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There's ringing in his ears.
Around him, voices and faces fade into each other until they're nothing but white noise. He thinks he vaguely registers Endo continuing to speak but he cannot hear him, his feet already carrying him away.
His body moves on autopilot, numb and aflame all at once.
It's like he's underwater. Nirei tries to come after him — at least, Haruka thinks so —, he's not sure, his vision swimming with unshed tears, a sharp sting in his nose as they refuse to fall. His hands tremble and his feet don't even feel like they're touching the ground, his consciousness floating outside of his body as his flesh goes through the motions.
Thump.
His uniform falls to the floor in a haphazard pile. Haruka doesn't even spare it a glance before he slips under the covers, the material cold against his skin, unwilling to offer him any comfort. He barely remembers making his way home, trees and houses blurring in his memory.
Home. What does that even mean? For so many years, the term had meant nothing to Haruka but a place to sleep and be mistreated. Home became synonymous with pain, with loneliness, with sharp tongues and heavy hands. Upon his arrival in Makochi, it morphed into something else. Not his apartment, not truly — he could take or leave this place — but the town itself and beyond that, its people. His friends.
If anything was going to be home for Haruka, he thinks it would be them.
Or it should have been.
It hurts to think. Haruka can feel his eyes straining against the pressure behind them as he lies there, staring up at the moon through the window he didn't bother drawing the curtains in front of. It's beautiful, silver and striking against the night sky, but he finds himself unable to appreciate it knowing Suo is out there somewhere, perhaps looking at the same sight in the same moment.
He wishes he could go back to the numbness, feel nothing and just walk, run, somewhere far far away and just forget about all of this. Forget about the warmth he felt here for the first time, forget about friendship and gentle hands and empty promises.
Alas.
His chest is tight and his palms hurt where his nails dig into them, Suo's stupid face flashing before his eyes as Endo's words repeat in his mind like a sick mantra.
Eyepatch was never one of your allies.
Suo had been his friend. Against all odds, Haruka had believed him to be — believed all of them to be. But if Suo can betray him, can leave without a word and without remorse, couldn't anyone? If Suo, Haruka's vice captain, his strategist, the one person he felt understood him most, is willing and able to simply cut ties with him as if he's nothing but dead weight, what's stopping anyone else from doing the same?
Sorrow and fury war within him, his heart clenching painfully as he ping pongs between too many emotions. He misses the simplicity of his old life, at least that pain was familiar, reduced to a dull ache as he went about his monotone days and allowed the world to treat him like he was nothing. It wasn't fun but it was what he knew.
This new pain, sharp and deep and twisted, leaves him breathless and unsure of himself, a mess of inky black thorns growing rapidly inside of his skull, threatening to tear him wide open.
Did Suo mean anything he said? All of the times he translated the onslaught of unfamiliar feelings and relationships into something Haruka could parse through, built bridges between him and the others, stood by his side with a steady hand on his shoulder and a smile on his face, made plans for them, went to the mall with them, encouraged Haruka to open up and rely on the people around him — was any of it real? Or was it just a farce? But why? To what end?
There's no reason for him to have put on such a show, to grow close to them and make them trust him only to disappear. There was no need for him to step up and become such a reliable, integral part of their class, not if he was just going to pull a vanishing act.
Honestly, Haruka would prefer it if the Red Chanpuru was a threat to them, if they'd sent Suo in as a spy. At least then he could channel his anger into something productive, into his fists like he knows how to, instead of this. This empty, hollow feeling; this helplessness.
He told Endo he wanted to talk to Suo, to understand him. And he does, but now he can't help but wonder if he has any right to. If Suo would even talk to him.
Would he look at him at all? Would Haruka like what he sees? Nirei is so tough, to be able to stand up to Suo while the other acts like he doesn't care and uses their friendship, their trust against him. Haruka whimpers as he thinks about it, mad at himself for being so pathetic yet unable to stop.
Nirei.
No way the other boy will stop at this. He's determined; stronger and more resilient than any of them. He will not rest until he gets answers, until he's able to tie Suo up and drag him back to Furin come hell or high water.
Haruka wants to be strong too. He wants to help, to beat some sense into Suo, to yell at him and berate him and let him know exactly how much his thoughtless actions hurt him.
He can't, though.
What's the point? Clearly, Suo made his choice and it wasn't them — wasn't him.
Frustrated, Haruka tosses and turns on his ratty futon, the skin of his bottom lip bitten raw and bloody. He can't get Suo's words out of his head; all of his empty, useless advice.
You're someone who can do anything you put your mind to?
Oh, fuck off.
