Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Makoto Tachibana

The sound of rain must be my favorite sound; just listening to the tapping of pouring rain against the windows, is one of my favorite autumn activities.

It grants me rest, makes me feel calm.

It’s the most amazing weather to just sit down, and rest your head against the glass and just listen. Just take in that sweet pitter-pattering of the raindrops. It’s also great weather to take a shower, put on your pajamas earlier than usually and just lay down on the couch with some music or an audio book to listen to; that’s what I’ll be doing this evening.

It’s just half an hour after dinner and I’ve already taken a nice hot shower. Usually I’d still be in the day-modus; walking around in my normal clothes and maybe helping my younger siblings with their homework as much as I can with the vague explanations they can give me about the images that come with their hint-like math assignments.

But not today, because even though it’s Friday and Ren and Ran did have school today, I don’t feel like doing anything that requires thinking. There’s just days where I don’t feel like it.

My therapist says it’s normal for me to have days like this; the years someone spends in puberty always are harder than their childhood, add a disability and it’s not strange that the outcome is something like a deep hole of toxic questions and condescending thoughts.

I’ve just crawled out of that darkness that hit me around the time I turned fourteen, so I shouldn’t let it swallow me whole again; yet wanting a little alone-time every now and then is relatively normal teenage behavior according to miss Asato.

I slowly trudge down the stairs, making sure to hold onto the handrail tightly as I go down.

I can already smell warm tea by the time I reach the hallway; mom always like drinking wildflower honey tea in the evening. She says it makes her calm down after a hard day of housekeeping and taking care of us, and to be completely honest, I also love the smell of the wildflower honey tea and I will breathe in the hot steam gladly even when the taste is way too sweet for me.

The television is playing in the background, I can hear Ren and Ran commenting to some loud and hyperactive kid’s show or movie. I flop down onto our other couch and try to figure out what they’re watching; going off the sounds, I suspect it to be “My Neighbor Totoro” again which would explain the childlike screeches that blast from the speakers.

“What are you watching?” I ask once I’ve settled on the bench with my head resting on a pillow.

“‘Kiki’s Delivery Service’,” Ran immediately answers, soon followed by his twin sister telling me about the scene and how it’s actually is a pretty exciting movie. “For an all ages movie at least.”

I chuckle, knowing that many people say Ghibli movies never are boring no matter how old you get. Yet, I’ve never taken a liking to movies; give me audio books, music or even musicals and I will enjoy them more than anything, but make me sit down for a movie and I will probably not enjoy them as much as my young siblings would; or many other sighted people for that matter.

“Well, enjoy the movie,” I eventually reply, closing my eyes to give the useless things some rest after another day of not actually doing anything to support me.

Just laying here listening to the sound of the movie playing, and the witty comments my siblings make about it, soon starts to bore me a little. I play with the string of my sweatpants, thinking of something to do; I can’t listen to music or anything in this noise the movie is making.

“Has anyone fed the cats already?” I think about the stray cats that have been hanging around our house for years, it’s become our daily responsibility to feed them every evening.

“Not yet,” Ren and Ran chime at the exact same time.

I roll off the couch again, because I was hoping for that answer so I could go out and feed the cats while I can peacefully sit on our backyard’s porch. That way I can listen to the rain for a short while before going into our chaos living room again.

I put on my winter coat and grab the large bag with cat food from the lowest shelf in our pantry before navigating my way past the kitchen, through the backdoor and into the damp autumn air.

“Kitty, kitty, kitty!” I softly say while I shake the bag. “I’ve got some nice nomnoms for you!”

The rickety wood shifts under my feet as I count my steps to the stray cats’ usual feeding spot. The shaking of the food inside of the bag, the soft meowing of a few cats and, of course, the nice pitter-patter of the rain splattering onto the ground; all so calming to me.

Yet, something feels different; like something in my gut is telling me that there’s something to look out for. Of course that can’t be right, because this is my garden and there’s no one here.

I wish I would’ve listened, because before I know it, I trip over some mysterious bulge in our porch. I tumble foreword and face first with my face into my mother’s little flower garden.

“Ouch,” I groan while suddenly praying I brought my cane with me so I would’ve known that thing was laying there. “What the-“ My voice falters when the tips of my fingers touch something else; a soaked and boney bump that seems to have collapsed underneath our water-resistant windshield.

My first thought is that it must be a cat, but when I start feeling it a little better I realize there’s no fur, it’s way bigger than any cat I’ve ever touched, which makes it clear to me that this is something other than a cat, or a dog for that matter; it’s another human.

“Hey,” I whisper, when I hear soft snoring coming from this mysterious person. I also try shaking them a little in an attempt to wake them up, and fortunately I eventually get a reply. It isn’t much, no words were spoken and no sound was made, but at least they move a little when they register my hand resting on what must’ve been their back.

I feel the wood shifting underneath my knees as the human jolts away from me. There’s quick breathing, which gets heavier when I reach out in an attempt to find out which direction I should face before I start talking to them. My fingertips eventually stroke past what appears to be a shoulder.

“It’s okay, no need to be scared,” I whisper when I feel how badly they’re trembling. “Can you tell me if you’re okay? Are you hurt in any way?”

There’s no reply other than extremely heavy breathing.

I bite the inside of my cheek while trying to come up with a way to find out more about this person. I can’t see their condition, I have no clue how they’re doing or who they are for that matter.

“It’s cold,” I eventually say, and I start taking off my coat with my free hand. After that I put in an attempt to wrap the warm winter coat around the soaking wet person, at least they’re warmer now.

“Here you go,” I whisper before asking the person to come inside. I know, deep inside, it might not be the smartest idea to ask people I don’t know into my house, but I can’t just leave them out here to catch a cold or worse. Mom or dad may be able to help me when I bring this person inside.

I help the scrawny and trembling person get on their feet and guide them towards my backdoor.

“No need to be scared,” I reassure them. “I’m going to make sure you don’t get sick.”

I swallow thickly when I lay my hand on the doorknob and slide the door open.

I’ve rescued many injured cats over the course of the years, but never in a million years did I expect to bring a sick person into my house today.

Chapter Text

Haruka Nanase

Shivers are running down my spine.

Anxiety is squeezing my throat shut when I see a room filled with people. They’re all looking at me, all staring at me as I leak rainwater all over their nice wooden flooring.

My shoes are all muddy, and I was dragged into the living room so quickly, I didn’t have the chance to take them off. I probably left an entire oozy spore behind me; I couldn’t be more ashamed.

I should’ve known something like this would happen, karma’s soon to strike when you run away from the family that gave up their normal lives to temporarily take care of you; I should’ve just stayed with my foster parents now I still can instead of running away from their house.

Now all of their eyes are turned to me, all these strangers I don’t know.

I haven’t been in one room with so many people at once since elementary school, before they decided that homeschooling would be a better option for someone like me.

“Oh goodness,” an older woman, who’s sitting on the couch with a cup of tea in her hands, says when her eyes meet mine. “What happened?”

She gets up from the couch and walks to me and the guy that dragged me into his living room.

“I’m not sure.” The hand that’s been resting on my shoulder the entire time tenses. “I-I think he’s injured or sick, I don’t know; he won’t talk to me.”

I lower my gaze in pain; of course he’s having a hard time with that, everyone always makes a problem about me not being able to tell them what’s wrong. I tried telling him I wasn’t hurt by shaking my head, but it was like I was invisible to the teenager.

“It’s okay, Makoto,” the woman says with a calm smile before stating that I don’t look injured to her.

I’m not wounded, she’s right; okay I might’ve scraped my knee when I climbed over a fence to get in their backyard, but that’s all. All I was doing was taking shelter from the pouring rain, and I must’ve been so exhausted from being on the run that I fell asleep.

I wasn’t planning on staying there too long, or being found by someone, but then this guy, whose name appears to be Makoto, caught me napping on their porch and decided I needed his help.

The woman’s green eyes look at me from top to toe, I can see her taking in my black bangs that are probably messily sticking to my forehead and cheeks, my soaked and baggy clothes and muddy shoes. Instead of the expected disgusted glance, I often get from strangers, she looks rather worried.

“Poor boy, you look like you have been out in the rain for quite a while,” she eventually mumbles, sounding more like she’s talking to herself than to me. “What happened?”

I swallow thickly, keeping my mouth shut and instead reaching for my backpack; which for some reason isn’t around my shoulders anymore. I could swear right now, because that little backpack had almost all of my stuff inside of it. Most importantly, it was carrying my notebook and pencil; my preferred way of communicating with people.

I glance at the woman, feeling how my cheeks tone red in embarrassment.

She seems to understand it, but in the wrong way, and immediately says, “Oh, stupid me!” She lets out an apologetic chuckle and continues by telling me she understands I might not want to tell a stranger about something personal, therefore she should introduce herself first. “You can call me miss Tachibana.”

When I still don’t answer her extremely normal question or introduce myself, she adds, “Don’t worry, you don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t feel comfortable doing that.”

I lower my gaze to the floor, because no matter how sweet and motherly this miss Tachibana may be, of course I don’t feel comfortable; I’ve been physically dragged into someone else’s home after a very exhausting day. There’s no way I cannot feel uncomfortable after that.

Yet, I want to at least thank her; tell her that I’m okay and that she, and her family, shouldn’t worry about me. So I take a deep breath and swallow before holding my shaking hand a little higher.

There’s a reason why I don’t use sign language often; not many people understand it, so I only use that as a way to communicate with my foster parents and certain therapist.

Even though I move my hands slow and steady as I explain to her that I am fine, no one in the room seems to be able to understand sign language. I debate about seeing if I can get my hands on pen and paper, but that would mean I’d have to wander through their house even more.

For a moment I’m sure someone’s going to make the devilish comment about me being deaf, which they couldn’t be more wrong about, because even though I can’t speak my hearing’s just fine.

Fortunately they don’t; instead Miss Tachibana’s eyes get a little bigger all of a sudden, as if she remembered something she has been forgetting up till now, and then she shows me a polite smile.

“I have an idea,” Miss Tachibana eventually says. “You must be freezing, am I right?”

Finally, a yes-or-no question; I nod.

“Okay, in that case, I think it may be best if you take a nice warm shower.” She smiles at me and tousles my wet hair as if I’m a little child to her, I probably am since I appear to be around the same age as her son Makoto. “I’ll get you some dry clothes, make sure you don’t catch a bad cold, and we’ll see if we can talk after that. Is that a good idea?”

I nod again.

Miss Tachibana seems glad about this. She turns to Makoto and tells him to guide me to their upstairs bathroom, and put on some clean clothes while he’s at it.

“Sure, no problem,” Makoto says before turning to me.

“Great! I’ll go see if I can make the two of you some hot cocoa to warm up a little after you’ve changed your clothes,” she says before walking to their pantry.

After that Makoto shows me a little smile and he asks me if I can follow him upstairs.

I nod, but there’s no real reaction from Makoto.

It isn’t until one of the younger boy shouts, “Makoto, he nodded!” that I realize Makoto might actually not be able to see me at all. I swallow, when I also notice that his eyes aren’t fully focussed on me and how there’s a milky cloud covering up the vibrant green of his eyes.

“Oh, oops.” Makoto chuckles while awkwardly tugging at the fabric of his baggy sweatpants. “Yeah, about that, I can’t actually see you; I’m blind.”

I feel myself shrinking, if I could I would disappear right here and now; I’ve never been more embarrassed about something is my entire life. Nodding to a blind person’s question is like asking me to just talk to you; it’s plainly rude and extremely embarrassing.

I want to tell him I’m sorry, but all I manage to do is groan at my own stupidity.

Makoto doesn’t really seem to mind though, he just picks himself up and tells me to follow him. He guides me all the way to their bathroom, and I catch myself being more than a little impressed by how Makoto’s nailing the whole tour; I can see just fine and even I wouldn’t be able to show someone around a house as smoothly as Makoto is doing it.

“Just put your wet clothes on the floor, mom will wash them for you,” Makoto tells me. “You can already get in the shower, I’ll make sure to put some clean and warm clothes next to the sink.”

I do as he tells me, keeping the shower short and putting on the clothes Makoto gave me; they clearly belong to the much taller guy, because I can practically wear the shirts as a dress if I want to.

After drying off the walls, and checking if their bathroom looks just as nice as it did before I showered, I head downstairs. I freeze in my steps when I hear talking coming from the living room.

“Look, Makoto,” miss Tachibana’s voice sounds, calm yet worried. “I get you want to help this boy, you’re a good-natured kid after all, but I don’t know if I like the thought of you bringing random teenagers into our house.”

Makoto answers by telling his mom that he didn’t know what to do, he was afraid I had been injured or something since I was shaking so much and barely responded to him. “I couldn’t just leave him out there.” His voice sounds apologetic.

“I don’t mind it, for this once,” miss Tachibana says. “But I do think we should try to find out who you brought into our house, and where he lives as soon as possible; his parents must be worried sick.”

I stare at the ground, a sudden shiver running down my spine at the thought of my parents; they aren’t worried about me. My foster parents, maybe, but my real ones haven’t thought of me in over eight years. They stopped caring when I was nine.

I feel even more lightheaded when flashes of that night trickle into my brain.

Burning pain, yelling, darkness and cold; they’re vague and I can only see snapshots of them while my ears start ringing. By the time the images fade, the world start tilting at a rapid paste; next thing I know, everything around me has turned pitch black.

Chapter Text

Makoto Tachibana

He fell ill.

Quite literally; he collapsed in the hallway almost immediately after showering, with rising fever.

I’m listening to his shallow breathing as he lies in my bed to get some rest. He’s not unconscious anymore, but he was slipping in and out of it for almost half an hour before he finally was awake enough to drink a little bit of water.

Now, he’s sleeping again; snoring and whimpering just so lightly as he deals with his exhaustion and high temperature. I already knew he wouldn’t be doing great after walking around in those wet clothes in the cold autumn air like that; he’s bound to get sick.

Fortunately I got mom to agree on letting him stay with us, at least until his fever has gone down and he feels good enough to help us figure out where he lives.

So, this is where we are now; the guy shivering underneath my blankets, and me sitting on a futon, wrapped in a blanket and with my back against the wall. I thought it would be best if he slept in my bed, because he seemed to need to rest more than I do.

There’s a knock on the door, distracting me from the shallow breathing for a brief second.

“Yeah,” I reply almost right away. “Come in.”

The door slides open and not long after mom asks me if the guy’s condition has gotten any better.

“Doesn’t appear to be that way,” I answer, listening to a soft rattling as mom sits down on the futon right beside me. “He’s still deep asleep, and I think he might be in pain; he keeps whimpering.”

“You always murmur too when you’re sick,” she tells me in a voice that makes it sound like she’s nostalgic about a fever. “I’ll check on him in a second, but I reassure you it’s just part of a cold.”

She wraps her hand around me so I can rest my head on her shoulder. I catch myself closing my eyes and all of a sudden my breathing gets much calmer. Mom and I haven’t hugged in ages, I forgot how nice and calming mom’s hugs can be.

