Chapter Text
Everyone thinks Nanase Haruka is beautiful when he swims.
Tachibana Makoto thinks Haru is beautiful always.
He loves Haru's face, so serious even when he's joking. He jokes a lot more often than most people realise, but because they tend to focus on Haru's face instead of his words, they assume he's just being weird. Which he is, often.
Makoto loves how fussy Haru gets about little things -- like not getting stains on his swimwear, refusing to eat apples that haven't been peeled (preferably by someone other than Haru, usually Makoto), and tying his school tie anew every morning instead of just loosening the knot enough to take it off over his head.
He loves the shape Haru's name makes in his mouth -- Ha-ru-ka, starts with a sigh; saying it makes the back of his neck get hot and the sides of his face tingle. That's why Makoto calls him Haru-chan as often as possible; otherwise he'd never stop blushing. He doesn't like that it annoys Haru, but he'd rather duck his head and smile apologetically for the rest of his life than explain himself even once.
He is sure Haru has no idea just how many reasons Makoto has to keep calling him that. Haru probably thinks Makoto does it carelessly, out of habit, not on purpose.
Makoto intends to let Haru think it. Some things aren't meant to be said.
And some things aren't meant to be. He knew that when Matsuoka Rin sauntered back into their lives. A tilt of the bill of a baseball cap in the shadowed murk of a condemned property, and Haru's eyes lit with the kind of fire Makoto has only dreamt about kindling. Makoto remembers watching Haru walk away, side by side with Rin, and thinking, despite the hollow pain in his stomach, they look good.
Makoto loves Haru, but he can't compete with Rin; not in the water, not in this. Rin's always swept Haru up in his passion for everything, not just swimming. But especially swimming. If Haru's life were a canvas, Rin would be the focal object, and Makoto just a background detail. He doesn't mind, not really. As long as he can be a part of Haru's life. He's happy to just be able to talk to Haru, even if he gets tuned out all the time. Rin is the one Haru could never ignore, and Makoto wouldn't try to interfere with that. The very last thing he wants is for Haru to feel torn between loyalty to Makoto and whatever he feels for Rin.
Since last summer, he's stopped stealing glances at Haru, finding reasons to touch him, meeting Haru's eyes whenever he could. He's stopped casually strolling into Haru's house and inviting Haru to sleep over. He can't bring himself to cheer Haru on, but he's almost sure he won't break into little pieces the day Haru and Rin finally talk to each other honestly.
He's rehearsed how he will smile, what he will say, where he will hide if -- when, really -- he can't keep it together.
"The next station is Iwatobi. Iwatobi." The announcer draws the last syllable out until it's almost a lyric.
Makoto glances out of the train window and lets his heart fill up with home. Tokyo was noisy and fast and wreathed in a multitude of colours so fanciful, Makoto doesn't even know their names. Here everything is endless and green on one side, endless and blue on the other, and peaceful wherever you go.
He is coming back after six weeks of an intense veterinary science practicum: six weeks of nineteen-hour days filled with data sets needing to be processed and laboratory equipment waiting to be cleaned. He's seen the animals at the research clinic maybe twice. It won't mean a whit for his university application, since he still has to pass the entrance exams, but the personal connections he's made will go a long way. Or so everyone assures him.
Six weeks of having no time to cook and subsisting on store-bought food his mother would have tossed on sight. No time to work out, either -- he'll have to train hard to show his face in the swim club again. And he's missed the summer tournament, but that couldn't be helped.
Six weeks without Haru.
Until this trip, Makoto has never been away from Haru for longer than a day, two at the most. There was that one time Haru's parents took him on a week-long tour of all the nearby hot springs, but Haru got sick and the trip ended early. Makoto hoped that six weeks without seeing Haru's face would help him finally push his feelings far enough away that they don't hurt him any more, but instead he missed Haru so bad that he could barely fall asleep most nights.
So much for out of sight, out of mind.
Makoto did his best not to bother Haru too often; he sent him a text once a day, if that. Haru responded just twice. I'm fine even if you're not here, said one mail, in response to Makoto asking if Haru was doing well. The other one said, So are you going to move to Tokyo after graduation? That one came after Makoto sent Haru a photo of a lively festival procession he'd stumbled onto after getting lost on his way from the clinic to the boarding house.
Both are the sort of thing Haru would say; both cut right into Makoto even though he knows that Haru didn't mean anything bad.
He just hasn't missed me is all, Makoto thinks as the train pulls into the station. He knows I'm coming back, so to him there's no point getting all worked up about it. I'm not Rin. He hefts his bag and wonders if the chocolate-covered cakes he bought for Ran and Ren survived the trip.
