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There is an undeniable aching in his chest.
When he thinks about Makoto, Haru always becomes more aware of his own heart.
And right now, his tender heart is being not-so-tenderly squeezed by the thought of reuniting with Makoto. It throbs with yearning, its quick but steady beat steadying every heavy step that Haru takes through the warm night air toward the front door. One hand clutches his suitcase, the other his chest.
I know, he tells his heart.
It doesn’t need to remind him how much he longed to return. He had plenty of time to think about that during his four-hour flight back to Tokyo, and even more time during the two weeks he was away at his swim meet.
Two weeks without feeling Makoto’s body sleeping against his. Two weeks without the comfort of stability. Two weeks without a break from the hectic schedule that comes with being a professional athlete. Everything adds up to feel like an eternity when he’s that far from his home.
Haru steps onto the porch and swats away the moths gathered near the outdoor light. His heart flutters in anticipation, as though one of the moths flew right into his chest, drawn to the fire burning brightly within. He thinks back to when he and Makoto decided to move from their apartment into a house. Neither of them were looking for anything in particular, aside from a little seclusion. But Haru knew Makoto had always missed seeing the stars back home, so he secretly made that top priority.
And then somehow they lucked into this house, this perfect little building that felt like it was made for them. By total coincidence—or so Haru said—it was tucked away far enough on the outskirts of the city that stars were visible on especially clear nights. He still remembers the way Makoto’s eyes glimmered when he saw them, glittering more brilliantly than the stars could ever hope.
The house is small, or so everyone says, but Haru can’t imagine what they would do with more space. Their bed, the kitchen, the bath—everything is large enough for them to share.
But it’s not the house he misses when he’s gone. It’s the calm he feels when he’s with Makoto, the sense of belonging and security. He could live anywhere as long as Makoto is there with him.
There's no doubt it’s like that for Makoto, too. His heart takes off, trying to drag him through the front door with every beat quickly hitting his chest. Haru can nearly picture himself tossing his luggage aside, bolting through the entrance, rushing to the bedroom and leaping on top of Makoto to wake him with kisses. He shakes his head and scoffs at his own thoughts. How embarrassing.
He exhales to get some composure, and only then does he realize the light in the living room is on. There goes his heart again, thumping so loudly he’s sure it’ll wake Makoto even from out here. But if the light’s on, does that mean he’s awake? He can nearly picture Makoto running to the door and throwing his arms around him, attacking him with kisses, wetting his face with tears. He’s embarrassing like that.
Haru walks inside, pausing a moment to give his partner a chance to react. But instead, Haru has to pause to stifle his laughter, as his 183-centimeter partner is currently curled up asleep on their 115-centimeter couch, his glasses sitting crooked on his face. How many times has he told him not to fall asleep with his glasses on? Haru directs his attention to the TV and knows without even seeing the screen that it’s some kind of nature documentary. Makoto always watches them late at night; he says he dreams better that way.
Haru stands for a moment, his lips curling into a small smile at the sight of Makoto. He’s the center, the core, the heart. Without him, this house is just a house. But with everything he does, he beats life into this house and makes it a home. His laughter—ba-dump—his tears—ba-dump—his very existence—ba-dump—all of it becomes the pulse that radiates through every room and through Haru himself.
Haru walks lightly and kneels down in front of Makoto, using his thumb to wipe away the small bit of drool starting to run from the corner of his partner’s mouth. He gently removes the glasses—they don’t look too bent—and sets them on the table behind him. “Makoto,” he whispers, brushing his bangs aside to sneak a small kiss on his forehead. “Makoto.” A little louder this time, but still careful not to wake him too abruptly.
Makoto slowly opens his eyes. The moments when he first wakes up are always full of confusion, and Haru watches his face intently as it changes from uncertainty to excitement, carefully reading every silent thought—I was asleep on the couch? Haru’s waking me up? Haru’s here? Haru’s home! “Haru! Welcome home!” he calls out, tired voice cracking through the words. He props himself up on one elbow to wrap his other arm around Haru’s back, hugging him the best he can.
“I’m home,” Haru replies. Nothing makes him feel more at ease than those warm arms around him. Reunion hugs are always firm, as if Makoto is afraid Haru will slip away again.
As soon as they separate, Haru can’t resist the opportunity to press his lips against his partner’s. It’s a terribly clumsy kiss, their lips too far stretched into idiotic smiles to properly meet each other, which only makes them smile more. Reunion kisses are always awful; it’s what makes them so perfect.
They break away, and the smile fades from Haru’s face. “Makoto,” he says sternly, attempting to feign seriousness. “It's late. I told you not to wait up for me.”