We sit there and just let the minutes, maybe even hours, tick away.

Just when I’m sure I’m about to fall asleep, mom shifts in her seat. “I found something out just now.” She pauses, combing with her fingers through my hair. “You want to know what?”

“Yeah,” I say, because the way she’s talking in a mysterious tone makes me curious.

“Well, apparently your friend here was carrying a backpack with him,” mom tells me. “And inside there was a little notebook, it was soaked and most of the ink smudged over the pages but-“

“But?” I whisper when mom dramatically cuts off her sentence.

“Let’s just say, I know what his name is.”

My mouth gapes, I didn’t think I would find out his name until he wakes up next morning.

“Tell me,” I beg her, because just knowing this guy’s name would be enough to me. I know nothing about him, not how he looks, the sound of his voice, so knowing his name would open a whole other world to me; it would give him a real identity.

 “Okay, okay.” Mom chuckles softly before saying, “According to what was in his notebook, his name is Haruka Nanase.” She pauses, giving me some time to think about the name.

It just a name, a first name and his surname, but to me it means so much more.

 “Haruka Nanase,” I silently repeat; it rolls off the tongue nicely.

“Yeah,” mom’s voice sounds more worried now, though. “There’s something else I found out.”

I shift in position, eager to know what else she found out; maybe she found out where he came from, or why he was sleeping on our backyard porch. Whatever she found out, I have to know.

“Okay, but Makoto.” She pauses shortly before telling me that I might not like what she’s going to tell me next. “He explains it on the first page of the notebook; Haruka’s completely mute.”

I frown at the pain of a twist appearing in my stomach. Even though I could’ve seen it coming, as Haruka hasn’t spoken a word yet, but it still is like a punch to the gut.

Mom sighs, and she knows she doesn’t even have to say what she actually was planning to; I know dead well that this means communicating with Haruka will be more than a little hard.

Mom presses her hand against the side of my head, patting it softly to comfort me as I think about how ever since I was very little, I’ve always mainly used people’s voices to recognize them; to see them as a person rather than this unknown thing.

I’ve never known how my parents or my younger siblings look, nor have I ever seen my own reflection in the mirror. I was born with bad vision due to a genetic disorder called Retinitis Pigmentosa; sounds like a Harry Potter spell, but to me it was more like a curse.

The little sight I had during the hours between afternoon and dusk was colorless and possibly pretty hazy, but I don’t remember because I lost it all as soon as I started to develop cataracts in both eyes.

This was a surprise to my parents, who’d been told that most kids with RP don’t go completely blind.

I was just three when I lost all vision, so since I had gone blind so early it didn’t cause many problems; I read and wrote Braille at the same age sighted kids learned to read and write their first sentences.

And even though I used to be a happy child, there were things I had questions about. Things like why I went blind, why my siblings were born completely healthy and why I never was granted the right to see what the world, or the people around me, looked like were just a couple of the toxic questions that clouded my mind all day and night. And they still do, sometimes.

Like right now, because I wish I could just see what this Haruka Nanase looks like and see his responses to things visually instead of having to go off of the little sound he does make; it’s unfair.

A soft grunt awakens me from my thoughts; I must’ve actually fallen asleep, because I’m lying underneath a blanket and I don’t hear mom’s voice when I ask her if Haruka’s waking up.

I take my hand through my hair and sit upright before asking, “Haruka, are you awake?”

For a moment I’m sure he’s gone straight back to sleep again, but I then suddenly hear a knock. It’s the sound of knuckles onto a wooden surface, and it couldn’t be more like music to my ears.

“Ah, I see,” I answer, catching myself smiling at the thought of being able to communicate with Haruka just a little. “Are you feeling a little better?”

There’s no response, not even when I add, “Knock once for yes and twice for no.”

I take a deep breath and crawl off my futon, wondering if maybe his fever has knocked him out again. I reach my bed, carefully hovering with my hand above Haruka’s face until I’m sure I’ll only touch his forehead. There’s hair sticking to the sweaty surface and it’s clear that his fever hasn’t gone down.

“As I thought,” I mumble. “You’re burning up.”

I don’t wait for a reply before getting onto my feet, saying, “I’ll see if I can get you some nice vegetable soup, according to mom that’s good when you’re sick.”

A hand grabs the fabric of my shirt, it jolts me back weakly, but it’s hard to let me know that Haruka doesn’t want any broth. So instead of going downstairs, I sit down next to the bed on my knees.

Now I hear Haruka’s breathing even better.

I smile when I hear him getting much calmer after I tell him, “I’ll be here whenever you need something.” And thus I know he heard me, and he’s glad to know I’ll stay with him.

At first he keeps holding onto my shirt tightly, but eventually his grip loosens.

As I sit there, I wonder if Haruka was born unable to talk, just like I’m born unable to see.

I wonder if Haruka thinks about the world the same as I do; a cruel and unfair place.

Chapter Text

Haruka Nanase

When the sun makes its way into Makoto’s room, I find myself grimacing; I still have a massive headache from yesterday’s fever and fainting, but at least I don’t feel as weak anymore.

I open my eyes and sunlight immediately shines into my eyes, causing my head to feel like exploding; why couldn’t they just have closed the blinds before I fell asleep.

While getting out from underneath the blankets, I shake away that nasty thought, because I should be grateful that the Tachibanas let me stay the night and took care of me while I could really likely have been sleeping underneath their leaking windshield all night.

I rub in my eyes before stretching out and yawning.

It’s when my gaze falls upon a note saying “in case you wonder what time it is” and a watch that’s been haphazardly placed on the mattress next to the pillow, that I realize why I feel so much better.

I didn’t just have a good night worth of rest, I slept from yesterday’s early evening to today’s afternoon. It makes it no miracle that my fever has most certainly gone down.

I quickly get onto my feet, wobbling a little at first, and go down the stairs right away. I can’t just sleep till past lunchtime and not immediately go down to thank miss Tachibana for the stay.

I quickly make sure my hair isn’t too messy before I open the door and walk into the living room. Fortunately I did that, because everyone except mister Tachibana can be found behind that door. Makoto and his two younger siblings are all sitting on the ground in front of the couch, playing some sort of game on top of the coffee table. Miss Tachibana immediately greets me from the kitchen.

“Morning, Haruka,” Makoto says while throwing a card onto the table right after his younger brother shouts, “Queen of Spades.” I'm impressed by how quickly he chooses a card, and I want to go look at their game more up-close, but miss Tachibana calls me over.

When I'm standing in front of her, in the kitchen, she hands me an empty notebook and pen before granting me a patient smile. "I know it." She's referring to my mutism, I'm sure of it, which means she must've found my bag and read though my notebook; also explains why they know my name while I never properly introduced myself to them.

"I'm really glad you look much better than yesterday," she tells me with a bright smile. It falters, though, when she adds, "But, I'm sure your parents must be very worried about you by now."

I swallow thickly, my hands start to tremble again as images of my biological parents come to mind; I don't want to think of them. It always makes me so anxious.

"Haruka?" she asks in a calm and kind tone, making eye contact with me. "Could you tell me where you live? So I can get you home safely."

I force the vague image of my birth mother and father to leave my thoughts and focus on opening the notebook. With my shaky left hand I write my foster parents' address down for her. Underneath that a short message "I'm not sure if they want me back, though".

It's just a feeling, but I ran away for a reason. They keep getting me into awkward conversations with potential families that could adopt me, but they always end with me feeling miserable; no one wants to adopt a seventeen-year-old with crippling PTSD, anxiety and a speaking problem.

Yet, my foster parents keep on trying over and over again. They keep stating they can't take care of me for long anymore, but to me it's like they just want to get rid of me, their problem child.

Miss Tachibana reads the message, grimaces and then plasters a smile onto her face again. She pats me on the head before kindly saying, "If you're worried about that, I'll drop by their house this afternoon to explain what happened and all."

I frown at her; I think she mis-interpetated what I was trying to tell her. It isn't because I spend the night here without asking, but before I can write that down, she reassures me, she will take care of it. "I'm sure you'll be sleeping in your own bed again this evening, okay?"

I hesitate before nodding; maybe it will actually help if miss Tachibana talks to them without me nearby. I force a tiny smile to show her I'm thankful for her help, but she doesn't seem to notice; she's too busy scooping rice and greens into a little bowl. When she turns to me, she also hands me the bowl and chopsticks.

"You have to eat well if you want to get fully better," she tells me with the most motherly smile I’ve ever seen in my entire life. "So make sure you eat up!"

I take the food and look down at it; it's more than what I would eat at the Hirayamas, and I suddenly realize how I've just been eating scraps at their house. Not because they don't care, but because they became foster parents even when they barely have enough money and not enough support.

No wonder they want to have me adopted so badly.

After handing me the meal, miss Tachibana lays her hand on my shoulder. "Why don't you join Makoto, Ren and Ran," she suggests. "I'm sure they would love to play a game with you as soon as you're done eating."

I nod softly before taking my bowl of rice, and notebook, to the coffee table in the living room.

Makoto’s younger siblings, Ren and Ran, are first to greet me.

“Hey, Haruka!” the girl says in an almost swooning way, to her twin brother’s annoyment.

I raise my hand and wave awkwardly, and at the same time Makoto chuckles at his bickering siblings. When they’ve stopped whisper-yelling at each other, Makoto asks me whether I want to join them in their game. “We’re playing a game of hearts, but we can play another game too if you want.”

“Yeah,” the guy, supposedly Ren, says. “We have these cards, but also Monopoly, Scrabble.”

“Oh, and Uno, Chess and Checkers,” his sister, Ran, immediately adds.

Makoto giggles softly before stating, “So, what they’re trying to say is that we basically have most games you can think of; why don’t you tell them what you want to play?”

I put down my rice and grab my notebook. It doesn’t actually matter what game we play, not to me, but I don’t know the rules to most; I never had people to play games with growing up, and by the time I started living with the Hirayamas I thought I’d become too old to play family games.

My body starts shaking as I write down Scrabble, because it’s one of the only games I actually know the rules of. By writing is all bubbly and shaky, even worse than usually, but fortunately Ren and Ran can decipher it within seconds.

“Scrabble it is!” they say at exactly the same time, and they also jump onto their feet to run towards the pantry together. While they’re on a scavenger hunt to find Scrabble, Makoto turns to me.

I look back at him, and feel myself getting redder when he starts talking about how he’s glad I’m feeling better; it’s uncomfortable, once he starts talking, I have no clue how to reply to Makoto.

Fortunately Ren and Ran come back with the box of the game sooner than later, and they set out everything without needing any help of Makoto and me.

After sitting back down, Ren and Ran look at the both of us. They discuss something unknown in silence before making me switch places with Ren; now Ran is sitting beside me and Ren’s next to his bigger bother.

“Okay, we’ll work in teams,” Ran explains to me, already gathering our Scrabble tiles. “The two of us, you and I, against Ren and Makoto, okay?”

I nod, but I’m completely confused; I had no clue you play Scrabble in teams.

“Normally Ran and I would team up and play against Makoto.” Ren gives the rest of the explanation. “But since Makoto and you teaming up would be very unfair this is our best option, understand?”

“Plus,” Ran adds. “It would be hard for the two of you to discuss about which words, you know?”

I nod again, now it makes more sense, because like Ren stated it would actually be pretty unfair if two seventeen-year-olds would go up against two fourth-graders.

After that we start the game, it’s up to Makoto and Ren to lay the first word. I catch myself staring as Makoto starts feeling the tiles before bowing to Ren and whispering something inaudible.

I look down at our tiles, we don’t have too great letters but that’s not what I’m interested in; I’m wondering how, even though, the letters are just printed onto a tile that Makoto knows what words he can spell. That’s when I see the dots bulging out of the smooth tile; Braille.

Fascinated by how someone can read dots so quickly, I completely lose track of the game and only notice it’s our turn when Ran taps me on the shoulder and whispers, “Code.”

I frown at her, not understand what on earth she’s saying.

She sighs and points at the board where Ren and Makoto laid out the word Back right in the middle.

“We can make code,” Ran whispers. “Agree?”

I nod and watch her lay down the letters gaining us a beautiful six points right from the start.

“Oh no, Makoto,” Ren says in an overly dramatic tone. “We should counterattack!”

“Really?” Makoto says, chuckling. “Can you tell me, what did our opponents give us to work with?”

“They used our C to make Code!” He smiles proudly. “But do not fret, big bro, I know our next move.”

Makoto smiles softly when his brother cheerfully suggests that they make Epic using our E.

Ran glances over at me and perks her eyebrows before smirking. “We must beat them, Haru!”

I swallow thickly when she gestures at my notebook, forcing me to write down our next move. I know now, we’re going to lose for sure, because she’s really got a bad teammate in me; while I skipped most of my childhood, these kids have been trained in the art of family games.

Chapter Text

Makoto Tachibana

Playing games with my siblings and Haruka actually is pretty much fun.

Okay, Haruka might not be great at most of them and I doubt he actually knows the rules, but at least he amuses Ren and Ran. He also seems pretty nice, also trying to communicate with me through the knocking system we came up with when he was extremely weak and feverous.

It works pretty fine, when I’ve got Ren and Ran’s explanations about what he writes down, but when they decide they want to play a game against Haruka and me it starts getting harder. We’re playing a game of Yahtzee, because we’ve already gone through multiple games of Uno, and we’ve played Monopoly, we really wanted to play a different game now.

Ren and Ran like playing everything in teams of two, so even a game like Yahtzee which isn’t normally played in duos is a team game to them. The twins shake with the cup and roll the five dices onto the table. It’s always such a loud sound when the dices bounce over the wood like that.

“Okay, two fives, a four and a one,” Ran says after throwing the first time. “What will be do, Ren?”

Ren soon tells her they can go for the fives, which they do; ending up with three fives, and a whopping fifteen points, in their upper section.

“You can throw,” I tell Haruka after gathering the dices in the cup. “Maybe it’ll grand us luck.”

Haruka does as I say, casting the dices out of the plastic cup with so much force that some even land on the floor. I can hear them bouncing around as Ren and Ran giggle.

“You shouldn’t throw so hard,” Ran laughs, and Ren adds, “Yeah, that way you’ll end up having to gather the dices from the floor every single time.”

I can practically feel Haruka tensing up beside me when he throws the dices for a second time, really making sure not to have them landing on the ground again. I don’t blame him, our coffee table is way too small for Yahtzee, and he will soon see that Ren, Ran and I also throw the dices to the other side of the room regularly; hopefully he won’t feel bad anymore after that happens.

“So, what have we got here,” I mumble, going in for a feel; Two fours, a three, a two and a one. “Oh, that’s a SM Straight, right?”

There’s a knock on the table, it’s pretty clear that it’s a one choice throw, and I’m so glad we can get through this round with no real discussing needed. We try making a LG Straight out of it in the next two throws, but fail, and Haruka writes down the points we got from our SM Straight.

It’s when we reach our next turn that we realize that we won’t get there with our knocking system; we really need to discuss whether we’re going for the fours or the threes, and communicating isn’t impossible, but it is annoying since it really slows down the game.

