Archive of Our Own

Makoto sees him every morning on the way to school.

They both get on at the same stop, and Makoto figures they must live in the same neighborhood, although he’s never actually seen him on the way to the train station. Every single time Makoto walks past the gates and to the platform, he’s already there.

They’re from different schools—he’s probably from some private school a couple of stops past Makoto’s own school (Makoto doesn't recognize his uniform), and it’s become a habit that every time Makoto gets off the train, he turns to look at the boy, hoping that maybe he’ll be looking back.

Of course, he never has. But Makoto looks anyway.

Makoto calls him the Boy with the Blue Eyes in his head, because that’s the first thing he’d noticed about him. Makoto doesn’t remember when exactly he’d first seen him, but he does remember it happening. He remembers standing at the platform, waiting for the train to arrive. It was spring, then, and there were cherry blossom petals on the floor, probably blown into the station by a particularly strong gust of wind earlier that day.

There had been a delay, and Makoto was worrying about being late for school. He’d been texting his classmate about it when he’d looked up, and suddenly there he was – Blue Eyes, standing a distance away on the platform.

Somehow Blue Eyes must’ve been looking too, because all Makoto caught was a glimpse of a bright, bright blue before the boy had turned away, and all Makoto could see was the back of his black hair.

Ever since then Makoto has noticed the boy, every single day. He usually stands at the same spot, to the far right of the platform. He doesn’t read, or listen to music, or text. He just stands there, facing forward, as if he’s looking at something in the distance that Makoto can’t see.

Makoto feels like he’s being a little bit creepy for staring, but he’s never been caught before, and so he just keeps on looking. Wondering.

Blue Eyes is shorter than Makoto by a fair bit, but then again Makoto is pretty tall for his age. He’s a little on the pale side, so Makoto figures he’s probably not part of any of sports clubs. Or maybe an indoor sport, like basketball. He doesn’t seem to be built like an athlete though, as far as Makoto can tell.

Eventually he decides that Blue Eyes is part of the Literature Club. He likes reading translated foreign novels, and is familiar with the greats of the Western literary world. The simple bag that Blue Eyes carries to school always has a different book packed in it everyday – sometimes it’s Shakespeare, sometimes it’s… well, Makoto can’t think of any famous Western authors apart from Shakespeare, but he likes to think that when Blue Eyes talks about his favorite novels his eyes will light up with a kind of passion that Makoto finds himself wanting to see, just once.

Even though Blue Eyes is part of the Literature Club, his worst subject in school is English, Makoto thinks. Reading translated novels is one thing, understanding the original language of the novel is something else entirely. He likes that idea, because Makoto’s equally terrible at English. Blue Eyes is really good at Japanese, though. And maybe History, too.

All this, of course, is pure speculation on Makoto’s part. For all he knows Blue Eyes could be a math whiz with absolutely no interest in books. Or he could be one of those super-smart students who consistently tops the class without even trying. Or he could have terrible grades, and the only reason why he manages to drag himself to school every morning is with the knowledge that once he graduates he’ll be out of this town.

Makoto doesn’t know a single thing about Blue Eyes, and all the different possibilities excite him. He wants to know. He wants to know more about Blue Eyes, wants to sit down with him and ask him about his favorite color, his favorite food, his favorite subjects, his hobbies, his dreams, his aspirations. He wants to look at Blue Eyes, really look at him until he’s able to pinpoint the exact shade of blue of his eyes.

He never actually talks to Blue Eyes, though. Even though he could. Even though he could just walk up to him one day while waiting for the train. He could strike up a conversation, and they’d spend the train ride to school talking. And when Makoto got up at his stop, he’d wave goodbye to Blue Eyes, smile at him, tell him that he’d see him again tomorrow.

It never happens, though. It never does, because Makoto would never dare to.

He’s content with just wondering, spending his days imagining what Blue Eyes would look like when he smiles.

*

One day, in the middle of autumn, Makoto goes to the train station in the morning as per his usual routine.

He doesn’t see Blue Eyes anywhere.

He’s not standing at his usual spot, neither is he anywhere else in the station. When the train they usually take together arrives, Makoto’s the only one who gets on. Blue Eyes is nowhere to be found.

