Archive of Our Own ^beta

Haru rubbed at his shoulder lightly. He was annoyed. As annoyed as Haru could get. Eight weeks, the doctor had told him. Eight weeks before he could even think of getting into his pool with limited and non-strenuous movement. Even though it was his non-dominant arm, the injury (degenerative rotator cuff tear from repetitive movement) was inhibiting way more than just his swimming, as if that wasn’t already horrible enough.

Thankfully he could still paint, so he could continue working, but he’d had to stop work on the large canvases he’d been painting and push back his exhibition. This was totally fine by him--he hated dealing with people--but his manager insisted it was the only real way for him to make money since he didn’t take commissions and insisted that he “only paint free”. Haru didn’t see the problem, but no money meant no mackerel and even an “eccentric” such as himself needed to eat.

Haru stared out his window at the long figure that was currently brushing down the sides of his pool.

Besides no swimming (horrible) or painting large canvases (less horrible), he wasn’t able to reach far for things, taking off his shirts was painful, washing his hair hurt, and maintaining his vegetable garden and yard were “out of the question” according to his neighbor.

The old woman who was his neighbor (quite a distance away because of a small patch of forest and a rice field) had driven him to the doctor and escorted him home. She fawned over him and when she saw his vegetable garden, she tsk’d and declared she would find him a suitable gardener for the first eight weeks at least. He hadn’t had the energy to argue, and he wasn’t very good at refusing that particular woman. She was kind but hard as steel. She reminded him a bit of his grandmother.

Haru watched as the figure finished using the long-handled brush and carried it over to the tool shed, re-emerging with equipment to test the salt chlorination levels.

Eight weeks. Fifty-six days. 1,244 hours. By then, Haru would probably become a painkiller addict just to distract him from the swimming itch. And he had to worry about his garden. Haruka liked to garden when he wasn’t swimming or working. His grandmother had gardened. He’d been too busy as a teenager, but as an adult, he had found that he liked it too. He grew his own greens (with the initial input and advice of his neighbor) and enjoyed the home-pickled vegetables he ate with his mackerel every night.

He also liked flowers, but they generally took too much effort and weren’t very useful otherwise, so he tended to let his flower beds run wild. The small area of grass between his back door and pool was kept soft and green so that he could run directly from the backdoor to the pool without burning or scraping his feet.

Haru watched the figure lean back, stretching his long arms over his head and twisting to work out a back kink. The pool brush wasn’t long enough, and to brush the bottom of the four meter deep pool, you had to bend over to push the broom all the way down. Haru had a hard enough time of it, but the man he was watching was more than several centimeters taller than him. Haru thought about the first time he'd met the gardener.

Haru had agreed to let his neighbor find someone to take care of it all. So it was that Haru had woken up late one afternoon (the painkillers knocked him out at first) to a freshly mown and edged lawn, and all of his plants watered. There was a note on his back door, written in a medium-sized, soft, but sure pen. The letters looked like they should have been bigger. Haru had gotten the sense of a person who restrained himself. He was examining the writing for a while before he read the contents.

Hello Good morning, I hope I didn’t wake you. No one answered when I rang the bell, so I went ahead and cut the lawn. I hope that’s okay. I also watered your vegetable garden. You should probably give the oregano, thyme, and tomatoes less water. That’s why they’re a bit droopy. And they won’t grow very much if they get too much water.
Sorry if I’m being rude Please excuse my forwardness. I didn’t want to wake you, so I’ll pick up the money next week when I come back. If you have specific instructions for certain plants, please let me know. I’d like to speak with you if you have time.
Thank you,
Makoto Tachibana

First came confusion as to why someone who had labored for him was thanking him. Next was annoyance, then interest. So that’s why his tomato vines had been wilty. The person had obviously tried to scratch out the part where he critiqued Haru’s care for his plants, but why would be bother writing it in the first place if he was just going to scratch it out? It was annoying. If Haru was doing something wrong, this Makoto Tachibana should just tell him so he could do it right. At least it seemed like the guy knew what he was talking about.

Haru had made a note to definitely talk to the young man (he assumed it was a young man because the letter was too formal for a teenager but not in the handwriting of an older adult) the next time he came.

Well.

That was the first thing that popped into Haru’s head when he saw Makoto Tachibana.

Haru had been mixing linseed oil and mineral spirits when he heard the lawnmower start up in his backyard. He’d been listening to music and had plain forgotten that it was Saturday. He often lost track of time. The privilege and curse of artists, his friend Rei had once said when Haru had shown up two hours late to their lunch date. Rei was an art dealer and tended to forgive Haru for many social misconducts purely because he thought Haru’s art was “emotionally provocative and captivatingly beautiful.” Rei had also been the one to insist Haru do some larger canvas pieces, insisted they would sell. Haru doubted that, but Rei was his dealer and number one fan, so he indulged Rei and Rei forgave him for showing up hours late to meetings.

When he heard the lawnmower start up, Haru put his jar down and wandered over to the window. His view was obscured for a second by the sun reflecting off the surface of the pool, but Haru shifted and was able to make out his back yard. A large, sturdy body was pushing his lawn mower with steady, strong progress. Haru was staring at wide shoulders and a broad back under a fitted olive tshirt. Strong calves made an appearance under loose khaki shorts. Haru could tell the person was generally large but firm, with little fat on him if his shoulders were any indication.

Haru watched, intrigued, as the young man’s lean legs carried him down the yard until he hit one end of the law and turned the mower to come back. When he turned, Haru was able to see him from the front. He had messy light brown hair--the kind of brown with some gold in it that came from lots of time in the sun, and a cut face that seemed to be strong but also a bit childish because of the big droopy eyes set deeply in it. The green shirt hung snugly over a flat stomach. As the young man noticed him, he flashed a fast and nervous smile, switched off the mower and jogged towards Haru's window. Haru noted that he had stark green eyes of a kind Haru only ever saw in paintings.

Well.

Haru left his post and went around to the backdoor to greet him. He opened it to see the man still where he had jogged to, peering questioningly into the window. Attractive, but not too sharp then.

The young man turned when Haru opened the door and smiled a bit bigger, but still shy. He jogged over to Haru.

“Hello, um, I’m Makoto Tachibana.”

Haru let himself look Makoto Tachibana over slowly once, not minding the silence, then looked him in the eye and replied, without feeling, “Nanase Haruka.”

Makoto Tachibana seemed to startle just slightly. He blinked once, and then seemed to startle again. “Oh,” Makoto Tachibana replied.

Haru raised an eyebrow, just slightly.

“No-um-it’s just, your name is also--well, no, I mean--it’s a lovely name.”

“Were you hoping for a beautiful woman,” Haru asked bluntly. Many people, seeing Haru’s art and name, liked to dream up expectations of a beautiful lady.

“N-no, not at all. Oh! But I don’t-I don’t mean you’re not beautiful. I just--I knew you were a man, is all. I mean--were you?"

"A man before this?"

Makoto chuckled with embarrassment, "No. I mean, it's fine if you weren't! I had a friend, Nitori, who was a woman in a man's body, so. Oh god, I'm a mess. What I meant, was, were you expecting me to be a woman?”

The way Makoto Tachibana talked made Haru dizzy with all the roundabout ways of being overly polite, but Haru could sympathize with the name thing. “No. Auntie told me you were a man. Makoto’s a good name.”

Makoto Tachibana, it seemed, was either disgustingly pure or a child in a man’s body. His face quickly turned a pinkish hue and he turned his face away.

“U-um, it’s not really…”

“It is, Makoto Tachibana.”

Makoto Tachibana looked surprised again, this time in a confused way. Haru wondered if he were ever not confused or surprised. “O-oh, I guess so,” the childish giant said sheepishly, “My mom picked the name, so…Um, just Makoto is fine.”

“I have a list, Makoto,” Haru nodded curtly, not wishing to make a guy blush and stammer all day in his backyard.