“I know something,” Ran says. “What if we come up with a special code for the two of you?”

“That way you can communicate easier and faster,” Ren adds, I can practically hear that he’s proud.

I shrug and say, “Okay, I don’t see why we couldn’t do that.” After that I ask if Haruka also agrees with my younger siblings’ plans.

He knocks on the table once; yes.

“Ran, it’s up to us!” Ren says. Ran lets out a happy giggle and shouts, “Gather paper, we have to make up a special MakoHaru code!”

They seem way to enthusiastic about this, but I go along with their little game. Mom is at Haruka's house right now anyway, so whatever they come up with we don't have to use too often after today.

"So, we have the knocking." I hear Ren scribbling something down. 

"Once for Yes and twice for No," Ran tells Ren. "Right, Makoto?"

"Exactly," I answer. "But that's all we got now."

The twins stay silent for while, I guess they actually have no clue what kind of code they want to come up with. My gut-feeling gets confirmed when they ask us in what way we want to communicate. "I guess we can do with sounds," I immediately answer, but I hear Haruka writing at a quick pace beside me.

"Ah, feeling the letters," Ran reads out loud. "Do you know Braille?"

I perk up, for a moment I feel very excited about this; maybe Haruka does know Braille, which would make communicating with him so much easier.

But then he gives me his book and takes my hand, laying it on top of a slightly wrinkled piece of paper. I feel, hoping to find something that feels like Braille, which would be impossible if he wrote with a normal pen. Eventually all I find are some wobbles and dents in the paper that have gotten there because Haruka pressed too hard on his pencil; there's no message I can decipher.

"What are you trying to say?" I ask, after rubbing my fingers over the piece of paper for a while.

"He wrote something like can you read this?" Ren tells me. 

"Yeah, also." Ran pauses and I feel her hand wrapping around mine. She starts rubbing at the tips of my fingers without any mercy. "Now there's ink all over your fingers."

I pull my hands back from my little sister's grip and chuckle before turning a little towards Haruka.

"Sorry, I can only read Braille," I tell him with a smile. "But I like the effort, really! Pressing harder on your pen so I could maybe sense the indents, nobody ever thought about that before; pretty clever!" 

I'm not even being sarcastic, it is a very interesting way of thinking, but even if I could read from the indents his pen made I wouldn't have been able to make a sentence out of them; to me normal letters are just lines and curves, just like Braille is a couple of dots to most sighted people.

"He wrote down sorry," Ren says not long after. 

There's a long silence, I guess this fail got everyone in kind of an awkward mood. Yet, I won't let it get me down; if Ren and Ran want to come up with a code, I will be the one that has to push them in the right direction!

"So, I was thinking, maybe we can do something with sounds." I readjust my sitting position from crossed legs to my knees and cross my arms. "Now, Ren and Ran Tachibana, will you please avert your focus to the task at hand."

I suppress a giggle when I dramatically say, "And make us, Makoto Tachibana and Haruka Nanase, a special code."

Ren and Ran stay completely silent for exactly two seconds before they burst out in loud laughter. 

"Hey, Ran." Ren gasps for air before releasing a belly chuckle. "I think our big bro's really back!"

"You think so?" Ran giggles. "He's so--" "Dramatic!" Ren finishes his sister's sentence.

I chuckle, not only because they don't seem slightly uncomfortable around me anymore; which they were when I was a little down a while ago. I mostly chuckle because even when they're in hysterics, they manage to still finish each others' sentences.

"Sound, you say?" Ren asks once they've finally stopped giggling.

"In that case, maybe we can do something with knocking Morse?" Ran asks. "We learned about it in school and it's usually done with light."

Ren makes an hmhm sound, agreeing with his sister, "We can do it with knocking instead."

I frown; I've heard of Morse before, but since it's something visual I never bothered to learn it. Actually, I doubt Haruka has a clue what Morse is so instead of going along with Ren and Ran's idea I open my mouth. "I don't think that's a great idea."

There's sadness in Ran's voice when she asks, "Why not?"

"Haruka, you tell them," I say, nudging Haruka in his side. "Neither you or me have a clue what Morse is, right?"

Haruka must've nodded, or written down he has no idea either, because Ren and Ran give up on the idea of using Morse for our special cipher.

That's what I thought at least, before two freezing cold hands wrapped around mine. They're too big to be Ren or Ran's, so I immediately know it's Haruka who's holding my hands; I feel heath rising to my head all of sudden, I'm probably blushing.

"W-what are you doing?" I stammer, causing Ren and Ran to laugh and Haruka's grip to tense up.

"Don't worry, big bro," Ren says and Ran reassures me Haruka won't do anything weird. "He's just trying out his own way of communicating."

Haruka makes me hold my hands out with my palms turned upward. It's a strange feeling when he drags the top of his ice-cold finger across my palm.

"It feels like it could be a letter, I guess," I mumble, when Haruka repeats the same curvy pattern. "But I wouldn't know what one."

"Oh, Haruka," Ren mumbles, Haruka stops drawing with his finger. “try in Braille."

I hear some tapping on paper and then Ran adds, "Here, you can see if he understands this."

I try to feel the six dots of Braille on my hand, to know on what side Haruka's tapping. He's probably writing from his perspective, so that would mean it's upside down for me; should be doable.

Haruka's finger presses down on the lower left side of my palm, one time above that and another next to that. It takes a while to decipher, but if I turn it around in my head and imagine the six dots, I soon find out what letter that was.

"That's a C, am I right?" I ask.

"Yep," Ren chimes. "Okay, Haruka, do the next."

Very calm and extremely slowly, Haruka writes down can you understand me on the palm of my hand in Braille.

Ren and Ran start clapping in their hands as I lower mine onto my knees. I'm pretty impressed with Haruka, but I'm also impressed with myself for being able to decipher all of the letters even when they're upside down.

"It's a good and clear way of communicating," I eventually say in a happy tone. "But I think personally it's too slow for a normal conversation."

I know I shouldn't be picky, it's not easy for someone blind to communicate with someone who can't speak, but I still want to know if we can come up with the quickest and easiest way out there. I want to give Ren and Ran, but also Haruka, a chance to come up with a special code; though I don't think any of my younger siblings' ideas are going to be quick enough for a smooth conversation.

"Haruka says he agrees," Ren tells me.

A little while after Ran happily tells me she thinks she has the best idea ever. "You'll have to see and wait, though!"

I chuckle; they're always so mysterious when they come up with a good idea. They take their sweet time to think everything over, I can hear them whispering and writing so I think they finally have a good idea.

"Haruka," I say, when I'm starting to get bored with just sitting here. "Would you like something to drink?"

There's one knock, a hesitant one like he's not sure if he can say yes to my question.

I get onto my feet and once I've tapped the dust off my sweatpants, I ask, "I'm going to make myself some tea, you want tea too?"

Again one knock on the table, so I stroll to the kitchen where I fill up our boiler with water. While that's warming up, I get two cups and two glasses from our cabinet. again annoyed by how even I have to stand on my toes to reach the bigger cups; I'm always impressed by how mom reaches the cups. Not long after, I pour the boiling water into the cups, making sure not to fill them up so much that I burn my fingers again.

"You want milk in your tea?" I shout from the kitchen to the living room, and I get two knocks in reply; Haruka seems to be one of the strong tea-drinkers.

I also fill up the two glasses with some milk for Ren and Ran, because they always refuse to drink tea. After that I place them on one of mom's wooden trays together with some cookies on a plate, and I walk back towards the living room where I put everything down on the coffee table.

"Enjoy!" I say with a smile.

While everyone sips from their drinks and eats a chocolate chip cookie or two, Ren and Ran explain the idea they've got for a code. It's all made up out of knocks, tapping, clicking of tongue and clapping with his hands and it's actually very confusing; yet I really like the idea of using sounds Haruka can make with his body.  Ren and Ran really outdid themselves, making up a code for the most used things so we can hold a decent conversation.

"I like that sound of that," I tell the twins. "Haruka and I will try communicating via that code."

I know it's probably a lie, but then again, who knows how often Haruka and I are going to see each other after mom returns from his house.

Speaking about the devil, the door clicks open and mom's voice sounds, "I'm home."

My heart sinks at the thought of her telling that Haruka can go home right now, because I'm actually really liking Haruka's presence. Like Ren and Ran said, he makes me act and feel like myself again, like even when we suck at communicating what each other there's a bond between us. It's probably because around normal people I feel disabled, but Haruka's just as quirky as I am, which makes me feel a lot better.

Mom enters through the door and the, previously so happy, mood changes into something tense when she says, "I'm sorry, but Haruka, you can't go back to your foster parents right now."

Chapter Text

Haruka Nanase

"You can't go back to your foster parents right now."

That's what miss Tachibana said as soon as she walked into the living room this afternoon. She explained that the Hirayamas said it was very complicated, but that I couldn't be go home for a little while. After that she suggested I'd stay another day or two, until my foster parents could take me back again. She even said it with a smile, like she knew the Hirayamas will take me back in.

And that's how I ended up here, on Makoto's bedroom floor lying on top of a futon. I'm restless and I can't possibly sleep no matter how exhausted I may be right now; the knowledge that I messed up big time makes my mind work over hours.

Miss Tachibana might've been really light-hearted about it, but if there's something I'm good at its reading body language. When we were eating dinner a couple of hours ago, she stated that the Hirayamas said they couldn't tell her why I can't go back, but I could tell that miss Tachibana was lying to me. I don't think it's wrong of her to lie to me, she probably has her reasons, but it gave me enough proof; I spoiled my last chance with my foster parents.

After living with the Hirayamas for almost year, they finally got enough of my refusing to communicate with potential adoption-parents, my running away every once in a while and, most of all, they must've gotten tired of my constant silence.

I freaked after a meeting about a potential adoption, all that because there would be another kid living at that same house. It was like my mind had an overload of information, didn’t know what to do with it and just decided to turn it into fear.

Mister Hiyarama and I had a fight and I fled to my room where I sat and thought deeply for almost an hour. I had at least two panic attacks before I decided I had to run; I couldn’t stay at that place if that meant I’d have to live with another kid again. It would be too much for me.

Just thinking about permanently living with grownups would mean constant anxiety to me, but if another person around my age joined the match, I wouldn’t be able to bear it. I knew that.

By leaving them the note with "Just shut up and mind your own business, not mine!"  I knew running off afterwards would give them a good reason to give up on their messed up foster kid.

I made a stupid mistake, but I wonder what would’ve happened it I did agree on being adopted.

But instead, they'll probably have to get me a spot in some other foster family, maybe even a bigger care home. I may be able to stay with the Tachibanas until they decide what to do with me, but I now know for sure that by the time I reach eighteen this summer I'll be living on the streets.

If I wouldn't have messed up so badly, maybe miss and mister Hirayama would've let me stay with them until I could get a job and afford a little cheap apartment somewhere. Any other foster care will just send me away by the time I reach adulthood, and with no money, job or even a place to go back to, I'll have to live out my  days in some of the nasty alleys of Iwatobi.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to cry; I know I won't cry, because I haven't cried since I was nine, but it still feels like I could bust out in tears any moment now.

It's dark outside and probably already far past midnight, and my mind still hasn't calmed down even a little bit. I'm not even tired anymore.

I'm trying to come up with places I can go after the Hirayamas will disown me, while at the same time I try to convince myself that miss Tachibana is right; after staying here for a couple of days, I'll just be able to go back to my foster parents.

Yet, I know how it goes with foster parents; they're either bad or they just don't have the determination to put up with me.

With some foster parents I got taken away because they did illegal things, did things a foster parent shouldn't ever do to a twelve year old.

Some parents are good ones, but they have other foster kids that don't match with others. A silent kid will get even more traumatized by the other kids that bully him for being so silent, and the anxious silence etches itself even deeper into someone's heart.

I couldn't help it, every time I left angry notes for people or sometimes even scratched or hit them, it's all because they kept treating me like garbage.

The Hirayamas were the first foster parents that treated me like their own child, like they actually wanted to find the best permanent family for me.

But anger and anxiety from previous years doesn't leave your body, not even when you think you've finally found the foster parents that care enough.

My breathing gets heavier, because if anything I'm terrified of potentially having to leave the Hirayamas. I twist and turn and squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to fall asleep.

When I open my eyes, because I’m not going to be sleeping any time soon, I’m looking straight at Makoto. He is asleep, with his face turned in my direction, and he looks so peaceful; eyes closed just so lightly and his mouth gaping as snores softly and almost silently.

It’s calming watching him sleep, his lips moving as slightly as he mumbles something in his sleep.

I feel myself smiling, while grimacing at the same time; never in my life have I slept that peacefully. I always had to pay attention to my surroundings when I was younger, and by the time I got away from my old home I got a bad case of insomnia. There's always panic keeping me wide awake and if I do sleep there's nightmares to wake me up sooner than later.

I sit upright and crawl from underneath my blankets. I know I won't be able to sleep so nicely as Makoto, so I better stop trying. I reach into my bag, which miss Tachibana found in her backyard, and take out a block of wood and my gouge.

I wrap the blanket around my shoulders before sitting cross-legged on top of my futon.

I start carving away at the wood. With every shaky stripe that stretches over the surface of the woodcarving, I scrape away my anxiety. 

It’s the way I’ve always done it, peeling away my fears and sadness layer by layer.

I carve and I feel the pain leave my body.

I carve and I don’t feel like crying anymore.

I carve until my left hand slips and when I accidently puncture my finger with the gouge a little drip of blood creeps down my woodcarving. I don't even feel stressed out by the sight of blood; that's how calming carving the wood is for me. 

So I keep on carving away at the wood.

It's always been my way of dealing with everything; my anxiety, my past and with the scars it gave me, my future and how much it terrifies me... And right now it's like a form of therapy; like a calm kind of music that sings you to sleep, or a little voice that tells you not to worry.

This little lump of wood is my personal guardian angel.

Chapter Text

Makoto Tachibana

Being able to talk with someone about all sorts of things, it makes me happier than anything.

Haruka's presence is enough to make me feel good, much less down than I have been feeling for the past couple of years; he makes me feel like myself again. Even though I know I should be worried about Haruka's situation with his foster parents, I'm kind of glad he could stay longer than expected.

I've taken it upon myself to make Haruka feel better too, because I know he barely slept last night. I think he didn't know I woke up somewhere around midnight, but I could hear his strained breathing almost as if he was trying not to burst out in tears.

It hurt me a lot for some reason, like I somehow felt Haruka's pain in that exact moment. But by the time I woke up this morning and was able to greet Haruka with a bright smile, I started feeling very glad that mom is going to let him stay until he can go back to his home.

And now, that we're sitting on my bed together with a cup of hot cocoa milk and snacks, I can't shut up anymore; I feel like I have to tell him all about hobbies, and trips, and amazing food and I have to tell him funny stories that are sure to make him laugh.

"Okay, so one time," I tell Haruka, with a slight smile on my face. "my parents tried getting me a dog, and well, it failed miserably!"

