Archive of Our Own

"It's still under warranty?" Haru asks in surprise. "Didn't your mum give it to you a while ago?"  

"Yeah, the warranty lasts ten years Haru-chan," Makoto replies jovially.

"Oh wow, she didn't splurge for nothing huh," Haru turns back to his screen, hearing Makoto's laugh of acknowledgement and the sound of his slippers shuffling into the bedroom. In a few moments, Makoto's voice floats through the doorway. "Ah! Did you happen to see the warranty card Haru? I put it on top of the chest of drawers on Thursday!"

Chest of drawers... Haru's heart skips a beat and he jumps out of his seat to find Makoto in the bedroom with a growing sense of dread. "The card?" 

 "Yeah, the white one, did you see it?"

 "...I threw it away!" Haru exclaims half in shock, and half in panic. "I saw it there but I thought it was your care manual or something, and you've had that watch for so long that you wouldn't need the care manual right?" 

"What?" Makoto's voice rises in pitch from the surprise. "Which dustbin did you throw it in?!" 

"The one in the toilet--" Haru blurts out before the realisation hits him. The one that Makoto had brought downstairs for the rubbish truck yesterday evening. 

"Why did you throw it away without asking me first?" 

"I just saw the whole list of instructions and thought you wouldn't need it!"

"Then you should have checked it more carefully right?" Makoto asks in exasperation. "The warranty is on the card too! Or at the very least, you could have asked me about it before you just threw it away?" The whole point of Mum choosing this watch over the rest even though it was more expensive was because of the warranty and Haru just... throws it away?

"You should have just put it in your bag on Thursday if you wanted to bring it--" Haru says again, trying to beat down the waves of guilt telling him that he's the one hurting Makoto, that it's his own rashness that's causing the problem. Why didn't Makoto tell him or something? It can't be completely his fault, right? If it was then he'd be a horrible boyfriend for throwing Makoto's things away and Makoto... Makoto may want him less after realising that. He'd never intentionally hurt his boyfriend; he had honestly thought that booklet was a pamphlet of care instructions that Makoto had just carelessly left out. "Stop blaming me!" 

"I know--" Makoto forces the words out, swallowing hard and keeping his eyes trained on the floor to keep calm. "I'm not blaming you, Haru." He is, actually, because what gives Haru the right to throw away things that don't belong to him, in Makoto's house? But what's done is done, and getting angry at Haru will probably make everything worse. And it's honestly not such a big deal... Batteries don't die that often anyway and he'll just have to pay for the repair-- It's more of Haru's unreasonable outburst that's annoying him. So he doesn't pack his bag immediately when he thinks of something to bring. Don't most people leave important things in prominent places to help them remember? What is Haru even saying?! 

Haru freezes at how small Makoto's voice is. It instantly clears up his reason like an electric shock and his eyes widen as freezing realisation pours over him. All his panic and rashness shrink rapidly to accommodate fear that he's really done it this time, that Makoto won't be able to take these kinds of outbursts any longer as he has in the past. "Ohmygod." Makoto turns away, busying himself with nothing as he pretends to clear the kitchen tabletop. "Ohmygod Makoto I'm so sorry, I-" Haru clambers to his feet, ready to stride over and take his boyfriend in his arms and apologise as many times as he needs to but... does Makoto still want him around? Would he rather that Haru just leave for a while? He hesitates, his entire body wanting to move forward but a part of his brain keeping his fingers locked on the edge of the table to hold himself back. 

All the annoyance drains out of Makoto once he sees Haru's pale fingers trembling. His eyes are shocked wide, terrified, almost, like he's afraid of himself. Makoto knows the look. He wouldn't have memorised it if it didn't pierce his heart through with sadness every time he sees it. He doesn't give permission for Haru to come over and doesn't wait for Haru to ask. Haru's entire frame locks up for a long moment in disbelief when he's pulled into Makoto's arms, then melts against him. 

"I don't know what came over me," Haru mutters. Makoto is about to tell him that it's alright, but Haru shakes his head looking more angry at himself than anything. "No, I do know, it's my stupid pride," he spits the word out like it's despicable "and defensiveness, and-" Fears that I'll never be able to tell you about. 

"I forgive you Haru, really, shh... "

"How much is the repair?" Haru holds on to his forearms and looks up at him anxiously. "I know it's not the point but," he clicks his tongue in frustration, "I'll pay for it from now on whenever it dies." 

"About 2,000 Yen?" Makoto guesses. "Maybe a bit more?" 

"I'll treat you to coffee too... if... that's okay?" Haru grabs Makoto's sleeve, his eyes shining a little suspiciously. "But if you prefer to go alone I can just-" He doesn't get to finish his sentence before Makoto pulls him in by his arm and kisses him on the mouth slowly, gently; deeply, when Haru parts his lips for him to silence the doubt and guilt between them. "Yes please," he says with a chuckle, smoothing his cheeks with his thumb. He pecks him on the lips again, taking his face in his hands. "It's okay Haru-chan, it's really okay, calm down..." 

"I'll... go get changed," Haru allows himself a small smile, glancing up at the clock. "Just a sec." Makoto pulls on his shoes in the mean time, grabbing his phone from the table and putting it into his bag. Haru reappears wearing his white wave tee and light denim joggers, wallet in his hand and reaches for his Roshes on the shoe rack. (Yes, he even keeps his favourite casual shoes here because they're at Makoto's house most of the weekends.) 

