Archive of Our Own ^beta

foot

It’s been a while since the two of them have taken a bath together.

And after half an hour of soaking in pure silence, Haru decides he wants to tease Makoto, which he’s been doing for the last five minutes.

He fights down a smile as he trails his foot up Makoto’s leg, head mostly submerged in the bath’s water.

“Haru, stop,” Makoto whines, shifting back in the tub. Haru pays him no attention as he continues to move his leg up his thigh, his side, up his stomach before stopping at his chest. “Haru.”

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?”

Haru shrugs, then playfully flicks Makoto’s chin with his toe and watches as Makoto’s face fills with disbelief. He almost smiles, the corner of his lips lifts just so, before he sees the other grin. It’s in that moment that a familiar glint appears in Makoto’s eyes.

“Oi…” He hesitates. “Makoto, what are you—”

He almost falls back into the water from shock when Makoto grabs a hold of his foot, softly, but strong enough to prevent Haru from pulling back. But he still tries, locking his arms around the edge of the tub and tugging.

“Makoto, let go.” He yelps when Makoto starts playing with his toes, pinching them one at a time and rolling them between his fingers. “Makoto, that tickles.”

Which was the wrong thing to say, Haru soon realizes, as Makoto just does it again and again until Haru’s practically thrashing in the tub, face reddening by the second.

“You know, Haru… You’re beautiful all over.”

Haru almost chokes. “What?” he rasps out, and if his mind wasn’t cloudy before, it definitely is now as he watches Makoto cup his heel and slowly bring his foot up to his mouth. He looks up at Haru through his lashes and flashes him a small smile, softly touching his lips to the top in a kiss.

back

The stress that Makoto feels right now is unheard of. It seems to be rolling off of his body in waves, only to turn around and crash back into him, suffocating him.

This is what he’s wanted, right?

That is what he’s studied so hard to achieve, right?

Then why is it so hard to take a step forward? Why can’t he, already in uniform, already familiar with the rules and safety and techniques, open the door to the swimming club he’d intern at?

He shakily exhales, looks down at his hands, and flips through the manual he’s been given over and over again but refuses to actually read anything. Well, it isn’t actually a refusal, but more of an inability to.

He’d been so excited about this yesterday. But now he would gladly turn around and go home, climb into bed, pull the blankets over him, and lean into a pair of warm arms, arms that welcome him home always, reassure him always, make him feel safe. Arms that comfort him, arms that sometimes can’t even wrap around his whole body but try anyway, arms that—

—he feels wrapping around him now, snaking around his chest and clasping at the front.

“Haru…”

“Mm,” he hears, and it isn’t much of a response, but Makoto clearly hears the reassurance lacing his tone, the unspoken I’m here, it’s okay.

“What are you doing here?”

He feels Haru rest his head against his back, arms tightening around him as he presses closer. “I wanted to come and watch you on your first day.”

“Ah, well… If there is a first day,” he says with a sad smile. “I’m not sure I can do this, Haru.”

“Of course you can. You’ve studied hard. You’ve practiced. You get along with everyone, the adults will take to you, the kids will love you, just like in Iwatobi.”

“But this isn’t Iwatobi,” he reminds him, as if Haru needs to be reminded. Which he definitely doesn’t, not when he’s told Makoto a thousand times that he prefers Iwatobi’s ocean-scented air to Tokyo’s a loud and flashy lights.

A sigh.

“You know…”

A pause.

“If it’s Makoto, he can definitely make it happen.”

And then, so softly that he isn’t even sure it happened, he feels a pair of lips press against the muscles in his back.

forehead

“First place, Nanase Haruka, setting a new tournament record.”

The stadium breaks into a cheer. Everywhere, spectators are getting to their feet and clapping, some whistling, some shouting praise. On the sidelines, Japan’s team is high fiving everyone in sight, starting an early celebration for bringing home their third gold medal in the span of a year. In the pool, athletes are shaking hands, offering support, some of them happy to take home a medal at all and others upset at missing it entirely.

And in that same pool, Nanase Haruka is smiling, proud to bring home another win for his country, happy to be swimming, and…

....confused?

He furrows his brows as he looks up at the stands, at the seat Makoto always sits in no matter the date or the event. He had been there just a moment ago. Haru had looked at him right before the whistle had sounded and Makoto had looked back, waving and mouthing wishes of luck.

So where is he now?

“Nanase,” calls out a voice. Haru’s snapped out of his thoughts and looks up at one of his teammates, who extends his hand. “Good work out there.”

“Thanks,” Haru murmurs, letting his gaze linger on the outstretched hand for just a second longer before hauling himself out of the pool, politely declining. His teammate shrugs - Haru always pulls himself out for some reason - and heads back to the main group.

Haru watches him go then immediately turns back to the stands, an irritated look clouding over his face. Did he go to the bathroom or something?

He breathes a sigh and bends down to pick up his towel, quickly drying off his hair at the orders of his coach who’d said, “The awards ceremony is in half an hour, you need to get ready.”

Makoto always watches his ceremonies.

His bottom lip shapes into a pout.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d get restless that quickly.”

Haru almost drops the towel as he turns around, facing that voice that, even after so many years, still manages to ease him in every way.

Makoto...

“When I saw you hit the wall, I was so happy,” he explains, eyes lighting up. “I wanted to come down here and congratulate you, instead of trying to get your attention over everyone else.”

Haru closes his eyes and steps forward, placing his head atop Makoto’s shoulder. “Idiot,” he grumbles, swatting him half-heartedly. “I’d only pay attention to you.”

“I guess you’re right,” Makoto laughs, stepping back to look Haru in the eyes. Haru looks back, can’t begin to look away, because Makoto’s gaze is so full of love and — is he tearing up? — that it would be a crime, he’s sure, to do that.

“I’m proud of you, Haru-chan,” he says quietly, yet the words are roaring in his head more than any stadium full of thousands of people could, and now he’s sure he’s tearing up, too.

“Thanks,” he whispers, then closes his eyes to catch a tear because he was definitely not going to cry, not when cameras were probably pointed at him, but it’s perfect timing, anyway, because Makoto chooses that moment to cradle his face, brush back his bangs, and place a kiss atop his forehead.

fingertips

Haruka has always been told that he has nice hands.

Very good for drawing. Steady, his art teacher had said.

Very good for cooking. Delicate, his mother had said.

Very good on the piano. Nimble, his music teacher had said.

