Chapter Text
There was something absolutely glorious about swimming in a pristine, cool, empty pool that left Haru breathless. After a busy morning of running papers back and forth, sending faxes to other departments, and basically doing absolutely nothing that would help him improve his own graphic design skills, the silence and freedom of the water melted the stress from his limbs.
It was like being weightless. There was nothing else; just Haru, and the water, and—
Crash!
Haru stopped in the middle of the lane, looking at the brown haired boy who had somehow fallen out of the lifeguard chair, toppling it over as well. Quiet and slightly pained (or rather, embarrassed?) muttering accompanied the sound of Makoto picking the chair back up and throwing his fallen towel over the back of it. As he climbed back into the chair, he noticed Haru staring at him, and quickly froze.
His features were faintly red, probably from the fall, but upon catching Haru’s gaze, his green eyes glimmered in contrast to the rosy flush that burned its way across his cheeks and nose.
“Ah, umm, did you see that?” Definitely embarrassed.
Haru nodded, even though he hadn’t seen, only heard, the commotion Makoto had suddenly caused. The slight fib was well worth the nervous laughter that spilled from Makoto’s lips.
“Oh man, how embarrassing…” Makoto scratched the nape of his neck, leaning against the chair instead of climbing back into it. “Sorry to have disturbed your swimming, Haru!”
Sinking down until the water was just under his nose, Haru’s eyebrows furrowed just slightly. Makoto didn’t need to apologize; he was the one doing Haru a huge favor by letting him swim there, even when Haru wasn’t a university student. But this wasn’t the close quarters of the elevator, when they had been trapped and Haru had felt so… uneasy, trapped by the metal walls and held captive by the charming smile that kept him from panicking.
Yes, it was definitely in his best interest to keep quiet, and just keep swimming.
So with a quiet splash, Haru slipped back under the water and continued his laps.
//
At four-thirty, Haru finally had to leave the pool. The swim team was already starting to file in, and Makoto’s shift as lifeguard would end whenever they started practice. This was his least favorite time of day, as getting out of the pool was never something Haru looked forward to. But today had felt incredibly peaceful, even with Makoto’s distraction.
As he swam to the edge, Makoto met him, leaning down and offering him a hand. Haru eyed it warily, unsure why it was being proffered to him. Making eye contact was probably not the best idea he’d had at that moment—orbs of sweet summer green wrapped him up and enfolded him like a child laying in sun-kissed fields. Before he knew it, Makoto’s warm hand was firmly clasped around his cold, wet one and helping him from the water.
Haru liked to think that the chill that chased down his spine was from the sudden temperature change.
After all, it had been three weeks since he had started swimming at the university pool, and that stupid spine chill had happened every single day. That had to be a temperature issue. Though it didn’t really explain the way his heart had raced just now; maybe being pulled out of the pool so suddenly had caused him to get mild vertigo or something?
Maybe he should see a doctor.
Either way, he wanted to get back to his apartment quickly—Haru didn’t like the way the swim coach would watch him swim if he stayed too long. Slipping his hand out of Makoto’s, he went to the locker room to shower and change before heading home. He’d worry about calling a doctor or something later. It was almost time for dinner and he should probably stop and get some mackerel on the way home…
//
He didn’t mean to seem ungrateful.
Haru did like Makoto, and he appreciated that he let him use the swimming pool. It was just that Makoto could be overwhelming sometimes. He smiled too easily, talked too much, smelled too good, laughed so beautifully—
Good god, not again.
Usually they would walk back to their apartment building together, but Haru’s need for groceries and the annoying thoughts that kept popping up whenever he was around Makoto for too long had him saying goodbye as they left the aquatic center.
Luckily Makoto was probably the least pushy person Haru had ever met, and he was able to leave to get his mackerel without a certain brown haired giant (okay, so he wasn’t that much taller than Haru, but he always seemed so… striking?) tagging along.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Haru carried his single bag of groceries into the apartment lobby—still no sign of Makoto. As he made to step towards the stairs (better not chance running into him again today), his legs shook. Haru rolled his eyes—perhaps he had swum for too long today.
Today would have to be an elevator day. Great.