“I’m sorry,” Makoto laughs, the tiredness in his voice nearly gone. “I couldn’t help it. I wanted to see you as soon as possible. Anyway,” he lies back down on the couch and yawns, “I didn’t technically wait up for you since I fell asleep.”
“You…” Haru laughs and leans forward to kiss Makoto’s forehead again. “What documentary were you watching?”
Makoto’s eyes flick to the screen. “Oh, it was about gorillas. Did you know gorillas have unique nose prints? Like a human’s fingerprints.” He wiggles his fingers to illustrate.
Haru always looks forward to Makoto’s random divulgence of facts from the documentaries he watches. “Nose prints?”
Makoto reaches out to lightly tap Haru’s nose. “Mm. No two are the same.”
Haru smiles again and recalls the first time his teammates saw him hanging out with Makoto. They teased him for weeks about how much he grinned when they were together, calling him an imposter Haru. But Haru thinks he’s more like his true self than ever when he’s with Makoto. When they’re together, he’s relaxed and comfortable.
“How was your flight?” Makoto asks, bringing him back to the present.
“It was fine. I couldn’t fall asleep, so I read one of the books I brought.”
“I missed you.” Makoto barely lets him finish his sentence before he says the words he's been waiting to say since the moment he left.
Haru nods, and because it’s not enough to simply repeat them back, he crawls up on the couch and squeezes himself next to Makoto. Makoto doesn’t object; in fact, Haru feels his arm immediately wrap around him to keep him from falling off the small sofa. Haru presses his face against Makoto’s chest and whispers the words, “I missed you, too.” He speaks them quietly, straight into his heart.
They lie like that, just for a minute. Haru thinks he could easily fall asleep like this.
“I was thinking,” Makoto says suddenly, sounding tired himself. “What if we got a cat? We always talked about getting one but never really had time.”
Without saying so, Haru can tell what he means. With a cat, maybe he won’t feel so lonely when Haru has to travel for competitions and things. “I think it’s a good idea. We can name it Mizu.”
Haru feels Makoto’s entire body shaking with laughter. “That’s a terrible name for a cat! Cats hate water.”
“Saba, then. Cats love fish.”
“I knew you were going to say that.”
“Fine. We’ll name it Makoto.”
“Stop trying to name pets after me!”
“Well, those are my three favorite things. In order.”
“At least put me above mackerel.”
“We’ll see.” Haru shifts, moving up so his face meets Makoto’s, so close their noses almost touch. “And as if you’re any better with names. Are you going to name this one Shiro-chan, too?”
“Of course not! We might choose a black cat, so… Kuro-chan, then.”
Haru laughs lazily as he feels his eyelids grow heavy. Given the time and the long flight, he suddenly realizes how tired he is. But he’s not ready to sleep yet. He wants to stay up with Makoto, just talking about anything and everything, just like this. He wants to know more about the gorillas, about what he ate for dinner last night, about the cute things his students said at work.
And as much as Haru wants to know about Makoto, he desires to share his own anecdotes as well. He wants to tell him about how pretty the sunset looked from takeoff, about the flowers he saw that reminded him of the ones in their garden, about planning another trip together.
Makoto, as usual, somehow seems to know what he’s thinking. “Let’s talk more in the morning, OK? We should go to bed. You must be exhausted.”
Haru yawns on cue and nods in acceptance. Lying in bed together all morning sounds nice. He stands up and stretches, turning around to offer his hand to Makoto. Makoto gives it a quick kiss before standing up and embracing him.
“I owed you a proper hug, Haru-chan.”
Haru hugs him back, clinging tightly. Every moment he’s with Makoto, he thinks, This is the happiest I’ve ever felt. Every day, he loves him more and more. He’s not sure how it’s possible, but he knows Makoto feels the same. He knows it deep in his heart.
They walk hand in hand the short distance to their bedroom, and even though they have plenty of space in bed, they lie together just as closely as they did on the couch.
“Did you see the stars tonight?” Makoto asks, voice low and heavy with fatigue.
“Yeah.”
“We picked a good house, didn’t we?”
“We did.”
“Though I’d be happy anywhere with you.”
“Me too.”
Haru feels unsurpassably calm in this moment. He places his hand lightly on Makoto’s chest. Haru’s own heartbeat is slow and steady, and he’s certain that Makoto’s is beating the same way right now. They’ve always been deeply connected to each other, through their minds and their hearts. As he drifts into sleep, he thinks about the stars, about cats, and of course about Makoto. He hopes Makoto has nice dreams. He can’t wait to hear all about them in the morning.