“You do?...Oh, right! Yes, of course! Please show me or walk me through what you would like me to do.”

Haru gave him a list he’d written before and took Makoto around the yard. Directly out of the backdoor was an area of lawn. Beyond that was  a flower garden, which hid a large vegetable garden behind it. To the right was the swimming pool with random plants and flowers around it and a small patio with a table. In the far right corner was the shed. Makoto followed along and pulled a pencil out from somewhere to scribble his own notes on the list. Surprisingly studious. When they got to the abandoned flower garden, Makoto interrupted Haru and seemed to be almost upset.

“M-may I ask why you don’t manage the flower garden more?”

Haru shrugged, “it’s bothersome and they don’t make food.”

Makoto disappeared from behind Haru and reappeared in front of him so fast, Haru unconsciously took a step back in surprise. Makoto looked down directly into Haru’s eyes with earnest emotion. “Oh, not at all! There are many flowers that bloom for very long periods and don’t need much watering and there are even flowers you can cook with! Lots of professional chefs use flowers in their food, I’ve seen it on--” Makoto seemed to catch himself and halted, embarrassed.

Haru, a bit shocked by the outburst and the closeness (he had been sure Makoto was about to put hands on his shoulders and shake him in his apparent passion for flowers), stared at Makoto who was trying to look anywhere but at Haru and starting to stutter an apology.

“Alright,” Haru said.

“I-I’m so---what?”

“If you buy the plants, I’ll give you money. But only,” Haru paused for emphasis because Haru never raised his voice, “if they’re easy to take care of. And I want at least one I can eat.”

Makoto beamed at Haru like a goddamn lighthouse. Haru almost cringed.

“Then I’ll buy some seeds! They’re cheaper and you don’t have to worry about them maybe having rot or bugs with them already and they won’t require trimming or anything for a while and--”

“Okay.”

It was as if Haru had given Makoto a Christmas present or New Years money. He hadn’t seen anyone that excited since his manager, friend, and veritable sex god (all self-proclaimed) Nagisa Hazuki had discovered a necklace that doubled as a portable vibrator.

Makoto’s green eyes were green enough to still shine when he crinkled his them to smile. Makoto seemed like he would be content to beam down at Haru for multiple hours, so Haru nodded, “Then I’ll leave it to you,” and moved on to the vegetable garden.

“Don’t worry, I’m really good at planting seeds,” Makoto called after him cheerfully.

Haru nearly tripped over a lettuce.

 Over the course of the next two weeks, Makoto proved to have a talent for getting himself into the most ridiculous and ultimately physically attractive situations Haru had thought impossible.

Haru was able to keep a straight face through the shirtless and sweaty weeding (showing off Makoto’s sizable back and shoulder muscles). Haru, by the good grace of many gods, managed to keep a fairly straight face through the incident with the clogged hose that wound up spraying all over Makoto’s face (Makoto had laughed it off, wiping happily at his face with the bottom of his shirt, allowing for a double whammy of six-pack exposure and indecent thoughts about liquids all over Makoto’s self).

Nagisa had nearly fallen on the floor laughing when Haru described the occurrences with annoyance. Nagisa proclaimed Makoto a genuine Sexy Situation Savant. Up until then, Haru managed to get through the “manmeat mishaps” without too much trouble and mostly embarrassment only on the part of Makoto.

He met his match, however, when Makoto accidentally fell into the pool while cleaning it. Haru heard the loud splash and (admittedly more worried about his pool initially), he’d run out to the back yard to make sure everything was okay just in time to see Makoto wading up the steps. Makoto had come out in a dangerously transparent white shirt, and shorts sagging low enough to reveal a disturbingly chiseled lower abdomen. Both the dangerous shirt and perilous shorts were hugging a worryingly fit body. To top it all off, when he got out of the pool, Makoto had even done that wet hair shake thing that Haru had been convinced was only ever done by women with very small swimsuits and very big...appetites.

Haru had let himself take a long, slow, roaming look that had, possibly or possibly not, lingered on Makoto’s brown nipples before retreating back inside the house, under pretense of finding a towel.

Haru had spent the rest of the day painting a reversed green triangle with carefully-placed white splashes on it that Nagisa later declared “oddly provocative in a totally homo way for a plane figure with three straight sides.”

Haru found himself dreading Saturdays and also anticipating them. Nagisa tormented him ruthlessly on Saturdays by sending mails at a constant rate after 9am (when Makoto came to do yard work). There were constant demands of “pix or it didn’t happen” and “pix if it didn’t happen” and “send me pix pls i wanna see the unwitting sex god don’t be a jerk haru”. Haru started shutting his phone off on Saturdays.

Nagisa out of the way, there was one more big problem. If he was working, Makoto left Haru well alone, but Haru’s “studio room” had the distinct disadvantage of a view of nearly everything Makoto did while in Haru’s yard. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye where there normally wasn’t any tended to distract Haru from his work. Even with music on to half-cover the sound of lawn cutting. Still, minor visual distractions aside, Haru was able to work in semi-peace as long as his phone was off.

The next Saturday, however, Makoto knocked on the back door when he arrived.

Haru had been painting. When he painted, he liked to wear his jammers and an apron, the same way he tended to cook in the morning after a bath. Nagisa called him an exhibitionist. Rei argued Haru couldn’t be an exhibitionist in the privacy of his own home and not to disturb Haru’s artistic process. Haru, however, just liked to dress that way so he could run out the door and jump in the pool whenever he felt like it.

When he answered the backdoor, he was wiping his hands of paint on a dish towel and staring quizzically up at Makoto. He had forgotten how tall Makoto was as he rarely spoke to him from less than ten feet away and/or through a window. He actually had to look up to make eye contact.

Makoto, as per usual, was stuttering. He was stuttering more more than usual though.

“Um, good morning! I--uh…..” his stuttering paused for a second as he seemed to take Haru’s completely appropriate daytime attire, “I….oh no, I’m sorry, did I interrupt you in the middle of something?”

Haru gave Makoto a look, “No?”

“It’s just you--you’re wearing….were you swimming? I mean, I’m not supposed to let you swim yet.”

Haru looked up to the tomato that had replaced Makoto’s head.

“I normally wear this when I work,” Haru said, looking down and pulling the apron out a bit from his chest with his fingers. Sure, his nipples were visible when he did that, but he was wearing jammers. He also hadn’t missed the fact that his elderly neighbor had obviously given Makoto the additional task of keeping Haru away from the pool. Whether Makoto actually could do that or not would be the question the minute Haru’s eight weeks of pool probation were up.

Makoto stared.

“Did you need something,” Haru stated, untying his apron.

Makoto’s eyes opened wide and he stepped back, looking away, in what seemed to be horror.

“Uh,” he squeaked then coughed to clear his throat. “Y-yeah, actually.” He shook his head, which was slowly going back to a less red shade of tan. “Do you have a minute?”

Haru shrugged and hung his apron up on a hook by the door. He followed Makoto, who seemed to be fascinated by his own walking feet. Makoto led him to the vegetable garden.

“Um--see how these plants are kind of short? They’re actually supposed to grow much taller than this,” Makoto said, bending over some vegetables in the garden. “Sunshine isn't an issue. I don’t think they’re getting proper nutrition from this soil.”

Haru knelt down across from Makoto to examine the plant, careful not to notice how Makoto’s thick fingers were so gentle with the leaves and how his leg muscles bulged when he squated.

“It would probably be nice if you could do some fertilization,” Makoto tilted his head at Haru, “I mean--we could do it together--or, oh god, I mean--I’m more than willing to do it if you don’t want to, or can’t because of your shoulder,” Makoto stared at Haru, panicking.

Haru, to his credit, only raised a single eyebrow. “Because of my injury...I would prefer for you to do the fertilizing.”

