school that much - but it irks him that he's feeling this way. Why does he care so much? Why does he feel like such a mess?

The only interaction Makoto had ever shared with Nanase Haruka was when he dropped his pencil in homeroom. Thanks to him clumsily knocking it off his desk, the pencil dropped to the floor and rolled by the leg of Haruka's chair. Makoto had reached to grab it, but was beaten to the punch when Haruka grabbed it first.

His dark blue hair fell over his eyes as he leaned down, snatching up the pencil.

"Here," He had said, his voice low, handing the mechanical pencil to Makoto. There was the faintest of amused expressions on his face, considering the mechanical pencil was topped with a kawaii bunny charm that dangled off a chain.

Makoto didn't even think to take the pencil from his hand - in fact, he wasn't thinking much at all; he was who was too stunned to react, because it was the first time he had ever seen Haruka's eyes. They were always covered by his dark blue hair, or he was turned away in his seat, staring out of the window, and Makoto can't help but feel lost - that is, lost in his eyes.

Haruka's eyes were so blue they practically freeze Makoto in place and make him believe there is an entire sky trapped behind his pupils. They make the smoldering rays of the sun feel like an ice cream in a blizzard and the ocean a slated shade of gray. They are the most fragile piece of sparkling china, somewhere between the lightest shade of teal and crystalline waters. They utterly captivate Makoto, albeit the time that passes is only a second or two, but they feel like hours. Haruka's eyes do that to Makoto. Haruka's eyes stop time itself.

Haruka's eyebrows had arched in questioning, giving Makoto an annoyed look. He had clearly noticed Makoto staring at him, and Makoto snatched the pencil from his outstretched hand, blushing bright red and sitting up straight. He continued to work on his unfinished homework, trying to forget the fact Haruka had stared at him curiously for a few moments before he sighed and looked back towards the window.

Lost in thought, Makoto nearly runs into someone as he rounds the corner. The person shouts in surprise, dropping their books on the floor.

"Mako-chan!" Makoto hears Nagisa's voice, both pleased and surprised, as he is snapped out of his reverie upon impact. Makoto squeaks in surprise upon seeing one of his best friends.

"Hey! Did you hear what happened?" Nagisa babbles, kneeling down to pick up his textbook.

His head spinning like a top, Makoto strides off without a word, deliberately ignoring his question. He can't deal with Nagisa's bubbliness now, not while he's on the verge of having another attack. His face heats up with angry embarrassment and he is temporarily grateful for being blessed with such long legs as he puts distance between him and his shorter friend.

Nagisa follows him down the hallway like a lost puppy, a spring in his step as he continues to gossip. "This is just crazy!" He continues to chatter, chewing the same sticky wad of bubblegum. "I mean, I always knew Nanase Haruka was a freak, but I didn't expect-"

"Nagisa, please-," Makoto chokes out, stopping himself mid-sentence before he could think twice about snapping at his friend. "Can we not talk about this right now?"

"Mako-chan, you can't just pretend like it didn't happen," Nagisa frowns. "Burying your head in the sand isn't going to fix anything."

"I-I know that," Makoto whispers, blushing angrily. He clutches onto his backpack strap tighter, wishing Nagisa would just leave him be. He needs to be alone right now.

Nagisa pops his bubblegum obnoxiously with his teeth, and it makes Makoto want to reach into his mouth, pull out the wad, and throw it at the wall. "Then what's the big deal?"

"Someone we know just killed himself, Nagisa," Makoto hisses through clenched teeth, refusing to look down at the blonde, who he can see is looking at him with confusion with his large, magenta eyes. "That's the big deal."

"Maybe you should go talk to one of the shrinks, then," Nagisa suggests with a shrug. Makoto can't tell if he's being genuine or sarcastic, and wasn't quite sure if one way would be better than the other. Nagisa knows how bad he is about talking about his feelings, he shouldn't be rubbing it in his face-

He turns away and decides to head the opposite direction to his first period class, which, unfortunately, happens to be Calculus, and he has a huge test to take.

