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Makoto is fighting a losing battle with his anatomy textbook when the skype call comes through.
The caller ID is Rin's because Haru hates to use his phone, but when Makoto picks up he's greeted by both of their faces. They must have put the phone on the hotel room's bedside table or something; their legs are tangled in the sheets, Rin's hair is a mess and Haru isn't wearing any clothes, as far as Makoto can tell. When his own face appears on screen, Rin smiles widely, and Haru's eyes still look a bit glassy. It's abundantly clear they've just fucked.
Makoto is overwhelmed with fondness for them. He also hates himself for the stubborn bit of jealousy that, even after several months of this, is still gnawing on him.
He can't even pinpoint who exactly he's jealous of – both of them, probably. This isn't their usual set-up: normally it's him and Haru together in Tokyo, Rin on the other side of a screen. It's rare enough for Rin and Haru to meet at international competitions, rarer even for Makoto to miss out on them. If he didn't have an extremely important and extremely stress-inducing end-of-semester anatomy exam in three days, he would be with them right now. Instead, he's home alone. Excluded.
Except, he reminds himself forcefully, except he's not excluded. Because they just called him. That's the opposite of excluding him. Now if he could just get that through his head –
“Hey gorgeous,” Rin greets him, and Makoto can't help but smile. Rin's pillow talk is by far the corniest thing he's ever witnessed.
“You're making me blush,” he jokes. Haru raises an eyebrow at him that clearly says, he's not wrong though, and then Makoto really does blush. “I take it the race went well?”
It's a bit of pointless question – of course he watched the livestream a few hours ago.
“Glorious,” Rin sighs. “Haru made Kaede Kinjou cry like a baby.”
“You cried, too,” Haru points out.
“Tears of joy over how beautifully you kicked his ass, yes.”
Makoto watches Haru roll his eyes even as a soft smile blooms on his face, the kind of smile he reserves for Rin. He tries his hardest not to feel like an intruder. “Congratulations. I hope you're celebrating your win.”
Rin nuzzles a bit more into Haru's side and mumbles something about wishing Makoto were there with them – probably the oxytocin making him sentimental.
“He insisted on calling you right after,” Haru says, reading Makoto's thoughts effortlessly. Then, with a bit of a devious glint to his eyes, he adds, “I wanted to wait until we could go again, with you.”
And okay, Makoto isn't going to pretend to be uninterested in that idea, but still. “You don't need to – I mean, not for my sake. You should rest. You have a long journey ahead tomorrow.”
Haru and Rin exchange a look.
“Yeah, no, we definitely want to,” Rin says, and Haru agrees with a devastatingly honest, “Please, Makoto”, and who would Makoto be to say no?
They stay on the line for a while afterwards, chatting aimlessly (Rin spends a good ten minutes quizzing him on his upcoming anatomy test), but eventually both Haru and Rin start looking tired. Makoto hangs up so that they don't have to.
Then it's only him and his textbook again. He feels cold all of a sudden.
Makoto feels cold now, as well, although that has less to do with his insecurities and more with the actual weather.
He sighs and burrows deeper into his coat. “Remind me why I thought it would be a good idea to come to Sydney in August.”
Rin laughs at him mercilessly. “Because you can't resist me, obviously. Also you wouldn't stand a chance against the Australian summer.”
Neither of those statements is wrong, so Makoto contents himself with spreading out the picnic blanket and digging their lunch out of his bag.
“Anyway,” Rin continues, “you didn't have to come, if you really didn't want to. Haru certainly didn't.”
“He's still busy with training over summer break. And you know he's not really into that whole romantic picnic-date-stuff, anyway.”
“Neither are you,” Rin points out. “You're just too sweet to say no.”
“You know that's not it,” Makoto says while searching for the thermos full of hot tea. “I see you rarely enough as is. Honestly, as long as we get to spend some time together, I'll be enjoying myself either way, so might as well do something you like, right?” He smiles at Rin's widening eyes. “That's enough for me.”
