A/N: I really wanted to write something solely from Haruka's POV, but he's a very hard character for me to write. I think it's mostly because I never know how to handle this kind of character, but I tried my hardest to capture him. To be honest, I feel like this borders the line of lengthy rambling though.

The life Haruka Kokonose knows is one that never changes. Ever since he could remember, he has seen those endless hospital corridors stock still against one another, like an unmoving army of glass and plaster. It was a sight that tired his eyes; and it was the clinical smell of health's misfortunes which tortured his nose for years too, until he couldn't tell the difference between it and the outside world anymore.

It isn't as if he's allowed outside all that much though. He realises he knows room 109 better than he knows his own bedroom by now; he knows how the far most bed is always 14 inches from the window and how the curtains only close halfway. He know how this bed is 5 inches higher than his bed at home, and how the bedside table creaks even when he puts a mere sketchbook atop it.

His parents would visit on occasion, just as he would return home on occasion, but it is and was always the same dull routine. Home never even feels like home at this point, and the hospital is no better. His life seems to be stuck in a realm of monotony, he figures out on one bleak day, and the hope for it changing is holds the same percentage of such monotony; forever fastened to the bitter zero.

When he is finally old enough to understand this properly, he cries and cries but the doctors and all the nurses just walk on by.

You'll be alright. He tells himself. Someone will come help you soon.

The small child, so weak and so lost is left alone with no guide; and it is then when he begins to seek solace in art.

The pencil strokes are sloppy and terrible because some days he cries too hard, but he's learned that everyone is nicer when you smile and so he does. Words in the hallways fade to mere murmurs, and sometimes the world is incomprehensible beyond his colour-stained hands, but he endures. Soon, he accepts his unfortunate life simply because he has to accept everything – and no longer finds it in himself to care enough for any more tears to fall.

He continues to smile, until the expression no longer leaves his muscles aching.

This comfortable façade of happiness falls over his entire being as the days crawl on, and it is the closest thing to home he knows. As he reaches for his 5th empty hug on his 10th birthday, he starts to think that keeping to himself and drowning in artistic imagination is the only home he'll ever know.

A few years on though, something begins to change. What seems to break the monotony is the very monotony that plagues the lives of healthy people his age. A step up known to most as 'school'. Specifically, it is the concluding saga of an ordinary schooling life – senior high – but Haruka knows his life had never run according to the book anyway.

School, in all essence, is a foreign concept to him. Not once had he thought he'd end up here, and he hadn't thought he'd be one day sitting in clothes that weren't stiff with sterilised ignorance or gazing upon a desk that wasn't permanently fixed to a bed. He never thought he'd be allowed to sit here. In this place, surrounded by shelves and boxes and facing a whiteboard, pristine and ready for use. He had long given up hope.

The change almost scares him.

More than anything though, Haruka is determined to make the most out of his school experience. It will be a brief change, he's already aware, to his otherwise never changing life. He's excited about working and studying hard (he's never had to do so before and he hopes his grades will be satisfactory at least), and he's excited about learning new things about the world (for once his long-winding list of questions can finally break free).

His eyes are bright and alert as he takes in the room in which he sits, and he tries to hide this beating, anxious excitement with a tapping foot under the desk. For once, he doesn't feel totally sick. He waits. The door behind him slides open as the teacher enters with a student at his side. And then Haruka knows he's staring.

"Kokonose Haruka." The teacher acknowledges with a polite nod, blinking sleepily behind rectangular lenses. Then he gestures to the girl beside him. She's small, he thinks, but she doesn't look like she'd be knocked over very easily. It is apparent even in the way the teacher hesitates that there's something special about this girl, and he almost misses her name when the syllables slip out one by one: "Enomoto Takane."

She nods, alongside the teacher. Haruka finds himself nodding hurriedly, because nodding seems to be some developing trend. His stare returns after he brings his head back up, more because he's curious than anything else, but even though he feels it rude, he can't stop. Takane catches on surprisingly quickly and stares back, though her stare is more threatening than he anticipated. He tries not to flinch.