Makoto has long since given up, realizing there was no way he is going to focus on this damn math test with these thoughts running in his mind.

- - - -

The rest of the school day is spent discussing Nanase Haruka's suicide. When his ears tune into the hushed whispers in the hall, he hears students whispering about Haruka, which was no surprise. Iwatobi is such a boring town, everyone takes the newest gossip and wrings it out like a sponge, getting as much talk as possible to impress others.

He can't help but feel distracted the entire day, hearing nothing but everyone's opinions on the matter. Like they even care, Makoto thinks angrily as he storms through the cafeteria during lunch. Though he can't blame them for talking about it, he can't help but feel angry they act like Haruka was so special.

"Oh, I just feel so bad," A teacher tells her coworker. "He was a lovely boy."

You made fun of him in front of the class last year for stuttering as he gave his presentation, Makoto mentally retorts as he brushes by the fake-sympathetic professor.

"About damn time he died," One boy says to his friend rudely as he slides his tray down the lunch aisle. Makoto's breath hitches in his throat, appalled at how someone could say something so insensitive with such ease.

"Damn freak shouldn't have been let out of juvie for killing his sister." His friend agrees, and they share a vengeful laugh, carrying their trays off to a table. Makoto tries to tune them out and rushes past a table of worried-looking girls.

"How do you think he did it?" Another girl whispers nervously to her friend, pushing up the glasses on her nose.

"I don't want to know," Her friend says in response, her face going green. "Ugh. How disgusting. I can't even imagine what a dead body looks like without wanting to throw up."

Makoto allows his annoyance to grow at each passing comment.

How dare they? How dare they speak of him so disrespectfully?

And yet, he knows deep down he is being a complete hypocrite. He and Haruka were far from friends, but somehow Makoto shake the feeling that there could've been something he could have said, anything he could've done to help Haruka. Why did he allow himself to let Haruka fight this battle on his own, to let him slip away?

Why does it feel like it's my fault for not saving him?

By the end of the day, no one has ceased to stop talking about the incident. The principal comes over the announcements, asking for a few minutes of silence out of respect for Haruka. Although everyone shuts their mouths for the period of silence, Makoto feels himself getting repulsed at the kids making faces each other, clearly not caring much at all.

Now that he thinks about it more, he can't recall a single person who genuinely cared about the boy. Some people act falsely sympathetic, but Makoto knows that is simply because they have the decency to remain positive, out of respect, instead of insult the deceased.

The principal also reminds the student body that there would be a funeral on Thursday night, at the Hollanova Funeral Home at six in the evening, and attending classes would be optional that day out of reverence for Haruka's death.

Makoto had already made up his mind that he was going to attend, but there was something about the way the students showed little interest in attending made him even more inspired to go.

Maybe he'd find some sort of closure so he could stop feeling this way... Apprehensive.

Guilty.

Helpless.

He decides to walk home that afternoon, not wanting to deal with interacting with Nagisa or Rei, who would surely be blabbering on about the circle of life and how all biological organisms must die someday. No, that is not what he needs to hear.

He needs to hear that this is all just a dream.

...Just a dream...

Suddenly, the puzzle pieces of his mind fit together, and Makoto has to grab the railing of the walkway he is on to steady himself because he is at major risk of collapse. The fuzzy, incomprehensible face of the mysterious boy in his dream clears. Haruka's eyes come into focus, bright blue and shining with desperate tears.

No.

It's not just a dream.

- - - -

Makoto walks into the house, dropping his school satchel at his feet. He mumbles out a half-hearted "I'm home," that he is sure no one hears. He tugs off his shoes and rushes towards his bedroom, nearly safe in the comfort of a closed door when he hears his mother's voice behind him.

Her voice is timid and on the verge of breaking. She must know. "Makoto?"

