Chapter Text
They’re moving in together.
They’re moving in together.
Haru has fucked up so badly.
It’s been a week, and he hasn’t stopped kicking himself. Hasn’t seen much of Makoto, either – he’s got a whole bunch of projects, all at once, which has basically involved him living at the school – and that’s been a bit of a blessing, actually; because Haru has been quietly falling apart.
He’s asked Makoto to move in with him.
Haru can already barely handle having Makoto here to visit, now that it’s just them, in Haru’s own little apartment; and Haru has no idea how he’s going to survive living together. He feels a bit sick every time he thinks of it, actually. Why couldn’t he have just kept his stupid mouth shut.
- - -
That night, he’s on his laptop, and sees that Makoto’s become facebook friends with some cheerful-looking girl. Has posted a photo of them together in the library, both of them grinning at the camera, and – the girl has her arm slung around Makoto’s shoulders, and Makoto looks happy.
Haru has no right to be upset.
None.
Absolutely zero.
It’s petty and stupid and probably a really fucking unattractive personality trait.
That doesn’t stop him from curling up in a ball and wrapping the blankets around himself.
He hates this. Why couldn’t he have just gone on being oblivious.
- - -
It’s later that night as he’s lying in bed – wondering how long he’s actually felt like this, without realizing it; wondering when, exactly, he ended up falling; wondering just how many years he’s mistaken his desperate need for Makoto as mere friendship – when his phone buzzes. He’d never used it before; but now with Makoto not always around, and with Rei and Nagisa and Rin all living in different cities – he wants all of them to be able to reach him whenever they need to.
Hey, Haru-chan! Hope I didn’t wake you. :) Question. I’m volunteering at a kids’ swim club next week, and we’re expected to be in charge of facepainting. Any chance I could practice on you?
Haru stares at it.
Stares at it some more.
Feels his chest go all tight and achy.
See, this is exactly why – it’s the things like this. Makoto doesn’t feel the same as Haru. If he did, he would never suggest something like this. It’s going to leave basically no space between them.
Haru can say no. He knows he can. Makoto won’t push. Hell, Haru’s surprised he’s even asking in the first place. Though – given that Haru had followed Makoto to Tokyo like a lovesick idiot, maybe he’s pretty much given away the fact that he’d do anything for him, which – shit, he’s pathetic. And if he – he really needs to not do this. Needs to say no. It doesn’t matter how much he wants that closeness, or wants to help Makoto with this.
Haru cannot let Makoto get that close.
I’m free tomorrow night, if that works for you.
Haru is a fool. An absolute colossal fool.
Great! :) I can be over at seven?
Sounds good.
Awesome. Sweet dreams, Haru-chan. See you tomorrow. :)
Haru stares at the phone until the screen goes black again.
Sets it down beside him and curls onto his side, pulling the blankets tight around him, and –
He is not going to cry.
He’d cried his heart out the night after their fight. He has no desire to ever repeat that.
Closes his eyes and clings on a bit tighter to the blankets.
He’s an idiot. Such an absolute fucking idiot.
- - -
Haru calls in sick the next day.
One day won’t break his career. And he needs some time to breathe.
Sleeps in until well past noon, and then gets up and makes mackerel.
Curls up in the bathtub, afterwards, and keeps refilling it whenever the water gets cold.
Closes his eyes and hates himself as he wraps his fingers around himself – Makoto is going to be touching his face; and Haru needs to be as exhausted as possible, by the time that happens – and then soaks in the water, trying to draw some comfort from it, until he’s good to go again. Bites his lip and shoves his forehead against the side of the tub and comes down shaking, the air all gone out of the room and his face flushed hot and his limbs all gone weak. Empties the tub and stumbles back into his bedroom, where he falls naked into his bed and wraps the blankets around himself, and –
He’s awful. He is the worst best friend ever.
Who does this to their best friend.
God, if Makoto were to ever find out –
Haru wraps the blankets tighter around him and buries as deep into his bed as he can.
- - -
By the time seven rolls around, Haru is pretty sure he’s on the edge of a panic attack.
He’s never had one before. Doesn’t think he has, anyway. Has probably come pretty close, a few times. Enough so that he’s researched the symptoms, at least. And this – yeah, this is getting pretty close to that. If his chest gets any tighter he’s going to lose the ability to breathe all together.
“Haru?”
He’s sitting right on the living room couch, and he hadn’t even heard Makoto come in.
What is wrong with him.
“You, uh – you alright? You’re looking a little –”
Makoto’s hand-wave is a little vague, but it’s probably the nice way of saying, You look like shit; and Haru gets up and takes a breath, and – wow, he wants Makoto’s arms around him. That’s it. He’d settle for just that. Just a hug. It would only make things worse, but he wants it anyway.
“How was class?”
“Oh, you know – same as always. Volunteering’s part of the credit for one of my courses, so – are you sure you don’t mind helping? I can always find someone else to –”
“No.”
Makoto pauses in the midst of sliding his backpack off. Frowns at Haru, and opens his mouth –
“I just meant – I don’t mind. I can help. What do you need to paint?”
It sounds a bit hysterical, even to his own ears; and Makoto’s still frowning as he sets the bag down, and starts pulling off his jacket. Haru finds himself looking at the floor. His face has gone hot.
“Probably a pumpkin, and maybe some bats. Halloween things, basically. You sure you okay?”
“Fine.”
“Because you look – do you have a fever?”
Haru – almost – wants to laugh. Either that, or cry. Ends up just standing there like an idiot – he is going to give himself away, he is going to ruin everything – and the thought, somehow, is enough to get him moving. Enough to get a little scoffing sound of his way-too-tight throat.
“Just – probably made my bath too hot.”
“Of course you did.”
