Setting: Route M

Rating: T

Genre: Angst, Drama

Characters: Shintarou, Takane, Haruka

Word Count: 902

A/N: Hi, why is the harushin tag as dead as Haruka? Anyway, have whatever this is.

Also, thanks jin for my life (route m and saying Shintarou would be married to Haruka).

Based off this doujin and the translations made by angraavenger.

tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

The truth be told, Kisaragi Shintarou didn't really know why he kept on coming back here. The route's familiar to him now, five minutes of walking from the bakeshop to the nearest bus stop, five stops past in half an hour, three floors up, turn on the first corridor on the left, third door on your right. Every day after class he goes here, buying a baumkuchen from that bakeshop he said he likes on some days on the off chance that he'd finally be awake to share it.

Is there really a reason to do this? Shintarou wonders as he steps on a dead leaf that yields him a satisfying crunch. It's a nice autumn afternoon out, after all. Leaves are turning over their colors, the breeze is getting cooler with each passing day. He could've just stayed at home to surf the web. But Shintarou wants to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up, and Shintarou definitely doesn't want him to wake up alone either, so he just keeps coming back.

He pauses in front of the door, sighing as he checks the nameplate on the side before turning the doorknob to its side. As he does, Shintarou's greeted with an annoyed grunt.

Great. The other visitor's also here. She never really quits, does she?

"It's you again," she says without bothering to look up from her game console as the same thought goes through Shintarou's head.

"Your point being?" Shintarou mutters as he drags a chair across the floor and deposits it beside the head of the bed. "Not like I go here to see your dumb face."

"What the fuck did you just say?" Enomoto yells, abruptly standing up to point an accusing finger at Shintarou, pigtails bouncing as she did.

"Ugh, shut up," Shintarou hisses back as he sticks his fingers into his ears to block out her shrill voice. "Did your parents name you because you were so loud as a baby? You're going to wake up the entire wing."

"I wish he would," Enomoto sighs, inclining her head to the side as she picks up her console again from where it dropped at the foot of the bed and sits back down again.

Shintarou agrees, but he'd rather die than admit that out loud. "Why are you here, anyway? Do you even attend classes?" he asks instead while carefully untangling the various lines until Shintarou could grasp his hand.

Enomoto shrugs. "My grandparents homeschool me, so…" She looks up, and sees what Shintarou's doing. "You want me to raise the bed?"

"It's fine," Shintarou replies, shaking his head. "Hello, Haruka–sa— senpai," he says, lightly squeezing Haruka's hand.

Haruka, as usual, remains limp and unresponsive.

"He's not your senpai yet, you know," Enomoto points out.

"He'd be next year, so I'm practicing," Shintarou retorts, his temper gone.

"Ah," Enomoto says. "I'm gonna go for a bit. See you later."

Shintarou watches as she rather hastily leaves the room and takes her knapsack with her, until all that's left in the room was him and the sick boy lying motionless on the bed before him.

"Hey, uh, senpai," Shintarou falters, never really knowing where to start. "I went to class again today. I tried socializing like you said, but…" he shrugs, exhaling loudly. "I don't know."

"You gotta wake up, senpai," Shintarou adds, clearing his throat to try and dislodge the irritating lump forming in it. "Go to school with me? Come on, we promised, remember?"

All that he gets in reply is the cold, mechanical beeping of machines.

"Please?" Shintarou says, furiously wiping away the tears that have started to spill out from the corners of his eyes. "It's just that— I miss those months we had when we were roommates. We should do that again when you wake up. Sleepover, I mean. Don't— Please don't die. Or if not for me, maybe for Enomoto, then? I think she doesn't want to lose you either. So, please. Wake up."

Shintarou stares blankly as Haruka's chest rises and falls in time with the ventilator breathing for him, begging for whatever god is out there to listen for once to his prayer. Sob after sob he repeats himself, until he loses track of time and the next thing he knows, the room is dyed in a vibrant shade of twilight orange.

Enomoto enters the room soon after Shintarou dries his tears, her own eyes red–rimmed. Shintarou politely pretends not to notice.

"Hey, Kisaragi," she says, her voice extremely hoarse. "Visiting hours are almost over. Do you really want the nurses to kick us out again?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Shintarou replies, taking his blazer from the back of his chair and wearing it again. "I, uh, brought some baumkuchen again. Do you want some?"

"I wonder how you don't get fat from all that cake," Enomoto mutters. "But sure, I'll share it. Want to stop by the arcade and play Dead Bullet? It's pretty boring to play it with an AI."

"Fine," Shintarou sighs, stealing a last glance at Haruka's still form. "But you pay for the tokens this time."

Enomoto may or may not have kicked him in the shins for that.