Good for sculpting! Really good! I’m impressed, Haru-chan! Hey, could you maybe make Iwatobi-chan a cape, too?

That had been Nagisa.

And of course, Makoto’s pants and moans on nights where it’s just the two of them had said more than enough on what he thought about Haru’s hands.

Haru, though, has never seen the appeal.

His hands weren’t too great. They were cold most of the time, pruny in the mornings, and the only thing positive thing he could see about them was his fingers. He wasn’t about to go and deny that. But they weren’t warm, they weren’t big and soft, they weren’t able to wrap around someone’s hand in comfort and…

Well, they weren’t Makoto’s hands.

Ever since they were little, Haru had taken comfort in them.

Ever since they were little, they had been there to pull him out of the pool, had been there to grab onto his shirt in the night (and somehow that comforted Haru, feeling Makoto next to him, maybe more than it comforted Makoto himself), and had been there to break their signature popsicle in half. They had been there to hold when they were younger, had been there to stubbornly wrap scarves around his neck in the middle of winter, and had been there to grab his wrist when he’d tried walking away during their first fight.

And now, as the two cuddle under the warmth of their blanket, Makoto’s hand is in Haru’s hand and nothing feels more perfect.

“What are you thinking about, Haru?”

Haru blinks out of his thoughts and turns his head, just a few inches from Makoto’s face. He knows that look, that I caught you look, and so he purses his lips and averts his gaze before Makoto realizes through the darkness that Haru’s cheeks had began to warm. “Nothing really.”

“Just tired?”

“Just tired.” He pauses. “And… I was thinking about you.”

Makoto laughs softly but doesn’t push, waiting for Haru to elaborate on his own.

“Well, your hands.”

“My hands?”

“Your fingers, actually.”

“My… fingers?”

Haru turns back around to face him. “I like the way they feel. Between mine.”

The smile that graces Makoto’s face is warmth itself. Haru allows a small one back before looking down at their clasped hands, absentmindedly circling his thumb on Makoto’s skin.

Makoto shifts closer to Haru, raising their joined hands to brush his thumb along his cheek. Haru takes that opportunity to bring Makoto’s hand closer to his mouth and softly places a kiss on the thumb.

“One,” he counts, watching a blush form on Makoto’s face.

“Two.” He tilts his head slightly to capture the tip of Makoto’s index finger between his lips, then places a kiss there, too

“Three.” This time, it seems as though Makoto moved his hand for him, and Haru gladly touches his lips to his middle finger.

“Four.” He places his lips at the bottom of Makoto’s ring finger and slowly trails them up, then back down, then back up, ending it with another kiss.

And then, just for the fun of it, his tongue darts out to swipe at Makoto’s pinky, and then he slowly sucks Makoto’s finger into his mouth, up until the first knuckle, and keeps it there.

Makoto’s at a loss for words and Haru smiles around his finger, swirling his tongue around it one more time before slowly pulling it out with a kiss and a pop. “Five.”

“You’re really going to kill me one day, Haru,” Makoto laughs breathlessly.

“It’s fine,” Haru mumbles, placing one more kiss on all the fingers, then taking Makoto’s other free hand in his own. He squeezes them, holds onto them just a little tighter, and feels warm, safe, and absolutely home.

stomach

“Haru, you wasted all the hot water.” Makoto steps out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, another working its way through his wet hair. “I had to get out as fast as I could.”

Haru, currently lounging on the bed, tears his eyes away from the magazine he’s holding to give Makoto a once-over. “I know. I heard you scream.”

“And you didn’t do anything?” he pouts.

“I figured it was either the water or you’d gotten shampoo in your eyes.”

“Well, what if it was that a murderer had climbed in through the window?”

“Not possible.”

“It is! Like that one time we were stuck in the amusement park, do you remember that?” Makoto challenges.

Haru arches a brow. “You mean the ‘murderer’ that turned out to be Rin?”

“Ah, well…”

Haru turns his attention back to the magazine. He’d won. Makoto sighs in defeat. “What are you reading anyway?”

“Waterfalls of the World,” he answers, flipping a page.

Makoto smiles. “Should’ve guessed.”

Haru hums in agreement. “We should go to one of these. There’s one in Higashikawa.”

“Maybe we can go next month, when we both have some free time,” Makoto suggests, throwing the towel he’d been using on a nearby chair. Haru doesn’t seem too pleased with the idea of waiting an entire month but gives a stiff nod anyway.

He then puts the magazine down to raise his arms above his head and stretch. His shirt hikes up to show his pale midriff, to bring his hipbones into view, and he shifts on the bed to better face Makoto. “The best one wasn’t in there, though.”

“Hm?” Makoto’s eyes flicker back up to Haru’s.

“The waterfalls. The best one was the one I saw while hiking.” His eyes glaze over as he thinks about it.

“Oh, your first love,” Makoto remembers, walking over to the bed. He sets himself on top of Haru’s legs, wrapping his arms around his waist and setting his chin down on his stomach. Haru blinks down at him. “I wish I could’ve seen it.”

Haru shakes his head. “For my eyes only.”

“Haru, I’m sure other people have seen it too.”

“My eyes only.”

Makoto sighs in defeat. Again. “I can’t believe you’re making me jealous of a waterfall…” he mumbles, pressing his face against Haru’s stomach.

He feels a hand begin to card through his hair. “You have me now, don’t you?”

“I do.” He looks back up, at Haru’s soft smile, which quickly disappears when he says, “Do you know who my first love was?”

Haru stares him down. “No,” he finally says, tone hard. “Who was it?”

Makoto doesn’t like how quickly the atmosphere changes. “Well maybe that’s not important right now, we should play that new video—”

“Who?”

“Haru, it’s embarrassing!”

“Makoto.” He pauses, as if mustering up all his energy to say the next words. “Was it… Kisumi?”

“...What?” Makoto blinks. “Why would it be Kisumi?”

Haru’s body relaxes with those words but he’s still frowning, frowning so hard that his forehead is plastered with wrinkles. Makoto clearly isn’t going to get any sleep tonight unless he says something.

At least he finds it cute.

“Okay, I’ll tell you,” Makoto gives in. “It’s someone I met before Kisumi.” He can see the gears in Haru’s head turning. “Someone who loves swimming.” He knows that Haru’s probably thinking about their former Iwatobi members now. “Someone who probably isn’t scared of anything.” He smiles up at him. “And someone who I still love to this day.”