I still remember that day like yesterday; they thought a guide dog would work better for me, because I was going to go to middle school. I couldn't keep running into people when not paying good attention to my cane, so instead they brought me to this place where we could get a guide dog.

"So, I got to the place where I'd have a practice round with each dog." I chuckle. "I got so scared the second a huge dog's nose touched my hand, I ran away as fast as I possibly could; we never considered taking a dog ever again."

I like the think that Haruka's at least smiling a little, even when I can't hear his laugh; deep inside I know that Haruka busy thinking about his family. I would be too if my parents said I couldn't go home after running away.

"You know," I mumble, because I know I'm being selfish trying to make this moment all about myself. "I wish you could tell me how you felt, with your situation and all." I pause, reaching out my hand and laying it on Haruka's lap. "That way I can actually be there for you."

Haruka swallows audibly before softly knocking onto the wood of my bed; he agrees with me at least.

I close my eyes briefly, thinking deeply about a way to communicate in a clear way. No matter how great Ren and Ran's code was, we can't hold a conversation like that and there's no way I can actually help Haruka through the sounds of knocking and clapping.

That's when my phone zooms, vibrating against the blankets on my bed.

Immediately an idea pops up inside my head; what if I let Haruka type on my phone? It has a out loud reading function, so that way Haruka will be able to communicate with me like he usually does through writing in a notebook.

I grab my phone and press it into Haruka's hands saying, "Here! You can use this to write down what you want to say."

He starts typing, I hear the sound of typing with every letter he touches.

"Once you've finished, just give it some time," I say. "It should start reading by itself."

Just like I said, the calm robotic voice starts reading the message Haruka wrote me out loud. "Thank you, Makoto. I really like being able to just keep a conversation so much better."

I smile, because I'm thinking exactly the same.

Of course, it's a little awkward that I'll be remembering Haruka as the guy who talked to me in a robotic voice, but it's much better than him only being able to talk to me through knocks and claps. And now I can actually expect an answer when I ask, "So, how are you doing? Under the circumstances and all?"

"I'm alright," the robotic voice reads. "But a little worried."

I feel myself tensing up, because even when I expected him to be worried about not being able to go home, it's weird to hear it in words.

"I can understand that, yeah," I reply. "Do you want to talk about it? About what happened?"

There's a long silence, but Haruka eventually tells me that he would like to, but maybe not via the phone; it's very uncomfortable for him to hear a voice that sounds nothing like his own.

I chuckle before asking, "So, how do you sound? Maybe I can image it."

"It's kind of hard to tell," the robotic voice says at a slow but steady pace. "But I used to have a higher pre-puberty voice and pretty shy."

I smile at the thought of that, though that probably also means he hasn't talked since before his voice normally should've dropped. Even he doesn’t know what his own voice sounds like now, just like I don’t remember what I look like even when I might’ve seen myself in a mirror when I was one or two years old. We’re the same, but in a totally different way, this is probably why I felt this very strong connection with Haruka right from the start.

“I can imagine your having a voice like that,” I mumble, before jumping off my bed.

I want to hear Haruka with that voice, whenever he speaks to me through writing, I want to be able to imagine him talking to me in that high-pitched and kind of shy voice.

This is why I have to get out the thing I didn’t plan on giving him; my own slate and stylus for writing Braille. That’s what I started with, writing Braille by hand only, so if I could do it when I was eight and Ren and Ran can do it, Haruka should be able to write in Braille too.

“So, okay,” I say, wandering back to my bed with the slate, stylus, some paper and a cheat sheet, which I used for teaching it to Ren and Ran. “It’s not the quickest way, but it’s the same as writing.”

Haruka takes it from me and I can practically feel him staring at it in terror; it must be intimidating for him, it’s probably like learning to write a whole different language to him.

“I’ll show you how everything works, so don’t worry,” I tell him while sitting down on top my blankets, with my legs tucked up to my chest. “You have the slate, that is that plastic thingy with all the holes. You can click that open on the side and fold it open to put in the paper.”

Haruka appears to be doing what I say, although he struggles; the paper is made to exactly fit into the slate so if it’s put in a little crooked he may not be able to close it well enough.

“Now, make sure you hear a click when you close it,” I tell him, listening for the click myself. “If you don’t close it well enough the paper will slide around.”

After he’s done that, I give him the cheat sheet and ask, “Well, what happened before you turned up at my porch?” I pause. “Or is there something else you want to talk about first?”

There’s a long silence, but I’m sure he’s slowly figuring out how writing Braille works; he eventually gives me a piece of paper with the Braille beautifully bulging out on the back and his message reads, “Thank you. I kind of ran away from my foster parents, they don’t want me back. I messed up.”

I nod and now I understand why he feels so bad; something must’ve happened before he ran away and now he feels like his foster parents may not want him back in their house.

“You know what?” I ask, reaching out to Haruka’s hand and tangling my fingers around his. “I’m sure they want you back, because you’re their foster son.”

I don’t know much about the whole foster parents thing, but I do know that even if they aren’t Haruka’s biological nor permanent family they probably care about Haruka’s well-being too.

“And even if they are bad people that don’t want a great person like you back.” I pause, knowing that what I’m going to say next probably should be taken with a grain of salt, yet deep in my heart I’m extremely serious about it. “You can always stay with me, because that’s what friends are for.”

Chapter Text

Haruka Nanase

Makoto’s words reached me, they entered my brain and exploded; never in my life had someone called me their friend before. But when Makoto says it, I really feel like he’s serious about it.

The conversations that we have after that are conversations that friends would have, I think; we have a serious conversation, but afterwards laugh with each other and tease and joke. Makoto even manages to make me chuckle a little bit, which I haven’t actually done in a long time.

And now, after chatting for hours already, we’re both sitting comfortably on Makoto’s bed. I actually feel at home in his bedroom, I feel like I can tuck my feet underneath me and do whatever I want without insulting anyone. I don’t think Makoto’s insulted easily; he even does some self-mocking sometimes, and even though he always looks a little guilty afterwards, he doesn’t mind teasing me.

Within the span of hours we find out a lot about each other, things we probably never would’ve thought of when we met for the first time.

For example, Makoto likes listening to audio books, and he’s even read a couple that’d been translated into Braille; he likes to lose himself in other people’s lives, but not in a fantasy world.

The only fantasy books Makoto’s ever read are the Harry Potter books and he claims he read them because his siblings forced him to read them. And he didn’t even really enjoy them.

Other than that, he’s also kind of a soft nerd; likes to help his siblings with homework and he’s very interested in learning new things.

I’m surprised about learning a lot of things about him and how much of a nerd he is.

“I really enjoy working out,” I write down after Makoto asks me what my hobbies are. “And I like carving wooden figures. I used to draw a lot too, but not anymore.”

I give the piece of paper to Makoto and as his fingers move over the paper his expression grows sadder; I wonder if I said anything to upset him.

I carefully take the piece of paper from him and ask him if he’s okay as quick as I can.

He must’ve not noticed he was looking so sad, because he looks kind of shocked when he reads it. He immediately forces a smile and mumbles, “Oh, no, I was just spacing!”

I perk one eyebrow, not at all believing him.

It’s almost as if he feels my disbelieve, because his fake smile falters and he admits he’s feeling a little down. All this time we’ve been talking about small, not so personal, things like our mutual love for stray cats and other things new friends talk about, so it surprises me when Makoto replies with a very personal and an extremely serious answer.

“It’s just--” Makoto buries his face in-between his knees and sighs. “I’m so interested in the things you tell me, and I can’t help but wonder how your drawings look, and your woodcarvings.”

Like an explosion in my chest, my insides starts aching; I didn’t even think Makoto would be so interested in seeing things. I mean, why would you be when you’ll never see them anyway.

“I just want to see those things.” Makoto releases a sad chuckle. “I wish I knew how you look too.”

I freeze up, because if someone understands what Makoto says it’s me; I wish I could talk with my own voice, in a normal way, too all the time. So I understand where he’s coming from.

I swallow thickly before gathering the courage to give him what he wants. He wants to know what I look like, then he may know what I look like; if that makes Makoto happy.

I reach out to his hand and wrap mine around it, and before I can even rethink my decisions I place Makoto’s lukewarm and clammy hand on top of my face.

Right in the middle, so my nose rest in the palm of his hand.

I get a quick whiff of fruity hand lotion before Makoto pulls away his hand. He barely has left his hand on my face before gasping and jolting to basically the other side of the room in shock.

I stare at him sitting there with a surprised expression on his face and I don’t know what to make of it. I couldn’t have made him feel uncomfortable with this, because this is how blind people find out what the people around them look like… right?

Makoto’s silence is killing me, but I feel even more uncomfortable when he starts cackling.

There’s a force behind his laughter that makes this awkward feeling in my chest even less bearable.

“Y-yeah,” Makoto whispers in between chuckles. “We don’t actually do that.”

I cringe at my own mistake before I start blushing like crazy. All of a sudden I’m so glad Makoto can’t see me now, because I must be as red as a ripe tomatoes, if not redder.

“Blind people don’t feel people’s faces,” Makoto explains once he’s done torturing me with his laughs and giggles. “There’s no way we can find out much about that person’s looks. Other than now knowing that you have a nose, a mouth, two eyes and no facial hair whatsoever, I wouldn’t have found out much even if I tried.”

I clench my teeth, horrified by how I can still believe in all of the stigmas I heard about blind people when I was in elementary school. Makoto’s proofing all of them wrong one after another; blind people are not useless or completely depended, they don’t need a cane or guide dog everywhere they go, they can be very interested in what things look like and, most importantly, they do not feel faces to find out how people look. Thank you, elementary school biology-teacher that taught me this.

I have to make up for this, for being such a fool, so I gather my pride back together and quickly write, “In that case; I have short and straight dark hair. I have a normal height. Oh, and blue eyes.”

I give it to Makoto and hope he can do something with what I wrote down for him. It’s not much, but I don’t know him well enough to give him all details about me like the way my rips show through my pale-translucent skin and how most of my back, chest and right arm are covered in scars.

“Wow,” Makoto whispers, before smirking. “I never would’ve guessed, you must be really known with the ladies; especially with that regular height and striking blue eyes.” He chuckles, which makes it clear that he was joking; he probably still has no clue what I look like.

I smile, it’s good to see that he’s smiling and teasing me again at least.

Makoto states he’s actually pretty surprised I was open to telling him, and immediately starts using that; like a game, he starts asking me about all sorts of things. He asks me what his room looks like, and bursts out in laughter when I dryly tell him there’s a bed, and he asks me the color of my clothes.

It’s a funny and unharmful game, until Makoto asks, “So, what do I look like?”

Like a punch it my face, it knocks all of the good feelings out of me; how can he ask this of me?

I don’t mind telling him about how his room looks, or his clothes, we were having so much fun. But this question just makes me guts twist, and it isn’t funny anymore.

Makoto prods me in the side while jokily saying, “C’mon Haru, be my eyes for a second!”

I tense up, closing my eyes and forcing myself to breathe calmly. Asking someone else to tell you what you look like is like… I don’t know, it’s messed up that his parents never told him.

“Oh, shit,” Makoto says under his breath when I stay completely silent, not even reaching for the slate to write him the answer to his question like I’ve been doing every time. “I made you feel uncomfortably, haven’t I?” He takes a deep breath, his expression growing gloomy. “I’m so sorry.”

I don’t reply, because I’m too busy feeling empty; how have they not told him what he looks like?

Chapter Text

Makoto Tachibana

Time ticks away slow when you’re bored.

It’s Haruka’s third day at my house, and even though I like his presence, we woke up without having a damn clue what to do today. It’s Monday so Ren and Ran are at school, so we can’t play any games with them and with only the two of us it’s kind of pointless.

I have some homework I have to make later today, but right now Haruka and I are just both draped onto my bedroom floor like carpets. We have no idea what we can or should be doing.

“What do you normally do on Monday morning?” I ask, because Haruka earlier explained to me that he sometimes has homeschooling, but he doesn’t have them every day.

Haruka rolls into another laying prostitution and not long after he slides a piece of paper towards me.

He tells me that he likes to go out for a jog, and nicely adds “but I get it if you’d rather go for a walk instead” after that. It makes it sound like I never in my life go out for a jog, which is a fact, but still.

“We can go for a walk,” I say. “I like taking walks.”

I sit upright and stretch my shoulders before adding, “Maybe we can even take a little run along the beach, at least, if you feel like jogging.” I say it in a rather daring tone, like I want him to get hyped about taking a run with someone as un-agile as me. While in reality, I don’t feel like running.

I do actually like taking walks, so that is no problem with me.

We go downstairs and I ask Haruka to write my mom a note that we’re out for a walk while I get my cane out for the first time in days. I don’t like using it, because people can literally see my disability when I’m swinging the white cane around, and I don’t need it at home of course.

I meet Haruka back in the hallway when I’m putting on my coat. It’s real autumn weather, I find out when we get outside and a flying leaf almost immediately gets tangled up in my hair.

“Wow, look out for leafs!” I chuckle, plucking the leaf from my hair. “They’re out of control!”

I immediately notice it’s harder to communicate with Haruka when we’re outside. It’s like I’m on my own, even when I hear Haruka’s footsteps right beside me.

I listen to the sounds around me as we walk through town; I hear people talking, Haruka’s footsteps and breathing, I hear birds and the wind makes the leafs rattle softly.

It's so calming, to listen to all those sounds. And it's so nice to know someone's walking beside me, hearing all those sounds too.

I soon start thinking about how Haruka's feeling right now. If he's enjoying my presence just as much as I'm liking his; probably not, because I blab too much and if I don't we're awkwardly silent.

But I like to think he does like our little walk.

"I really like this walk," I say when we've just gone down a fleet of stairs. "There aren’t many people in town today, that’s really nice."

I don't like crowded places, they're always so loud. It's hard to function around so many people.

So I’m actually very glad that today is such a calm day; maybe it’s because it’s pretty cold outside or because the wind is so hard, but I’m glad the circumstances are like this.

As we get closer to the sea, I get all sorts of feelings in my chest. There’s happiness, still, because I’m with Haruka. But I’m also a little sad since after my first appointment with my therapist, Miss Asato told me I had to go out for walks more often.

I used to go out for strolls along the beach every single evening; I’d listen to the birds softly singing in the distance, and I’d inhale the salty air while listening to the strong sounds the sea made when sending its waves across the beach.

I used to feel so lonely whenever I heard couples laughing when they went out for their nice evening walk with a dog. Sometimes I’d hear them saying things like “I love you” in between their chuckles and I wondered how it would be to look into someone’s eyes and say that to the person you love.

Not that someone will ever love me, but I liked to imagine it.

And it made me feel so very lonely, so sad, and eventually I stopped taking my daily walks along the beach because the sounds of the beach at dusk made me feel so miserable.

But it isn’t evening; we’re walking with the strong sound of the sea at sunrise, Haruka reminds me by grabbing my hand and pulling me forward. I can barely keep up with him, he’s quick on his feet.

He keeps holding onto my hand tightly until I’m running through the sand at the same pace as he is.