For someone who was constantly on Haruka's ass about opening up and trusting people, he never did do any of that himself. And look, Haruka is patient. After all, he knows better than anyone what it's like to be distrustful and hurt and cautious. So he thought they had a silent understanding, that Haruka would wait for Suo to feel safe enough to open up to him in his own time, so sure he'd eventually find out what his deal was.
I guess I know now, he thinks, And I didn't even hear it from his own damn mouth.
No, it had to come from Endo of all people.
Suo didn't even trust him enough to say goodbye to him, didn't care about him enough to send a single fucking message.
It shouldn't hurt so badly. It shouldn't matter. Haruka knew, had always known, that he could never be like other people. That he was meant to be alone, that no one would ever truly care. Somehow, he'd deluded himself into thinking otherwise, into believing that this could be the place for him.
And maybe it is. Somewhere deep inside of him, buried pitifully underneath the shattered, bloody pieces of his heart, he knows the others care about him and he knows he's not alone, but it all feels so pointless right now.
This town, this school, was supposed to be different and yet here he is. Once again, he is being left behind. Once again, he wasn't good enough.
No matter what Haruka does, he is never good enough. It must be something inherent to him, something written into his DNA that other people can spot immediately. Something repulsive, disgusting, wrong. And Suo had seen it too, he must have, otherwise he would have at least shown his face one last time, would have told Haruka he was leaving. For whatever stupid reason it might have been.
That would have hurt too, of course. Haruka can see how devastated Nirei is, despite the brave face he's putting on. Still, he would've given anything to be able to fight Suo on this, to beat answers out of him if he had to. One last conversation, at the very least. Didn't Suo owe him that much?
But he'll get none of that. Even if they go after Suo, travel the two hours to Bankoku-gai somehow, there's no guarantee he won't just turn them away. It's likely he'd take one look at Haruka and confirm all of his worst, most vulnerable fears; roll his eye and give him the cold shoulder, not even considering him worth a fight.
"FUCK!", Haruka slams his fist into the floor hard enough to bruise. He's lucky he has no downstairs neighbors.
When he turns to lie on his back, head falling onto the thin pillow, Haruka is ashamed to register a lone tear rolling down his cheek. It tickles, the sensation similar to rivulets of blood traveling over skin. The comparison feels apt, all of him an open wound.
Pathetic, he thinks again as he presses his hands into his eyes, willing the physical indication of his weakness to stop flowing, Idiot.
He had believed them to be friends. Not once had he doubted it.
Sure, not even a year has passed but he truly thought that after everything they've been through, after all their stupid bonding activities and every single one of Suo's smiles and supportive words, that he had finally found what he'd been looking for his whole life, what he hadn't dared to hope for anymore.
Since his first week here showed him the true character of this town, Haruka hadn't expected the rug to be pulled out from under his feet like this. Even when he struggled to open up, to trust and rely, he believed them, believed that what they were saying was what they meant.
Unwilling, Suo's cold rage comes to mind. His sharp grin and sharper eye, his cruelty and mocking words as he tosses opponents around like they weigh nothing, humiliating them way past anyone's point of comfort. He remembers holding Suo back from putting an already unconscious guy in the hospital — or worse.
From the beginning, he'd known Suo was a liar, was the first to see through his act and recognize the shitty personality he hid away. But he still trusted him, fell for his sparkling eye and his honeyed monologues, his capable hands and even more capable mind. Allowed himself to believe that Suo would never treat him like that, that they were different.
Still, the worst part of all of this is that he misses him.
Haruka misses him like a limb violently torn off, left to bleed out all alone. He's angry, sad, frustrated, numb — somehow all at once. But beneath all of that, Haruka just wants to see Suo's stupid face again, wants to grab hold of his skinny shoulders and give him the world's most awkward hug. He wants to hear his lilting voice teasing him, baiting him into shouting and blushing and chasing him around. He wants to smell his old-fashioned cologne and his disgusting herbal teas, wants to see him reading in his chair at school, rolling his eyes at Tsugeura and scheming about how to make Sugishita join them on a class trip.
He wants him back, but Suo's not his to want. He never was. And the other boy knew that all along; named himself vice captain, fought gang wars with him and trained Nirei knowing that he was always going to leave. Was his Suo even real? Or was it all really just an act?
It's this question that's going to keep Haruka awake way past any reasonable hour, he thinks, more than anything else. Well, except perhaps the pulsating pain blanketing his whole body and the tears now freely falling, silent in their grief as he stares up at the moon once more, wondering if it looks the same from two hours away.
Haruka gets no sleep that night.