His finger shook a little as he pressed the triangle that faced up. Already, he could feel the overwhelming heat creeping up from his stomach and into his neck, making it difficult to breathe. Taking a deep breath and gripping his bag tightly, Haru closed his eyes until the elevator sounded its arrival. It was a lot easier to handle the elevator (swinging-metal-deathtrap-box, is what Haru preferred to call it, in private moments, reserved solely for his own brain) when he could pretend that he wasn’t waiting for it.
The sharp Ding! broke Haru’s concentration, and he steeled himself to enter the elevator, quickly pressing the 17th button and jamming the close door button. Just a few more minutes.
“Oh, wait! Can you stop the door please?”
A huff of air left Haru’s mouth. God. He knew that voice, and without realizing it, already had his hand holding the side of the elevator door to wait for him.
“Oh, Haru!” Makoto smiled, stepping inside, looking rather red and… Nervous? “I see you’ve got your groceries. Mackerel again?”
Haru nodded which caused Makoto to laugh, but something was off about it. It was too high-pitched, too desperate, like he needed Haru to believe that everything was normal.
But, what could possibly be out of the norm right now? Makoto’s hair was a mess, as usual; his green eyes were maybe a little bit brighter than normal, due to the flushed glow on his face—had he just been running, maybe? Still, that wasn’t too unusual; sometimes Makoto would take the time after his lifeguard shift to go on a run (how Haru was that familiar with Makoto’s schedule already, Haru would rather not dwell on).
Then what? Same white and blue track jacket, same yellow lifeguard t-shirt underneath, same black track pants, same large black swim bag that—
Wait. Did his bag just move?
One of Makoto’s hands was gripping the zipper of his bag rather tightly, fidgeting with the pull incessantly. And as Haru leaned to get a closer look (had it really moved, or was that the shaking of the elevator?), Makoto jumped a little.
“Ah—umm, sorry Haru, you scared me!”
Haru raised an eyebrow, clearly not fooled by whatever Makoto was doing. As he opened his mouth to question him, a tiny, muffled meow squeaked in the elevator. Haruka paused, looking down at Makoto’s bag, and then back up to him.
“Do you… Did you bring a cat in here?”
Makoto hung his head, carefully pulling the bag closer to his body. The bag with a cat in it. A cat. In their very strict no-animals-allowed apartment.
The cat meowed again, and Makoto quickly unzipped the bag, Haru watching intently as a tiny white kitten popped its head out. A kitten. Of course.
And with the black, vaguely heart shaped spot right contrasting sharply over its tiny pink nose, it was no wonder Makoto had picked it up. He had just better hope that the landlord didn’t find out about this.
Leaning down and gently rubbing the kitten’s little head, Haru spoke quietly, “I won’t tell anyone, but… How are you planning on keeping him here?” The kitten purred at the contact, tiny blue eyes blinking sleepily as it laid down on top of Makoto’s towel.
They had just passed the seventh floor when Makoto zipped the bag again, scratching the back of his neck nervously.
“I’m not sure, though I’m only in this apartment til the end of summer, and I couldn’t leave him all alone, looking so sad and hungry, so I figured I could just hide him until I find a new—”
The elevator stopped and the doors started to slide open. And in walked the tall, longhaired, ever-surly maintenance man. Haru looked at Makoto, who had suddenly frozen with both hands clamped tightly onto his bag. The maintenance man ignored them, pressing the button for floor 19.
Which meant they still had at least nine floors to go until they reached their own floor. Hopefully the kitten stayed asleep. Meanwhile, Makoto looked like he was about to have an aneurysm.
“So where are you going to start looking for a new apartment?” Haru inquired, hoping to distract Makoto.
But Makoto jumped again, the elevator shaking slightly from the movement.
“Hey, watch it kid!” The maintenance man barked, turning his dark eyes onto the two of them. “What a fuckin’ little pussy…” He mumbled under his breath, folding his arms across his chest and continuing to mutter obscenities.
The nervous grip on Makoto’s bag only tightened as the maintenance man suddenly sneezed violently, a layer of spit splattering across the elevator doors. Sick, Haru thought, eyeing the doors in disgust.
“What the…” the man began, sloppily wiping his face. “Have either of you kids been around cats today? Little demons bug the hell out of my allergies,” he added, squinting at Makoto’s completely guilty-looking face.
“I just came from my aunt’s,” Haru lied, picking at an invisible hair on his sleeve. “She’s got five.”
Makoto stared incredulously at Haru as the other man shifted his focus.