As soon as he steps off the train, a high-pitched shriek resounds across the platform, and Makoto is nearly knocked to the ground by a tiny meteor bearing a marked resemblance to his baby sister.
"Stupid Makoto," she bawls, clinging to his leg. "Stupid, stupid!"
"Ran-chan!" his mother half-shouts, half-whispers in that way only parents can. She picks her purse up from the bench by the drink vending machine and walks towards her children.
Makoto laughs and fluffs Ran's hair. "How did you know I'd be on this train?" he asks his mother, if only to distract her from her obvious intention to scold Ran more.
"Oh, we weren't sure, but we were in town buying school supplies anyway, and your sister insisted on coming by to check just in case." She reaches up to brush Makoto's hair away from his forehead. "You look pale. Have you been eating properly?"
"Stupid," Ran mutters, but it's more of an afterthought than anything. She lets Makoto take her hand and lead her towards the platform staircase.
A young man dressed unseasonably in a dark blue hoodie hops off the bottom stair ahead of them and starts towards the central square. It's clearly Haru -- Makoto hasn't been away so long that he would forget Haru's walk.
"Haru?" he calls, but the young man continues on his way without the slightest pause.
"You've missed Haru-chan, haven't you?" his mother remarks, patting the back of Makoto's shoulder. "After we get home, why don't you go over and invite him to supper?"
*
Makoto rings the Nanase doorbell, feeling at once ridiculous and terrified. This silent, large house used to be a friend, but since last summer, they've become closer to casual acquaintances. And now, after six weeks away from Iwatobi, it's as though he doesn't even belong in front of this door.
He's being silly, of course; you can't be friends with a house. The truth is he's just scared -- of things changing, of growing apart. Makoto thought they would always be together, but Haru did casually suggest that Makoto move to Tokyo, so who knows? Who really knows?
Makoto rings the doorbell once again, then considers walking around to the back like he used to, but he can't make himself do it after all this time. It occurs to him then -- what if that was Haru at the station? What if he happened to be there and then ignored Makoto on purpose? If Haru doesn't want to see him, Makoto would rather die than appear in Haru's sight. Not even to ask him why.
He rings a third time, chest constricting as he strains to hear any sound of movement inside the house. It feels as though he's jumped into a freezing pond, feet first, and his brain has just clued in to the temperature.
"I guess he's not home," Makoto mutters, not sure if he's trying to reassure himself or to appear less pathetic to any neighbours who might be watching. He bites his lip, swallows his disappointment, and walks briskly away from Haru's door.
Where could he be on Friday afternoon?
He's halfway to the alley with the stairs when he hears, "Hey."
Makoto turns his head to look at Haru staring at him from the doorway with his usual deadpan expression. In the time it takes for the rest of his body to catch up to his head, he's smiling like a fool because that's all he can do. Haru is perfect.
"Haru. Long time no see!" he says, still grinning, wishing like hell to imitate Ran's earlier mad dash across the platform. Only he's a little too tall to stick to Haru's leg. He'd settle for hugging Haru to himself for an hour or two. Might as well wish for the ocean in his pocket.
"Come to my house for supper?" Makoto offers.
"Sure," Haru says. "Just let me get changed." He heads back inside; Makoto follows. He's not sure why Haru needs to change; he looks just fine in the Iwatobi-chan tank top.
Makoto walks into the living room to switch on the TV while he waits, but stops abruptly, staring at one of the cushions next to the table. Atop it is a dark blue hoodie he saw not an hour ago. As Makoto picks it up for a closer look, a scrap of paper falls from its pocket: a convenience store receipt for a bag of chips -- it's from the store next to the train station. Today's date. Time just after Makoto's arrival.
So that was Haru after all. He sits down heavily and lets the hoodie drop back onto the cushion.
Haru walks in, tugging the hem of a light blue shirt down over the same pair of shorts. "I'm ready."
"That was you at the station," Makoto says, looking up at him. "Why didn't you say anything?" Why did you ignore me?
Haru shrugs. "You looked busy. I figured I'd see you later anyway."
"I called your name." Makoto doesn't know why he's trying to argue with Haru; even if he wins, he'll feel awful in the end. But it seems he's felt too much and bottled up too much, and now he's upset enough to childishly want to talk back no matter what Haru says.
"I didn't want to intrude," Haru explains. "You were with your family."
"You're like family too."
The corners of Haru's mouth twitch faintly downward. "What, like brothers?"
"I-- that's not what I-- Haru-chan, why have you been acting so weird?"