At this point, he knows that Haru’s already figured out, is just waiting for him to say it.

“It’s Ha—”

He places a kiss on his lower stomach.

“—ru—”

He places a kiss on his belly button.

“—chan.”

He places a kiss right in the center of his stomach, then looks up at Haru, whose face is dusted pink.

“Idiot,” Haru grumbles. “That tickled.”

And then Makoto connects his lips to his stomach once more and blows a raspberry on it.

“M-Makoto!”

chest

It’s amazing, really.

Of all the countries in the world, it has to be Japan. Of all the cities in Japan, it has to be Tokyo. Of all the places in Tokyo, it has to be a restaurant. And of all the restaurants in Japan, it has to be the one that he and Makoto go to every Saturday night.

That is the place that Shigino Kisumi has shown up at.

And now Haru is trying, unsuccessfully, to get Makoto to remember that he has a bowl of untouched food in front of him.

“And then I dribbled it between their legs and they got so confused they fell on the floor! Can you believe it, Makoto?”

“Wow, that’s really amazing, Kisumi…”

“Right? That’s when I started making my way to the other side of the court and my teammates were yelling Hey, Shigino, pass the ball! and normally I would, you know I’m a team player, but the basket was right there. I had a clear shot. You understand, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“And then I threw it…” Kisumi lets out a content sigh, resting his head against his palm. “It was beautiful, Makoto, it touched nothing but the net.”

Makoto’s eyes are wide in amazement. “Wow, so you guys won nationals?”

“Yup! It was really something, but I’m sure you know how it feels,” he laughs, knocking his shoulder into Makoto. “We actually went to this place afterwards to eat. Cool, right? Oh, by the way, have you tried this dish right here? It’s amazing, I couldn’t stop thinking about it! Here, say ah~”

“Ah, I don’t think that’s necessary…”

“Still embarrassed about this, huh? Haru let me do it. Speaking of which, he’s been so quiet.” The next thing Haru feels is a hand slam down on his back. “Haru! You’re not happy to see me?”

No, he wants to say, but he restrains himself, instead choosing to angrily stuff his mouth with noodles.

“How mean,” he whines, throwing an arm around him. Haru grits his teeth and looks at Makoto, who smiles at him in apology. “How did we go from being best friends to this?”

“We were never best friends.”

“Ah, right. That’s Makoto.” He then leans closer to Haru, winks, and whispers, “Though I guess that’s changed now, huh? You two are so obvious.”

Haru almost chokes on his noodles. “What are you talking about?”

“Can’t hide it from me. I knew from the time we first met that it was and would always be Haruka and Makoto.” He grins and leans back. “I’m not saying I’m a genius or anything but I knew you two would end up here together. Well, maybe I am a bit of a genius.”

“Here, as in Tokyo?” Makoto asks, tilting his head to the side in confusion. “How would you know that?”

“I think everyone knew but you guys,” Kisumi says. “It’s hard to imagine you two apart, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Well, I guess if you think about it that way...” Makoto agrees.

Haru turns to look at him. He’s never really thought about it like that before. But maybe…

“Ah man, Haru’s out of it again.” A hand comes down to wave in front of his face. “Am I really that boring?”

This time he doesn’t hold himself back. “Yes.”

“Brutal,” Kisumi sighs, then checks his watch. “Well I have to go, anyway. Hayato’s got a tournament today, can you believe it? Well, not a tournament, but he’s pretty excited about it.”

“Tell him I’ll come and watch him next time,” Makoto promises. Haru smiles at that, shifting closer to Makoto.

“I will. He really misses you,” Kisumi says, grabbing his jacket off the chair. He throws them one more look then shakes his head. “Honestly, you two are still the same as ever. Connected at the heart~”

And then he turns, sprinting out the doors.

Makoto laughs. “Connected at the heart? So that’s what we are, huh?”

“Mhm.” Haru doesn’t feel like he needs to mention that Kisumi had said those same words in middle school. And was it always this hot in here? He can feel his face burning.

“Kisumi’s not a bad person, you know.”

Haru looks up at Makoto. “I know. He’s just… he touches me too much. And you.”

“It’s how he shows his affection,” Makoto says, then picks up his chopsticks and brings his noodles to his mouth. He chews them slowly then looks back at Haru with a frown. “They’re cold.”

“Your fault,” Haru shrugs.

“I was so caught up in his story that I didn’t even realize,” he sighs, throwing his head back. “And I was so hungry, too.”

“Do you want to order another one?”

Makoto shakes his head. “I shouldn’t waste more money than I need to.”

“Then, I’ll cook you something when we get back,” he suggests, putting his head on Makoto’s chest. “We have enough ingredients to make some kind of soup.”

Makoto throws the idea around in his head. “I appreciate it, Haru, but you really don’t need to.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Makoto.”

“Right, right. Sorry.” He smiles down at Haru. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he sighs, then tilts his head just so, placing a kiss on Makoto’s chest as his way of saying My Makoto. He always feels like he has to do this when they see Kisumi.

Makoto understands.

“Let’s go home then.”

cheek

“Haru, I’m not getting anything,” Makoto sighs dejectedly, putting his net down at the goldfish catching booth.

“Haru, how did you get that many?” Makoto asks at the balloon-hooking booth, Haru’s hook having five and his own having zero.

“Haru, my accuracy is so bad…” Makoto sets down his gun, having only shot down three of the ten bottles.

Haru collects his third prize, a small squid plush, and turns to Makoto. “Do you think Ran and Ren would like these?”

“They like anything you give them,” he sighs, holding out his hands as Haru dumps his winnings into them.

“Then give these to them. You can keep the extra.” Haru turns around and scans the area, eyes lighting up when he finds a game he hasn’t tried yet. “Come on.”

Makoto reluctantly follows after him. It’s a ball-throwing game, he sees, which sounds simple enough. If Haru can clear the other games in a breeze, then he’s sure to finish this one no problem.

Except he doesn’t.

Haru hurls ball after ball at the small opening in front of him, each bouncing off the wall and rolling on the ground. He can hear Haru give off small puffs of annoyance, and he’s getting more irritated, which only makes his accuracy worse.

“You only got one of five. You can get a small keychain, I guess,” the booth operator tells him, pointing behind him. “They’re in the back.”

Haru walks off without another word, mumbling something under his breath as he does. The operator then turns to Makoto. “Want to give it a go?”