And now that I’m the one giggling while running over the beach with someone right beside me, I suddenly don’t feel that lonely sadness anymore.

And I don’t feel alone when we sit down on the little stairs that you have close to the beach, and we’re both gasping for air. I don’t feel miserable when Haruka takes the other earpiece so we can listen to music as we eat some cheap sandwich we bought at a stand.

I take a bite of my sandwich and even though it’s actually pretty bland, I like the taste of it more than I would’ve had at any other time; maybe it’s because I just used up all my energy with running.

We listen to music together, taking turns at choosing songs, and for the first time in my life I feel like the lyrics of the songs aren’t pessimistic. Even the calmer and sadder songs I usually cry to, they seem so cheerful when I’m sitting beside Haruka. And I wonder if he feels that too.

Probably not, but I still feel so cheerful deep inside as we have to be real close to each other because we want to keep listening to the music as we take the long route home. And when sometimes I feel his hand stroke past mine just a little bit, I wish he could just leave it like that a little longer.

Never in my life have I had so much fun with someone around my age. Hell, I have never had this much fun to begin with; I’ve always felt a little different, and alone, but not with Haruka.

And even though my chest hurts a lot from being out of breathe, by the time we get home, I still feel so happy about today. I feel like I found a real friend, one that might enjoy my presence too. Maybe.

“We’re back!” I shout when I open the door, but there’s no reply like I usually would get.

Worry shoots through my body, because I’m scared the universe can’t even grant me one good day; mom should’ve been home by now, but what if something happened on her way back home.

“I’m going to take a look in the kitchen, see if mom’s home,” I tell Haruka, my heartbeat can be felt in my throat. “I’ll be back in second, okay?”

I walk past the living room and to the kitchen, where would normally be working on lunch by now. She isn’t there, but fortunately I hear her talking to someone in the distance.

Sounds like it’s coming from outside, since it’s so muffled.

“Mom, are you out there?” I ask after sliding open the door to our backyard.

I hear mom much louder and more clearly now, but she doesn’t reply to me. She must be on the phone, because I barely hear the voice of the person she’s talking to; yet, why is she calling outside.

I decide it must be someone she wants to speak to in privacy and get ready to close the door, just when a sentence causes my heart to stop beating for a second. Maybe two.

“Oh, yeah sure. Haruka probably won’t mind if you drop by to talk to him tonight.”

I realize, at that moment, that the universe doesn’t grant me many more moments with Haruka after all; and I had such a good hope Haruka could stay with us for so much longer.

Chapter Text

Haruka Nanase

I didn’t actually believe miss Tachibana when she told me my foster parents had called.

I didn’t feel like I should doubt her, but I still didn’t trust the sentence “they’re going to be here tonight, because they want to talk with you”. It just sounded too surreal.

But here I am, standing in the middle of the Tachibana’s living room, and the Hirayamas are both sitting at the dining table. Miss Hirayama with a cup of tea, and her husband with his usual water.

“Haru, I’m so glad to see you’re okay!” miss Hirayama says, her brown hair swirling around her face as she gets up and walks up to me. She wraps her hands around my cheeks, they’re warm of holding her cup for a while. “I’ve been really worried about you all this time.”

I lower my gaze, because I can’t even look her in the eyes anymore; all this time she’s been worried about me, while I’ve been convincing myself my foster parents couldn’t care less.

She hugs me tightly, even though she knows I hate being flattened against her chest like that.

Miss Tachibana gives me an escape, quickly peeking around the corner to say that she’s upstairs if we need something. And miss Tachibana’s leaving reminds everyone that this will be a hard and real conversation having to do with me running away from home and not being allowed to return.

This shouldn’t be a heartwarming moment, I tell myself as I sit down at the table, facing miss and mister Hirayama. I don’t deserve a heartwarming reunion after running from home.

“So,” mister Hirayama says, carefully sliding a notebook and pen across the table. “We’re going to tell you some things, and we understand they may be hard to understand. Feel free to interrupt us if you have questions, okay?”

He seems sad somehow, with those black circles underneath his eyes, and there’s a sympathetic smile on both his and miss Hirayama’s face when I take the notebook and nod hesitantly.

“I suppose you’d like to know why we couldn’t take you back in, right?” he asks me.

Yes, I know I want to, but it still takes me a moment to nod.

“It’s because—“ Mister Hirayama’s voice falters as he rubs in his eyes; he looks so depressed.

“Because I’m pregnant,” miss Hirayama blurts.

I stare at the both of them; first at miss Hirayama, then at her husband, and down to my notebook.

“You’re pregnant?” I ask, my hands suddenly shaking so heavily making the writing hard to read.

Miss Hirayama smiles and nods, but her smile is kind of sad. And with mister Hirayama looking so depressed at the moment, I don’t know whether I should congratulate them or offer condolences.

I decide to ask them about why they look so sad about it; shouldn’t people be happy when they, after trying and failing many times, are finally expecting a little one.

Miss Hirayama lowers her gaze and whispers, “Because we won’t be able to take care of you anymore.” She swallows audibly. “And I’m – we’re – very sad about that.”

Mister Hirayama nods and wraps his arm around his wife’s shoulder before turning to me.

"Why?" I ask them.

Why on earth would they be sad about having to give up caring for someone as ungrateful as me?

Mister Hirayama tenses up and his expression grows gloomier. "You don't know how many times we talked about it."

I frown.

Miss Hirayama nods in agreement. "We wanted to adopt you so badly, we wanted to become your permanent parents." Tears well up in her eyes. "We love you so much, Haru."

I swallow thickly, breathing heavy as I suddenly realize why I heard miss Hirayama crying in the bathroom that one night a couple of weeks ago. After that they started planning adoption meeting after adoption meeting; I thought they wanted to get rid of me, but now I see it. The sadness that was always in their eyes, hiding underneath that layer of clear happiness, it was because they finally managed to get pregnant but that meant they'd have to give me up.

"Komoki's right," mister Hirayama tells me. "And that hasn't changed; we still would love to actually adopt you, but we can't."

I lower my gaze, because I know they can't. It would be not only too expensive, but they should be there for their child; I don’t want to steal the kid’s parents of them.

Eventually I nod and look up at them with both empathy and terror, I get how they feel yet I don't want them to feel that way. It scares me that I can take away the happiness of them finally having the child they’ve been wanting for so long, by merely excising.

"That's why we wanted to speak to you once you were feeling better," miss Hirayama explains. "Because we can't take you in anymore doesn't mean we can slack off."

I glare at them, confused about what she means; she can't slack off?

"While you've been calming down here," mister Hirayama says. "We've had contact with a couple of people, and we've got two options for you."

I glare at him in panic after he lists the choices I’ve got; I can either stay with the Hirayamas until miss Hirayama goes with maternity leave and then move to a big foster center in Tokyo or, and that’s what shocks me the most, move in with my biological mother after haven’t seen her in eight years.

“I get it’s sudden,” miss Hirayama adds when she sees my anxious expression. “but we’ve been in contact with her and she’s living a perfectly normal life with a healthy relationship with a man that is not your biological father. I think this may be your best option, Haru.”

I blink twice, fear making my stomach twist and turn.

“More than anything she’d like to take you back in.” Mister Hirayama looks both glad and very stressed at the same time. “as her son, Haru.”

I shake my head, twice, trice and a million more times; there’s no way I’m going back to that woman ever again. Never will I move into her house and live under her roof, not when she left me to die eight years ago and never contacted me again after that. I just can’t.

“Haru, try to breathe calm.” Miss Hirayama breathes with me when she starts to notice I’m basically hyperventilating. “Breathe with me; in and out, in and out.”

There are a million thoughts flying through my head, bumping into each other and getting all scrambled up as I try to empty it completely. Nothing makes sense, yet at the same time every thought is crystal clear and they all say one thing; I am not going back to my biological mother.

“Okay, Shun,” miss Hirayama whispers to her husband while slowly rubbing the back of my hand with her soft and cold finger. “Maybe letting him move back in with his mother is not the best idea.”

I release a sigh of relieve when she says it, because she couldn’t be more right.

Miss Hirayama looks back at me. Her brown eyes are soft, yet stern and determined, when she says, “But please, at least think about meeting up for a good conversation with her someday soon.”

In complete terror again, I shake my head and glare at mister Hirayama for consent. He just closes his eyes briefly and slowly shakes his head before admitting, “Komoki’s right, Haru.”

I swallow, tears welling up in my eyes as I stare down at the table.

I can’t… I can’t… It repeats itself in my mind over and over again. I can’t see that woman ever again!

Chapter Text

Makoto Tachibana

My heart starts slamming against my ribs when the door opens so hard that the entire room shakes.

There’s loud footsteps and the softest whimpering, followed by a terrifying thud.

I was just making my homework when the door opens with full force, slamming into the wall.

“Haruka?” I whisper, my voice suddenly shaking worse than ever before. “Haruka, are you okay?”

He left my side about half an hour ago, to have a conversation with his foster parents. Even though seemed very off and a little nervous before he went downstairs, I didn’t see this coming.

He doesn’t seem a little nervous anymore, this is just pure terror.

I crawl to the place the sound came from and find Haruka curled up in the corner of my room. He’s trembling even worse than the time I found him in my garden; he seems terrified.

I don’t get much time to think, because just a second after I register his shaking, Haruka pushes me away. There’s force and fear behind it when his hands press against my shoulders.

I tumble back, almost hitting my head against the radiator in the process.

“Haruka,” I whisper, my voice so extremely small.

I’m shocked by how he’s acting; worried and extremely terrified, because I never thought Haruka could even be aggressive towards people. He’s always so calm, so silent and gentle. He seems so harmless when I’m just talking with him. Sometimes he’s almost like an afraid kitten, so shaky and scared like he was a second ago.

But now…

I feel my stomach turn as I realize that it probably has to do with a bad outcome of the conversation. I know how much Haruka was hoping he could go back to his home, and I kept telling him they’d take him back in, but what if that didn’t happen. Hell, I know it didn’t happen.

“It’s your foster parents, right?” I ask, sitting steady on my knees before speaking softly. “Something happened between the two of you and you’re mad, is that what happened?”

There’s no reply, not even a whimper or an unsteady breath that tells me whether my gut-feeling is completely wrong or, unfortunately, very right.

“Do they not want you back?” I whisper, my deep pain and sympathy can be clearly heard in my voice no matter how much I want to hold it back and hide it. “Is that what’s—“

There’s a loud crash of a fist hitting the wall at full force; no mercy for the fist, the walls, or my ears.

It’s like a punch to the gut, with the pain of being stabbed; it hurts me so much to know Haruka’s doing this bad. It pains me that he won’t let me close, that he can’t talk to me.

I gasp and stumble back in fear. I’m not only scared of the loud noises Haruka’s making, I know dead-well what he means by them; he wants me to leave him alone, and he doesn’t need words to make that very very clear. So I get on my feet and nod once, whispering, “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything” before walking out of my room.

In the kitchen, mom greets me. She sounds light-hearted like she doesn’t know what just went down at our dining table, but I can hear in her tone that she’s actually very aware of what happened.

“I’m worried about Haruka,” I admit.

The lump in my throat makes my voice shake and I suddenly notice how afraid I actually am. I’m scared Haruka won’t have a nice future after he leaves our home; especially after he told me how he actually liked it at his foster parents’ home. He actually felt at home there, and now I’m sure he can’t stay. He’ll never forgive himself for running away, if that’s why he can’t stay.

“I-I’m just so worried,” I whisper. “I don’t want to see him that stressed out.”

Mom wraps her arms around me when I start crying. She rubs her hands over my back as my breath jolts and my shoulders shake; I just cannot keep it inside any longer.

“It’s okay,” mom whispers in my ear. “Haruka’s okay.”

I ask her how she knows that; how can she possibly know what Haruka is feeling right now?

“Because I spoke to his foster parents.” She takes her fingers through my hair and kisses my forehead. “They said Haruka will have to make a tough choice, so he may be off for a while.”

A tear slips down my cheek as I think about Haruka being like this any longer.

“He’ll need some time for himself, apparently that’s usual for him,” mom explains. “I mean, last time he had a tough time he ended up in our backyard.”

I chuckle through my tears, because maybe she’s right; Haruka may just have an overreacting way of dealing with things. His brain might think big of something small, and I should respect that.

Mom tells me it may take a while before Haruka opens up to me, because he’s had a hard past.

“But they also said he’ll be alright,” mom promises me. “Haruka’s a tough cookie, Makoto, he won’t break under these circumstances if you make sure to stand there by his side once he lets you.”

I nod and nod, telling myself it’s okay if Haruka needs some time alone, but tears keep flowing.

I cannot help it, because I want to be by Haruka’s side right now. Even when he won’t let me, I would be okay with just sitting in the same room as him, but I know he needs time on his own.

I just have never felt so much worry in my entire life; it’s overwhelming.

Not just overwhelming, just strange; I feel a feeling inside my chest, in my stomach, I can’t describe.

It also shocks me, that even when I barely know Haruka, I feel so bonded with him. It’s like I feel his fear, his pain and it makes me feel so miserable. I just want to wrap my hands around him and tell him it’ll be okay, and I want him to believe me when I whisper that in his ear.

A sob escapes from my mouth at that though, because I want it so badly.

I shed tears because I’m worried about Haruka and because he acted so mad towards me and because I want him to stay beside me for forever when I know that’s impossible.

It’s not just tears that needed to be cried for a couple of seconds, they’ve been storing for years.

I start sobbing, because I’m always feeling sad deep inside, because I want to see the world, because I want to help people like Haruka while I know I can’t.

I sob because I know exactly why I want to be there for Haruka so badly.

I cry because I didn’t know what to call this feeling in my stomach when Haruka was still friendly to me, but I knew what it was as soon as Haruka slapped my hand away from him.

I knew what it was because I now know that Haruka clearly doesn’t see me that way. If he felt that way he wouldn’t push me away when I try to be there for him with all my might.

And yet I still want him to feel the same as I do.

I rub in my eyes with the back of my hands, trying to stop the tears from forming by telling myself that it’s alright, and not selfish, that I feel this way.

But I keep crying, I let it all out, because it hurts to realize when you feel this way.

I cry… because I’m clearly in love with Haruka.

Chapter Text

Haruka Nanase

It’s cold… freezing and dark as shadows cast over the entire country.

My gouge slides through the wood like a lukewarm knife through butter.

I breathe out, a little cloud forming, as we didn’t have enough money to pay off the bills; they cut off our power, including whatever keeps our radiator working on winter nights like this.

I’m at full peace, completely calm, as I put all my frustration of today into cutting up the wood. From the anger and pain, of being pushed in the dirt by bullies, I can easily carve beauty.

Footsteps. Soft cursing, soon followed by the creaking of our old and rusted door.

The gouge slips and blood starts seeping from a wide cut. I place my finger in my mouth and try to ignore the rapid slamming of my heart; I should’ve started prepping for dinner a long time ago.

Maybe it’s because my mother isn’t home tonight, or maybe it’s because I was so off after my school day, but I completely forgot to make food for my father.

