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Makoto grimaces, steeling himself against the inevitable onslaught of bitter cold that’s bound to hit him like a wall of frozen freaking bricks any second now. The air locks on the train hiss abruptly, and yep, there it is. A rush of icy air smacks him clean across the face as he steps out onto the platform, burrowing his chin as deep into his coat as possible, hoping to find some kind of meager protection from the wind. He would have worn a scarf- did, actually- but unsurprisingly, his best friend had shown up to their coffee date before class this morning without one. Doting as ever, Makoto had generously given up his best wool scarf to Haru before they parted ways towards their respective universities (he couldn’t stand to watch the poor thing shiver and bite back against chattering teeth any longer), and thus left himself with nothing more than a knitted beanie and the flimsy collar of his winter coat to protect his head from the cold.
He huffs a dramatic sigh, watching how it clouds in front of his face in a brief fog before setting off with determination towards his apartment. It’s only a few blocks, but the frigid breeze makes the normally bearable trek feel torturous.
He’s got his mittened hands shoved deep into his pockets, trudging down sleet-covered sidewalks and channeling all of his coordination into not slipping and sliding across the pavement, when he feels the familiar three-toned vibrations of his cell phone ringing in his back pocket.
Regretfully, he pulls a hand out from his cozy coat and grabs the device, the name that lights up his screen making his heart pound a little harder and his breath a little harsher, despite it being ragged enough from the cold already.
“Hey,” he answers softly, airy even though he feels like all the air has been sucked from his lungs with the wind.
“Mako-channn, there you are! I tried texting you before. Still in class?”
Nagisa sounds cheery as ever, humming a tune to himself while he waits for a reply, a telltale habit that Makoto knows means that he’s up to something that requires concentration and patience, probably a project for school or something. At least he’s in a good mood. Makoto particularly loves when Nagisa is at peace, his humming an indicator that whatever it is he’s doing, he’s certainly enjoying it. It means a lot when he’s in a good mood, since lately the stress of long distance has really been taking its toll on the blonde, even if he doesn’t let it show much.
“No, I’m all done for the day,” Makoto sighs, the relief of the words setting in finally once he says them aloud. “Just walking home from the train now, sorry I missed your texts.”
“You’re lucky I can’t hold a grudge against you, with how often you don’t answer,” Nagisa chides, mostly joking but Makoto knows there’s an undertone to it, no matter how much the younger may try to deny it every time Makoto apologizes for being such a shitty boyfriend, especially in such a shitty situation. “You should owe me something for every time you miss a text from me.”
His flirtatious tone is enough to reassure Makoto that the damage isn’t too serious this time. Nagisa bounces back from the little things fairly quickly and Makoto is grateful for someone who is so understanding when he’s the one usually messing up all of those little things in the first place.
“Name your price,” he flirts back, heart stuttering a bit because this is still kind of new to him. Their still new to him. It makes his throat tight when he thinks about Nagisa touching him, holding his hand, smiling at him in that way that makes Makoto absolutely melt. Maybe deciding to date right before moving to another city wasn’t the greatest timing, but he can’t really say he regrets it in the slightest. The anticipation of everything that makes a new relationship so exciting is only amplified by them being so far away. The ache is ten times stronger when they’re apart, and the pleasure is twenty times greater when they do finally get to see each other.
He wishes he had kissed Nagisa more before he left. There definitely hadn’t been enough of that to hold him over for now, especially with their next visit months away.
As if on cue, Nagisa suggests delicately, “A kiss for each one. And if it’s a missed call, you owe tongue with it.”
Makoto knows the flush across his entire face is not just because of the cold anymore.
“Not a bad deal; I think I can make it work.” Nagisa laughs at how easily he agrees, the sound ringing in Makoto’s ear like silver bells. He can’t wait until he’s inside of his apartment, where it’s far quieter and he can hear every little giggle out of Nagisa’s mouth and he can snuggle up to a pillow and maybe (pathetically) pretend it’s really his boyfriend that he’s clutching so tightly in his arms while he falls asleep to the sound of his dizzying voice.
He rushes up the stairs to his front door with more urgency now, embarrassingly eager to get inside and do just that now.
“But there’s a catch:” Nagisa explains seriously, a lilt of mischief to his tone. “You have to give them to me now. I won’t be accepting late payments.”