Makoto paled then went red. His eyes widened, and then, in a blink, he went back to a normal shade and his eyes narrowed just a bit, and seemed to glint in the late morning sun.

“I’m happy, thank you for listening to all of my input and trusting me. Since you’ll be eating this, I know a really good organic fertilizer.”

With that conversation finished, Haru quickly headed back to the house, stopping only once to glance over his shoulder. “Makoto.”

“Yes?” Makoto had already had his hands in the soil and wiped at his face to clear hair out of his eyes. He left a dirt smear.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-three,” Makoto said curiously.

Haru didn’t indulge him with an answer or an explanation and went back to his painting.

“I’m noticing a trend in your last few daily paintings,” Nagisa stated with the authority of someone who pretended to have understood Haru’s artwork for the last ten years.

“Your boyfriend thinks they're beautiful,” Haru answered a little more sharply than usual. Nagisa deserved it. He’d messaged Haru seventeen times on Saturday asking for a “pic of the horny horticulturist”.

Nagisa brushed it off, “Lately you’ve been using a lot of green. Blue was always your thing before. And red,” Nagisa mumbled lowly, “but blue almost 90% of the time. At first I thought you were just in a blue period but it’s been like seven years of blue period.”

“Water is blue,” Haru stated as if that explained everything.

“Not always, like--you know what? Nevermind. Even I’m not crazy enough to argue with you about water. You’re also drawing a lot of large and tall shapes.”

Haru shrugged.

“And what’s this one? It has one...two...seven…fifteen…..twenty-three long green dildos.”

“They aren’t dildos.”

“Well, they might as well be because this one looks like a giant ass.”

“That’s a self-portrait I had to make for that write-up you made me do last week.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m not an ass.”

“Ignoring the fact that you blatantly deny all of my requests for a single picture of The Secret Gardener, I’ll have to admit you’re an okay guy. I wouldn’t be your best friend otherwise. But seriously Haru, this stuff is practically orgasming with latent homoerotic tension.”

“Nagisa, you think everything is gay.”

“I’m optimistic.”

Haru shrugged and went back to his painting. He was doing oils today.

“Real talk here: why haven’t you and Old McDong-ald rolled in the hay yet?”

Haru chose to ignore Nagisa’s phrasing. “Dunno if he’s gay.”

“He could probably say the same for you. Though it’s pretty obvious if you ask me," Nagisa said, looking at the painting in his hand, "Maybe he’s just...hedging his bets.”

“Nagisa,” Haru dipped a fine brush into some yellow.

“I bet he knows how to handle a hoe.”

“Nagisa,” Haru warned as much as Haru ever warned and mixed some blue paint.

“He works in your vegetable garden, right? Do you want him to toss your salad? I bet he’s a wonderful grower...of groins. An A+ manscaper.”

“I’ll call Rei,” Haru warned.

Nagisa shut up but his grin made it obvious he thought he had won something.

Makoto slowly stopped having as many oddball and oddly provocative accidents over the next two weeks and Haru was getting better at ignoring him and focusing on work when he was around, which was now twice a week instead of once. Because Makoto was also taking care of the pool and various other little odd jobs in the yard, Haru had suggested Makoto come over twice, instead of working for so many hours in one day. If Makoto wasn’t around in the evening, that meant less chance of Nagisa meandering over after brunch and less chance that Haru would be exposed to Makoto after dark. Haru didn’t like feeling like he didn’t have total control over a situation, especially with someone he had only known for a short while.

While his activities were often loud by requiring tools and machines, and while Makoto was in of himself a giant, obtrusive presence, he was otherwise quite quiet. He was always calm when he wasn’t embarrassed or talking to Haru, and there was a careful, strong gentleness about the way he moved. He was, well, huge, but his movements were sure and anything but awkward. Haru found it was relaxing to watch Makoto work. He was looking out the window one morning, watching Makoto squatted down, patting some soil around a flower, and was so calmed by it, he didn’t hear his doorbell ring.

He heard it the fourth, fifth, and sixth times because they were almost simultaneous. Haru hadn’t realized his doorbell could ring so fast.

Haru sighed, putting his forgotten brush down but not bothering to take off his apron, and padded out of his studio to unlock the front door. For once, he was glad Rei had insisted Haru’s backyard have a high, locked fence (supposedly to not alarm any neighbors when Haru disclothed in his backyard and swam naked as he was want to do in the summer--nevermind that Haru didn’t have neighbors for several kilometers). He was thankful because he knew Nagisa would have happily walked himself right into Haru’s backyard without so much as a proprietary blink, at any given time.

Opening the door to people was never something Haru was particularly fond of, but opening the door for Nagisa was a practiced skill that took proper honing. Haru unlocked the deadbolt and stood at an angle behind the door--at enough of an angle to deter any immediate bodily impact from Nagisa throwing himself, and enough away from it so that Nagisa throwing himself and, in the process, slamming the door open, wouldn’t crush Haru behind the door. Avoid Nagisa and door. Legs shoulder-width apart to brace for the secondary impact. Annoyed sigh.

Haru stood behind his door in an apron and jammers and opened it to the sheer force of nature that was Nagisa.

That day, however, Nagisa didn’t go for a straight barrel into Haru’s chest like usual. It was more like a wraparound hug so that Nagisa could peer around Haru and over his shoulder, eyes gleaming.

“Good morning, Haru-chan!”

“S’not morning.”

“That’s not what my wood said when I woke up an hour ago.”

“He’s not here.”

“What? Mjolnir 2 is always here and ready for action,” Haru could feel Nagisa wink while he was peering over Haru’s shoulder.

“Not your dick. Makoto.”

Nagisa pulled away from Haru, a huge smile on his face.

“Ohhhh, so the Haruculturist’s name is Makoto?”

Haru pried Nagisa off of him in practiced movements, and turned, padding away from the door,  leaving Nagisa to close it with a rushed slam.

“So where is he, your naughty nurseryman Makoto? If I’m not mistaken, and I’m not, he should be here right now.”

“He’s not here. He's in the back.”

“Trimming your hedges?”

Haru stopped and stared at Nagisa, blinked once, “No,” and headed to the kitchen get tea for Nagisa.

“Do you want him to,” Nagisa prodded, following after.

“...do you want hot or cold tea?”

“I want to take a peek at your farmer fantasy.”

Haru sighed, handing Nagisa a cup of cold oolong, and heading towards the back door. Nagisa followed, nearly splashing his tea everywhere in excitement.

Makoto was bent over, pulling tiny weeds from the vegetable garden and throwing them into a bucket. He was wearing a hat to shield him from the sun but his neck was exposed in the gap between his hair and the small towel he had draped around his shoulders. Haru had the urge to cover it so it wouldn’t burn.

“Hi there,” Nagisa called happily, trotting over.

Makoto’s whole body seemed to blink in surprise, but he stood up, slowly uncurling and turned to face Nagisa and Haru as they came over to him. He removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his face with his towel, then beamed at Haru and then questioningly at Nagisa.

“Hello,” he said semi-cheerfully.

“You can say that again,” Nagisa stated slowly, obviously giving Makoto a very slow, very obvious look-over.

He turned to look at Haru. “I take it back. You’re not an indifferent, eccentric savant with weird taste and an unnatural fetish for pools. You’re an extremely observant eccentric savant with spot-on taste and an unnatural fetish for pools, because damn.”

All of this was said in a way that was meant to appear to be a whisper but obviously not. Makoto looked like he wasn’t sure if it would be polite to blush.

“Um, I’m Makoto Tachibana,” he said, taking off his dirty gloves to offer Nagisa a hand. Nagisa took it immediately and shook it with a benign, insane amount of force.

“Hazuki Nagisa, Haru’s manager and best friend. You can call me Nagisa. It’s a nice to finally meet Haru’s Jack,” Nagisa babbled on, continuing to shake Makoto’s hand, letting tea slosh out of his cup.