“Me? I’m not that good at—”

“Wow, that’s quite a load you’ve got there,” he praises, nodding at the three squids in Makoto’s arms. “I’m impressed.”

“These aren’t m—”

“One try won’t hurt you.” He sets down five balls in front of Makoto. “Just gotta get them through that hole; a child could do it.”

That’s even worse, but he was never one to say no, so he accepts, setting down the prizes on the table next to him and gathering two balls in his hands. Haru comes back in that moment, tightly clutching something, and looks at Makoto expectantly.

Makoto takes a deep breath and aims at the hole, winding his arm back and then launching it forward. To his surprise, it goes right through.

The operator whistles. “That’s some strength you’ve got there.”

Even Haru looks surprised.

And it may only be one shot, but Makoto feels more confident than ever as he throws the next ball, then the next, and the one after that, all of them shooting straight through. With a final push, he sinks the final one in and steps back, a smile lighting up his face.

“You get one of the grand prizes. There’s a big pile of them in the back.”

Makoto takes Haru’s hand into his and walks to where he’s told. There’s a giant squid - not surprising - a chicken, some sort of fish, a crab, and…

He bends down and picks up a giant dolphin, turning towards Haru and extending his hand. Haru looks down at it, then back up at Makoto.

“Take it, Haru,” Makoto explains.

“Ah…” Haru turns to face the side. “It’s yours. You won it, you keep it.”

“It’s mine, but I’m giving it to you.” He grabs Haru’s arms and pulls him closer, placing the dolphin on top of his head. It ruffles his hair a bit and Haru frowns. “Congratulations.”

Haru reaches up and grabs a fin, pulling it down. He looks at it - it’s almost bigger than him - and Makoto watches a smile curve onto his lips. His blue eyes soften and he holds the plush closer to his body. “Thank you.”

And Makoto grins, absolutely beams. Haru looks so happy, so relaxed, and he’s not sure what the festival lights are doing but they’re doing something, lighting up Haru’s face, making him look absolutely beautiful.

He leans forward then, placing his hand on the back of Haru’s head and planting a big kiss on his cheek. Haru’s eyes widen in surprise and his mouth falls open slightly.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Makoto laughs.

Haru rolls his eyes playfully, then takes Makoto’s hand into his and pulls him towards their balcony.

thigh

Makoto and Haruka’s new apartment is full of nothing but soft pants and moans. It doesn’t even have furniture yet - all of that is still to be delivered - and yet they’re on the floor, Haru on top of Makoto, letting their hands roam all over each other.

“Haru,” Makoto breathes, moan breaking into a small yelp as Haru grinds down. He feels his shirt lift and fingers begin to run along his muscles. “Haru, let me—”

“No touching,” Haru interrupts, smacking Makoto’s hand away. Makoto’s oncoming argument is cut short when Haru rolls his hips again, feeling especially bold now that they have their own place, watching Makoto’s face fall apart.

“Not fair,” Makoto pants.

“Life isn’t fair.”

Haru scoots further down Makoto’s body and dips his head, capturing his zipper between his teeth. He looks up at Makoto through his lashes and slowly drags them down, then grabs the tops of his jeans with his hands and pulls them to his knees.

Makoto squirms beneath him, letting out a strangled noise when Haru pulls down his boxers, too. Haru licks a stripe just above his hipbones and then trails his lips down, kissing every inch of Makoto’s thigh that he can, slowly and elaborately.

“Haru…”

“Stop thinking too much,” he says, palming Makoto’s erection.

He yelps, hips jutting off the floor. “I was just going to suggest that we move to the bed.”

“I’ll think about it.” Haru continues to nip and suck at Makoto’s upper legs, continuously bringing his lips closer to where Makoto wants them most before pulling away.

“Haru, please,” Makoto moans. Haru smiles against Makoto’s skin, replying with a hard suck at the top of his thigh.

And then Makoto shifts, and all of a sudden Haru’s on his back, eyes wide, Makoto hovering over him. His pupils are completely blown, muscles tense as he carries his weight on his arms.

“Okay,” Haru squeaks. “Now we can move to the bed.”

hair

“Gate 1, boarding. Rows 1-5.”

Haru looks down at his ticket. Row 11. Good, he thinks, because Makoto isn’t back yet, and he isn’t about to get on the plane without him. He pulls his luggage closer to his feet and leans back in the chair, throwing his head back.

Italy, huh?

It was his fifth tournament outside of Japan and the biggest one yet. If he could secure a medal here, he was in for the Olympics, or so his coach had told him.

But this time, it’d be different, and the thought gnaws at Haru’s insides.

“Haru.” He looks up at Makoto, who’s extending a bottle of water. “Here you go. You wouldn’t believe how long the lines were…”

“It’s fine.” He takes the bottle and loosens the cap, only managing to take a sip of water before his stomach churns again. With a sigh, he closes it and sets it beside him.

“Haru?” Makoto takes a seat. “Are you okay?”

He shrugs. “Just nervous.”

“You barely drank anything,” Makoto frowns, gently placing his hand on Haru’s shoulder.

“They’re boarding now,” Haru says, looking away. As if on cue, the same voice as earlier rings out:

“Gate 1, boarding. Rows 6-10.”

Makoto looks around at the people getting out of their seats. “Which row are you, Haru?”

“11.”

“Ah, so you’re next then.” The thought makes Haru’s stomach churn again and this time he can’t hide his face because Makoto makes sure to look at it. “Haru?”

“I’m fine.” But his voice cracks and Makoto notices.

He doesn’t push it, though, instead thinking of a topic to get Haru’s mind off of whatever was bothering him. “You know, after you leave, I have the rest of the day off.”

There it is.

Haru lets out a shuddering breath.

Because, as often as he’s done this already, as much as he’s learned regarding how to take care of himself in other countries, this time, Makoto wouldn’t be coming with him.

“Haru?”

“Hm?” 

“Why are you crying?”

Haru blinks. “Crying?” he murmurs, raising a hand to his cheeks, wet with tears. “Oh.”

Makoto looks heartbroken. “Do you not want to go?”

“It’s not that…”

“Are you that nervous about the tournament?”

“...No.”

“Then tell me,” Makoto pleads softly, wiping Haru’s eyes with his thumbs.

“You’re not coming with me this time,” he murmurs. “You always come with me.”