It is only at that moment when Haruka remembers his social skills extended only as far as a constant, constant smile and so that's what he does. Unfortunately, Takane narrows her gaze at it and he (so stupid) starts to smile wider, earning a perplexed look from the girl and a tired shrug.

The teacher starts rubbing his eyes behind his thick glasses when he notices the odd silence. Then he sighs. "You two will be classmates during your time here, so you better get used to each other. This is the whole class, after all. We're all going to be best friends." He tells them both, flicking his sandy hair idly. "I am Tateyama Kenjirou, and I will be your wonderful teacher."

A "nice to meet you" emerges from Haruka's mouth, and he's relieved to find he didn't stutter. As Kenjirou makes his way to the front of the room, laughing strangely, Haruka's also relieved that his confusion relayed onto his classmate, who was trying not (wait, not?) to smile at him.

"Um… nice to meet you." He repeats to her, after the girl doesn't move. She looks scary just standing there, but he figures her face might just fall that way.

"Ah… yeah… nice to meet you too." Takane replies, shuffling to the desk beside him. The light dusting of pink on her cheeks is enough of a response for him to feel satisfied.

"Thank you." Haruka says, out of the blue.

"… for what?" Takane asks, grumbling under her breath when they both notice their teacher napping on the front desk (funny, he didn't think they were allowed to do that, but what does he know?).

"For being my precious and only classmate."

When the day is over, he can't wait to come back to that flustered glare and shy, fleeting smile.

Takane Enomoto is not like any person he has ever met before. He supposes it's a given seeing he knows next to no-one besides his family and a plethora of sick children and to some extent his unusual teacher Kenjirou, but there is a nagging sense in his brain that's telling him Takane is a different kind all on her own.

If one were to describe Takane, he is sure they would use words such as 'harsh' and 'guarded' and 'hot-headed' because that is how she is. Takane is not afraid to lash out at people who don't agree with her, and Haruka learns this over and over – because more than anything, Takane is adorable when she gets pissed off.

He knows it would be a bad idea to mention this to her, but he vows that one day he will (well, probably, it's still tentative). She is always full of surprises, that girl, even though it probably isn't intentional at all. One day, he thinks, he will try and surprise her himself.

Presently, he is content with watching her antics range from the smooth curve of her slumping back as she complained or slept through class and the cheeky grin she pulls when she thinks no-one is looking and the magical gravity defying nature of her hair when she was surprised or alarmed. Sometimes he wonders if he can touch it, but then he's left wondering why and doesn't do so.

He soon learns that sometimes 'why' can be a very difficult question to answer.

"You don't eat a lot, do you?"

Takane's gaze lifts from her lunch as he asks this, and shrugs. "Just because I don't eat as much as you doesn't mean I don't eat 'a lot', per say. Since your stomach is a black hole and everything."

Haruka smiles sheepishly because he also knows that his appetite is a force to be reckoned with, but the lingering concern – he's always concerned about her, this isn't good for his heart – persists as he continues to question her. "Does your mother make your lunch?"

He waits for her to finish chewing, before she replies with a quiet, "I have to make my own."

There is a shroud of something Haruka can't quite pinpoint enveloping Takane, and he wishes he had been taught how to read people better. Nevertheless, it's dismissed quickly at the image of Takane cooking invading his mind.

His hands curl into fists, clutching his sleeves as he exclaims excitedly, "Oh! It's so cool that you can cook!" The energy seems to stun her, and then she's looking back at her food, taking another quick bite.

"It's not that special." She mumbles, face heating up. It's a side of her he doesn't recognise, and Takane seems reluctant to speak further, but before he can put in another word, she points her fork at him. The embarrassment is radiating from her in waves, and to his surprise she asks, "D-do you want some?"