“Um…Haru’s Jack?”

“Because you make his beanstalk grow, of course!”

“I-I see,” Makoto said when he obviously didn’t, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Nagisa grinned, elbowing Haru with his eyes. “Haru, can you get me some more tea? It seems I’ve run plain out.”

Haru almost pointed out the fact that Nagisa never hesitated to ransack Haru’s kitchen for anything he wanted and Nagisa knew exactly where everything was, including tea, but he knew that look in Nagisa’s eyes and knew it would be far less effort to just do what Nagisa wanted.

“And you, Makoto, you must be thirsty from all this hard work. Do you want some water?”
“Oh-it’s fine, I--”

“Haru, can you get Makoto some water too? A tall glass for a tall glass of water.”

Haru ignored Nagisa and continued back into the house. He poured the drinks quickly, feeling oddly anxious about leaving Makoto to Nagisa.

When he came back outside, carrying the drinks on a tray, it was to Nagisa talking animatedly at Makoto, who was blinking, surprised, and a little lost.

“--green triangles in his work lately. Big ones. Usually by pools or water or surrounded by vegetable gardens. What do you think they could be symbols of?”

“Um--aren’t you his manager? I think you would be better at--”

“By the way, you have very green eyes, don’t you? Oh, but back to the paintings, I’m really curious about what you think. Oddly enough, I read the name on the back of one of the canvases, and I’m 95% sure it said ‘Ma--’”

“Nagisa,” Haru said a bit more firmly than usual, “tea.” Haru handed a glass to Nagisa and one to Makoto, who took his thankfully and with badly concealed relief.

“Thanks, Haru! We were just talking about how Makoto should model nude for you because you need to do more portraits.”

Makoto made an odd snorting whine sound that was probably the result of him trying not to spray a mouthful of water all over his new acquaintance.

“W-we weren’t talking about that! I mean, I’m sure your artwork is great! But we weren’t,” he said, wiping at his mouth where a bit of water had dribbled.

“Shapes and modern stuff are great, but you really shine in the more classical styles, Haru. You should paint real bodies instead of triangles.”

“Rei says the modern stuff I do is good.”

“Rei would say anything you do is good. That doesn’t mean it sells.”

“Who’s Rei,” Makoto asked with interest.

“Nagisa’s boyfriend,” Haru stated.

“My fine art piece of ass,” Nagisa said at the same time.

“Oh, I see…” Makoto looked thoughtfully at Nagisa, and Haru could see him sorting Haru, Nagisa, and Rei’s relationships in his mind, no doubt wondering how they would affect his pruning the roses in Haru’s yard.

“I think Makoto would make the perfect model.]," Makoto’s eyes widened as Nagisa happily latched on to one of his biceps, “I mean, look at him! He’d be perfect for a pastoral scene. All young, tight muscle.”

Makoto stared first at Nagisa, then at Haru in horror.

“Nagisa,” Haru sighed, “it’s almost time for your weekend lunch with Rei.”

“How do you know about that,” Nagisa asked, scandalized.

“You invite me every week.”

“And obviously you reject my kindness and willingness to include you in a comfortable social situation on a weekly basis.”

Haru decided it would just cause more trouble to tell Nagisa that there was nothing comfortable about being the third wheel at a lunch date with Nagisa and Rei when Nagisa insisted they link arms to drink their bellinis and accidentally rubbed their socks on Haru’s shins while trying to play footsies.

“Rei will be annoyed.”

Nagisa let out a sigh of theatrical proportions. “I spoil him,” he said turning to give Haru his glass. “Makoto,” he turned to the guy who looked like he would much rather be pulling weeds, “it’s been a pleasure. It’s difficult, but please put up with our eccentric Haru. He means no harm. You should see him paint sometime. I complain because he’s difficult, but he really is good.”

Haru raised an eyebrow in warning and Nagisa grinned. He left, choosing to exit through the backyard gate with a wave and called, “See you around, Makoto!”

Haru followed and locked the gate behind Nagisa. He turned around to see that Makoto had followed him too, at a farther distance. He was frowning slightly at the gate.

Haru sighed, taking Makoto’s empty glass out of his large hand. “Sorry about Nagisa.”

“Um, is he always…?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, okay. That’s nice.”

“Not really. You get used to it.”

Makoto seemed to doubt that, but he smiled warmly. “I’m sure he must be good person if you’ve been best friends for so long.”

“We were in the swimming club together in high school. Rei too,” Haru glanced at his own pool. The water glittered in the early afternoon sun. Perfectly clear thanks to Makoto’s care. If anything, the actual pool walls were probably even cleaner than before.

WIthout realizing it, Haru was walking towards the pool, Makoto tagging along at his side.

“Ah, Auntie told me that you loved to swim, but I didn’t realize you’d done it competitively.”

“I didn’t care about winning. I just wanted to swim,” Haru replied without looking at him.

Makoto put a hand on Haru’s shoulder, chuckling into his other hand. Haru stopped, turning to look at the heavy, warm hand on his shoulder, then up to Makoto.

“Um-no, it’s just,” Makoto lowered his hand and smiled warmly at Haru, who suddenly found himself distracted because Makoto’s eyes weren’t the pure green he’d been interested in initially, they also had tiny flakes of gold in them that made them just a bit more. “You took off your clothes. Er, apron, and you seemed like you were about to jump into the pool."

Haru turned to face forward again and realized he was about three feet away from the pool’s edge. He blinked. He hadn’t even realized. He looked down. He had kicked off his outdoor slippers at some point. His apron was ten feet behind him, the forgotten glasses had been dropped top of it.

“Auntie said you’re not supposed to even get in for another week. Eight weeks, right?”

Haru shrugged, batting at the hand on his shoulder. Makoto gave up easily and pulled it away.

“So you’re a farmer, gardener, pool cleaner, and guard dog,” Haru couldn’t help the annoyance that slipped into his voice and threatened to take over.

“I am if it will stop you from hurting yourself more. It will be eight weeks next Sunday.”

Haru glanced sharply at Makoto, who was looking at him in cool earnestness. Makoto knew when eight weeks was up. Makoto seemed to understand. Haru deflated.

“Thanks,” he said in a low breath.

“What if...maybe, you can try to get in on Saturday, when I’m here? One day can’t make that big of a difference, and if I’m here to watch, it should be fine, right?”

Haru stared at Makoto hard. He looked directly up into Makoto’s eyes and read them, quietly, for a long, long moment.

Makoto took in a giant breath and his pupils widened slowly.

Haru looked away, from his abandoned clothes to the swimming pool lulling calmly in the gentle breeze. It had a salt filter. It was made with gunite. It was deep enough to dive into. He looked back to Makoto, who seemed to unfreeze and stared at the shed over Haru’s shoulder, reddening.

“Bring your jammers with you. Next time.”

Makoto grinned, then checked himself and motioned to the flowers. “sure. I should get back to work now...”

Haru watched thoughtfully as he trotted off to grab pruning shears.

Haru left the gate to the backyard unlocked on Friday nights so that Makoto could start working without waking him. When Makoto came quietly through it on the next Saturday morning, it was with energy and a happy easiness in his stride. He was carrying a sack of potting soil over his shoulder, and a smudge of dirt went from his neck to his chin.

He nearly dropped the bag of soil because when he turned around after locking the gate, Haru was right there, waiting for him.

Haru didn’t attempt to hide his annoyance.

“Oh, good morning, Haru," Makoto said in a way that made it obvious he was trying not pee his shorts. Then seemed to notice his slip up.

“Um, I mean, Haruka. Sorry, your friend Nagisa from yesterday somehow got my cellphone number? And he was texting me a lot last night, and he always calls you Haru, so it got stuck in my head, sorry.”

“Haru’s fine,” Haru could feel his patience waning.