“Oh, Haru,” Makoto sighs. “You know I would but finals are coming up and I’d get no studying done.” He swipes a thumb across Haru’s cheek and encourages Haru to look at him. “But I’ll call you every day.”

Haru nods, mad at himself for even bringing it up. He doesn’t want Makoto to feel guilty for worrying about his exams of all things. “I know.”

“Gate 1, boarding. Rows 11-15.”

Haru doesn’t get up right away, stays seated for another thirty seconds, but when the line heading into the plane gets shorter and shorter he slowly rises to his feet. Makoto hands him his luggage and walks with him to the line.

Haru sets it down beside his feet and turns around. Makoto immediately takes his hands and gives them a squeeze. “Good luck, Haru-chan.”

“Mhm.” Haru’s throat starts to constrict.

“I’ll be swimming with you, okay?”

His breath hitches and he gives a small nod, holding onto Makoto’s hands even tighter.

“Save me a seat.”

Haru grits his teeth and, when he finds his vision becoming blurry, quickly tries to blink through his tears. “Section 3.”

“Row 5.”

“Seat 127,” Haru finishes, taking in Makoto’s smile.

“And I’ll be waiting here for you when you get back home,” he promises, then pulls Haru closer, who fists his shirt in his hands, and places a soft kiss on top of his hair.

ear

Haru sits across the table from Makoto, chin in hands, eyes drooping, watching the other chew on the end of his pencil and push up the glasses continuously sliding down his nose. A strand of hair falls over his eyes and he lets out a puff of air to move it, only for it to drop right back.

Makoto looks up and frowns. “Haru, are you tired? You should go to bed.”

“I’m not going until you go.”

And Haru had made that decision three days ago for two reasons:

One, he had felt bad, going to sleep while Makoto was up studying all night. And he never got a good night’s rest, anyway. It was much harder than he thought it’d be, sleeping for eight hours straight without his body in Makoto’s arms.

Two, on a night where Makoto’d felt especially tired, he had laughed and said “Maybe I should duct tape my eyes open” and Haru wasn’t sure if he’d been joking.

“Whatever you say,” Makoto sighs in defeat, barely sparing Haru another second’s glance before looking back down at his textbook. “Since you’re here, can you quiz me?”

“Sure.” Haru reaches across the table and slides the book towards him. “What on?”

“Chapter 13. That’s what the next exam’s on,” Makoto answers, stretching his arms over his head. His glasses fall off his face with the action and he blinks owlishly at them.

“We’ve gone over that chapter at least ten times.” Haru raises a brow. “You know everything from it.” When Makoto opens his mouth to protest, Haru stresses, “Everything.”

“Not, everything,” Makoto debates.

“When’s your exam?”

“In a week.”

Haru grunts. “Your exam’s in a week and you’ve already memorized the entire thing.”

Makoto pouts. “Have not.”

“Define physical therapy.”

“The treatment of disease, injury, or deformity by physical methods such as—”

Haru slams the textbook shut, effectively stopping Makoto in his tracks. “That’s word-for-word what’s written in here.”

“...Okay, well I see your point but—”

“Bed. Now.” Haru gets to his feet and walks behind Makoto, placing his hands underneath his arms and pulling. Makoto doesn’t budge and he gets more and more frustrated with every passing second, his face shading red with effort. “Come on, get up.” 

Makoto laughs. “I think that Haru-chan should carry me.”

That stops Haru’s attempts for a solid second - Is he serious? - before pulling harder than before. “Well I think that Haru-chan should stop making you chocolate cake.”

Makoto’s mouth drops in false shock and he cranes his head back to look at Haru. “Did you just call yourself Haru-chan? Does that give me permission to use it, then?”

Haru pouts. “I’ll never talk to you again if you do.”

Makoto smiles, raising his hand to swipe his thumb across Haru’s bottom lip. “You’re cute when you do that.”

Which makes Haru pout even harder, lip jutting out in full force. Makoto breathes out another laugh and takes his hand, guiding him to his front, circling his arms around his waist and pulling him down onto his lap. “And you wouldn’t stop making me chocolate cake, would you?”

Haru purses his lips. It’s time like these when he hates how easy it is to give into Makoto, because he can’t for a second stand seeing him upset. He gives one more futile attempt to wrestle out of his grasp (it doesn’t work) then sighs, crossing his arms as an answer.

Makoto hums. “I’m thankful that you worry about me, you know.”

“Of course I worry about you,” Haru frowns. He taps their foreheads together. “All of this,” he begins, carding his fingers through his hair, “is going to turn gray.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t want a gray-haired Makoto.”

“So you wouldn’t love me if I had gray hair?”

“Stop twisting my words,” he scowls. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Makoto assures with a smile. “And I know I study a little too much,” Haru arches a brow, “okay, a lot more than necessary, but I need to work just as hard as you, don’t I?”

Haru snorts. It catches Makoto off guard. “As me? What I’m doing is child’s play compared to you, Makoto.” He removes his hands from his hair to grab at his cheeks instead, pinching them and stretching them outwards. “I’m just saying that you need to relax more.”

“Ah geth ah ca rerath a pi mo.” Haru releases Makoto’s cheeks. He tries again, but not before rubbing at them. “I guess I can relax a bit more.”

Haru pinches his cheeks again.

“Okath, okath!”

He releases them.

“I will relax a bit more.” He waits for confirmation - Haru nods in approval - then says, “We could go somewhere tomorrow night, if you want.”

“Sure. And then, after your exam, I guess I could…” He clears his throat and fights down the red sure to paint his cheeks. “...I guess… I could… take you out on a proper date.”

Makoto blinks at Haru and stays quiet for a second too long because then Haru’s punching him in the arm, irritated at his lack of response. Makoto smiles sheepishly in apology, then breaks out into a radiant grin. “I can’t wait, Haru-chan.”

Haru’s sure his eye twitches, but Makoto looks like a kid on Christmas morning, so he doesn’t have the heart to give him the silent treatment just yet. “Then let’s go to bed,” he says, circling his arms around Makoto’s neck and putting his mouth close to his ear so that his breath ghosts over it. “Mako-chan.”

Makoto’s face warms up, and Haru knows this because he presses a kiss to the lobe of his ear, finds it adorable when Makoto shivers a little - probably tickles - and lets his lips linger there, eyes opening towards the end. When he pulls back, eyes vibrant with playfulness, lips pulled up in a smirk, Makoto chokes out, “So. Bed.”

“Bed.”

“Let’s go.”