Haruka feels his smile growing, and he's quick to dismiss his thundering chest as the heat getting to him. "O-of course! If you're offering…"

She thrusts the fork into his hands then, her eyes finding something else to look at as she does so. "Take it then. I'm not feeding you."

As he lets the food item slide into his mouth, he comes to the startling realisation that he had been so occupied with staring at her reddening face that he could barely taste it. Takane seemed to have that effect on him; numbing his senses when he most needed them to function, and his mind always went back to that 'why'.

"So…" She peers up at him through thick lashes, almost cowering. "Is it okay?"

He's quick to reassure her and spread the rosy compliments like wildfire, but he can only laugh when she spins around and smacks him.

"It can't be helped."

Ah, how he almost couldn't stand that phrase. He had uttered it so many times because of his condition, merely brushing off even the biggest of disappointments that he wonders if he can block the words from his throat so he can say something else as a change. He didn't mind smiling so much as he despised the taste of the words; the lies that told everyone he was fine.

'It can't be helped' that he's landed himself in hospital again.

'It can't be helped' that he's sitting on that bed he's grown bored of, eating his 5 servings of drab hospital food and counting, no, it can't be helped. It can't be helped because this was how it was going to be – every time he tried to escape from that never changing life, it would inevitably return.

'It can't be helped' that he will never get better.

He worries Takane, and he worries his teacher and he wishes he could be instantly cured if only to transform their concerned looks into happiness 's his hesitant nature that wishes he could just forget everything and live out his boring days alone just like he used to. After all, in a few years, he's going to have to go back anyway.

"Are you okay, Haruka?"

He's answered this question so many times that it can't be helped how well he's rehearsed the response.

"Of course, you don't have to worry about me!"

The relief crossing their faces almost makes him feel guilty.

"What happened to your hand?"

Being an aspiring artist despite his illness, Haruka's hands were of incredible importance to him. When Takane enters the room with that question flying from her mouth, he isn't surprised, though he's a little disappointed she still hadn't caught his 'good morning' syndrome because just once he wants to hear her say that first thing in the morning.

Nevertheless, he waves his bandaged hand at her carelessly – he can afford to be careless with injuries, he supposes – since he's basically a walking injury anyway.

"Caught my mother falling down the stairs. Just fractured my wrist, but I'm okay. It happens."

Her expression seems to soften, but when he blinks it returns to normal. "You were home this weekend?"

Home? He notes that it's still hard to call a place home when he's barely ever there. "Yeah, it's been a good week so the doctor let me out. But say, you look really fresh today! Did you get a good night's sleep?"

Takane looks vaguely embarrassed as if she were debating whether to tell the truth or not and replies with a grumbled, "Who tells people they look fresh? … yeah, about 15 hours. I'm still tired, though."

At this, his cracks a wide smile. "Takane, you sleep so much and yet you still look like a panda…"

"Shut up!" She exclaims, covering her face with her hands as she settles into her seat. "It's not like I can help it or anything!"

It took him a long time to figure out what exactly landed Takane in the same classroom as him, but it brings him peace to know, since it's one of the only things they can tease each other about without being too sensitive about it.

"… fresh like a flower," Haruka laughs to himself, and Takane rolls her eyes at him, unable to stop her lips from quirking upwards.

"You are such a strange guy, Haruka."

"Eh? Oh, thank you."

Their teacher, Kenjirou Tateyama, suddenly bursts in with a comedic elegance, and in a commanding voice says, "Stop looking so happy, you're at school!"

Takane raises her hand, "I'm going to tell the principal you said that."

"Takane, you heartless soul! You would do that to your own teacher?!"

"I was joking."

"So even a person like you can make jokes…"

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

And then Haruka can't help himself and he's laughing at them, just as the day begins.

It suddenly occurs to Haruka in their second year that he and Takane have been referring to each other by their first names from the moment they had met. He wonders if he should feel bad for that lack of etiquette, but upon trying to roll out an awkward 'Enomoto-san' with his tongue, he realises it is probably a good thing he screwed up.