“He kept calling me really weird things though? He kept writing peenskeeper instead of greenskeeper and kept calling me your seedsman?”

Haru couldn’t take it anymore. He walked up to Makoto, motioned for him to put the potting soil down because he couldn’t take it with his own injured arm. Makoto looked confused for a moment, but acquiesced and put the bag down gently. When he stood up, Haru reached out and pulled Makoto’s loose shorts down in one swift motion.

They both stood in silence. Haru staring, Makoto’s eyes growing to cartoonish proportions. Three or four seconds passed like that before Makoto let out an audible squeal of dismay and scrambled to pull his shorts up.

“Oh,” Haru said flatly.

“OH?!!”Makoto repeated in abject horror.

“I thought you’d be wearing jammers.”

“You thought I’d--” Makoto Paused, taking in Haru’s state of dress. Haru was indeed wearing jammers. Only jammers. There were two towels on the patio table in the distance. Makoto glanced at Haru’s stoic face and sighed, "Give me a second. I brought them with me, but they're in my bag. Can I use your bathroom to change?”

Haru noticed for the first time that there was a bag slung over Makoto's shoulder, under where the soil bag had been. He nodded and padded over to the back door. He led Makoto inside to the bathroom. Makoto was glancing all around him, but Haru had purpose and was too focused to worry about having his gardener in his home for the first time.

“You can change here.”

“Thanks.”

“Makoto,” Haru added.

“Yes?”

Haru stared at him. “Nagisa was right. You should model for me.”

Haru left Makoto, who’s blood seemed to be pooling in his face, leaving the rest of him immobile, and went to wait eagerly outside.

If Haru was the type to tap his foot or drum his nails, he would have been doing that for the four minutes it took Makoto to change and make it out the backdoor. He made it to two minutes, then dipped his feet into the pool. Three minutes and he was halfway down the stairs into the pool. He was stretching his shoulder and getting ready to dive the rest of the way in when a panicked voice called out to him.

“Haru, wait! You can’t dive!”

Haru turned, annoyed to see that Makoto’s choice of swimwear was forest green board-shorts style bottoms. He was carrying his bag with him, slung over one very shapely tricep. Makoto was definitely the type that looked smaller in clothes. Without his shirt, Haru could see the lines of his shoulder muscles and biceps more clearly than ever before. Makoto had a defined collarbone that directed attention out to his muscular arms and emphasized how broad his chest was. Makoto’s biceps were emphasized by a somewhat dorky tan line around them. His abs were, as Haru had guessed from the previous water spray incident, very decent.

Seeing that he had successfully stopped Haru for the moment, Makoto turned to put his bag down by the small patio table and exposed his back to Haru. Haru had never seen his back in the bare that close before. Haru took a step deeper into the cool water.

Haru was caught, looking back and forth between the pool and Makoto for what felt like an eternity until Makoto was at the pool edge.

“Um, can I help you somehow?”

“You can’t help me swim.”

“True. Please remember though: no diving, and no breaststroke or butterfly yet,” Makoto settled down on the side of the pool, hanging his feet in.

Haru ignored Makoto, took a few more steps in, then sort of shot out into the pool, using his legs. Everything was gone after that, for a good ten minutes at least. Haru floated around, flipping or turning when he reached a side of the pool, just feeling the water on him, around him, embracing him. He moved his limbs just to feel the water move around them. He flipped to feel the water lightly drag his hair. He did everything he possibly could without lifting his arms too high or putting too much strain on them. He simply floated on his back, eyes closed.

He was interrupted when he heard a low humming getting closer. He opened his eyes to see he was floating by Makoto’s legs. Makoto was watching him, humming to himself, looking content.

“Get in,” Haru said.

“Oh, um, sorry. I didn’t mean to stare, it’s just...well…”

“Well what?”

“You...look very beautiful when you’re in the water. Swimming. Like you’re at peace and so fluid. You move like….you move like water,” Makoto finished, not bothering to hide his blush.

“Hm. Get in,” Haru repeated.

“I’m fine here unless you need help,” Makoto smiled.

“Don’t be dumb. Get in.”

“Um, but,” Makoto scanned the yard around them.

“Yard can wait. I don’t trust someone who can sit on the edge of a pool and not get in.”

“...Good point,” Makoto smiled weakly. In a move that surprised both of them, Makoto didn’t slide into the pool, but instead got up, disappeared from Haru’s view where he was floating, then reappeared quickly, soaring over Haru in a tight ball. Makoto came down, knees tucked in, arms wrapped around them in a huge ball of muscled body, creating an almighty impact with the surface of the pool, sending a paramount wall of water up around him and small tidal wave over Haru.

Haru only sputtered once before diving under the water to avoid the rest of the spray.

When he came up, he located Makoto, who had swam to the other side of the pool and was holding on to the side, trying not to detach a rib from laughing. He was doubled over, tears on his cheeks from water or laughter, Haru wasn’t sure.

Haru swam over to him, face half in the water, like a predator.

“Makoto,” he called from three meters away.

Makoto looked up, wiping his eyes, a huge grin on his face, just in time to get hit in the face by a squirt of water from Haru’s hands. Makoto just laughed more.

Haru swam over to him, treading water.

“I-I’m sorry, Haru. It’s just--I know that was mean and immature of me, but the look on your face when I jumped over you was amazing. Your mouth was hanging open and your eyes were so wide and blue.”

“Hm.”

“Please don’t be angry. Con...consider it revenge for pantsing me in the middle of your yard.”

“That was your fault. You knew we’d be swimming.”

“Most people don’t wear their swimsuits under their regular clothes, especially in the morning,” Makoto pointed out.

Haru shrugged, bobbing in the water. He twisted and slipped under the water, swimmig under Makoto and to the other length of the pool without coming up for air. Makoto treaded water a bit, then floated on his back, looking up at the sky. After doing that and watching Haru swim a few pool lengths under him like a mermaid or a dolphin (so as not to move his shoulders too much), Makoto slowly backstroked two lengths.

He wasn’t paying much attention and bumped into Haru, who thankfully was between him and the pool wall. Without flags above him, Makoto had forgotten that haru’s pool was not a full lap pool.

“Ah, sorry, thank you,” Makoto said, going back to treading water near Haru, who was blatantly staring at him.

“You were a swimmer?”

“Ah, well, in elementary school. I stopped after my second year of junior high.”

“Why?”

“Well, my friend talked me into joining basketball instead after that.”

“Hn,” Haru disapproved. “You have a body for swimming.”

“Ah, yeah,” Makoto put one hand up behind his head, “I do have ridiculously big shoulders. It was really hard to fit my high school uniform.”

“They’re good.”

“What?”

“You have good shoulders. And a good back. And not much fat. Good for studying body movements. Good for swimming.”

“Thanks,” Makoto replied shyly, brushing a dripping lock of hair out of his face.

“Your eyes are good, too.“

“No way, yours are definietly better,” Makoto chuckled nervously. “Like the ocean or a beautiful blue lake.”

“Hm,” Haru raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, I think they suit you, like your name.”

“You think my name is beautiful.”

“Um, well, yes,” Makoto gripped the side of the pool and focused sharply on a birdbath in the flower garden. Haru swam up so he was less than a foot away from Makoto, treading water.

“And you think my eyes are beautiful.”

Makoto’s attention snapped back to Haru for a split second, then quickly left. “I....yes.”

“You’re always looking at me, but you’re never looking at me.”

“Um, I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You watch me, but not when I can see.”

“T-That’s not--”

“Do you like my green triangle painting or the lake scene painting more?” Haru wasn’t a selfish person, and he definitely wasn’t vain.

“Oh, they’re both really nice, but I like the lake scene more. The way you painted the water, it looks like I could dip my hand in and...oh.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, the color draining out of Makoto’s face and Haru’s eyes swimming with the reflection of the water.

“I...should get working on the yard.”

