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Haru runs away.
Makoto lets his hand fall. He swallows back against the panic in his chest, a hotness that has started to burn underneath his eyes, and he presses the heel of his palm to his face to wipe it away. The fireworks ignite in the distance. He’d always known, like the lanterns ebbing across the sea, that some things are beyond his reach, but he’d never thought Haru was one of them.
What an unfair thing to presume, thinks Makoto, since Haru’s not the one leaving for Tokyo.
His fingers still hurt from where he’d caught Haru’s wrist. He hadn’t realised Haru was that strong - though of course he was - and he’d fought every second not to let Haru go. How hypocritical that was, in hindsight. But now Haru was gone, and Makoto could not reach him. Nagisa and Rei would be waiting, trusting Makoto to do what none of them could.
Alone, Makoto looks across the soft and faraway sea, and lets himself weep.
-
Haru runs and runs and runs, but the tightness in his chest won’t go away. He’s cutting through the neighbourhood too fast, and he’s looped around twice already, just to avoid seeing Makoto’s house -- but that side alley is where they secretly drank caffeine together one night in middle school, and had showed up for class the next day equally bleary-eyed and incoherent; and that corner is where Makoto had tripped over himself because he was too busy rummaging in his bag for the new recipe he wanted Haru to try, and Haru doesn’t have to think to remember Makoto’s face: the wide smile when Haru offered to help him up, so happy that Haru had to look away.
Haru draws a ragged breath, and pushes on.
It’s worse, because Makoto never wants anything for himself. It’s worse, because Makoto gives and gives and never takes, and that is why Haru hates himself for running away - because Makoto has every right to leave. Makoto has every right to his own happiness, with or without Haru, and this is middle school basketball all over again, but worse.
All he wanted was to be free. To drift unpressured, unencumbered, undisappointed: but no, it was too late, wasn’t it? He is tied to his friends, to Makoto, and Makoto said Haru was Not Fine, and Makoto has always known Haru better than anyone, and Makoto was going away.
The wind tears at his hair. Haru lets it dry his eyes and doesn’t stop running.
-
It’s been ten minutes of packing, and Rin already wants to throw everything away to save himself the frustration.
He’s just started on his shirts when his phone rings.
“Hello?” he answers, craning his neck to hold the phone against his shoulder. Sousuke made him watch a video about folding clothes once, a shortcut where you pinch here and there and pull and somehow manipulate the shirt into behaving within three seconds, but for the life of him he can’t remember how to do it. Sousuke is out somewhere though, and he frowns at the mess in front of him.
“Rin, hello,” says Makoto, and Rin bolts upright.
“Have you been crying?” he asks without thinking, and there is a decidedly long pause. “Uh, I mean, what’s wrong?”
There is an even longer pause. Rin pulls his phone away to check that the call is still on, and puts it back to his ear just as Makoto says, “It’s Haru.”
Of course it’s Haru. After that monumental blowout in the locker room, he hasn’t seen Haru at all. Haru, moved to violence because Rin didn’t understand him, hadn’t understood. And Makoto -
“Did Haru yell at you too?” says Rin abruptly. Over the phone Makoto gives a tired huff, and Rin knows.
“I tried,” says Makoto, and in his voice is the same tremor that gave him away at Rin, hello. “He ran away.”
Rin closes his eyes. “Don’t blame yourself.”
“You’re the only one who can reach him now,” replies Makoto, and Rin feels the responsibility of it on his shoulders, heavier than the authority of Captain. Last year it had been Haru taking on Rin’s problems, and now it was his turn, and he knew just what to do.
“I’m leaving for Australia tomorrow,” he says, at the mess around his feet.
Makoto goes quiet.
“I’ll bring Haru along,” he adds, and Makoto makes a startled noise. Rin laughs into the room, a quick and loud sound before he reassures Makoto, “We have nationals! I’m not going to kidnap him, I’ll bring him back.”
“You’d better,” says Makoto, and he’s smiling now, and Rin has never been so relieved to hear it in his voice. “And don’t lose him. You turn your back two seconds and he’s shirtless and about to dive into an aquarium.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll drag him out if I have to.”
“Rin?” Makoto hesitates, and then - “Thanks.”
“No problem,” says Rin, and hangs up, and picks up his shirts. He packs them away slowly, and in between quiet folds he thinks about the clear water across the world, the friends by his side, and of the wide open sky.