It's the difference between having a friend and just being acquaintances, he realises, and he's glad because it's one less place that he has to learn to be strictly polite to be cared for. There are times however, when he acknowledges that they are also very different people.

Because Takane is always outspoken, Haruka often finds himself being the only one listening, and sometimes that also gets tiring. It's a bit of a shame, he figures, when their class is announced as not participating in the cultural festival – but he's used to this sort of thing. They had so many limitations (because of him, because he is sick and weak and it can't be helped) and he knows the curling disappointment more than anyone.

The surprise completely overrides the disappointment when Takane practically explodes, slamming her hands on the desk demanding to know why he hadn't spoken up when he was so eagerly looking forward to their cultural festival contribution.

"You have to speak up when you want something, okay?"

He's not used to it, but he tries.

"Then... I want to do something like a shooting gallery..."

"A WHAT?! How are we going to do something like that-?"

Her quick thinking leads him and Kenjirou playing the roles of overtime cramming for this booth idea (she had refused to change it after he had offered a single suggestion, the stubborn girl) but Haruka feels nothing but happy when the day of the festival finally rolls around.

The fruit of his hard work (to be honest, all he had to do was a lot of drawing and making coffee for their teacher) is received well by the populace. He's nervous at first, and even for Takane's sake, but it is word of her reputation that lifts him back up again. After the day's done, he remembers shooting Takane countless 'good luck's and a couple of pep talks when she got a little down. All in all, he knows he will never regret this experience, though he almost regrets letting himself get addicted to Dead Bullet 1989.

If anyone ever asks him, it was the fault of his amazing classmate. Lightning Dancer or Eternal Rondo or Phantom Waltz and whatnot, it was so cool. He doesn't get why Takane's so embarrassed about it, but the doors to her world are finally opening and he's glad to be a witness.

(But as exciting as those stories were to hear, he almost wishes she weren't so well known.)

Ever since they met Shintaro and Ayano at that fated cultural festival, Haruka revalued everything he saw judging by the reflection in Takane's eyes. They'd have known each other for two years now, reaching for a third by the end of March, and Takane has suddenly become beautiful. Not conventionally beautiful, because had she been that he would have never overlooked it, but a kind of beauty that he hadn't – and probably couldn't – find anywhere else in the world.

"Haruka? You okay? You've been reading that same page for the past ten minutes." Takane swiftly moves beside him, tilting her head in confusion and pulling him back to reality. "Is there something you don't get?"

And he's shocked to find that the only thing running through his mind is kiss her.

He doesn't, of course. That would be stupid. They're in a library, and they're supposed to be studying and for heaven's sake Shintaro is sitting right next to him while Ayano is rambling off about heroes and justice and – and – "and what?" His mind asks him, and he frowns.

The book he is supposed to be reading falls slowly to the floor.

Apparently his silence stretches for a moment too long, when suddenly he feels Takane's cold hand on his forehead. "Hey, are you feeling alright? You've been spacey since this morning."

"I'm fine." He mutters, a smile gracing his lips. There's a drop in her expression that leaves him scrambling for more words, "I'm fine, I'm really fine! It's nothing, don't worry about it! So what did you need help for in this topic? Did you understand it?"

He knows she knows he's lying, but he's grateful she doesn't push it. The concept of being remotely in like (in love?) with Takane is too foreign, too foreboding, to consider and though he's been fighting a good battle, all he wants now is to run away.

While he's happy that Takane's found a new sort of kinship with Ayano, it gets increasingly hard for him to deal with someone like Shintaro as a result. He feels the younger student resembles those cold hospital corridors and the cruel condescending eyes of the recent past, and yet resembles the fiery heat in the classroom – Takane, always Takane – a surprisingly equal amount.

It unnerves him.

Somehow, though, Shintaro is a constant in which Haruka becomes familiar with and infinitely grateful for. Like the standing army of medical wards side-by-side, Shintaro doesn't ever seem to change his ways, and even hearing the stream of cutting words from his mouth only bring a fond smile to Haruka's face.