“Hm,” Haru breathed.

“I...can’t be here all day,” Makoto’s voice was low, gentle, with no hint of nervousness in it, but a soft edge of reluctance.

Makoto’s eyes were brighter in the pool. For the first time, Haru saw that his irises were outlined not in black or brown, but in a dark blue. Makoto’s eyes blinked slowly and came closer. Or maybe Haru had gone closer to them. Haru could feel Makoto’s presence in the water. He could feel the water around Makoto’s body. It was warmer.

Makoto opened his mouth to say something again, and it was even closer than before. Haru could feel Makoto’s warm breath on his cold, wet cheeks.

“Shove your tongue down his throat!”

Makoto let go of the side of the pool with a splash, sinking under and coming back up, coughing. Haru watched it all nonchalantly, glancing from Makoto to the lawn past the pool.

“Seriously, I guarantee he’ll like it,” Nagisa was happily walking towards them. “ Afternoon, Haru, Makoto! Haru, you’re back in the pool. Does this mean you’re better?”

“He still isn’t allowed to swim with any kind of strenuous activity,” Makoto spluttered.

“Oh? Is your titillating tiller looking out for you, Haru?”

Haru swam over to the steps slowly and walked out of the pool, shaking his hair out of his face.

“Makoto, if you stare like that, you might burn a hole through our ice princess,” Nagisa winked.

Makoto swam over to the steps and climbed out of the pool after Haru had begun to towel dry his hair. Haru watched as the water shed from Makoto’s skin, trickles moving between his muscles and down his spine to disappear beneath his swimtrunks. Not a green triangle. A tree in a lake. Haru would paint that next. He knew Nagisa was watching him watch Makoto, but he didn’t care.

Nagisa outright laughed.

“Aaaaanyway, I can’t stand here all day and look at you guys ravaging each other with your eyes, so! Haru, I’m here to pick up that piece for Rei. He wants it in that mixed showing. Makoto, I’ll see you next time. Thanks for treat!”

Haru nodded and led Nagisa into the house. When they were safe in Haru’s studio room, Nagisa rounded on him like a snake on a mouse.

“So, he makes your garden grow, but does he have green fingers? Tell me! Right now!”

“Wouldn’t know.”

“‘Wouldn’t know’! Haru, that is some grad-A morning wood material out there and I will not--”

“I know.”

“Obviously you don’t! Or you’d be letting him plough you right now! Or you’d be ploughing him! Someone would be sowing seeds into someone!”

“Nagisa,” Haru said sharply. It had a metallic edge to it, but also exasperation. “Here’s the painting.” It was leaning against the wall, covered. He pulled off the cover reluctantly. He had done it in less than a week. A record for Haru. And watercolor, on top of it, which, despite Haru’s affinity for water, he rarely ever worked with. It was a smaller painting than Haru normally did, so that he wouldn’t exhaust his arm. Rei had been to his house on Thursday and insisted that, if it was finished, he needed it for the next showing. Rei had said it was one of the most beautiful things Haru had ever painted, which didn’t mean a lot coming from Rei, but did at the same time.

“Still, Haru, as your friend, I can’t--” Nagisa was saying as Haru turned it so Nagisa could see.

“Oh,” Nagisa shut up.

He took it from Haru, holding it gently. He held it up close, then away from him, then looked up at Haru who was watching him with an emotionless face.

“Oh, Haru,” Nagisa sighed. Haru hated it when he did this. “Poor, stupid, wonderful, beautiful Haru.” Haru began to frown and crossed his arms. “You should have just told me and I would have left it alone.”

“If I had told you, you would make fun of me, and the last thing you would do is leave it alone.”

“True,” Nagisa admitted.

“Nagisa,” Haru said and it was a question.

“Yeah?”

“I’m asking you to leave it alone.”

Nagisa sighed, looking at the painting again.

“It is a good painting.”

“Hm."

“It will sell. Old ladies would eat this up.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s warm and peaceful.”

“Rei said the same thing.”

Nagisa glanced out the window and Haru followed his gaze. Makoto was trimming a small tree along Haru’s fence. With both his arms up, his triceps were distracting. Nagisa sighed dreamily next to him.

“Has Rei seen your Propper Cropper?”

“Rei never comes over on weekends.”

“Good. I'm not sure if I'd want him to see this anyway. Seriously though, Haru. Makoto is a wet dream. And sweet to a disgusting fault. He’s like a giant sexpuppy.”

“...”

Nagisa looked at the painting again. “It’s obvious you know that though. And it’s not going to be easy.” Nagisa put the cover back over the painting and tucked it under his arm. “So, I’ll leave it alone.”

Haru nodded, surprised and a bit appreciative.

“However, if you do need any kind of help getting into his garden of sin, let me know,” Nagisa and Haru left the studio and headed for the front door.

“Do you want to go to the exhibition? You could bring your model.”

“No.”

“Well, since it’s a lot of artists, I’ll let you off this time.”

Nagisa left, giving Haru one final wink.

Haru went back to his studio. He mixed paint all day but didn’t use any. He put it away in containers for storage. When he was finished, it had been several hours. Makoto was sweeping up trimmings and leaves.

“Makoto,” Haru said, walking across the lawn to him.

Makoto looked up and smiled nervously, “Yes?”

“About Nagisa….nevermind. For swimming with me, thanks.”

Makoto smiled. “Sure thing. I’ll come earlier tomorrow, but I probably won’t be able to swim with you. I need to finish this stuff up. You can swim on your own if I’m within ear range, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, great. That doesn’t mean you can do careless things though. Don’t hurt yourself, okay?”

Haru found himself annoyed the same way he was annoyed when Rei would lecture him about valuing his own work. It was a warm annoyance.

“You can always stay later, you know.”

Makoto paused and blushed lightly. “Yeah, but I still have to get back and help around the farm and stuff.”

Right. Makoto had a life outside of mowing Haru’s lawn.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“N-no! I’m really thankful for the offer. I mean, I’m glad I’m not a bother. At first, with all those accidents, I thought you’d fire me.”

Haru raised an eyebrow. He had been thinking Makoto might have had those accidents on purpose. Nagisa had been 100% convinced.

“So you’re saying you didn’t purposely drench yourself in water while wearing a white teeshirt, in any way, for my benefit.”

“I--ah. Um. Well,” Makoto grinned, rubbing a bashful hand at the back of his head. His grin was possibly even more troublesome than his smile. “that one may have been a preventable, stupid mistake on my part. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Haru didn’t bother hiding his small frown.

“I need to start cooking dinner. You can leave the tools out since you’ll be here tomorrow. It’s not supposed to rain tonight.”

“Ah, okay.”

Haru headed back towards the house.

“Oh, Haru,” Makoto called after him.

Haru stopped, turning slightly so he could see Makoto’s figure in the dimming light. The sun would be setting in half an hour or so.

“Good night. See you tomorrow.”

Haru nodded, retreating inside. He took his apron off the hook by the door, and decided to spoil himself that night. Grilled and pan-seared mackerel, with plenty of pineapple.

The next day, Haru woke up late.

He went in to the kitchen to find a glaringly bright sun shining through the window. On the counter by the backdoor was a mound of something. Haru blinked and yawned once before he processed that they were flowers. Someone had left a bouquet of blue and purple wildflowers by his backdoor.

He arranged the flowers and put them in a vase then went outside to see Makoto in the flower garden.

“Good morning, Haru,” Makoto greeted him a bit awkwardly. “Did you see the flowers in the kitchen?”

“They’re nice,” Haru nodded.

Makoto smiled warmly. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t have gone in, but I didn’t want to leave them outside to wilt in the sun.”

“It’s okay, thanks” Haru said, scanning the flower plants. Makoto had done a good job. It no longer looked like a dry patch with random sticks growing in it. He had planted some flower plants so it would look good while the seeds he planted grew.