“Well, what the hell ki—” another violent sneeze interrupted whatever the man had been trying to say, the spray barely missing Haru. When a third sneeze was quickly followed by a fourth and a fifth, Haru pressed the stop button and grabbed Makoto before getting out.
As the elevator doors closed in front of them, several tiny, high pitched mewls started issuing from Makoto’s bag.
Makoto panicked, looking around the empty hallway and snatching Haru’s hand before making a dash for the nearby stairs.
Meanwhile, Haru nearly choked on the saliva in his mouth at the sensation of Makoto’s hand enveloping his for the second time today. Thankfully, no asphyxiation occurred, and they made it to the stairwell without being caught.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god, that was so close,” Makoto mumbled, one hand delicately patting the top of his bag, while the other was still firmly gripping Haru’s. They started climbing the stairs, but it wasn’t until they had gone up two flights that Makoto realized where his other hand currently was.
“A-ah, sorry, Haru!” Makoto yelped, quickly pulling his hand back and staring intensely at the walls as they continued their ascent. “Thanks so much for covering for me,” he laughed, sounding vaguely choked. “I’m pretty sure I would have completely lost it if I’d been by myself, especially with how angry he looked!”
Haru shrugged, fighting back the shudder that accompanied the taste of bile in his throat at the thought of the red-faced man and the spittle that nearly became well acquainted with Haru’s own face. “‘S no problem,” he mumbled, preferring to think of the fading warmth that still lingered on his hand.
//
With a final glance down their hall, Makoto and Haru exited the stairwell and sped towards Makoto’s apartment. It wasn’t until they were both inside and letting the kitten out of the bag, that their eyes met and Makoto began to laugh. He sat down on his bed (the only seat in his apartment) and ran a hand through his hair, his broad shoulders shaking as the kitten nestled in between Haru’s feet.
“I’m sorry,” he began, taking a deep breath to slow his laughter. “I just can’t believe how close we were to getting caught!”
“We?”
Makoto’s head snapped up, green eyes meeting blue as he read Haru’s teasing expression (though how he recognized the teasing, he wasn’t sure—it didn’t look any different from Haru’s normal deadpan look).
“Haru,” he whined, relaxing once more. A bright smile widened Makoto’s lips as he continued. “Do I owe you again? First holding the elevator for me, then covering for me with the maintenance guy—how can I ever repay you?” he teased back, tilting his head just slightly.
It was platonic. Makoto was definitely not flirting with him right now. Nope. Calm down Haru. This is not flirting.
“Dinner.”
And there it goes—Haru, Nanase Haruka, who has never experienced word vomit, just spewed the proverbial stomach waste all over their budding friendship, judging by the rising red on Makoto’s face.
“Uh—ummm, well, I’d l-love to, but, umm,”
But. Here it goes. Say goodbye to pool privilege Haru.
“I can’t cook.”
Haru paused—cooking? A perfectly good excuse, a completely valid excuse, a terribly good reason for Makoto to say no to Haru’s absolutely ridiculous, and completely out of the blue, request (really, brain, what are you trying to do?).
“But,” Makoto’s suddenly quiet voice interrupted Haru’s increasingly self-berating train of thought, “there’s a really good ramen place on campus, if you’d like to go there sometime.”
There. Dinner. Food. Eating. Together? Together. Ramen.
Ramen had never sounded quite so appealing to Haru, even without the temptation of mackerel being added to it.
“Ramen sounds goo—”
meow.
Oh, right, the cat. Haru and Makoto both looked down at him to see his tiny front legs batting at Haru’s grocery bag. Haru looked from the bag to Makoto and back down to the kitten.
“You could also come over for dinner tonight, if you’d like,” Haru said tonelessly, just barely lifting the bag out of the kitten’s reach. “I have some tuna and milk if this one is hungry too,” he added, trying to make his offer seem logical. The kitten had to eat too, right?
“That would be great,” Makoto replied, and Haru looked up just in time to see his smile soften and the last remnants of red fade into a flattering pink. “We can go now, if you want, so the fish doesn’t go bad?” he asked, getting up from his bed and picking up the tiny feline.
“Now is good,” Haru responded, listening to the happy mewls of the kitten as Makoto stroked his soft fur.
“Alright,” Makoto hummed, standing by his front door, “but don’t forget, next time dinner is on me!”
Next time, Haru thought, fighting the strange urge to smile. Next time, was always a promising thought.