“I swear to God, Makoto,” Rin says and kisses him, hard.
And Makoto has to admit, there's something to be said for romantic picnic dates, even when it's twelve degrees Celsius outside and windy. Rin picked a small park with very few visitors, not far from his apartment; there's no ocean view, but the sun still looks pretty as it hangs low over trees and buildings. A few kids are arguing over who gets to use the swing next; a few seagulls are arguing over a sandwich. It's in a completely different city on a completely different continent, yet with Rin's hands in his hair and his breath on his face, it feels familiar.
Even though someone's missing. There's always someone missing, with them.
“We should take a picture for Haru,” Makoto says.
Rin hums vaguely and kisses him again.
“In a minute. I'm not sure I should say this, but … ” He grins his sunny, boyish smile that reminds Makoto of their childhood, the smile they all had to fight so hard to get back. “I like having you all to myself now and then.”
It's not the first time Rin says something like this; it's still surprising to Makoto every time. Going into this, he had sort of expected – feared, but expected – that the central point of their relationship would be Haru, who for some reason wanted them both and always got what he wanted. Makoto wasn't even particularly taken aback when he noticed himself slowly falling in love with Rin, too, because honestly, why wouldn't he? But this – sharp, brave, sparkling Rin being actually interested in someone as, well, overall ordinary as him – this will never stop surprising him.
Nonetheless, he takes what he can get. He's selfless, but not that much.
He hands Rin a cup of hot tea and makes sure to brush over his fingers in the process. “I like that, too.”
They do send Haru a picture, later, when the sun has nearly set. He sends one back, with Nagisa next to him making a kissy face towards a flustered Rei. I told them to do something romantic for you, is Haru's caption. I'm not sure it worked.
“Ugh,” Rin says, half in Makoto's lap so he can look at his phone. “What a bunch of idiots. You're the only one with any sense.”
Makoto tightens his arm around Rin and smiles to himself .
“That's all for today,” Makoto tells the youngest (and most adorable) division of his swimming club. “Great work, all of you! Especially you, Misaki, your timing has improved a lot.”
Misaki grins widely. “Thank you, Coach Tachibana!”
Makoto watches the kids disappear into their changing rooms before he feels Haru's eyes on his back.
“Hey,” he says, smiling.
“Are you done soon?” Haru asks.
“Give me a minute to change.”
Haru comes with him into the staff's changing room. They haven't seen each other in a while – Haru just returned from three weeks of training camp, and Makoto still feels a bit guilty about not picking him up from the train station, but he has a part-time job that pays for half of their rent and leaves him less than flexible in his schedule. Still, he can tell there's something on Haru's mind. Rin calls it their freaky telepathy thing; Makoto calls it a lifetime of friendship and plenty of trial and error. (Haru doesn't call it anything; he relies on it too much to think of it as anything but normal.)
“Let's go home,” Makoto says once he's done stuffing everything into his bag.
Haru doesn't move. “Makoto.”
“Yes, Haru?”
“You're out to everyone here, aren't you?”
Makoto blinks at this sudden change of subject. “Eh? I mean … I do mention you and Rin, so it's not exactly a secret.”
Haru nods to himself, then, with the graceful, pointed deliberation that is so very like him, takes Makoto's hand and threads their fingers together.
Public displays of affection aren't Haru's thing, not at all, and Makoto tries his best not to read too much into it. Still, as they're walking out of the building – past the doorman, a couple of his co-workers, some parents who are collecting their children – his heart is definitely beating harder than usual. They stop for a short conversation with another coach who wants to know something about Makoto's schedule, and suddenly Haru's hand feels downright demonstrative. Granted, it's a bit silly for Haru to get like that in front of a co-worker, but Makoto would be lying if he said he doesn't like it.
It doesn't stop when they're home, either. As Makoto heats up the leftovers from yesterday's dinner, Haru sort of just plasters himself to Makoto's back, to the point where handling the pans gets so difficult that Makoto has to push him away. When they relocate to the sofa to pick a movie to watch while eating, Makoto sits next to Haru with a bit of distance, but Haru isn't having that either. He shuffles close and winds his arms around Makoto tightly.