“I’m home,” he mumbles, his voice all groggy and slurred. “What’s on for dinner?”

He slanders into our home. His clothes are all sweaty and his hair sticks to his forehead.

It’s clear he’s not looking that miserable because he’s been working at the office all day and it’s also very clear he’s not sober, as a bottle of beer sits in his right hand.

My father, as if he smelled my fear, immediately notices there’s no food on the table. His intense eyes glare at me from across the room. He takes a swig from his drink and screams, “What’s this, Haruka!”

I swallow thickly before dropping my wooden figure, scrambling onto my feet.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I quickly make my way to the kitchen.

I almost am able to sneak past him without getting the usual punishment, but today just isn’t my day. Before I know it a flat hand collides with my cheek and causes me to lose balance for a second.

I get my act back together; be submissive… Listen to the old man and only speak when spoken to.

“No weak apologies, Haruka!” he shouts while waving with his hands furiously.

I turn my eyes to the floor and press my hand against the swollen cheek.

I hate the way he says me name, with all that hate and disgust.

He pushes against my shoulder, working me to the kitchen with force while yelling slurred hateful words. There’s no mercy, no fatherly tone, in his voice as he orders me to warm up his soup.

Of course, I do as he asks; I can’t do anything else. It’s not like I have a choice when it comes to that.

I know my place, my responsibilities; they’ve been forcefully punched into me from birth.

Yesterday’s soup is warmed in a pan within minutes, and since I deliver his food as soon as I possibly can, I might not get the worst punishment this time. Maybe just a penalty, maybe that hit was all he’s giving me today; I would count myself lucky if that’s the case.

Dutiful as usual, I serve him his chicken broth in a cup with a spoon. I don’t even spill when I put it down, even though my hands are trembling in terror when I bow down to the man I call my father.

“Enjoy your food.” I bow even deeper, my forehead almost touching the floor as I listen to him taking a sip of the warm broth; I wish it hadn’t been so hot, I wish I would’ve had the guts to warn him.

There’s a groan, followed by a deafening yelling.

He’s yelling at me, I know that much, even when his voice is too slurred to understand.

I stiffen in that exact spot. I want to run, but my body won’t move.

It doesn’t even listen to me when that man grabs my right arm and drags me onto the table. Next thing I know the most painful sensation makes my stomach turn and my ears ring.

I want to run, but nothing happens.

I want to pull away my arm, but nothing happens.

I want to scream, but I can’t even manage to do that as my dominant arm burns like it’s on fire. Without any mercy my father pours the near-boiling broth over my entire arm, killing the skin.

“You feel that!” his voice sounds through the ringing in my ears. “Can you feel how hot that is!”

He stops pouring, but the burning pain is still spreading; it digs into my skin, like it’s eating me raw.

There’s a noise, shattering glass I think, and after that an aching spreading all throughout my head. My vision colors crimson and my mouth tastes like iron after a hard object causes my ribs to crack.

Excruciating pain spreads through my entire body; my lungs, my head, all the way to my fingertips.

Next I feel is cold.

Nothing else… Just freezing cold; it’s all over my body, finding its way into my clothes so it can start eating away at my skin. It’s biting me, but it’s not hurting me. I feel calm.

For once, there’s no one screaming at me. No father to order me around, and no mother to just stand there and watch; there’s just ice picking away at my useless body like crows.

No burning.

No punching.

No sound.

For a moment I'm convinced this is the end; my father isn't going to get me out of this freezing cold.

But then the snow crunches, footsteps come closer and not long after sirens sound in the distance.

My eyelids are very heavy, just like the rest of my body, but I eventually manage to open them.

I'm lying on my back, snow is falling towards me. And when I see a woman appearing in the corner of my eye, I don't feel relieved.

Like I know I'm going to be saved, but it still feels like I'm taking my last breathes.

Like deep inside I think I don’t deserve to keep living; the snow should eat away at me before the ambulance gets him.

Like I want to stop hurting for good; even when the ambulance men arrive.

Like I don’t want to keep living this life; even when they load me into the ambulance.

I know I’m saved, I know I will survive today.

Yet all I feel is numbness in every part of me, both soul and body, as sirens make my ears ring and darkness slowly starts filling up my entire vision.

I shoot upright.

My hair is stuck to my forehead. I'm soaked in my own sweat as I throw the blankets off me like they're on fire.

That night.

I used to relive that day over and over and over again, every single night; it's been so long since I had such a vivid nightmare of that night; the last day I spend with my biological parents.

I stare down at the ragged scars that spread all over my right arm; I can still feel it eating away at my skin, as the boiling chicken broth burnt my skin, third degree.

I was just so scared, maybe even more afraid than I actually was when it all happened.

It all felt so real. The pain felt so real.

And this fear I feel... it's very real too.

Chapter Text

Makoto Tachibana

A foot slamming into my bed wakes me up just after midnight.

I’m startled, but not as much as I get when Haruka starts breathing heavily. So heavy that I can hear him wheezing and his breath is squeaking in his windpipe.

I wonder if he woke up, finally, after thrashing around in his bed for almost five whole minutes.

“Haruka, are you awake?” I whisper when I decide he’s probably just as awake as I am.

There’s no reply, just more heavy breathing, followed by thuds moving across my room. At first they’re slow and calm, but soon they start moving in circles at a rapid pace.

Taking that Haruka’s probably pacing up and down my room because he’s restless, I get out of my bed to see if he’s doing okay; which he obviously isn’t.

I wrap my arms around him and pull him against my chest when he starts crying. There’s barely any sound, just some jolting breathes and whimpering, but I can feel his tears being absorbed by my shirt. I can’t hold him any closer, but I wish I could.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, nuzzling his hair. “It was just a bad dream.”

I take it was a nightmare scaring him this much, but it could be anything after how he acted after the talk with his foster parents. I’m actually convinced he’s so badly affected by yesterday’s talk that it’s giving him nightmares, but I know nothing for sure.

Haruka presses his face into my shoulder, hiding in the fabric of my shirt.

“I’m here, it’s okay.” I rub his back and feel his breath jolt over and over again. But it stops for a second when I ask, “Does it have to do with yesterday evening?”

Haruka nods into my shoulder before he starts sobbing again.

He’s shaking so much, draped against me like a limp blanket; he just seems terrified.

“Do you need to talk about it?” I ask him, hoping I don’t get the same reply as I got yesterday.

It takes a while, but eventually Haruka nods. He sniffles a little before releasing himself from my tight embrace, when he leans away from me I know what he’s doing; he’s actually going to explain what’s bothering him, and therefore he needs the slate.

I sit there, hearing Haruka sniffle and breathe irregularly for almost ten minutes before he hands me a piece of paper. It’s filled with Braille till halfway the paper and I know it’s not just saying “yeah, I had a nightmare. Sorry for waking you up” like I thought it would.

Instead his message starts with “They asked me to move in with my biological mother.”

I stop, take a deep breath and mumble, “Your birth mother, huh?” before continuing to read over everything he told me. He talks about how it scares him so much, the thought of having to go back to her. He tells me his past wasn’t amazing and he hasn’t seen her since he was nine years old.

“I’m so afraid… I don’t want to go back,” he admits, and even though I have no clue what happened between Haruka and his parents, I know he’s serious about not wanting to go back. The last sentence, to my surprise, says, “What must I do, Makoto?” which means he trusts me with helping him again. He wants me to be besides him again.

“I don’t know,” I whisper in reply. I reach out to Haruka, taking a deep breath when my hand touches his shoulder just so gently. I’m scared to ask him what I need to know, but I still manage to gather the courage to ask him about his past; he starts trembling in terror straight away.

“You don’t have to,” I immediately reply, but then his hand wraps around mine. His touch says enough, even when it’s weak and shaky, it’s full of determination and I know he wants me to know.

“Honestly, it all started with my parents being way too young to have children,” Haruka tells me after a while. “I don’t remember much, and I want to spare you the details, but let’s just say they didn’t know how to raise a child.”

Haruka tells me, in a short letter, how for the first part of his childhood Haruka’s parents really neglected him; leaving him at daycare most of the time when he was a baby and when he reached elementary school he was alone outside of school.

“They started acting different when they found out I didn’t actually go to school. I just didn’t have the strength to go, because everyone bullied me for being shy and not so well mannered.”

I pause and feel my heart skip a beat in pain; Haruka was being bullied by people because he wasn’t loud or neat. He wasn’t either of those things because his parents did an awful job of raising him.

“They started doing things no parent should do to their child.”

Haruka says he’d rather not talk about that too much, because it still scares him. All he tells me is that he’d receive “punishments” from his father, and his mother never did anything to stop him.

Haruka swallow’s audibly, as if he knows where in his letter I’m reading.

I reach out to him after I read the sentence, “Their way of raising me left me with both mental and physical scars.” I embrace him, because I know how hard it must be to tell this to me; a stranger.

I hug him and whisper, “I didn’t know…” but then again, how could I have known?

Haruka takes my hand in his and squeezes it lightly. It’s like he wants to tell me something, and through his mere touch I understand exactly what he means.

“You want to show me something,” I ask him. “Don’t you?”

Next thing I feel is ragged skin under my fingertips. It causes my breath to come to a sudden stop; I know exactly what these are, and I didn’t expect Haruka to show me this.

“Oh, Haruka,” I whisper, my hands starting to shake. “I—“

Tears start streaming down my face as I feel the large scar that stretches all along Haruka’s arm. I can’t do else than embrace him; I need to hug him, now.

Haruka’s body jolts when it lays down against me, careful and weak he hugs me back.

We sit like that for god-knows-how-long and we just take our time to let all out. And once we’ve both gotten our act back together Haruka returns to writing again; he tells me he got this scar around the time he went mute, his mother wasn’t there to help him and he never saw either of his parents after that night. All he wants is to stay far, very far, away from them if he possibly can.

On the bottom of the piece of paper there’s a sentence saying, “Oh, and please call me Haru.”

The last sentence seems completely unrelated, but I know deep inside it has everything to do with what he just told me. So I smile lightly, weakly, before whispering, “Haru, huh? It suits you better.”

His hand rests on my knee and I can feel that that’s his way of telling me “thank you”.

I lay my hand on top of his and find myself smiling wide through my tears; I feel so glad, like we should’ve had this conversation earlier, and at the same time I feel defeated, useless.

“You really don’t want to see her, don’t you?” I ask.

Haru’s hand tenses up, which I take as a no, so I add, “But still. I think you should talk to her, see if she has changed; you don’t have to become best friends afterwards, but maybe you can at least close that awful chapter of your life.” I pause to swallow. “You know? So you can start a new one.”

Haru’s hand starts shaking, his fingers digging into my skin in fear.

I reach out and pat his head like mom always does when I’m worried. And after that I suggest the following; I’ll go with Haru, stay by his side for the entire time he’s there, and if it’s not going right I’ll be there to stand by him and protect him with all I’ve got. He seems to like the sound of that. He flies at me, his arms wrapping around my neck; that clearly means yes.

Chapter Text

Haruka Nanase

It’s evening earlier than expected.

When I called the Hirayamas this morning to tell them that I’d decided to see my biological mother again this evening, I thought I’d have enough time to prepare. I was wrong.

Makoto and I are already getting closer and closer to my mother’s house, just outside Iwatobi. I am not at all ready to see her yet, but then again I guess I never will be ready to meet up with the woman whose ex-husband almost stole the life of a nine-year-old.

I’m super nervous as we wander into her street and I can already see her house in the distance.

At least I’m not alone; I was so glad when Makoto suggested he would go with me.

I was very thankful for him staying by side when I was crying tonight, how he helped me calm down by wrapping his arms around me; he’s the first person who ever embraced me when I cried, but he’s also the first person to see me cry. And I’m glad it was him and not someone else.

I’m also glad that it’s Makoto standing beside me, when we reach my biological mother’s home, and not my foster parents or someone else. For me it’s more than enough to have my closest friend standing by my side when I knock on the door and try not to panic.

“You’re going to be okay,” Makoto whispers. “I’ll be right beside you the entire time. If you want to leave just—“

The door opens before Makoto can finish his sentence.

Completely startled and frozen in place, I grab Makoto’s hand. I squeeze his with my scarred hand, barely feeling the warmth of his skin through the ragged scars that keep giving me those terrible nightmares of the last time I saw her; my birth mother.

She’s gotten a lot older, I now notice as she’s standing right in front of me. She’s just in her mid-thirties, but there are already grey streaks forming in her pitch black hair.

That’s the same color of hair I have, I realize, and her face looks a lot like mine too; I always wondered who of my parents had blue eyes again, because I’d totally forgotten how their faces looked over the years. I wanted to forget, I worked their looks out of my brain with force.

Now it all comes back at me, how I always was told how much I looked like my mother.

“Oh, Haruka.” Her voice is so soft, much more fragile than I remember it to be, and she folds her slender fingers over her mouth. She’s trembling, but her shakiness seems totally different from mine.

She knew I was coming, mister Hirayama called her, but still she seems so surprised to see me.

All I feel is overwhelming fear though, there’s no happiness or anything to be found.

I squeeze in Makoto’s hand harder, and since he seems to notice how afraid I am, he speaks for me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss Nanase,” Makoto says, lightly squeezing me back.

My mother looks from me to Makoto and for a moment I’m scared she’ll be disgusted by the both of us. I don’t know why I’m scared of her judgment, but everything that’s different from “normal” used to make her hurl back in the past; I bet she never visited me after that night because she knew her son was just another one of those weird people, one that was unable to speak a word.

“Oh, uh.” My mother stammers, her face getting a lot paler; she’s going to vomit at our weirdness, at how different I am and how disabled Makoto is. That’s what I think until she smiles and says, “I haven’t been going by Nanase for a while now, I’d prefer if you’d call me miss Furuya instead.”

She doesn’t go by my father’s last name anymore, while I’ve been going by that toxic name for years now. It’s not like you can suddenly change your last name when you’re still underage, so I envy that she’s changed back to her new husband’s name.

After correcting Makoto on his mistake, the woman looks back at me. She has kindness in her eyes now, but I can still see that anger and intense disgust that she had when she looked at me years ago.

I swallow, stepping back when she reaches out for me.

I still feel it, the few times it was hand slapping me with force. Those were the same fingers, the same sharp nails and exactly the same woman as the one that’s now trying to reach out to me with her shaky hands. I won’t let her touch me, never again.

She must realize how I don’t like to be touched by anyone if I don’t trust them with all my heart, because she averts her gaze and lowers her hand. The plasters a smile onto her face before stepping aside, kindly telling us to come inside and make ourselves at home.

I could never feel at home here, with all of these pictures of the woman who ruined my life by giving birth to me being happy with her new husband. Wedding pictures make my stomach turn, because they remind me of the ones that hang in our hallway at my old house. The ones I once tore off the wall, because I couldn’t see why two young people who fought that much would ever get married.

I got into so much trouble for breaking the picture frame, I spend a month with a swollen arm and to this day I’m convinced I broke it together with a few ribs. Yet, the wedding picture never made it back onto the wall, because we all knew my parents didn’t love each other anymore.

