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When they were in kindergarten, holding hands was encouraged. “It’s so you stay safe as you are walking to and from school,” their mothers had said. So naturally Haru and Makoto held hands, a lot. But then one day, all of a sudden it had seemed to Makoto, holding hands was no longer acceptable or something that couldn’t be done without eliciting comments.
Of course it wasn’t all of a sudden, Haru and Makoto had simply been too wrapped-up in each other to notice their classmates changing. For slowly but surely their classmates had stopped holding hand. Either because they themselves outgrew the practice or because their parents had told them they were now old enough to not hold hands and to start observing social customs regarding personal space etc.
The thought that they shouldn’t be holding hands never entered Haru or Makoto’s head and their parents certainly felt no inclination to tell the boys not to hold hands. So even though they were in 2nd grade, when Haru came down the stone stairs from his house to meet-up with Makoto and his smile at the foot of the stairs, he didn’t hesitate to take the younger boys hand as they set off together for their school.
However, there was a third way in which children learnt when they were no longer supposed to be doing something. Haru and Makoto’s parents might not have cared that they still held hands, even in the second grade, but their peers did care or at least weren’t about to just leave them be.
They had just entered the school grounds and were heading towards the school build when they heard someone say, “You too still hold hands! Are you too still babies!”
“Eh?” said Makoto, turning towards the voice and coming face to face with a group of boys, the group of boys that liked to think of themselves as the tough kids on the playground, “What’s wrong with holding hands?”
“It’s a baby thing to do, Tachibana,” commented the leader of the group, “Are you a baby Tachibana?”
“Of course he’s a baby,” chimed in someone else, “He’s always crying and hiding behind Nanase! No wonder he still holds Nanase’s hand! How long are you going to let the baby hold your hand Nanase?”
“I don’t cry that much!” replied Makoto defensively, “I just don’t like scary stories.”
“You also don’t like the dark, don’t like bugs, don’t like dolls or clowns, you are a total baby!” said the leader, “Baby! Baby!” he started chanting and was swiftly joined in by his lackeys.
“Stop it!” cried Makoto.
“Makoto,” said Haru firmly, “Let’s go,” he said as he pulled the distress Makoto away.
“Haru,” he whispered, “I… it’s okay if you don’t want to hold hands anymore.”
Haru said nothing. He didn’t let go of Makoto’s hands until they were safely away from the other boys but from that day on, they stopped holding hands when walking to school.
17 year old Haru found himself staring at the ceiling, remembering the dream he just had. The dream that was a memory from long ago, of the day, of the incident that resulted in him and Makoto stopping holding hands. Looking back on it now, Haru could truly see the incident for what it was. He and Makoto were supposed to have outgrown the practice by the time they entered elementary school or at least during 1st year of elementary school. But they had still been holding hands at age seven, when they were in second year. Left on their own they would never have stopped holding hands and that realisation made Haru sad.
There was, however, another consideration that made Haru even sadder. Did Makoto know, did he understand why Haru had stopped holding his hand? Could Makoto tell? But back then, Makoto wasn’t able to read Haru’s mind. “Because we hadn’t been together long enough,” thought Haru, “Makoto doesn’t know,” he realised and the realisation stunned and disturbed him, “Makoto doesn’t know,” the thought goes through his head again.
Haru gets-up and heads out, stopping only to grab a coat and slip on shoes. The distance to Makoto’s house is short but the night is just chilly enough that even for a short distance, slipping on a coat is necessary. He makes his way down to Makoto’s house, which is dark and silent. But that’s okay because Haru knows where the Tachibana family hide their spare key. He uses it to open the back door and head upstairs to Makoto’s room. A testament to how often he had been in this house, Haru has no problems finding his way in the darkness that enveloped the house.
It wasn’t too long before he found himself in Makoto’s room, hovering over Makoto’s bed, praying that Makoto did not suddenly awaken because his gentle hearted friend would be frighted and Haru never wanted to be the cause of fear and confusion in Makoto. Softly he knelt besides Makoto’s bed and gently started to shake him awake, “Makoto,” Haru whispered.
“Um,” Makoto started to stir, “Haru?” he started to blink awake, “What are yo…” a yawn broke his trail of thought.
“Move over,” Haru asked, probing him gently. Makoto complied and Haru climbed in, having already shed his coat and of course his shoes were left near the door. They maneuvered against each other until the lay together, cuddling.
Burying his face in the crook of Haru’s neck, Makoto was already drifting back to sleep. But Haru couldn’t go to sleep, he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep until he set things straight with Makoto. “Do you remember the time when we stopped holding hands?” Haru asked tentatively, suddenly wondering if Makoto even remembered.
Makoto immediately tensed and Haru knew he remembered, “Yeah, I remember,” he whispered, suddenly wide awake, “It was Sei wasn’t it? He called me a baby,” Makoto laughed, “I guess I was a bit of a baby back then. Well maybe I still am since I still don’t like scary stories and don’t like bugs much. I mean, you still have to bait my reel for me!” he laughed self-desperately, “But at least I am doing better with the dark and dolls and clowns don’t creep me out as much. I still don’t like them though. But why bring it up, all of a sudden?” Makoto wondered.
There was a solid minute of silence before Haru gathered his thoughts and found his voice, “I wanted to keep holding Makoto’s hand,” he whispered, “But I didn’t want them to keep teasing you. I didn’t like them teasing you. I want to protect you. But…” Haru cuddled into Makoto more, “I wanted to keep holding your hand.”
Haru couldn’t see it but he could feel Makoto smile, “You should have kept holding my hand. Because I don’t care what anyone else says as long as what we are doing is making Haru happy. Besides,” Haru could feel Makoto grinning now, “I wanted to keep holding Haru’s hand too.”
Haru didn’t say anything, with the weight of his chest he felt sleep start to descend upon him. “Na, Haru-chan,” whispered Makoto, “Let’s hold hands tomorrow,” he suggested.
“Let’s,” agreed Haru. “Let’s hold hands tomorrow, and the day after and the day after that,” Haru added to himself, “Let’s hold hands until we grow-out of it, not because the world expects us to grow-out of it,” and in his heart, Haru knew, they would never grow-out of holding hands.