“Someone's cuddly today,” Makoto says, shifting so that he can get his own arms around Haru, his nose buried in black hair that will probably never stop smelling of chlorine.
“I missed you,” Haru says in his typical bluntness. “It's pointless, being apart.”
It's funny: they've known each other for so long, and yet whenever Haru says things like that, Makoto's heart threatens to break out of his ribcage.
Back when they first came to Tokyo, they didn't move in together. Partly because Haru procrastinated on apartment-hunting far longer than any reasonable person should, but partly because Makoto just didn't want to. Ever since their last year at high school, he'd worried about them depending on each other too much; it was thrilling, in a way, this discovery that they could exist separately from one another, that they could have different experiences, misunderstand each other, disagree, without the world falling apart.
Ultimately, though, the novelty of this feeling had worn off and left something cold behind. At first Makoto had thought the dependence was coming back. Then he got his head out of his ass and realised he just missed Haru, and then it really did feel pointless, being apart.
“It is,” Makoto agrees, and for a moment they both think of Rin, who is apart from them more often than not. Then Makoto's thoughts drift back to this afternoon. “Still, not a reason to get jealous over a co-worker.”
“He was very friendly.”
“He's not in love with me, Haru-chan.”
“Well, you are very loveable. So I'll have to hold your hand more often.”
Makoto swallows, knows that Haru will read the tightening of his arms as a yes, please. “What about Rin? He's very loveable, I'm told.”
Haru considers this briefly.
“I have two hands,” he says, and that's all there is to say.
Autumn might be Makoto's favourite season. It's the season of bright yellow leaves, wind, bad weather, tea and cosy sweaters. It's also, unfortunately, the season when everyone underestimates how cold it really is and gets sick as a result.
Makoto doesn't make this mistake because he is a responsible adult and doesn't leave swimming practice with his hair wet and no hat on; the same apparently can't be said of Haru.
“I don't want to be mean,” Makoto says while heating up some soup for them. “But, for the record: I told you so.”
Haru mumbles something from his spot on the sofa; Makoto can barely hear him through the blankets. He sets the bowl of soup onto the coffee table in front of Haru with a smile, kisses his forehead and goes into his own room. The door shuts with a loud click behind him.
It would be easier if it really were just a cold. Then Makoto could give into his impulses and fuss all he wants, make tea and cuddle and talk about everything and nothing. But Haru has been listless for the past week in that way that just happens to him sometimes, has been happening to him since high school. It was hard enough for Makoto to understand that this isn't something that either of them can fix, that it's just something they have to learn to deal with; harder even for him to accept that during those times, the best thing he can do is dial back. Haru tried to explain it to him once – how he feels aimless, even useless during those days, like there would be no point in even simple things like getting up and going to the store, and so when Makoto coddles him and takes care of everything, it sort of proves these feelings right. (Makoto had protested, of course, because for him It's okay, I'll make dinner for you, you just stay there and rest is one of the many synonyms for I love you. But he isn't the one feeling useless here.)
By far the hardest thing to accept is that on those days, Haru needs Rin more than he needs Makoto. Of course, Haru has never actually said so, but Makoto gets it nonetheless.
So now, he sits down on his bed and hits the speed dial for Rin's number.
“Yo Mako,” Rin says on the other end, and the casual greeting warms something in Makoto. “What's up?”
“Not much. One of those days,” he adds.
He can hear Rin shift on the other end. “That sucks. I'll call him in a minute.”
“Thank you.”
Makoto has half a mind to hang up, but he's missed Rin's voice so much, even though they skype at least three times a week. Rin doesn't make any move to end the call, either.
“How are you holding up? It's gotta be pretty cold in Tokyo by now.”
“I'm fine. Half of my co-workers are sick with the flu, so I've been pulling extra shifts all week. Though the kids are mostly sick, too, so it's almost like I'm giving private lessons … Even Haru's come down with something.” He chuckles weakly. “I'm trying not to fuss too much.”