“You said you wanted useful flowers that are easy to take care of. One of those flowers is this plant. Echinacea purpurea. It can be used to treat colds and the flu and other infections. It’s pretty amazing.”

“Hm,” Haru came went and bent down to examine the plant. “It’s nice.” It was purplish-pink with long petals. It made him think of Rei.

“I’m glad you like it. This plant over here is fennel. You can eat it and it’s really good for you, but the smell really strong. I'm not too fond of it. You might like it though." 

Haru looked at it and thought of Nagisa, for a reason he couldn't understand.

This over here is lemongrass, which I much prefer the smell of. Also good for cooking. If you like fish, you might want to try using it with that.”

“What are those over there?”

“Ah, those are, um, passion flowers. They’re usually vines, but some of the are shrubs. That one’s a shrub type.”

“It’s pretty.”

“Isn’t it?” Makoto continued to point out the different flowers and plants he’d put in the garden, before noticing his watch.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Makoto stood up, dusting the dirt off his gloves by patting them together. “I’m going to have to leave early. One of our tractors broke and my parents are away so I need to take it in to get it fixed.”

“It’s okay.”

“I can come tomorrow if you need me to finish.”

Haru looked around him. His yard had never looked so good. It was colorful, healthy, and the pool was sparkling. His yard could probably be left alone for a month and still look fine.

“Only if you have time and want to.”

Makoto smiled and apologized again. “Oh, and, it would make me feel a lot better if you don’t swim too much when I'm not here,” Makoto added as Haru helped him put away a few tools, then saw him out and locked the gate behind him. Haru didn’t say anything in response to Makoto's request.

Makoto didn’t come the next day. He didn’t call either. Neither did he send a text. Haru spent the whole day painting, glancing outside when the reflection on the pool caught his attention. Around late afternoon, he found himself in the pool. He dipped underneath the water and floated around on his back. Despite the fact that Haru was more than able to swim just fine without using his arms and there was absolutely no danger of drowning, he subconsciously stayed within easy range of the pool steps.

It was almost dark when he got out and toweled off to cook dinner. He saw his cellphone blinking next to the flower vase. It was a text from Makoto, apologizing, saying his parents were still away so he had to stay at his family home to take care of his brother and sister who had caught colds.

Haru put the cellphone down and stared at the vase of flowers.

The light brown door was opened by a tall teenage girl wearing a face mask and pajammas. She looked to be sixteen or seventeen years old. A highschooler then. She had green eyes like Makoto’s, but they were a bit bluer and her facial features, or what he could see around her sick mask, were different. Still, Haru could tell they were related.

“Is your brother home,” Haru asked.

She eyed him warily. “Yes, which one do you want? Ren is sleeping. He was puking his guts up earlier.”

Definitely not Makoto’s personality.

“Makoto,” Haru said.

“May I ask who’s calling for him?”

“Nanase Haruka.”

She eyed him. “Girly name. Girly flowers. Guess you do know Big Brother,” she smirked.

Haru stared down at the flowers, then blankly held them out to the girl. “They’re actually for you.”

At that, she seemed to warm up to him a bit more. She had the decency to look a little ashamed.

“He’s in Ren’s room. I’ll go get him. Please come in,” she stepped to the side so Haru could enter.

“Then, excuse me,” Haru stepped into the entryway, closing the door behind him as the girl padded off down the hall.

A few moments later, Haru could hear whispering and strained voices.

“He has a girly name. I think it’s the guy you garden for. You didn’t tell us he’s gorgeous. And he brought me flowers.”

“Raaaaan, did you just leave him in the entryway? How many times have I told you?”

Makoto appeared around a corner, looking flustered. He flashed a grin when he saw Haru.

“Haru, I’m sorry. Ran should have invited you i--nng,” Makoto finished with a wince as Ran elbowed him in the side, smiled kindly at Haru, and wandered off with the flowers.

“No problem. I’ll leave soon anyway,” Haru said, amused.

“No! I mean, um. Did you need something? You came all the way here.”

“You said your brother and sister were sick.”

“Ah, yeah. Ran’s doing better now but Ren is still in the bad….” Makoto trailed the sentence off into a question.

“The flowers. You said they were good for colds and influenza.”

“The flowers….” Makoto wondered, then it clicked.

“Wow, that’s really kind of you. I can’t believe you went out of your way to do that for my siblings. Thank you, Haru.”

Makoto’s smile was a big, honest one. No teeth showing, just squinted warm eyes and slight dimple lines.

Haru looked around the entrance for the first time. “You don’t live here?”

“Ah, no. Not now. I moved out when I went to university. I live in an apartment now.”

“I see.”

“Um, Haru, why don’t you--”

“It’s okay. I have to get going,” Haru nodded a quick bow and turned to open the door.

“Haru,” Makoto called after him and Haru paused. “Just...thank you. I know that your shoulder is starting to get better, but--”

“I’m still not supposed to do any kind of heavy lifting or work. Come on Saturday.”

Makoto grinned ,looking almost relieved. “Of course.”

The rest of the week went by slowly. Rei visited, surprisingly with Nagisa, to gush over the painting Nagisa had delivered and chatter about how he really thought Haru should attend the showing that weekend.

“Rei, ask him! Ask him!”

“Nagisa, what are you talking about?”

“Ask him about Brother Earth.”

“Who?”

“You know, Mother Earth’s sexy brother. The gardener!”

Rei looked helplessly from Nagisa to Haru.

“Nagisa, I am sure that I have already learned a plentiful amount about Haru’s new romantic interest and that, if Haru were to want us to know more, he would tell us himself, willingly.”

Haru nodded, Nagisa whined, and Rei pushed up his glasses, glancing only a little hopefully at Haru, who didn't give in.

After them, the old neighbor came by to visit. Haru hadn’t seen her since before Makoto had come around, and he made her tea. They sat and chatted. She insisted on inspecting his yard and vegetables, Makoto’s work was given the Aunty Approval.

“He’s such a good boy,” she echoed multiple times. Haru had gotten tired of nodding. “But you are too, Haruka. You’re quiet and a bit of a recluse, but you’re a good boy. The world needs more young men like you two. People who can take care of other people, of each other.”

She went off into one of her rambles on sincerity and honesty and left him in a wake of homemade mochi and kinako cookies.

Friday night came and Haru went outside to unlock the gate.

Saturday morning came. Haru was up early, making a mackerel breakfast when he noticed his phone flashing on the counter. He had a text. It was from Makoto.

I was asked to take over swim lessons today for a teacher who is out sick. Would it be okay with you if I skipped today and came tomorrow?

Haru messaged back, saying it was fine. Couldn’t be helped.

Thank you. I’m very sorry. You should come to the aquatic center sometime. They remodeled last year and it’s very nice.

And then another:

Oh, but you have a pool. I guess there’s a reason for that. Sorry.

Haru decided to ask.

Are you busy after the lessons?

The reply came an hour later. Haru imagined Makoto blushing as he typed it, or wondering how to respond. Had Haru read the signals incorrectly? Nagisa was always telling him he was bad at social ques.

I’m sorry, I’m busy. I’m really sorry.

Well, that was that.

Saturday passed slowly. Haru made himself countless pots of tea. He spent most of the day drinking tea outside and taking random dips in the pool. At one point he attempted to work in the studio, but he went to bed early, not bothering to clean his pallette off. He’d pay for that in the morning when all the paint had dried.

Haru woke up late, to his phone ringing. At first he didn’t realize what it was because he hardly ever had his phone so near to him, but he’d gone to sleep with it on the bedstand the night before.

It kept ringing.

Haru glared at the name on the screen and answered, “Nagisa.”

Nagisa ignored the warning in Haru’s voice and launched right into it, “Okay, so! You know the gallery showing was last night, right?” He didn’t wait for reply. “So I got a text from your Green Giant yesterday afternoon asking about it. I was really confused, but then he shows up to the showing, dressed like an awkward hottie. I can tell you, most of the women and some of the men there were much more interested in looking at him than the paintings.”