“Carry me there.” Haru tucks his head into the crook of Makoto’s neck and inhales, not leaving room for an argument, not that Makoto would argue, because in the next second he feels arms wrap around the tops of his legs and hoist him up.

Haru’s sure he’s fallen asleep before he even hits the bed.

hand

It’s when Haru starts to feels dizzy that he realizes he’s probably stayed in the bathtub longer than any one person should.

Annoying, he thinks with a heavy sigh, then calls out to Makoto to pull him out because the last thing he needs is to try and get out himself, trip and fall, and then listen to Makoto fumble over his own words upon finding him naked on the floor, despite them getting very comfortable about it before.

Multiple times.

Including yesterday.

Haru waits for the sound of footsteps but nothing comes. He calls out again, louder this time, then counts to ten in his head. Still nothing.

He deliberates just sitting in the bath until Makoto comes to find him. It’s tempting, and he almost sinks his head back under the water, but again, he doesn’t need his ass on display, so he grasps the edge of the tub and pulls himself up, swaying a little when he gets to his feet.

Somehow he manages to dry himself off, slip on Makoto’s shirt, and make his way down the stairs with a towel on his head. It’s not until he’s on the last step that he hears Makoto’s voice, and it’s not until he peeks around the corner that he realizes why Makoto hadn’t heard him.

There, in the middle of the living room, Makoto’s dancing (at least Haru thinks he is) and belting out lyrics to a song he’s never heard before.

Cute, Haru thinks, and Makoto certainly seems to be happy. He’s always been a good singer but now it seems like he’s not even trying to keep a tune.

Haru holds in his laughter and walks further into the room, stopping just feet away from him, watching. But he makes some kind of noise because then Makoto’s turning around, eyes widening and song coming to a stop.

“Haru…”

“Makoto.”

“How long were you standing there?”

“A minute or so.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Whatever embarrassment had laced Makoto’s features goes away in an instant as he holds out his hand and asks, “Would you like to join me?”

Haru shakes his head. “I’m goo— Oi, Makoto!”

The towel falls of his head as he’s pulled into Makoto’s arms. He hopes his expression shows nothing more than annoyance as he looks up, eyes narrowed, at the face of a man who seems quite pleased with himself. 

And then he’s spinning. He hears Makoto start up the song again, as carefree as before, which is probably why he’s not paying attention to his pleas of “Put me down!” and “Makoto!”

Haru gives in and holds onto the other for dear life as he’s moved across the room, warm arms secured around his waist. Then an arm moves and he feels Makoto’s hand slide into his, feel his arm being pulled over Makoto’s shoulder, and then he’s standing on Makoto’s feet as they spin. He chances a look up and almost loses his breath because Makoto looks so happy and it’s doing something to his heart, is sure it is because he feels his chest tighten at the sheer joy in Makoto’s eyes. And Makoto’s looking at no one, nothing, but him, lyrics coming out of a smile that will definitely make his cheeks hurt later.

They hold gazes for a second more. Then Haru’s burying his face in Makoto’s shirt and his body starts shaking. Before Makoto can ask what’s wrong, the most beautiful laugh rings through his ears and he almost stops, but then Haru’s pulling back with a smile on his lips, eyes saying Keep going.

And so Makoto does, and he’s not sure how long he spins them around, because how could he keep track of time when Haru looks that happy?

When he finally comes to a stop, Haru takes a deep breath before letting go.

Makoto smiles. “Did you have fun?”

“Mm,” he hums in agreement, and that’s all the answer he’s going to get. But that’s fine.

Makoto then takes Haru’s hand and dips his body. Haru looks at him in confusion. “Thank you for dancing with me,” Makoto says, then brings Haru’s hand to his lips and places a kiss on the back.

Haru stutters, face turning red. He can’t settle on any words so he turns instead, refusing to look Makoto in the eyes.

“I love you, Haru.”

“...I love you, too,” Haru mumbles, then lets himself be pulled in and spun around again.

nose

“Hm.”

“Well.”

“This is…”

“Yeah.”

Makoto and Haruka stand above an igloo they’ve just finished. Makoto’s eyes are scrunched up in thought. Haru’s bottom lip is worried at with his teeth.

“I don’t think I’m going to fit,” is Makoto’s conclusion after another minute of deliberation. Haru nods in agreement, frowning. “But I think you can.”

Haru sighs, wrapping his scarf more tightly around his mouth when a puff of white escapes him. “We shouldn’t have made it exactly like how we did when we were kids.”

Then he gets to his knees and crawls through the opening. It’s a tight fit but he manages to get inside, where he then sits, knees to his chest, alone.

He doesn’t like this.

Makoto slides to the ground and peeks in. “How is it?”

“Boring.”

“I’m sorry.” Makoto rubs at his cheek. “I wish I could join you.”

“Then join me.”

“I can’t fit!”

“I’ll pull you in. It’ll work.” Haru extends his hands through the opening and waits for Makoto to take them. Makoto stares at him, dumbfounded. “Come on,” Haru huffs impatiently.

“This is so embarrassing,” Makoto whines. When Haru thrusts his arms in his direction again, he gets down on his stomach and takes his hands. “Okay, but go slow, and if it doesn’t work then we’ll just stop.”

Haru says nothing. A determined glint flashes in his eyes.

Makoto’s worried.

“Haru, maybe we sh-- HARU OH MY GOD.”

He feels like Haru’s trying to rip his arms from his body with every pull.

“Okay, that’s enough, it’s not— HARU MY HEAD JUST HIT THE IGLOO.”

“See? I’m too big. It’s okay though, I don’t— HARU MY PANTS ARE SLIDING DOWN.”

“Maybe we should just— HAFOO PLETH STOB.”

And that’s when Haru does stop, staring at Makoto, who is now face down in the snow.

“It’s your shoulders. They’re too wide.”

Makoto slowly raises his head and looks Haru in the eyes. He says nothing.

“Maybe if I pulled a little harder…”

“Please no!” Makoto panics, shaking his body violently as he tries to worm his way out of the igloo. But he’s not moving at all, and his eyes widen in realization. “I’m stuck.”

Haru frowns. “That’s not good.”

Makoto groans.

“How am I supposed to get out then?”

“Haru!”

He shrugs and gets onto his stomach, just like Makoto, squeezing his body through the opening to meet him halfway. Then he places his chin on his crossed arms and sighs.

Makoto blinks. “What are you doing?”