“Oh really? And how do you suppose I do that?” They both know it’s not possible, but what fun is it to spoil the fantasy with the annoying grievances of reality? He digs for his apartment key in his pocket, pressing the phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he realizes he left it in his backpack, duh, and starts to dig through that instead.
“I may have a solution. How close are you to home?”
Makoto furrows his brows at the random question. “I’m literally at my front door. But if you’re thinking of FaceTime, I really don’t think I can do the tongue thing like you want-”
After finally finding his key, Makoto jams it into the lock and heaves the door open with a deep exhale, which subsequently turns into a choked gasp as he’s greeted with the sight of Nagisa. His Nagisa. Standing there in his living room, in Tokyo. Looking so soft and adorable in an oversized sweater (holy shit is that his sweater?) and grey joggers, still holding the phone to his ear with a positively smug grin on his lips and oh my god he’s actually here-
“You could give it a shot, but the real thing might be a little better, don’t you think?”
Makoto nearly drops his phone. The only reason why he doesn’t is because he’s completely frozen in shock, a dumbfounded grin spreading across his lips as Nagisa quickly hangs up his cell and strides across the room, unable to contain his excitement any more as he practically throws himself against Makoto in a hug.
“Hi,” he sighs blissfully into Makoto’s chest, nuzzling his pecs unabashedly.
“Holy shit, hi,” Makoto laughs back in absolute awe. He can’t believe his eyes right now, can’t believe he’s really holding Nagisa in his arms and they’re in freaking Tokyo together. Makoto squeezes him back, his phone finally clattering to the ground in favor of sliding his fingers tenderly into wavy blonde locks, not even realizing it when he heaves out a massive sigh of relief against his boyfriend’s forehead. He only has a moment to enjoy the embrace before tender lips suddenly press against his, Nagisa balancing on his toes and hoisting himself up with arms around Makoto’s neck for leverage. Makoto melts into the kiss instantly like he does, thawing out every frostbitten inch of his body slowly but surely.
Unwillingly, Nagisa finally pulls back and whispers sweetly into the miniscule space between them, “Surprise.”
“Surprise indeed.”
But then Nagisa surprises him even further with several more kisses, each one on a different part of his face and thus making Makoto giggle like an absolute idiot as he peppers his cheeks and nose and chin with his lips. He’s not sure if he’ll ever get over them being together like this, how perfect it feels to hold Nagisa and be this close and how it makes his entire body sing with delight, but he’s not sure he ever wants to get over it either. Overcome with emotion, he gathers Nagisa up in his arms, so tight that the smaller has no choice but to give in and allow himself to be squished into Makoto’s chest with a resigned laugh.
“You’re quiet. What’s wrong?” Nagisa hums, running his hands appreciatively up and down the planes of Makoto’s back.
Makoto shakes his head, disbelief still choking him up a little as he swallows down the lump in his throat. “Nothing, I promise. I’m just so happy to see you again. I- I can’t believe you did this.”
“Anything for you.” The conviction in Nagisa’s words nearly causes Makoto to break down with overwhelming joy. “I still can’t cook, but I ordered takeout for you. Thought we could have a date night at home. Wanna eat now?”
“No,” Makoto huffs stubbornly, burying his nose into Nagisa’s hair and inhaling the scent, trying to commit the sweet, flowery aroma of his shampoo to memory.
“No? C’mon, I know you must be hungry after classes all day. You don’t take care of yourself enough, you can’t fool me, Mako-chan.”
This, Makoto chuckles at, but his grip remains steadfast and firm. “No,” he asserts quietly again, pressing a kiss to Nagisa’s hair, “let’s stay like this for a bit.”
Nagisa hums his agreement softly, allowing himself to sink even further against Makoto and slowly rocking side to side to no particular melody.
After a content silence, Makoto finally gathers the resolve to breath out a shaky, “I missed you.” He doesn’t care if he comes off clingy, or if he sounds like he’s overreacting. He missed Nagisa more than anything else in the world, and he shouldn’t be ashamed to admit that. They’re together again, and he’s determined not to have to say goodbye this time with any regrets, even if that means holding Nagisa for a second longer, or kissing him one extra time, or telling him the truth about how much something like this means to Makoto. Nagisa deserves to know how happy he makes him, after all.
When Nagisa eventually replies though, it’s just as watery and filled with as much, if not even more emotion. “I missed you too. So much.”
And for the first time since winter in Tokyo began, Makoto finally feels warm.