“You're not fussy, though,” Rin says, immediately picking up on his mood. “You're caring. Haru doesn't mind that.”
“Not usually, no,” Makoto concedes. “Still, you … You're better for him than I am, when he gets like that. And, it's stupid but I can't help but wonder if – ”
He cuts himself off, because voicing his insecurities would mean giving Rin the chance to agree with him.
Rin, of course, hears them anyway, so Makoto is a little bit surprised when there's laughter coming out of his phone.
“Look, Mako,” Rin says, still laughing, “I love Haru a lot, but we wouldn't last a week without you.” Makoto doesn't think that's true, but it does sound like Rin means it, and he tries to hold onto that. “Besides, it's not really about what's best for Haru. It's about what's best for you, too.”
“And you,” Makoto adds.
“Yeah, I guess,” Rin says, which is not the kind of answer Makoto was hoping for.
He clears his throat. “Rin. Are you okay?”
There's a long moment of silence on the other end.
“I was just thinking, if we're going down that road,” Rin eventually says, swallowing. “You two would be fine without me. I reckon.”
And God, Makoto feels selfish now – Rin is the one who's a continent away, all alone, who has to take a plane each time he wants to see them, who apparently still doesn't get how deep his bond with Haru (with both of them) runs, and there he is, reassuring Makoto even though he's the one that needs reassurance most. For a second, Makoto considers telling him what he's thought for a while now – that he and Rin would probably be fine without Haru, too – but then he realises that's not the point, not at all.
“We don't want to be without you, though,” he says instead. “I don't want that. I love you, Rin.”
“I love you, too,” Rin says while trying to pretend he isn't crying. Makoto shakes his head, can't stop the smile from stretching across his face.
“We're a bit of a mess, aren't we?”
Rin laughs wetly in agreement. “Also, by the way, I like your fussing. Next time I'm sick, you're coming over, and you can fuss over me all you want.”
He hangs up not too long after; a few minutes later, Makoto hears Haru's phone ring in the living room. He leaves them to their conversation, stretches out onto his back and dozes off for a little bit.
The shifting of his mattress is what wakes him. He sits up slowly, rubbing his eyes; Haru is sitting in front of him.
“I made tea,” he says, pointing to the two cups on the bedside table.
Makoto runs a hand across his forehead; no fever, thank God. “You should be resting.”
“I am,” Haru says and slips under the covers next to him.
Makoto looks at the two cups and thinks that maybe, to Haru, that's a synonym for I love you, too.
“I'm still not entirely sure what I'm doing here,” Sousuke admits.
Makoto turns his attention away from Haru and Rin bickering at the stove over the right amount of time to fry their vegetables. “You're having dinner with your friends?”
“See, that's my issue.” Sousuke takes a sip of his beer. “I mean, I'm Rin's friend, sure. And you … ”
“We're friends,” Makoto says firmly, which makes Sousuke smile.
“Right. Nanase, though, well. I don't think he wants me here.”
Makoto takes a sip of his own beer. He's incredibly grateful for Sousuke's foresight to bring drinks; dating two competitive swimmers means there's hardly room for anything that deviates from a near-ascetic lifestyle, not even during the winter holidays.
“Then Haru will either have to make alternative plans, or deal with it like the adult he is,” he says. “Don't worry about it. We're not in high school anymore.”
“Still. He's been looking at me weird.”
“Maybe he's a little jealous,” Makoto concedes. Sousuke scoffs into his beer.
“Because I'm Rin's best friend? That's enough to make him jealous? You're literally Rin's other boyfriend.”
“True. I'm also Haru's, though.”
Haru's boyfriend, Makoto means, but the phrasing makes it sound more absolute. He leaves it like that.
Sousuke seems to hear something else, though. “Listen, Tachibana. I love Rin, and I like you well enough, but I'm not joining your whatever-it-is, alright?”