Makoto's estimate of the repair price turns out to be pretty accurate, and they're told to come back in about an hour. Makoto threads his fingers through Haru's, tugging reassuringly and heaving a sigh of relief when he feels Haru's palm press against his. "Do you know the way?" He asks, squeezing Haru's hand a little. "Yeah," Haru says, squeezing back, "Let's go." They follow directions to a cafe that Haru had found on Google maps on the way, landing in front of a little place with a wooden door and cheery flowers beckoning them in.

"What would you like?" Haru asks, when they've found sofa seats near the window and looked through the menu. 

"Uh... I think I'll try the hot green tea latte?" Makoto says, flipping through the pages even as he talks,  just to make sure that it's really the best thing he can think of trying. Choosing coffee is hard for Makoto, just like choosing swimsuits is for Haru. 

Haru comes back bearing a tray of two cups and a few plates--a slice of chocolate cake, from the looks of it, and a pie and tart of some sort. "Banoffee," Haru explains when he sets it down on the table. "And a summer fruit tart and a berry crumble pie." 

"Oh Haru!" Makoto's weakness for sweet things shines through the sheer delight in his eyes and the way his hands clasp together. "Oh my everything looks so good--" His eyes crinkle shut in happiness as he sneaks in a bite of the cake even before he tries his coffee, his impatience getting the better of him. Seeing his unabashed glow makes Haru feel a lot better about himself. He's been illogical and tantrum-y and asshole-y, but at least his efforts to mend Makoto's hurt are working. 

"What did you get?" Makoto asks eagerly through a mouthful of pie, flaky crumbs dusting the bow of his lips. Haru holds back a smile and reaches over to wipe them off with his thumb. "Strawberry dark mocha," he replies, already passing over his cup for Makoto to try. "It's good." The smoky sweetness of dark chocolate serves as a base for the lighter fragrance of coffee, strawberry swirling delicately like ribbons through the layers of deep flavour. 

"Oh wow." Makoto peers inquiringly into the cup of coffee as if he'll be able to find out the secret of its flavour. 

"You can have half of it, if you want." Haru offers, leaning back in his chair and crossing his ankles. Coffee dates with Addict Makoto usually pan out this way anyway--with him wanting to try every single coffee item on the menu and Haru ordering something for himself that he thinks Makoto will like. "Really, Haru-chan?" Makoto asks 

"No it was a joke I'm taking it back," Haru deadpans and lunges over the table to grab it but Makoto is too fast for him, holding the mug just beyond his reach. "I love you Haru-chan," Makoto teases, slinging his right leg over his left and taking a theatrical sip of the hot coffee, his sigh of satisfaction obviously exaggerated.  

"Love you too," Haru snorts through laughter, but his eyes are sincere. He stretches his arm along the back of his chair and rests his head on his fist. His dark hair sweeps down barely covers his eyes, and Makoto is suddenly reminded by the first thing he noticed about Haru: Fringe of a highschooler. He's quiet for a long time, just studying the way Makoto takes another sip from the cup and sets it down on the table. The silence isn't a simple one--it feels laden with all the things Haru seems to want to say but can't. 

"You're... not still thinking about what happened just now right?" Makoto questions worriedly. "It's really okay, I know you would never upset me on purpose."

"No it's just like..." Haru squeezes his eyes shut in exasperation. "How could I do that?!" He sinks further down into his chair and groans. "That was literally the worst way to react, like-" 

Makoto can't help but feel a tiny little bit (childishly) accomplished. Haru is almost never at a loss for words. He reminds him of water, ironically, at social settings--managing to flow gracefully, naturally from one group to the other in a stream of confidence. Haru is somehow good at doing what he hates: paying compliments, saying superficial things that seem to mean something and yet nothing at all that people feel good about and revel in. But with Makoto, Haru stutters. Haru backtracks. Haru uses "like". Liberally, at times. Haru raises his voice and flaps his hands to fill in for words. He speaks in a rush and takes pauses that are too long to be polite, unsatisfied for paltry words that don't capture just what he wants to say to cover spaces between them. Haru doesn't settle. It's a wonderful feeling to be the only person Haru is so heated with. 

"If I even start doing that to you ever again," Haru says, his brows knitted together, "Just tell me off, or something. Before I carry on too far like today."

"I will Haru, so stop worrying," Makoto smiles and slides the cup of mocha back to his boyfriend. "But why though? Were you having a hard time with work? Or not enough sleep?" Haru seems to open his mouth to respond but clamps it shut again with his lips in a line. "Are you okay, love?" 

"Yeah, I just-" Haru slots his fingers together, anxiously toying with them. "I'm just... really sorry." 

"I already said I forgive you, Haru-chan," Makoto replies playfully. He knows something is up but doesn't want to push it when Haru's emotions are still so raw. It hurts him though, to see Haru curling in on himself and looking so dejected. "So don't let me hear you apologising again." He loves him so much, dammit, Haru knows that right? These small spats shouldn't matter that much between them as long as they know how to change. 

***

"There, it's as good as new," Makoto pats the watch resting comfortably on his wrist once more as their footsteps sound in tandem on the pavement. Haru's eyes soften and just as quickly as he presses a kiss to Makoto's shoulder, he pulls away and pretends nothing's happened. But Makoto catches the little smile that bubbles up on his lips unbidden, like a flash of sunlight.