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The thing about Haru was that he was so perfect at everything he tried. Besides being the most beautiful swimmer Makoto had ever seen, he was also a talented artist, an accomplished chef, even a skilled woodcarver. Everything Haru touched came naturally to him. It was something about his hands, long, slender, and intelligent that made everything Haru did seem so beautiful.
Makoto, on the other hand, was large and clumsy. He was a decent swimmer, it was true, but he had no other talents whatsoever. His drawings had stopped being mistaken for the twins’ when they had outgrown his skill by the time they were eight. The last three times he had entered the kitchen, he had somehow set dinner on fire. Even Makoto agreed that trusting him with a large chunk of wood and some sharp tools was a disaster waiting to happen. In short, Makoto was entirely, breathtakingly ordinary.
Makoto sighed as he opened the door to their bedroom, feather duster in one hand and trash bag in the other. Haru had been gone for the past month, first training with Rin in Australia then competing in Italy. He would be coming home later that day, gold medal in tow, and Makoto wanted the apartment to be clean for his arrival. Makoto wasn’t a slob necessarily, but he had been so busy with school lately that some of the less pressing chores had been pushed aside in favor of studying and sleep. So he emptied the bin in the bedroom into the trash sack and set about dusting the shelves.
A dust bunny under the dresser caught his eye as he made his way toward the door, so he stooped down to deal with it. As he reached for it, his fingertips collided with something under the dresser. Brow furrowed, Makoto knelt down and felt around before pulling out a long, slim box. It was old and worn, a faded sort of red with a piece of masking tape across the top labeled MAKOTO in Haru’s neat handwriting. Makoto stared at the box a moment before slowly pulling off the lid.
Inside was a thick stack of papers and a pile of random objects that seemed like junk before Makoto realized what they were. There was a pair of marbles, one blue and one green, that Makoto had found on the beach when they were twelve. A dolphin charm Makoto had won from a gumball dispenser and promptly handed over with a smile and a “Here, Haru-chan!” Ticket stubs from the movies, wrist bands from the faire, a tattered old friendship bracelet from when they were seven. Makoto flicked through the objects then picked up the stack of papers.
The top one was a letter Makoto had written to Haru when he had been in Taiwan for a week with his parents. There was still a photograph folded in the paper of Makoto posing with the twins in front of some random road sign. Next was a drawing, clearly done by Haru, of Makoto sleeping in a tangle of sheets and a patch of sun. Makoto ran his fingers over the lines in awe, wondering just when Haru had drawn this. Carefully, he set the letter and the drawing aside to look at the next page in the stack.
Haru found him there hours later, sitting cross-legged on the floor and surrounded by papers. A soft, fond smile grew on his face, and he snuck his way to sit behind Makoto. He snuck his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and looked down at the paper in his hands.
“I remember that,” he said, making Makoto jump.
“H-Haru! I didn’t hear you come back!” Makoto cried, turning suddenly to face him. Haru didn’t answer, but pulled the page from Makoto’s hands.
“This was from the day we met,” Haru said, and the smile on his face grew just a tiny bit larger.
“I can’t believe you still have it,” Makoto agreed. Something in his voice made Haru’s smile fade.
“Of course I have it,” Haru said, leaning back so he could look at Makoto fully. Something in those green eyes seemed off, and it didn’t take Haru long to figure out what it was. He sighed with exasperation and clambered into Makoto’s lap. “It was our first ever day of school,” he started, “and I was sitting as far away as I could from the other kids. I figured if I made it look like I didn’t want anyone to talk to me, no one would. But that never stopped you. You came right up to me during play time and handed me this drawing, and then you said that whenever you were sad or lonely, your mother would make you something to cheer you up. Then you sat next to me for the rest of the year, even though it took me over a month to say anything to you.”
“That’s not how I remember it,” muttered Makoto. Haru chuckled softly.
“No, you probably remember me like some superhero who was always cool and collected and brave, don’t you?” The almost sheepish smile on Makoto’s face confirmed Haru’s suspicion. Haru leaned his head against Makoto’s shoulder and sighed. “Makoto,” he said softly, “I don’t know how to convince you that you’re the superhero. No,” he said sharply when Makoto started to argue, “let me finish. I know you love me, and that means you only see the good in me, but let’s face it, I’m an asshole. No one else would have had the patience to put up with me for as long as you have. If you hadn’t stuck with me, if you hadn’t decided that day that you were going to be my friend no matter what, I would still be that kid sitting as far away from all the others as possible.” Haru looked up, trying to convey his sincerity with his eyes. It had been a long time since he’d said so many words in a row, and it was taking it out of him. “Makoto,” he said quietly.
“Haru,” came the answer. Makoto curled his arms tighter around Haru. “I don’t think I can see myself that way,” he said. Haru smiled up at him, then burrowed his face back in the familiar warmth of Makoto’s shoulder.
“That’s alright,” he said. “I’ll teach you.”