There. He's said it. It is weird that Haru didn't respond to his mails. It is weird that Haru came to the train station and then ignored Makoto after not seeing each other all summer holiday. None of it makes any sense.
Haru bends down to toss the hoodie aside, sits down next to Makoto, leans over to headbutt Makoto's shoulder, and stays there.
Makoto freezes and stares at Haru's hand braced against the tatami. Haru's forehead is cool even through Makoto's shirtsleeve, but the weight of Haru's touch sends slow warmth up and down Makoto's arm. "Haru...chan?"
"Stop calling me that," Haru mutters. "It was no good without you, you know. So," -- he cuts off and tips a little further forward, pressing harder against Makoto's arm.
"So?" Makoto prompts, heart beginning to race. He's not sure what's happening, but Haru is touching him. On purpose. Haru never does that.
"Nothing," Haru says, sitting up straight. "Never mind."
"Okay," Makoto says with a sigh. Oh well, at least we didn't end up having an argument. He wants to clap a hand to his shoulder to keep the imprint of Haru's touch from dissipating for just a little longer, but that would look really strange.
Haru gives him a sidelong look full of... annoyance? "You give up too easy."
Makoto blinks. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I tell you what to do and you just do it. Don't you want to know so what?"
"But you said it was nothing," Makoto protests. Even if it's not nothing, if Haru just doesn't want to say it, why would Makoto force him to?
"Forget it," Haru mutters. The sullen look on his face suggests that Makoto had better not forget it, or else.
Makoto raises both hands in surrender. "Okay, okay -- so? So... what? I want to know, so please tell me what you wanted to say."
"So don't ever leave again," Haru tells him, glaring a little. "Ever."
Makoto feels like his chest is about to explode into a million rainbows. "Okay, I won't," he says. He'll have to take a train for two hours every day if he gets into the school he's chosen, but so what? Lots of people do that kind of thing. It'll give him time to actually read his textbooks. "I'll stay with you, if that's what you want."
Haru leans over again, but this time it's not forehead to shoulder but lips pressed to Makoto's mouth, gentle and soft. Haru exhales noisily; their eyes lock, and Makoto's entire face feels engulfed in flames. Thoughts become a foreign concept.
Haru pulls back with his eyes downcast, but he opens them to meet Makoto's gaze as soon as he's far enough away that Makoto can't feel his breath any more. Makoto stares at him; he's pretty sure he's about to burst into tears, but he can't really tell because his face is still on fire, his head has gone all fuzzy, and his heart is beating so loudly in his temples that it's all he can hear.
"Haruka," he whispers, barely audible.
Haru's cheeks turn a deep pink. "Will you still stay if this is what I want?"
Forever, Makoto thinks. "But what about Rin?" he blurts out instead.
Haru's eyes widen the way they always do whenever Rin's mentioned, and Makoto's heart plummets. Please don't tell me I've just made him realise it now. Sometimes he forgets how oblivious Haru can be about the most self-evident things.
Haru's eyebrows draw together in confusion. "What's Rin got to do with anything?"
"I, um." Makoto lets out a shaky laugh. "Isn't Rin the one you like?"
"Rin only cares about himself. Who would fall for a guy like that?"
Makoto swallows to try and wet his dry throat. "Some people are attracted to aloof types."
"Rin's not aloof," Haru points out. "He's got too much pride." His frown deepens. "Is that why you became strange since last summer? Because of Rin?"
Makoto really doesn't want to have that conversation. If he was wrong about Rin, he was wrong about many other things, and he doesn't want to think about them just now. Haru's heat still clings to his mouth, and he wants it back. He pulls Haru in by one shoulder and goes to kiss him, wishing he could be as cool about it as Haru was just now. But his nose bumps against Haru's and his mouth only ends up where Makoto wants it to go by some miracle of physics; he's so flustered he could die.
Makoto squeezes his eyes shut, ashamed that he has no idea what he's doing. He's never wanted to kiss anyone except Haru, and this is the first time he's getting the chance. It's seriously like something out of a sappy TV drama. Makoto's hand on Haru's shoulder clenches. Haru's breath stutters; his lips part slightly beneath Makoto's.
Makoto's phone rings in his pocket, startling them apart. He pulls the phone out, hiding his eyes from Haru. "It's my mom," he explains and forces his breathing to steady before answering. "Hello?"
"Are you two on your way yet? Food's almost ready. Oh, what's wrong with your voice? Did you already catch a cold?"
Makoto has completely forgotten that he came here to invite Haru over. "I'm fine. Sorry for making everyone wait."
"It's your welcome-back party. You can be late if you want."
"No, we'll be right there."
[tbc]