“Laying down with you.” He thinks it’s obvious.

In spite of all that’s happening, Makoto still laughs. “Well I see that, but shouldn’t we be trying to get out of here first?”

Haru shrugs. “I’m not in a rush.”

“But it’s cold…”

“Makoto,” Haru deadpans. “We were going to sit in here anyway.”

He thinks it over. “I guess you’re right,” Makoto finally says, then tries to wiggle his way out once more. He’s still not budging and so he resigns to placing his head on top of his arms.

“Now let’s talk.”

“Talk?” Makoto asks. He smiles. “Sure, what about?”

“Anything,” Haru mumbles. “I just want to talk.”

Makoto scrunches his eyes in thought again. Haru thinks it’s cute. “Well I guess we could just talk about the first thing we think of…”

Haru nods. He loves it when he can get into Makoto’s head. “What are you thinking of?”

“Right now, I’m thinking… that’s it’s weird.”

Haru looks at him questioningly. “Weird?”

“Mhm.” Makoto’s eyes soften. “How I feel completely relaxed now just because you’re right next to me.”

Haru suddenly knows how they’re going to get out of here.

The sheer amount of heat radiating off his face should be able to melt the entire thing.

It takes him a minute to recover. Makoto waits anyway. “How is that weird?” he finally asks, choosing his words carefully. “Hasn’t it always been like that?”

“Mm,” Makoto muses. “You’re right. Ever since we were little, I’ve always felt better with Haru-chan at my side.”

“Then don’t say such embarrassing things,” he scolds, trying to act indifferent.

It’s not working.

Makoto laughs. “Sorry, sorry.”

A minute, and then:

“...But me too.” Haru clears his throat. “It’s like that. For me. I feel more calm. When I’m with you, I mean.” He chances a look at Makoto, whose smile is so radiant it steals his breath.

“I’m glad,” Makoto beams.

Then a small dot of snow drops onto the brunet’s nose. He crosses his eyes trying to look at it and sniffs, the flakes tickling him. 

Haru watches Makoto struggle with trying to shake it off. There’s limited head space so he can’t tilt and have it slide off, though Makoto does try. He eventually resorts to wrinkling his nose.

He’s like a child, Haru thinks. And when Makoto’s nose starts to turn pink, he raises his hand and swipes the flakes off for him. Makoto opens his mouth to thank him but then Haru’s placing his hand on his cheek and leaving a soft kiss at the tip of his nose.

neck

Makoto certainly wasn’t expecting Haru to give him this much trouble over getting out of bed and meeting up with Rin, who’d be at the airport in a little over an hour.

And he definitely wasn’t expecting Haru to agree to get up under a certain condition.

“If we need to get ready, then… you dress me.”

Now, Makoto stands above Haru (who’s still on the bed), and he should be wondering if Haru’s actually serious. But he’s worried about leaving Rin stranded at the airport, so now his thoughts revolve around trying to muster up the fastest way to put Haru’s pants on.

“Okay, well,” Makoto fumbles, grabbing a discarded pair of jeans from the floor, “I need you to lift your hips for me.”

“I’m too tired.”

He figures it isn’t going to be this easy.

With a grunt, he rolls the jeans up Haru’s legs as far as they’ll go, then places an arm under his body and lifts until Haru’s waist is off the bed. Haru watches as he uses one hand to pull the clothing over his butt then pull away, his body landing back on the mattress with a small bounce. Makoto quickly zips and buttons up his jeans, then grabs a shirt, also from the floor.

“Are you going to sit up?” Makoto asks, and when Haru blinks up at him, he sighs in defeat. “Then raise your arms.”

“Too tired.”

“How can you be this tired?”

Haru turns his head. “Not my fault you were too excited last night.”

Okay, Makoto thinks, cheeks flaring. I’m not going to ask any more questions.

He quickly pulls the shirt over Haru’s head and extends his arms for him, fighting to fit them through the holes. When he manages to get them in, he grabs the bottom of the shirt and pulls, trying to get it down Haru’s body, but it doesn’t budge.

“Haru, could you turn your head? It’s sort of bundled behind your neck.” Haru gives no answer. “Well, I guess I could try and…” Makoto places his hand on the side of Haru’s head and nudges it a little. It doesn’t move - is Haru laughing at him? - but he doesn’t want to shove Haru’s head to the side and risk hurting him.

He tries lifting Haru’s head up but apparently Haru’s turned this into a game because he forcefully keeps it on the pillow, refusing to lift it.

“Having fun, Haru?” Makoto asks, plopping down on the bed.

“Maybe,” is Haru’s reply. 

Makoto shakes his head and smiles. “You’re really something.”

“We have thirty minutes left.”

Makoto’s panicking again. “Well I can’t…” He tries to nudge his head again, “Just…” He tries to lift his head again, “Crack your neck trying to… Oh.”

Haru arches a brow. “Oh?”

“I’ve got an idea.”

Haru isn’t fond of this idea and he doesn’t even know what it is yet. “Out with it.”

Makoto bends down until his face is directly in front of Haru’s, whose breath hitches as a result. “Pretty please?” he asks, voice dropping to a low whisper.

Haru tries to bury himself in the mattress. “Your idea is to beg?”

“Well…”

“How persuasive.”

“Haru-chan.”

“I told you not to— Oh,” Haru breathes. Makoto’s lips are trailing down his neck now and he squirms underneath him. “Makoto…”

“Please?”

Haru’s voice hardens in an attempt to be stubborn. “No.”

But it comes out sounding absolutely destroyed as Makoto starts to nibble across his throat, stopping at the other end of his neck. Haru freezes, waiting, then lets out a yelp as Makoto takes his skin between his teeth and bites down. It’s just for a second, and then he’s pulling away and running his tongue over the mark, sealing it off with a kiss.

Haru doesn’t realize he’s moved his head until he feels the shirt being pulled down his body. He wordlessly looks up at Makoto with soft pants.

Makoto looks pleased with himself.

“What’s Rin going to say when he sees this?” Haru asks, referring to the bite on his neck.

Makoto just laughs and scoops Haru into his arms, heading out the door.

shoulder

Sunlight works its way through the blinds of their bedroom, hitting Haru’s eyes. He squeezes them shut tighter, as if that’ll make his world darker for just a bit longer.

It doesn’t.

With a small groan, he turns his head away from the window and blinks his eyes open, immediately met with green.

“Good morning, Haru.”