"What did you end up doing with the prize you won, by the way?" It's just to strike up conversation, because he's curious and wants to report back to Takane and Kenjirou later but Shintaro huffs almost as if he's offended.

"Oh, that weird thing? I gave it away."

"Did you? I'm happy to hear it came to some use."

"No, I didn't want it in the first place."

The conversation died there, since Shintaro clearly acts like he wants nothing to do with him and Haruka can't help but feel a little dejected.

Even so, it's fine.

"You don't eat a lot, do you?"

Takane blinks when he asks this, responding with a perplexed, "I feel like we've had this conversation before. Shouldn't you be watching how much you eat, by the way?"

"Maybe we have!" He shrugs, swallowing before he continues. "I'm fine eating a lot. It doesn't really affect my health or my body that much."

He can see the disgruntled expression she makes and chooses to aim his towards Shintaro instead, who hasn't touched his lunch at all. "Speaking of which, if you aren't going to have that, may I?"

"No." The other replies, and Ayano intercepts timidly, offering something in Shintaro's stead.

"You can have this." She says, and Haruka doesn't want to take it out of courtesy but it's food and so he does.

Takane only rolls her eyes. "We're going out for udon after school. You can wait."

Ayano giggles before he can reply, though something seems a little off about her that day. "It's fine, take it. I don't mind."

"Thank you," he says finally.

Something about that day sparks a feeling of dread; slowly, steadily creeping up his spine. He ignores it, but later wishes he didn't.

Later on in that same day, he finds out why.

It's a choking feeling, and all those memories flashing across his mind serve only to remind him that he isn't drowning on anything – even if it feels like it.

Takane is with him, but having given up on her work, she faces away, oblivious. He has never wanted her to look at him more than at this second, when he feels his vision fading. His eyelids are heavy and nothing in his body will obey him and he's frightened, but he can't say anything.

He can't tell her where it hurts, because his voice doesn't reach her. His breath is ragged, and he wants to calm down but he's thinking this is it. This is where I die.

When he blacks out, all he wants to do is scream. Nothing comes out.

When he wakes up, that stench of the hospital he thought he had escaped infiltrates his entire being and he's blacking out again – is that his "Teacher…?" – and his body is failing, he is breaking and as it ends, he sinks into a terrifying dream.

It's admittedly scary when he's alone in this place.

He looks around and the same hospital machines he's always seen are beeping by his side, yet apart from those, he is surrounded by a world of pure, unending white. His fingers curl into the bed sheets as he trembles, and Haruka almost wants to cry then – but he wills the tears away.

He thinks of his teacher briefly; kind, boisterous Kenjirou Tateyama that had a sneer so out of place in Haruka's blurring vision. He wants to believe it a hallucination, but after arriving here, he is not so sure.

A little embarrassed, he recalls the need to see Takane one more time and claiming it long and loud to a woman he didn't know, who had been standing by him with cold, crimson eyes. Somehow, when he checks again, the strange woman of black and red had vanished along with everything else.

He focuses on his body, searching for some kind of evidence or lack thereof, and he notices that he is no longer falling apart. A sense of peace land on him like a soft blanket, and the white environment sees his smile at last. Oddly enough, when he is in this place, his stomach doesn't scream for food nor do his eyes droop for sleep. It's a bizarre, incredible feeling, and he almost agrees with Takane who wished for such a body; but he doesn't.

For a while, he wonders if he may be dead.

When Ayano visits him for the first time, in this empty expanse of nothingness, he is shocked to see her break out into tears. Unexpectedly, Haruka notes to himself that this is also the first time he had seen Ayano without her usual glimmering, happy front.

"Don't cry," he tries, but the girl just stands at the foot of his bed sobbing, "H-hey, what's the matter?"