This goes on for a second day. A third day. A fourth day.

It takes a week before Blue Eyes returns, and when Makoto walks past the gates to see Blue Eyes standing there, he unconsciously finds himself heaving a sigh of relief.

It must’ve been louder than he’d thought, because the moment he does, Blue Eyes turns to look at him for the first time since their first meeting.

Makoto meets those blue eyes, the same piercing shade of blue that he’d remembered all this while, and for a moment, he feels like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

The moment is broken when the train pulls into the station, coming to a screeching halt, and Blue Eyes turns away to walk into the train.

Makoto follows, still in a daze.

It might just be his imagination, but he feels that pair of blue eyes following him as he finds an empty seat and sits down. When he looks up, though, Blue Eyes is leaning against the door, looking down at his feet.

Still. Makoto’s pretty sure it wasn’t just his imagination.

There’s a strange pressure in his chest that lasts the entire train ride, and it doesn’t go away until he’s walking through the doors, sparing one last glance at Blue Eyes as he goes.

*

Makoto spends the entirety of that day thinking about Blue Eyes, trying to muster up the courage to finally, finally approach him.

He decides that he’ll do it tomorrow. He’ll walk over to where Blue Eyes is standing, and he’ll introduce himself.

Makoto tries to picture Blue Eyes looking at him, actually talking to him.

He really can’t.

*

The joke’s on Makoto, though, because when he walks into the train station the next day, Blue Eyes isn’t standing at his usual spot.

Blue Eyes is standing at Makoto’s usual spot.

For a moment Makoto freezes just in front of the gates, and it takes an angry commuter’s tutting from behind him for him to realize where exactly he is, and Makoto eventually finds himself moving forward, his legs feeling strangely mechanical as he takes one step, two steps, three steps, towards where Blue Eyes is standing.

He’s still facing forward, his expression completely blank when Makoto moves to stand next to him.

Makoto’s gripping at the straps of his backpack,  staring at the train tracks, absolutely refusing to turn to his left to look at the boy he’s standing next to. He bites his lip, his feet shuffling a little in spite of himself, and his heart is pounding in his chest so loudly he wouldn’t be surprised if Blue Eyes could hear it from where he’s standing.

From where he’s standing, right next to Makoto.

“You didn’t come for a week,” Makoto blurts out, and immediately after the words leave his mouth he knows it’s the wrong thing to say.

“I—I mean…” He’s stuttering, his face red, trying to cover up for his embarrassing slip-up, but there’s no way he can possibly repair the damage he’s done. Makoto’s starting to consider jumping into the tracks right in front of him when his thoughts are interrupted by someone speaking.

“I was sick,” Makoto hears, and he realizes – belatedly – that that was Blue Eyes, speaking to him. Replying to him.

He has a nice voice.

“Oh… uh… are you feeling better now?” Makoto ventures, turning his head to the side to glance at Blue Eyes, but he’s not looking at Makoto. He’s looking down at his feet as if—

As if he’s… embarrassed?

“If I was still sick I wouldn’t have come back to school,” Blue Eyes mutters, and Makoto can’t help it. He laughs.

“Right, right, my bad, sorry…” he says, chuckling, and then Blue Eyes turns to look at him and that feeling of forgetting how to breathe is back, all over again, making Makoto freeze up, his chest suddenly feeling far too tight.

“I’m Haruk—Haru. I’m Haru.”

Blue Eyes—no, Haru, his name is Haru—is still looking down at the floor, but when Makoto replies Haru looks up, glancing at Makoto from out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m Makoto.” Makoto’s smiling, and that’s when Haru really looks up, turning to look at Makoto full on, and for the first time, Makoto’s finally, properly seeing Haru’s full face, seeing those blue eyes that have fascinated him all this while widening as he speaks. “Pleased to meet you, Haru,” he says, liking the way the name sounds on his tongue.

Haru.

Haru.

He wants to say it more often. He wants to say it as many times as he can.

Haru’s still staring at him, looking like he’s at a loss for words, but that’s okay. That’s perfectly fine with Makoto.

The train pulls up at the station just then, and Makoto walks through the doors with Haru next to him, smiling all the while.