I lower my gaze and stare at my feet, right now I wish I couldn’t see; I wish I was blind like Makoto and could walk through this hallway without it bringing up so many awful memories.

We go into the living room where mister Furuya, my mother’s new husband, for a brief moment. He just barely introduces himself before telling us he’s going upstairs. I can see in his eyes that my mother probably told him to give us some privacy, that’s why he almost doesn’t speak to me.

“Sit down on the couch, make yourselves at home.” Mother gestures at the couches that are neatly made with all sorts of pillows, it looks nothing like our old living room. “Do you want something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Hot cocoa?” She sounds like she’s begging me to drink something. Anything.

I swallow, because I don’t plan on talking to her, not even through writing; it’s too confronting to talk to her. So I wait until Makoto mumbles, “I’d like some tea.” He rubs the back of my hand with his thumb and asks, “You want some tea too, Haru?”

I lightly tap our hands onto his leg once, hoping he realizes that I mean I wouldn’t mind some tea either. It’s a lie, I’m not at all thirsty, but I’m just going to have to go with whatever my mother wants me to do; it’s what I’ve always done, and what I’ll probably do for the rest of my life.

“Are you okay?” Makoto whispers once my mother has gone to the kitchen to make us some tea.

I swallow, I’m sure he must hear how thick my saliva is; I can barely swallow. After that I squeeze his hand twice, because I don’t want to lie to Makoto, I want him to know I am far from okay.

“Just squeeze me hard if you want to leave, okay?” Makoto tells me, careful that my mother doesn’t hear us. “I’ll get us out of here as soon as you want to go home.”

Before I know it my mother walks back into the living room, carrying a tray with three cups of tea. She sits down herself and warms her hands on her cup before stating, “You’ve grown.”

I nod, thinking to myself that’s what happens when you don’t see someone for over eight years.

She takes a sip from her tea, her cheeks are looking so pale and I can hear her breath trembling. Is she just as nervous as I am, or is she keeping in all the anger she stored over the years?

“I see you still don’t talk,” she eventually mumbles, and instead of disgusted she sounds sad. “I knew he hurt you, and I know I should’ve stayed at home to protect you.”

I tense up, squeezing Makoto's hand the hardest I can; I want to leave. I have to leave!

"I still tell myself every day," she says, her eyes glaring at me. "I should've visited you in the hospital."

My breath catches is my throat while my heartbeat starts thumping rapidly.

My father got me hospitalized for over half a year. He ruined my dominant hand, he took away my youth and worst of all, he stole my ability to talk. My right to communicate with the blind, with Makoto, my closest friend.

She should've, if she loved me as her son, she should've dropped by to see me at least once. She should've spared me those years at foster cares and all those traumas they gave me over the years.

"I wish I wasn't so ignorant."

I shake my head, wanting her to stop talking right now.

"I see now, that I was wrong." She looks up at me. "I should've protected you from your father. From myself."

I squeeze Makoto's hand harder, harder! And he reacts, opening his mouth to say something; we have to go. But he doesn’t even get the chance to talk, because my mother is too busy screaming.

"Please, forgive me!" mother begs me through tears. "Haruka, forgive me."

I shake my head, twice, trice and a million more times before getting on my feet.

I can't just forgive and forget.

In a complete rush I start running. I don't know where I’m heading to, I just know I have to get far, very far, away from that woman.

Chapter Text

Makoto Tachibana

He ran off.

He just got up and ran away as quick as he could. Before I had the chance to realize what was going on, Haru had already got up and left his birth mother’s home.

I sit there, in her home.

She’s crying, even though we both know dead-well that Haru didn’t run because I’m in the same room as him. It’s her fault, for pushing him to his limit.

Little does she know, coming here was so hard for Haru that he was shaky all day. He really didn’t want to go, and now he even ran away because he was so scared of this awful woman; who sees her son for the first time in eight years and starts talking about his literal trauma the second he walks in.

I can’t blame him, she doesn’t quite seem like the motherly type.

I have to leave and follow Haru right now.

“E-excuse me.” I get up, just now realizing I have no clue where Haru went. “What way did he go?”

Haru’s birth mother sniffles before telling me she saw him running past the window, so he probably went back to Iwatobi. It sounds legit to me so, without telling her thank you for the tea or her hostility, I start running as quick as I can.

I trip over her doorstep, and my cane slides out of my hand. I have no time to search for it, because what if Haru is bringing himself in danger. Or what if he runs away and plans on never coming back to me; I can’t live on without knowing he’s safe.

I get on my feet as quick as I can and start running again, trying to know in what direction I’m going.

I’m screaming Haru’s name at full volume, hoping I’ll find him like this.

I have no clue where Haru is.

I have no idea where I’m running to.

But I keep running at full speed, gasping for air through my tears. I don’t stop when I fall into a bush and I don’t waver before running off the sidewalk. A car honks loudly, the man inside telling me to look out before crossing.

In anger and fear, I yell back that I’m blind and so I can’t see him and he should look out instead.

I never knew a shot of adrenaline could even make me act aggressive towards people, but I just cannot deal with cranky people right now.

I have to find Haru, so I just keep running.

My feet move like they haven’t ever done before, and as I move through alleyways and go into streets I’ve probably never been before, I try to remember everything about Haru.

He’s scrawny, fragile and shaky and his clothes are way too big for his tiny body.

I take a deep breath and start running harder than I already was.

He has a kind way of writing, and he used to speak in a soft and slightly high-pitched voice; god, I just wish I could hear him right now.

I turn left, and right, and left again. My feet make the decisions, like I’m trying to imagine what way Haruka would do when he’s running away from someone he hates.

He has no facial hair and a tiny nose. He says he dark hair and blue eyes, and though I have no idea what that means I feel like Haru’s more beautiful than anything else. He must be, if it makes me feel so woozy inside.

I feel woozy right now, but not for the same reason as I did back when he told me how he looks.

I’m way too out of breath and my lungs are starting to feel like they’re on fire. It hurts, a lot, with every breath I take. But I know I have to keep myself going if I ever want to find Haru.

I get myself back together, forcing the brain fog to leave.

I have to think straight now.

What is Haru like? And where would he go?

He has had a hard past, nearly no connection with his biological mother and father. He hasn’t got any sibling, and the Hirayamas cared for him for quite a while.

I nod, but I know I barely can get any clues from that information.

What else do I know about him?

I know he likes jogging on Monday mornings, and carving wood makes his stress go away.

My heartbeat is rapid, and I think that if I would stop running now I’d probably collapse.

He likes the beach and basic Japanese music.

The beach.

Just like that the earth seems to shove away from underneath me.

Sand, it causes me to slip almost right away. 

"The beach," I whisper, taking my hand through the sand. “Haru likes the beach.”

The sound of the sea fills my heart with happiness and before I know it tears start streaming over my face. Without knowing I ran to the beach, to the sea.

Of course I ran to the beach, this is where I’m meant to go.

This is where Haru held my hand. Where we took a run over the sand and laughed. This is where I realized that I might feel something for Haru, more than just friendly feelings.

And most importantly, this is the place Haru is most likely to be.

I swallow, shakily getting back on my feet. I'm not even standing steady when I shout his name.

I only now notice how rough my voice is, no surprise when I've been yelling out Haru's name over and over again for almost half an hour.

"Haru!" I shout again, almost falling over. My knees are weak from running for so long, my lungs feel like they're on fire and not even speak about the blisters that I'm sure to have on my feet by now.

I have twigs in my hair and my entire left hand is burning from falling into nettle fiber plants. But I don’t feel the pain, and even if I could I wouldn’t care, because maybe he's here.

Maybe I'll find Haru again, and I will know he's safe once I can wrap my arms around me.

"Haru!" I shout one more time, as loud as I possibly can.

The next thing I know, the world tilts and a cloud of sand erupts all around me causing me to cough. My throat hurts and I'm exhausted to the point of losing consciousness.

I just wish my voice reached Haru.

Chapter Text

Haruka Nanase

I’ve ran for god knows how long, blinded by my tears.

I had no clue where I was running to; all I knew was that I had to get far away from her. Back to Iwatobi, or the other way completely, if it meant I wouldn’t be found by her.

I ended up here; my safe place.

I take my shoes off and roll my jeans up to my knees before wandering into the water.

It’s something I do time and time again, just taking a nice stroll through the sea whenever I’m sad.

I don’t know how many nights I’ve spend out here, but I know I can remember all of them.

One time I came out of here after my father’s hand had collided with my cheek for the first time. I hadn’t been going to school like he expected me to, because even as a first grader, I was being teased for being extremely shy. I scored low grades and had no friends at all; they thought I was strange and a terrible human-being for being both too quiet and too loud-mouthed at the same time.

I can’t blame my classmates, I had no manners at all, but it was not like my parents ever raised me.

They got me when they were just eighteen, and they barely had enough money to keep me; I wish they just would’ve dumped me in a foster care from the start, which would’ve spared me a lot of heartache. Maybe that way I would actually have had a chance to get a permanent family.

After my father found out about the school-skipping he freaked, he punched me, and I ran off.

I ended up here and I ran into the sea.

I let myself collapse that night, and I listened to the water that entered my ears.

While I stared up at the starlit sky, I searched for a shooting star just so I could wish for another life.

That time I just sat down in the un deep water, but there have also been times I went in deeper than I should’ve. Like that time that I stayed at a bigger foster home where everyone seemed to blame me for what my parents did to me; the other kids called me a monster, a freak and a family-wrecker.

I never talked back to them, not because I couldn’t, they just didn’t even deserve my attention.

They earned the attention they needed so badly though. After teaming up on me they managed to push me over the edge; I couldn’t take the pain anymore.

With sixteen years old, I wished the sea would’ve been quicker to swallow me whole.

It didn’t though, no matter how deep I went I kept ending up on the shore; that’s where the Hirayamas found me. They found me lying on the beach, half-dead and miserable, and they decided to go through an entire process to become my foster parents even when they actually didn’t have nearly enough money to take in another kid.

I let the water float in-between my toes, I let the seaweed tickle the bottom of my feet.

I wonder if the sea will be deep enough today; I wonder if the tide finally will be strong enough to pull me under and never make me come up again.

Maybe it would be for the best if I go in deeper.

I take a step further into the sea, sacking into a hole in the sand. Fishes erupt from the hole, swimming around my legs at a rapid pace. Are they telling me to go on or to turn back.

I’m in to my knees now and the current is getting so much stronger now that I’m in deeper.

I take another step.

It causes so much strength to move a leg, just like it causes so much strength to keep myself from collapsing and bursting out if tears.

I just want to cry.

I want to run away for forever if I can.

I freeze in place, because I know I can’t; I couldn’t ever give Makoto that much pain.

I will never be able to see a smile on his face, never be able to embrace him ever again, if I leave now.

He probably doesn’t feel the same about me, but Makoto’s been the only thing that has kept me going after the Hirayamas told me I couldn’t stay with them.

The pain has been overwhelming, and if he hadn’t been by my side I would’ve been at the bottom of the sea right now.

I would’ve run to my safe place when they told me they were pregnant.

I wouldn’t even have been spilling my worthless tears into this big sea of water, like I am now.

I would’ve ran into the sea. Deeper and deeper until the current pulled me under, if Makoto hadn’t sat down with me and listened to my story with his arms wrapped around me.

But Makoto was by my side. I’m still standing, which is a sign that I’m stronger than this; I shouldn’t be walking into the sea. Instead I should be running far, very far, away from it.

I close my eyes briefly and breathe out. A cloud of air shoots from my mouth and leads my gaze to the sky. It’s lit with beautiful stars, they’re so far away from me.

I stand there, my feet almost to the point of freezing, but I stand still.

My eyes are fixated on the sky, looking for a shooting star to wish upon. Still, after so many years have passed, I’m hoping that I’ll see one. Even if it’s just once, one wish will be enough to make my life less miserable; a wish that my mother will never come near me again, or one for me just to disappear without people being sad about it, or—

At that moment a shooting star falls out of line; it starts falling down.

It’s beautiful, more perfect than anything I’ve ever seen; or almost, because that’s when an image of Makoto Tachibana comes to mind. He might actually be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.

I just wish he was with me now.

I notice how much I miss him. A lot, so much that it makes my heart ache, even when we’ve been only apart for about half an hour, maybe a little longer.

But I just want him by my side; I want him to stay with me for the rest of my life.

I want his arms to wrap around me when I’m crying, but also when I’m happy, and I want to hug him back and hold his hand as tight as I possibly can.

“Haru!” My memory of his voice sounds exactly like it should.

I close my eyes and nod; yes, I want his voice to call out to me like that.

“Haru!”

My eyes shoot open, I stare up at the sky and the shooting star has faded. I listen closely until I hear his voice again. He’s shouting, calling my name, and when I turn around he’s standing on the beach.

It’s really him!

I turn around, opening my mouth to shout back to him; no sounds comes out.

My heart aches, but I know he doesn’t mind my flaws and he won’t mind if I come running at him now. So I order my feet to move, start running away from the endless deep sea and towards the boy who, once again, saved me from downfall.

Sorry, dear old sea. I tell the big body of water as leave it far behind me. But you can’t have me today. Hell, you can’t have me, ever!

 I run onto the beach, seeing how Makoto slowly starts to collapse onto the sand. Weak and limp, really in need of my help; just like I am in need of his too.

I’ve found a new safe space… and he’s called Makoto.

Chapter Text

Makoto Tachibana

I’m exhausted.

Broken, completely ready to give up on finding Haru.

Sand is stuck in my hair, pain is stinging in my chest. I’ve ran too far, and even when I hear the sea in the near distance, I have no idea how to get back home; I’m terrified.

I just want to be near Haruka.

I want to run over this beach with him right beside me again.

I’m trying my hardest to stop crying and catch my breath when someone shakes me. I barely have the energy to reply, but it’s like a shot of hyperactivity when I realize who this could be.

“Haru?” I whisper in between wheezing breaths. “Is that—Haru, is that you?”

There’s no reply, just one light squeeze in both my shoulders. It tells me enough; it’s Haru.

Two arms wrap around me, carefully pulling me against his chest. He hugs me tighter than ever before as I burst into tears. I can’t keep myself from sobbing anymore, not when I’ve given up on finding him for one minute too long.

I bury my face in his shirt, it’s stinky and sweaty but it smells like Haru all over. To me that’s the nicest smell, the only odor I want to inhale right now, because I didn’t know if I would ever be so close to Haru again; I thought he would run away and never come back again.

“Never run away like that again.” I let out a sob before hugging Haru so tightly we both collapse on the sand again. “Never! Promise?”

We lay there on the sand, both of us gasping for air and both of us crying.

It’s like my heart skipped beats for almost the entire time when Haru was hugging me so tightly. And now that we’re lying next to each other with only our hands holding, I want to be able to bury my face in his shirt again. I want to nozzle him and hold him so much closer now that I’ve got him near.

