Work Text:
Haru sits in the frigid bath water, his arms hugged up around his knees. He didn't bother turning on the hot tap or even stripping out of his black sports jacket and slacks. His shoulders start shaking as he sobs. He rakes his fingers through his hair, pulling at it as his sobs became louder. He yells out, punching the tiled wall with his left fist, breaking the skin over his knuckles. He tries to focus on the pain in his bleeding hand, but his mind keeps slipping.
Black umbrellas in the rain. A coffin lowering excruciatingly slowly into the earth.
"NO!" he screams, hoping it was the one word he could say to erase this all; take him back to that last afternoon. He watched his animated face, laughing although pale and thin. He felt his arm across his shoulders, his hand rubbing against his upper arm, trying to make things better. They could never get better. Even in his last day, he had tried to make sure Haru would be okay. Even as the coughs wracked his body and his eyes slipped closed-
"NO NO NO NO NO!" Haru screams, repeatedly punching the wall, drops of blood falling into the water. He sinks into the bath, breathing heavily as the tears pour down his face.
Why did it happen to him? It could have happened to any of them. Why him? Why had those destructive cells developed on him, through him, without anyone noticing?
He had told him while walking home from school. He had been quiet all day, and he finally explained why. He showed him where it had started, an innocent enough looking mark on his chest. He then pointed out the slight redness around it. He had put his hands on his chest, saying it was already in his lungs. He told him
"No..."
that it was too late.
"No!"
He had tried, doctors pumping the toxins through him. He had tried, throwing up for the sixth time that day. He had tried, his hair falling from his scalp in chunks, his weight dropping, his cheeks growing pale. He had tried, coughing (always coughing) into blood stained handkerchiefs. He had tried, keeping his smile in place to make everyone okay. He had tried, crying when Haru said it was okay to...
Haru sits up in the bathtub, his mourning clothes soaked with water and blood and tears. He reaches his damaged hand out, just wanting him to take it, to look up and see his smiling face, but only finding empty air. He drops his arm and puts his head in his hands.
"Makoto... No..."