Makoto cannot will himself to turn around and look his mother in the eye, because he knows that if he does he will never be able to erase her saddened expression from his memory.

"Yes?" He responds, his hand resting on the doorframe. He freezes mid-stance, his eyes training on his dull ivory bedroom wall.

"I'm assuming you heard the news about..." Makoto's mother trails off, unsure of how to finish her sentence. Of course he's heard about it. He's heard nothing but it for the past eight hours, and he knows he won't stop thinking about it tonight, either.

"I-" Makoto starts, unable to sort out what he wants to say.

"You can talk to me if you need to, Makoto," Her hand is on his shoulder now, soft and caring, trailing down his arm until she grabs his hand. Makoto bites his bottom lip and worries it with his teeth nervously.

"I'm fine, Mom," He lies.

She doesn't believe it for a second. Though, Makoto didn't think she'd believe him anyway; for as long as he can remember, his mother and he have had a strong connection, one that doesn't need words. "It's not good for you to bottle up your emotions like this, honey..." Her voice is thick and gravelly, like she'd been crying. "What happened was very serious, I wouldn't want you to-" She cuts herself off mid-sentence, the unspoken words looming over their heads like a stormcloud.

Kill yourself too.

"Don't worry about me, Mom," Makoto puts on a fake, forced smile.

"If you say so," His mother sighs shakily, allowing her grasp to loosen on Makoto's hand, his fingers falling lamely to his side. She isn't entirely convinced, that's for sure, but she decides to drop the topic. "But I do want you to see one of those counselors they have at school. I wouldn't want you to... to...."

"Mom," Makoto finally whirls around, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. She is at least a half-foot shorter than him, and she looks up at him with tears in her swollen eyes. So she has been crying, Makoto realizes with a pang of his chest. "I'm okay."

"This is so hard for all of us, sweetie. I just want you to be safe," She explains, her voice choking up. "Lucinda just lost her son; I can't even fathom what that must be like... What that family is going through."

"I want to help somehow. Is it alright if I attend the funeral?" Makoto asks.

"I figured you would want to," She nods in response. "Now go get your schoolwork done. I want you in bed early tonight. You need some rest, you look exhausted."

"Okay," Makoto complies, kissing her cheek. "Thank you, Mom."

He offers her one last convincing smile before heading into his bedroom and slowly closing the door. He decides to lock it, not wanting his twin siblings to bombard him with questions and grasping for his attention. For the afternoon, at least, he needed some time to himself.

Makoto eventually realizes it is impossible to focus on anything, and thus, getting his homework done becomes an impossible feat. As he stares at his history textbook, attempting to take notes for his advanced world history class, he finds the words blurring and falling off the page like droplets of rain, and then after a minute or two he'll snap out of it, knowing he's read the same paragraph six times and hasn't absorbed a word of it.

After what feels like an hour (though it's only been about fifteen minutes), he slams the book shut and pushes it to the corner of his desk. He falls into his crossed arms, shutting his eyes tightly and fighting back tears.

Why is this so painful? He thinks to himself desperately, his air passage closing up as a lump forms in his throat. His hands clench into tightly-balled fists, his fingernails making crescent-shaped imprints of white on his palms. I hardly even knew him.

The winter sun is already setting, and before he knows it, his room is completely dark. The last of Makoto's energy slips away as he stumbles into bed, flopping face first on the unmade duvet and burying his face into his pillow.

Makoto is afraid to allow his eyes to close and fall asleep, terrified the dream may return, and yet his brain shuts down and he loses consciousness with hot tears in his eyes.

- - - -

A/N: I'm super sick so I had some time to write today :) Hopefully you are enjoying this - this story is certainly a heavy one but it is flowing out of me so expect some more updates in the near future.

I better go make up all my missed schoolwork now... Being in 11th grade is hard xD

Also, random, but you guys should listen to the song Cancer by MCR. It's so awesome (the cover by TØP is really good too) and I've had it on repeat lately ;D