Haru felt stirs of annoyance in the pit of his stomach. Along with something he usually didn’t feel outside of large parties or really loud places. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time--anxiety.

“So, anyway. I go up to him all surprised and we chat a little, but I can tell he’s anxious so I ask him what’s up and he asks me to show him where your painting is.”

Haru’s stomach started to perform flipturns.

“So I showed him, of course. I couldn’t not. And--”

“What did he look like,” Haru demanded.

“Well…”

“Nagisa.”

“He looked….stunned. I couldn’t really hang around because Rei needed my help right after that, but...do you think he would care that much if you used him as a model? I mean, you can only see part of his face anyway, and he doesn’t seem like the type of person to care, but do you think he might have been angry?”

Haru didn’t reply. He also didn’t think Makoto would be angry, and he trusted what he knew of Makoto, but what he knew of Makoto honestly wasn’t very much. He knew he was big but gentle, with warm eyes and a big, nervous smile, and that he cared about his siblings and was thankful for any signs of care. But he might not like having his likeness visible for anyone to see, he might have been morbidly embarrassed and he might be angry that Haru would sell something with his likeness in it for money. Haru suddenly realized Makoto hadn’t given him the bill or receipts for any of the flowers he had bought for Haru’s yard. Makoto. He might…

Haru almost felt sick. He pulled himself out of bed. It was 10am. Makoto should have been there by now. Haru didn’t bother getting dressed, grabbing the nearest item of clothing to him, which happened to be his jammers. He hung up the phone without saying goodbye and threw it on his bed.

He took long, calm steps to the backyard door, trying not to rush or panic. If Makoto wasn’t there, he would call him and apologize. It was as simple as that.

But Haru’s stomach fell when he glanced out the door, scanning for the tall, broad figure of Makoto Tachibana, and finding...nothing.

Haru leaned his forehead slowly against the cool glass. He breathed in and out, his breath fogging up the glass. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised.

He stayed like that for a moment, then pulled back and took his apron off the hook. He took big breaths. He would make breakfast. He was the apron around his back, when there was movement in the corner of his eye. Haru stopped, the apron hanging loosely on him.

He watched, straining his eyes to see every minute movement of muscle in the long, lean legs as they walked out of the shed. To observe how the teeshirt folded and bunched at the back when large shoulders adjusted the sack of soil, a gloved hand wiping at a single streak of sweat, leaving a brown smear behind. A light puff of air to blow brown hair out of green eyes.

Haru tied his apron properly, never once taking his eyes off Makoto. He opened the door slowly and walked normally across the grass that was still a bit cold and wet from the morning dew. Makoto threw down the bag of soil and straightened up, then began to search for something. It was then that he noticed Haru. Makoto stiffened and pursed his lips, then smiled weakly when Haru stopped a few feet away from him.

“Good morning,” Makoto said, cheerily, carefully.

“Morning,” Haru echoed carefully.

“Um, I’m looking for the trowel. I misplaced it. Do you--”

“It’s over there. Under the bush.”

“Ah, thanks,” Makoto turned to squat and grab it.”

Haru moved closer. “Makoto.”

Makoto turned, still bent, holding the trowel, which looked like a kid’s toy in his large gloved hand.

“You...you never gave me the receipts for this,” Haru said, motioning to the yard with his eyes.

“Ah, I didn’t? Okay, I’ll bring them tomorrow. I mean, next time.”

“Tomorrow is fine. I can pay you back then.”

“No, I mean, I can wait until next week. It’s not like I need to make rent or something.”

“Tomorrow is fine,” Haru repeated firmly.

Makoto paused and Haru could tell he was thinking for a moment. Makoto stood up, trowel forgotten. When he stood up, he was much closer than Haru had expected. He had to look up to talk to him.

“Haru, the truth is…”

“Nagisa told me.”

“Ah,” Makoto seemed to falter, whatever he had resolved to do already done.

Haru looked up at him, trying to decipher Makoto’s eyes. Makoto chewed on his bottom lip.

“Are you angry? I used you as a model in a painting and let it go to a showing." Haru searched for emotions in Makoto's eyes, attempted to analyze them.

Makoto took a deep breath and looked straight at Haru.

“Well…I was shocked. I didn’t expect to see myself in one of your paintings. Nagisa joked about it before, but you never said anything…”

Haru looked away and opened his mouth to apologize, but Makoto continued.

“But, honestly, if you had asked me to, I probably would have said yes,” he was blushing now, “and...I couldn’t even believe that was me at first. The painting was beautiful. The flowers, the pool…”

“And you,” Haru stepped a bit closer. He could feel Makoto’s breath on his face, fast and warm.

Makoto colored.

“I thought you wouldn’t come today,” Haru stated.

Makoto looked down at him and gulped.

“I thought you wouldn’t talk to me again,” Haru continued, edging just a bit closer.

There was a flash of gold in his green eyes and Makoto broke, his whole body moving forward with force, crashing into Haru. Haru would have been knocked back if one of Makoto’s hands hadn’t reached around to the back of his head, keeping him in place. A thick warm chest was pressed against Haru's. Large, very rough hands were cradling the back of his head and one of his cheeks. Warm lips were driving into his own, pulling and parting them. Haru scrambled, hooking arms around Makoto for stability. He tilted his head up so that Makoto didn’t have to stoop down and was rewarded with the feeling of Makoto’s shoulder and back muscles uncoiling under his hands. Haru worked his tongue in first, forcefully, licking at the roof of Makoto’s mouth, feeling hot breath in his own mouth, then running his tongue along Makoto’s teeth. When he could, Makoto trapped Haru’s tongue, sucking on it. It was almost a fight to see who could feel the most of the other. Haru sucked on Makoto's lip, then Makoto lightly bit his. Makoto pressed his lips hard against Haru's, just to feel all of them. He finally broke away to let Haru breathe and to kiss the corners of Haru’s mouth.

Haru slipped his hands under Makoto’s shirt, running his cool fingers over the hot skin and twitching muscles. Makoto broke away to stare down at Haru with a look that made Haru feel like the ocean. Deep, churning, and awe-inspiring.

“You’re beautiful,” Makoto breathed, sliding his hands down to rest on Haru’s hips. They felt rough. Haru realized Makoto was still wearing his gardening gloves. Makoto seemed to realize at the same time and had trouble deciding between apologizing and laughing. He was grinning and trying not to snort. Haru smiled.

“I promise they’re not usually that rough,” Makoto pleaded, tilting his head toward his hand.

“That’s a shame,” Haru said blandly, making Makoto blush.

“I...it’s just, you were driving me crazy,” Makoto apologized.

“Me?”

“Yes!” Makoto nearly groaned. “With your jammers and your apron and your beautiful swimming and your wet hair, just, everything.”

“Says the man who had a one-person wet teeshirt contest in my backyard.”

Makoto chuckled at that. He pulled off a glove and threw it to the ground, placing his bare hand back on Haru’s hip. He thumbed the outline of bone and muscle like someone rolling a pearl in their fingers. Haru shivered.

“Ah, you must be cold, sorry!”

“Let’s swim.”

Makoto looked at him in shock.

“N-now?”

“Of course.”

“But...I don’t have a swimsuit.”

Haru gave him a slow up-down that made Makoto squirm.

“Not necessary.”

“Haru!”

Haru guided the hand that was on his hip to his back, where the apron string was tied.

Makoto blushed furiously, but did as Haru’s hands told him to, letting the strings fall under his hand.

Haru tossed the apron onto the grass when it was untied. He looked straight at Makoto, smiled just a little, and took off for the pool in a sprint.

“Haru!” Makoto called after him, shedding his other glove and shirt as fast as he could, “no diving!”