"I'm sorry." Ayano sniffs, and eventually manages to give him a smile. It feels painted, but he doesn't call her out on it. She stumbles over her words, the tears threatening to spill again, and all he can make out is her voice saying, "I just… I thought I had stopped his… his plan – but here, you…! No, don't worry about it…"

He wants to ask, but having no concept of time or place brings him to believe they have all the time in the world for answering questions. It could wait.

"Do you know where we are?" He asks, once her face is dry.

Ayano nods. "I don't know what these places are called exactly, but all of us in Haze have one."

Her answer confuses him (it sadly makes no sense at all), so Haruka looks around as if the endless white can help. Though it doesn't, a wave of nostalgia washes over him. He remembers when he first entered hospital as a child, and in his small perspective, it had seemed just like this.

He is broken out of his short reverie as Ayano approaches the side of the bed. She has the gall to laugh in this situation, but he knows the sound of a laugh like that well enough to forgive her instantly. Ayano's expression eases, "If it helps, I can show you my place. If you're feeling up to it."

A gentle smile crosses his face as he passes consent. "Sure, go ahead."

The white falls like rain over their heads and suddenly, after Haruka blinks once, they're in a classroom lit by the setting sun. He's standing, and though he's still dressed in the cold hospital garments, he doesn't feel the slightest bit ill.

His hands trace over the many desks – because isn't this what he had once dreamed of before he joined Takane in their class of two? – and he lets a sigh escape his throat.

"This is your … place?"

Ayano fidgets a bit with her scarf. "Yes. Ah, but don't look out the – "

His stomach drops at the view outside the glass panes and he hears Ayano squeak mid-sentence.

" – window."

Beyond the glass is a steady drop, as if the classroom had been hoisted up into the sky and was precariously hanging on unfinished beams and framework. It goes farther than eyes can see, as the descent blends in with pure darkness below, and he briefly wonders how terrifying it would be to fall from here. Flickers of red down below puts him on edge, and he reels back from the windows.

"This is…" He begins, but can't put the sight to words.

"… the furthest from home I've ever felt." Ayano finishes, gaze dropping to her fumbling hands. "But it was something I had to do. Even though you still…"

Ayano has never been so much of a mystery than at this moment, and Haruka almost dislikes the cryptic way she speaks as if she's treading on thin ice. Despite it all, he doesn't let his re-lit smile waver, and with a light voice requests to go back to where they were before.

Then the world is white again, and Ayano is no longer beside him.

In this place which he finally accepts as his own, he spends time overthinking his life so far, and doing nothing – by god, he's never had to be so focused on doing nothing since waiting for Takane to wake up after school – and figuring things out for himself.

Of all things, he finds it hardest to think about Takane when he's here, because it's he feels as if they are at opposite ends of the universe at this point, but he still, still wants to see her again. If it were not for Ayano's fleeting visits, he is sure that that single wish would slowly drive him insane.

"Hi Ayano," he chirps cheerfully, upon seeing the brunette materialise in the white space once again. He envied the way she could just come and go between these places, but after some of the things she's experienced (a flaming mansion, a dog wailing for its owner, a young boy crying by a pedestrian crossing and bloodied girl on the pavement, to name a few) he supposes he doesn't envy her that much. "Any news?"

"Mm," she hums, reaching in to give a signature hug, "Takane is doing well. She and Shintaro just joined the Mekakushi Dan, along with Shintaro's little sister. He doesn't seem very pleased about it, but I think it'll be good for them…"

A relieved feeling envelops him and he thanks her sweetly. Then, something that has always piqued his curiosity bubbles out before he can contain it, "And the 'other' me?"

"Ah, him?" Ayano tilts her head, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "I believe… Shintaro has met him. He was looking for my little auntie and her friend, last time I checked."

He thanks her again, and when she turns to leave, Haruka is hit with the feeling that he wouldn't see her for a long time afterwards. "See you again!" He quickly says before she's gone, and though Ayano waves, she doesn't turn back.