Oh, right.

Makoto had slept at his place. 

That definitely explains the arms around his waist.

And now he’s even more disappointed about waking up because this has probably been the best night of sleep he’s gotten in a while, with warmth surrounding him from every angle and comfort enveloping him from every direction.

“G’morning,” he sleepily replies, tucking his head into Makoto’s chest. He feels fingers begin to work their way through his hair. “What time is it?”

“7:30.”

Haru frowns. “That’s too early.”

“I know.”

“Then why are we even awake?”

Makoto laughs softly. “You can go back to sleep if you want.”

Haru ponders this. He would, but it’s odd that Makoto’s up before him. Usually he sleeps in on the weekends and wakes up to Haru’s cooking. “Why are you awake?”

“Eh? Me? Well I…” He hums. “I don’t know actually.”

Haru’s not satisfied with his answer but chooses to let it go.

“Since I’m up, though, I’ll go take a bath,” Makoto suggests, moving to throw the blankets off of him.

Haru’s hand shoots out and grabs him by the wrist, moving his arm back around him. He tucks it underneath him and slides their bodies closer together for emphasis. “Stay.”

Makoto blinks, then properly circles his arm around Haru and rests his chin on his head. “Okay.”

Happy with his decision. Haru begins to trace patterns on Makoto’s skin, run his fingers along his back, and take his time memorizing every dip and curve. He nuzzles his head further into Makoto’s neck and lazily draws circles on his arm, feelings Makoto’s muscles move beneath him as he pulls him even closer.

“You know what I noticed?”

Haru doesn’t stop. “Hm?”

“You’re very affectionate when you’re tired.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” Makoto smiles. “It’s nice.”

Haru looks up at Makoto and smiles back. He hadn’t noticed, but he can see it now, why it would be that way. It’s hard not to be affectionate when you wake up in the arms of someone you love, when their hair is tousled just so and it’s completely dorky but utterly cute. When their eyes are still foggy from sleep, when their limbs are loose, when the day has barely started but it still starts with just the two of them.

Yeah, he can definitely see it.

He ducks his head and starts to pepper kisses along the length of Makoto’s shoulders, letting each one linger as the warmth encompasses his lips.

“Then I’ll keep doing it, if that’s what Makoto wants.”

lips

“Haru.”

“Haru.”

“Ha-ru-ka.”

Haru blinks awake. Makoto’s sitting on the edge of the bed, a spatula in his hands. “It’s time to get up.”

“Are you… are you cooking?”

Makoto nods. “I am.”

Haru smiles. “What is it?”

“I’m making mackerel.”

The smile’s gone.

“Makoto…” he warns. “Last time you turned it into ash.”

“Last time,” he repeats. “I can do it now.”

Haru raises a brow.

“Have some faith in me,” Makoto pouts.

“That’s also what you said last time.” But then he rolls over and throws the blankets over himself again, mumbling out a, “Do what you’d like.”

He can hear the smile in Makoto’s voice. “It’ll probably be ready in a few minutes,” he says, then the mattress lifts as he stands up and makes his way back to the kitchen.

Haru has no interest in getting up, and he’s not even that hungry, but it’s rare that Makoto gets up earlier than him to cook. So he revels in the warmth for a minute longer before climbing back out from underneath his fort and sitting up.

His hair’s ruffled and his eyes are droopy but they immediately widen when he looks to the side and finds a pair of keys on Makoto’s pillow.

He frowns.

They look exactly like Makoto’s keys, except the dolphin charm he’d gotten him wasn’t on there. He hesitantly reaches out and grabs them, inspects them, then throws his legs over the side of the bed and walks to where Makoto is with only his boxers on.

“Ah, Haru!” Makoto says when he stops behind him. “Does this look burnt to you?”

Haru gives the mackerel a quick glance. “No,” he says, then holds the keys up for Makoto to look at. He doesn’t notice the way his hand starts shaking. “Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“The dolphin charm.”

“They’re on my keys.”

Haru’s not amused. “Makoto. Your keys are right here.”

Makoto smiles. “No they’re not.”

Maybe I’m dreaming, Haru thinks, but after giving his leg a quick pinch, he finds that’s not the case. So instead he narrows his eyes and refuses to move, keys still held up.

“Really, Haru,” Makoto says, digging into his pocket. He pulls out another set of keys, this one with the charm on it. “Mine are right here.”

Haru blinks at the object in Makoto’s hands, then brings the ones he’s holding closer to his face and frowns. “Then what are these?”

“Ah, well… I was hoping…”

Makoto sets down the spatula in his hands. Haru waits.

“...I was hoping that you’d accept them.”

“...Accept them?” he asks.

“As in, you keep them.”

Haru’s eyes widen in understanding. “As in, I…”

“...Move in with me.” 

Haru feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Makoto rubs at the back of his neck. “We’ve already lived a year apart, and well, you ended up staying here so often that I figured… That’s why I got up early, because if you say yes, then I need to start making breakfast for you, don’t I? Not all the time, of course… I just, it feels natural to be with you, and when you welcome me home it feels like home, and— Haru?”

“Huh?” Haru’s snapped from his thoughts.

“You’re tearing up,” he says. “Do you not want to?”

And then Haru’s pulling Makoto by the collar of his shirt, and their lips collide a little too painfully but Haru doesn’t mind because he can’t stand for a second letting Makoto think that this isn’t what he wants. He fists Makoto’s shirt in his hands as he kisses - deeper, longer, harder - then moves his arms around his neck and locks them there.

Makoto understands, because he’s kissing back just as eagerly. He lifts Haru off the floor, who then wraps his legs around his waist, and stumbles backwards, stopping only when he’s hit a wall.

“Makoto,” Haru breathes, pulling away for a second to catch his breath, but if he was going to waste this one breath on anything at this moment it was going to be Makoto’s name.

And then he’s kissing him again until his lips are plump and red, parting them when Makoto swipes his tongue across them, letting himself be devoured in every way possible.

“So that’s a yes?” Makoto asks breathlessly after they pull away again.

“Yes,” Haru says, just as out of breath.

Then Makoto smiles, and Haru smiles, and they move to bring their lips together once more. But then a beeping begins to echo through the apartment and the sprinklers turn on, drenching them both where they stand.

“…The mackerel.”

“Yeah.”

“It burnt.”

“I know.”

“I change my mind.”

“Haru!”

And Haru laughs, bringing him in for another kiss anyway.