“A-are you okay?” I ask after a while, all of a sudden worried that Haru might not be fine at all. Even when he’s right beside me he can feel like what just happened at his mother’s house was the end of the world. Maybe he still wants to run and hide, even from me.

His hand tenses up and I’m not sure if it’s as an answer or a sign that he’s still very panicked deep inside; I want to know because I want to help him and be there for him if he feels shitty.

“Haru?” I whisper. “I get it, it was a lot. Do you want to talk about it?”

There’s a light squeeze, followed by Haru slowly moving in the sand. His hand is wrapped around mine, but his grip loosens right before the tip of his finger moves a specific part of my hand.

I soon know what he’s doing; he’s writing in the palm of my hand.

He taught himself the Braille already, within the time span of a couple of days he has learned every letter from A to Z. Would he have learned it that quickly by heart, because he wants to talk to me at all time even when, like right now, there’s no paper or stylus nearby? Or am I just over thinking this and Haru’s secretly just a language freak.

I shake my head, telling myself not to jump to any conclusions and focus on what Haru’s telling me.

He writes quicker than last time he used Braille on my hand to talk to me. It’s also a lot more accurate and he’s actually writing in a way that I don’t have to decipher what he’s saying.

“I’m fine, but scared.”

“I get it,” I reply, because he must be very scared. I’m afraid too, about what’s going to happen to Haru now that we’re sure he can’t stay with neither his birth mom nor his foster parents. He might go some place far away where I won’t be able to be near him at all, that’s what I’m scared of.

“I’m so—“ He pauses, his finger slipping across my hand before he pulls me into a hug.

I feel his heartbeat against my chest, I can feel his lungs shakily filling up with air. And I don’t need Haru’s words, I don’t need him to say what he wants to say. His embrace tells me more than enough.

“I will stay by your side,” I whisper in his ear, feeling how the little strains of his hair tickle my lips.

Those are all the words we need, if we even need any.

Haru holds me tight. His cheeks are warm when they carefully move past mine, and his embrace grows weaker before he flops down right beside me in the sand. His hand is limp and sweaty, and I know he’s still very afraid, but I’m glad that for once I’m the one holding his hand the tightest.

I close my eyes, focusing every part of me to holding onto him. I won’t let him stray away from me anymore, because I don’t feel like myself when I don’t have his shaky hands to hold onto.

For the first time, now that I’m the strongest for once, I realize that I’m not as weak as I always made myself out to be. I’ve always seen myself as a weakling, blind and helpless.

What I didn’t see were the good things; my hearing and touch, my strong will to keep on going no matter how miserable I’ve been in the past.

I couldn’t see that before I met Haru.

But Haru showed me what feeling weak really is like.

I’m not saying that Haru is a weakling, not at all, he’s stronger than anyone I know. But I know he knows what being weak feels like, like he does when he’s standing in front of his birth mother. Every time Haru stood in front of his birth father, who was looking down on him in anger before literally working him into the ground; I can’t even imagine how weak Haru felt.

And now, Haru lays here and lets his hand go all limp. That’s not because he is weak or because I think he’s weak; it’s because he’s convinced that in this exact moment he’s the weaker one.

I shake my head, telling myself that I know for sure that Haru’s stronger than me.

“Aren’t you going to hold onto me?” I whisper after a while.

Normally there would be a daring undertone, but I’m too tired to do that now. I also don’t want Haru to feel like I’m making fun of him, or I’m judging him for not showing me his strength.

Both Haru’s hands wrap around my left hand; I feel his scars, his past.

Through all of that, literal burns and heartbreaks, Haru stands tall. He’s still so much stronger than me, as he holds me so tight with both of his strong hands.

He’s not shaking anymore, which makes me realize more than anything that seeing his mother was a good thing. Haru now must see it too, he must be able to see that all of that pain and anxiety was part of a chapter. A page that should’ve been torn out of back-story a long time ago.

All of that heartbreak of serving as his parents’ punching bag is over; a new era has arrived.

In this uncertain future of his, I will make sure to be by his side. I’ll tell him to be stronger if he feels too weak to fight, I’ll be there to hold onto him when his strength is gone.

I hope he knows now too; he can end that awful old chapter of his life right now, because in a dusty corner we now found the pages that follow his painful past.

The chapter of his future has been titled “Faith” for a reason.

Chapter Text

Haruka Nanase

We arrived at Makoto’s home late last night.

I don’t know how long we laid on that beach, but by the time we started walking home it was pitch black outside. I held onto Makoto’s hand tighter than ever before as we made our way home.

Miss Tachibana has never looked that worried as when we finally stumbled into her front porch.

Makoto was covered in sand head to toe and I’m pretty sure he also ran into a bush or two while he was running around and searching for me. I must’ve looked like a stray too, because miss Tachibana immediately ordered us to take a shower and put on fresh clothes.

She lectured the both of us for almost half an hour, before we went to bed.

She told me I shouldn’t have run away, or at least stayed close to my birth mother’s house. And she begged Makoto to never take off without his cane or a supervisor by his side.

“You two could’ve gotten very hurt” was one of the last things she said before embracing the both of us and telling us to get some good rest tonight.

This morning miss Tachibana seems less angry with us, but still a little worried.

“Haruka,” she says, waving me over before I’m able to take my seat at the breakfast table. She tells me that she’s going by my foster parents today. She wants to talk to them about what is going to happen to me now that I have no place to stay anymore. “Do you want to come with me or do you prefer staying home with Makoto?”

I know what my preference is without a doubt. I want to stay with Makoto.

Especially after yesterday’s freak-out I don’t even dare to show my face to the Hirayamas, who put all of their hard work into having me meet my birth mother.

She seems to notice this immediately and tells me Makoto would love my presence for longer. But when she smiles at me and tells me to sit down at the breakfast table, her smile seems off.

After breakfast miss Tachibana leaves to talk to the Hirayamas while Makoto and I both lay down on the couch. Music plays through the speakers softly while Makoto talks a little every now and then.

I find myself stress-woodcarving again, I don’t even know why.

Okay, I know why, but I feel like being around Makoto should cancel all of those negative feelings out. But apparently not; I’m so afraid about with what kind of bad news miss Tachibana is going to come home in a couple of minutes, or an hour. Just not knowing scares me.

The thought of having to leave Makoto's side for some big foster home far away freaks me out.

Makoto doesn't seem too worried at fight glance, but since I've been in the same room with him for quite a while now, I know he's just as nervous as I am. We both know it, that I'll have to leave. And it appears to freak both of us out.

Makoto's just talking about how he's hungry and that he's going to get some food, when some click echoes through the house; de key opening the door.

"I'm home," miss Tachibana shouts from the hallway.

A shiver shoots through my body, and I know Makoto feels it too.

It gets even worse when I see the worried look on miss Tachibana's face when she walks into the living room. She looks at her own son first and then me and says, "I have some important news to share with the both of you."

She fiddles with the keys in her hands before lowering herself onto the empty couch.

Makoto and I both sit upright, feeling how urgent this talk is going to be.

I feel my heartbeat in my throat, fear rising in my chest. I just don't want to have to leave.

I swallow, glaring at miss Tachibana.

Her expression is blank, so for the first time I can't read her like I normally can. I wish I could read her, know what's going to happen to me before Makoto does.

Am I being send to one of Tokyo's big foster cares? Or am I just going to live on the streets?

"What is it, mom?" Makoto asks, his voice soft but afraid. "I-Is it something bad?"

Miss Tachibana closes her eyes briefly and sighs. "I've decided--" She pauses, her expression both grim and glad at the same time. "I've decided to do something I should've done eight years ago, when I called an ambulance for the young boy who was lying wounded in the snow."

My eyes get bigger. Everything, every single feeling rushes through my body; pain, fear, anger, happiness, but most of all I'm very confused.

"That woman," Makoto whispers before nudging me. "Haru, did mom save you back then."

He's thinking the same as I am.

I want to ask her, but there's no paper nearby, if she was the woman that saved my life that night. If she was the person that called the ambulance and apparently visited me only when I wasn't awake.

I never saw her, but she saw me, which suddenly makes everything so much clearer; the way she seemed to recognize me and also didn't seem at all surprised when I didn't talk.

"I never forgave myself for leaving you behind like that, at a foster home," miss Tachibana says.

I've never heard her sound this sad, or is her undertone rather relieved?

"Haruka," she says, her green eyes staring into mine as a slight smile appears on her face. "I would like to ask you whether I can adopt you."

I don't even know what to answer.

I have a total brainfart blinking with my eyes like an idiot.

I know the answer, but at the same time I don't.

I want her to adopt me, for more reason than just one. But my brain won't put my thoughts into words, gestures, or even expressions. It's just blank.

Until Makoto's arms wrap around me and he squeezes me flatter than ever before.

"Oh Haru!" he shrieks like a little kid seeing a huge teddy bear. "You're going to live here! With us!"

I know what he's saying.

I'm just as happy, if not happier, but my brain processes nothing. Not even the most grateful feeling I've ever felt in my entire life.

"Miss and mister Hirayama said they could make it happen, if you want," she tells me in a kind voice. "I see Makoto would love it if you move in with us, and I do too as long as you help out with the groceries once in a while." She winks, smiling wide in that motherly way.

I nod. Not once or twice, but as often as someone can nod within the time span of a minute.

"You said yes?" Makoto asks me. "Mom, he said yes did he?"

"Yes, dear."

Makoto lets out a shriek louder than I've ever heard him before and he pulls me into a very tight embrace. He laughs and cries and me? I’m actually smiling too for once.

I’m so glad they want to take me in, even if I’m going to have to help out with the groceries.

I’m still shocked, but smiling. Because this woman, miss Tachibana, is what a mother should be; she’s kind and lovable, and she has her heart in the right place. She made my wish come true.

I just wish I knew how to say “thank you.”

Chapter Text

Makoto Tachibana

Today is the day; Haru officially moved in with is.

Mom is signing the forms together with the Hirayamas as we speak. And any moment now, Haru will become my legal brother. We’re not going to call each other that though, we made that promise, because we’re just friends not family.

We’re sitting on the porch in my backyard. Our backyard.

The place where the both of us met for the first time, two weeks ago. It’s raining extremely hard like it was that day, but we’re nice and warm and dry as we’re seated underneath the waterproof windshield. They few drips that fall down barely get us wet at all. 

So much has changed and I’m glad with every single change.

I’m so glad that I’ve been granted the chance to be together with Haru, for as long as we want. We don’t have to go apart because of some stupid foster home or birth parents anymore, mom will take amazing care of Haru. She will help him until he doesn’t need our care anymore.

I take a deep breath and whisper, “I’m very happy, you know.”

Haru’s hand rests on top of mine, and he squeezes my lightly when I ask him if he’s happy too. It happens right away, like he wants to say, “Yes, Makoto, I’m very happy too”.

I smile, listening to Haru’s soft breathing and to the sound of rain watering the plants.

Haru’s hand lets go of me and I hear something rustling softly. Before I know it, quicker than ever before, a thin piece of paper slides underneath my hand.

“You’re getting quick with writing,” I tell him while laying the paper on top of my lap and placing my finger on the first set of letters. My breathe jolts to a stop in my throat, because I didn’t expect to read about the stars up in the sky.

“It’s really beautiful out tonight.” Haru writes. “A million stars are shining bright, just like a few days ago. You know, there have been a lot of shooting stars lately? They’re gorgeous, like a star falling from the pitch black sky. I wish you could see them, but—“

I pause, I know what Haru’s going to say; he’s going to tell me he knows I can’t see them. So, that’s bad for me, but I couldn’t be more wrong.

“But I know you can’t. So I promise that when I see one, a shooting star I mean, I’ll tell you. Why? Because I want to make a wish with you. But I also want to give you a second wish myself to thank you and your family for all you’ve done for me. Okay?”

I swallow, opening my mouth to answer to Haru. But for once, I have no clue what to reply.

I don’t have to, because before I know it another piece of paper slides underneath my hands.

“Haru?” I ask, because I’m not used to Haru telling me this much.

He nudges me, as if trying to say to read his second letter now; it must be urgent then.

“Okay. I know what you wish is… and I know I can’t give you that.”

He doesn’t know what my wish is, clearly.

“But I can tell you this. Makoto, you’re beautiful.”

I pause, my finger freezing on that last word.

 “Some time ago you asked me how you looked. I couldn’t find the answer back then, but…

“Y-You didn’t,” I whisper, tears already filling up my eyes. “You described how I look… didn’t you?”

“Makoto, I do know now.” I start reading faster than the speed of sound. “Makoto, you’ve got flawless skin and the kindest smile. You have little dimples when you smile wide and you blush much easier than you probably think you do. Your hair is a fluffy texture, and you don’t even want to know how often I want to take my fingers through those olive brown strains of hair.”

I swallow thickly, I’m having to work really hard to hold back those tears.

“You’re extremely tall and lanky, and when you’re walking around you look very clumsy. And even though I know you’re less of a klutz than most, I constantly feel like I have to hold your hand when you’re walking so you can’t trip over every single thing that’s in your way.”

I let out a chuckle, because he’s probably right.

“But Makoto, the best thing about you are your eyes.”

My eyes? Those worthless things? How…

“They might not seem amazing to you, but I can tell you that if your eyes would’ve been different you wouldn’t have been you. They’re a vibrant green underneath that layer of dusty white. Your pupils are wonderfully white, and even when some people would call it crazy, I think it’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Haru’s hand wraps around my free hand tightly. “Makoto, believe me or not, but you are the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.”

I feel for more, but there isn’t. No more words are needed.

Tears well up in my eyes, streaming over my cheeks as I try to find the words to thank him. There are no words big enough to describe what he has just done for me, what it means to me that he told me such important thing in his own, wonderful, way.

No words.

His hand holds a smaller piece of paper, torn from a bigger letter. And in tiny little Braille letters he asks me the most wonderful question ever, “Shall I try to show you what the world looks like?”

I hold it in my hands, my fingers reading over the writing over and over again.

My body moves on its own, after that. I launch myself onto Haru; my hands around his next and my lips… they end up on his somehow.

And it’s wonderful, because there’s no facial hair to sting my upper lip and his lips are the softest I’ve ever felt. And when our lips part, carefully and slower than ever, I actually feel sadness taking me over. I start crying even harder than I was crying before I kissed him.

I chuckle through my tears, and Haru’s chest jolts a little too; he’s either laughing or crying, maybe both just like me. And when Haru’s fingers tousle my hair, I feel my cheeks getting hotter; so I do blush easily after all.

I reach out too, for the first time laying my hands on Haru’s cheeks. He’s all warm too and his cheek is all damp from crying too. I swallow before opening my mouth.

I want to tell him I love him, but I don’t even have to anymore.

Haru carefully presses his lips on my cheek, kisses me and after that he moves them softly like trying to tell me something. Like a whisper, I know he’s telling me he loves me too; I can’t be imagining things, because he kisses me one on my lips one more time.

I kiss him back, more intimate than before; now I know he doesn’t mind.

“Now, be my eyes,” I whisper with our lips still touching. “And show me what your world looks like.”

The End.