The next time he sees Ayano, she is scuffling behind someone as if she feels guilty for leaving him alone for so long. Haruka casts all his feelings away for his jovial appearance to rise again, and he isn't surprised to find it comes more naturally than it ever had.

Shintaro, whom Ayano is following, submits to the same reaction as she when he sights Haruka for the first time in what feels like years. It probably has been, because Haruka sees the way Shintaro no longer looks like he perpetually wants to hurt somebody, and he towers over Ayano in a way that the older male had not ever remembered him doing. It's just as nice a thing as it is sad – because only after seeing his friend does he realise how much he's missed by dawdling in this world of dreary light.

"It's been a long time." He greets them, directing it at both though Ayano averts her gaze. He doesn't blame her for it, but his eyes wander to Shintaro, assessing him thoughtfully. Then his smile softens, "What brings you here, of all places?"

Shintaro is surprisingly quick to reply, his voice deeper and more mature than he remembers.

"I'm here to bring you home."

Home. Haruka thinks, though he's forgotten if such a thing ever existed for him, I'm going home.

He remembers Ayano telling him something familiar, and brings up a question he doesn't expect the answer to. "I wonder what the me on the other side is like?"

"He's a really nice guy." Shintaro says without delay and fidgets because he's never been good with serving compliments, "He's trying to live up to all of your ideals. But well…"

"But what happens when he does, right?" Haruka smiles. "I understand. I don't have long, do I?"

The heart rate monitor flat lines. He feels the worries in his mind and the lingering doubts all filter away, and likewise, all the traces of that hospital life he once lived filter away from him too. More than anything, in true death, Haruka feels alive.

"Don't cry, Shintaro. You'll make me sad, too."

He doesn't know Konoha at all. He meets Kuroha for a bare amount of time. But when they both sink into the endless abyss, he silently mourns for them, for reasons unknown even to him. It feels as if a part of him is missing, and simply floating away into nothingness; but if that part existed, he believes it would be called 'bitterness'.

Then it's alright. He thinks. I have no reason to feel bitter anymore.

Haruka almost can't believe it when the final member of their quartet – the one he's been wanting the most to meet again – also bursts into tears at the sight of him. The humorous side of him wonders if he's grown rather unattractive over years of isolation with no mirror, but his heart is soaring because these important people missed him so much, and he missed them too.

He doesn't actually see her coming, but he hears her, because Takane always liked to make her presence known, and is quick to catch her when she comes sailing towards him. He laughs then, because he had thought this dream was lost forever even with it here in his arms. He also laughs because Takane has not changed one bit, only her hair is longer and when she reaches up, she can finally pat him on the head.

"Hello," he breathes when he has the strength to speak again, and admires her for a moment.

"Hi," she replies, the consequences of her actions leaving her flustered and she delicately hops off of him. "You idiot…"

"You haven't changed at all." He teases, and hugs her tighter when she tries to escape.

"Haruka." She says sternly, hiding a relieved smile behind her hand, "Let me go."

"No," he answers, "I want to be together with you."

What he doesn't expect is for her to lean up and capture his lips in hers, the heat radiating off her skin almost burning. He can feel it even when she pulls away, stubbornly saying, "I waited for two years to do that. You better keep up with me."

And he dives in to do it again, "I will, I promise."

Those never changing days are left far behind, when Haruka finally discovers how important it is to make the most of life. The years have treated him well, though his sense of belonging had never quite taken its place, and he finds himself moving into Takane's house because there's nowhere else for him to go.

Upon entering the house, Haruka notices that everything is completely silent but all the lights are on. Venturing into the kitchen grants him an answer – Takane had fallen asleep at the table. A cake was perched in the centre of that same table, decorated and sweet, and not because he's hungry (but who is he kidding, he's always hungry), he goes directly up to it. While petting Takane softly on the head, he finally sees the message she had written on it.

'Welcome home,' it read.

He smiles and stuns himself when he feels his overwhelming happiness blooming into grateful tears.

"I'm home."