Makoto’s smiling at him, now, soft and sweet, the way Haru is used to but still isn’t actually used to – but it’s better than him being concerned, at least, and Haru – sitting on the floor is probably going to happen, anyway, so he might as well do it now. Before his legs give out on him. Doesn’t miss the way Makoto’s smile curves up a bit higher, as he kneels down right in front of him, setting a rectangular box down beside him, and – he puts his other hand on Haru’s knee.
On his damn knee.
Haru kind of wants to cry.
“This alright?”
“Fine.”
It’s not fine. It’s the opposite of fine.
He sounds like he’s been crawling around in the desert for days.
And Makoto is – smiling at him.
Smiling at him from far too close. Haru only realizes he’s opened the box and pulled out one of the orange crayons when it’s already hovering over his cheek, and – his face must be on fire, for the crayon to feel that cool, damp against his skin; and of course Makoto is going to treat him like he’s breakable, even now. It’s just a crayon, and the touch is still so gentle it hurts; and Makoto is still managing to look concerned, his eyebrows furrowed just a bit, and –
“Alright?”
Makoto’s voice is soft, and sweet; and Haru closes his eyes.
Feels, a bit, like he’s either going to burst into tears, or burst into flames.
“Haru –”
“Fin-ne, fine i-it’s –”
It’s shaky, and strangled-sounding; and he needs to stop talking.
Keeps his eyes closed, as Makoto’s fingers tighten against his knee, and the crayon starts to move across his cheek, soft and gentle and damp, with Makoto’s breath on his face and his fingers gentling again against his knee, and – Haru was wrong. He can’t do this. He must have a serious masochistic streak to have agreed to this, because this is just cruel. What was he thinking.
“So, uh – how is training going?”
Makoto’s way too close.
Haru swallows.
He feels like all the air has gone out of the room.
Feels like his heart’s going to break and shatter out of his chest, as Makoto’s thumb slides across his cheek.
This isn’t fair.
“Haru-chan?”
He can’t speak. Why can’t he – he should have never agreed to this.
“You’re, um – you’re kind of freaking me out, here. What’s wrong?”
The crayon’s not on his cheek anymore, but – Makoto’s hand is still there. Still pressed warm and soft against his face, fingers curled in against his cheek; and his other hand is still on his knee.
Slowly, his heart slamming, Haru opens his eyes, and –
Is Makoto – blushing?
It’s like Haru can actually feel his brain stutter.
Watches as Makoto seems to remember his hand, because he drops it, and blushes even worse.
“Sorry-y.”
Makoto blushes at everything. Haru cannot read into this.
He can’t.
Except – except that Makoto’s not looking at him, anymore. He’s holding on to the crayon, and staring down at it. Looks – looks like Haru feels, maybe. Which is – that’s impossible . Makoto is straight. Makoto doesn’t – and even if he was interested in boys, he could do so much better than –
Except. Except that Makoto has stuck with him all these years. Likes being around him. Haru knows he does.
But – Makoto left. Was going to leave him. Was going to go away to Tokyo. Haru had to chase him.
Makoto can’t feel the way Haru does, or he would have never tried to split them up.
“Haru?”
And – Makoto sounds freaked out, suddenly. His eyes have gone wide; and Haru blinks, his throat all tight, and only realizes what’s happening when he feels a tear slide down his cheek.
Fuck.
Fuck.
He rubs at the side of his cheek, suddenly furious with himself, embarrassment burning hot in his stomach; and Makoto just kneels there and stares at him. Haru’s pretty sure he’s not waiting for Haru to say something, this time. Pretty sure he’s just freaking out, and – Haru’s heart is hurting.
“Haru-u –what –”
“Why did you try to leave me?”
He’s pretty sure his apartment’s never been this silent.
Only realizes he’s staring at the floor when Makoto’s hands grab his; and Makoto looks the way he had during their fight, scared and sad, and – god, Haru doesn’t want to fight with him, that wasn’t –
“Haru, I never – that’s not why I – I was never going to leave you, I –”
“But you were, you – you were going to come here, and –”
“I always want to be where you are – don’t you – how can you not get that?”
I always want to be where you are.
Makoto has tears in his eyes, too.
Something inside Haru is breaking open.
“I just – I needed to – it’s school, Haru, not the rest of our lives, and – we could have, after, we could have moved in together, or something, and – I-I was never going to leave you, Haru, alright, I could never –”
Haru only realizes he’s kissed him when Makoto jerks away.
Jerks away, and Haru nearly falls right on top of him, and –
He’s going to be sick.
“Haru?”
Oh, god, oh god, what has he done, what has he –
Makoto’s hands are on his cheeks.
Just holds him there, for a horrible second, before he makes this soft little sound and kisses him, just barely.
Gentle and shaky, their lips barely brushing together; and then Makoto pulls back to stare at him, and Haru can't fucking breathe.
Makoto looks absolutely shocked, wide-eyed, the tears spilling down his cheeks, now, too, and –
Haru all but topples forward, and ends up with his face shoved into Makoto’s shoulder, and Makoto’s arms wrapped around him.
“Haru.”
It’s shaky, and barely audible, and Makoto’s heart is slamming against him, and his hand is in Haru’s hair, and –
Haru can't breathe.
“I didn’t think – I n-never thought you felt the same, Haru, I-I –”
“Of course I-I do, how could I not –”
Makoto’s grip around him turns crushing, and he makes a noise that sounds almost hurt; and Haru closes his eyes.
Closes them and holds on as tight as he can, as Makoto makes that soft little sound again and pulls him in closer, and -
Haru blinks against the tears and just holds on, his throat gone too tight to speak.
Makoto's shaking, holding on tight, too, like he can't get close enough, either, and - Haru wants to stay right here, just like this, for the rest of their lives.