Makoto is glad he didn't pick this moment to drink. “What? I – no, I never meant – ”
“Never meant what?” Rin says, approaching the living room table. He presses a kiss to Makoto's cheek, then goes to wrap his arms around Sousuke's neck and nuzzles his hair. Sousuke lets him with only token protest, and for a moment, Makoto can almost see it.
“Makoto is trying to rope me into your threesome thing,” Sousuke says.
Just as quickly, the moment is gone. “I am definitely not!”
Rin snickers. “Oh my God, no. I'm keeping Sousuke to myself, thanks.”
“I don't know, Rin,” Sousuke says. “I might consider it. He is hotter than you.”
“Fuck off, Sou,” Rin says easily. “But also, you're right.”
Makoto is pretty sure his face couldn't get any redder if he tried. “Guys … ”
“Dinner is ready,” Haru says from somewhere behind him. “And you're both hot.”
And really, Makoto is just about ready to give up.
The morning after their big New Year's Eve party, Makoto wakes up in bed alone.
When he thinks of it as 'big', he means it; they invited just about everyone they've reconnected with since they moved to Tokyo. Asahi and Kisumi were there first, to Haru's dismay, with a truly insane amount of alcohol in tow, because while Kisumi's uncle is in the real estate business, his aunt apparently owns a semi-legal distillery, and honestly Makoto doesn't even want to know. Ikuya came in next, along with Hiyori who's still a little awkward around them, but if there's one thing Makoto has plenty of practice in, it's dispelling awkwardness amongst people who he likes but who don't like each other. By the time Rin was getting worried about knowing none of these guys, seriously Mako, how many more people did Haru promise to race in middle school, the door burst open once more to reveal Sousuke, Ai, Gou, and all three of the Mikoshiba siblings, and it sort of spiralled from there.
Asahi and Ikuya spent most of the night arguing over more and more pointless things, while Kisumi alternated between egging them on and asking Makoto increasingly detailed questions about how exactly this whole three-people-relationship-thing worked. Isuzu challenged both of her brothers, Sousuke, Rin, and (for some reason) Hiyori to a drinking contest, won by a landslide, and proceeded to passionately make out with Gou, who seemed extremely delighted and not at all surprised by this turn of events even though she did go very red in the face. (Meanwhile, Momo went to cry over his defeat on Ai's shoulder.) Even Nao and Natsuya showed up for about half an hour, destroyed all of them in a game of charades (which was ridiculous because Makoto and Haru were playing as a team, and they never lose at charades), and left again without really saying goodbye. Twenty minutes before midnight, the doorbell rang one last time, with Nagisa and Rei finally there, so sorry, Mako-chan, our train was super late, but look, Rei-chan taught me how to fold origami flowers and we made one hundred and seventy-three of them on the way here! And so they counted down the last seconds of the old year with an armful of paper flowers for everyone, crowded on Makoto's and Haru's tiny balcony. Makoto ended up sandwiched between Kisumi and Asahi on one side and Nagisa and Rei on the other; Haru and Rin were a bit further away, but Rin blew him a kiss when the clock struck midnight and the fireworks started. When the air became too cold and they scrambled back into the flat, Haru reached out to tuck a paper flower into Makoto's hair, where it stayed for the rest of the night.
Everyone slowly started leaving around half past three, after several rounds of poker (with Haru as the sole winner, which surprised no one) and monopoly (with Gou as the sole winner, which surprised everyone), as well as one instance of Makoto having to talk Asahi, Nagisa and Momo down from attempting to make flambéed pancakes with Haru's blowtorch (“It's fine, Mako-chan, I saw it on TV!”) and another one of stopping Isuzu from duelling Rin for his sister's honour (to the eldest Mikoshiba brother's enthusiastic screams of, “Do the family proud, Isu!”). He briefly wondered why Haru wasn't there to help him manage their guests, only to spot him talking quietly to Ikuya and Hiyori in a corner and decided to leave him to his devices. Once everyone had left (except for Rei and Nagisa, who were obviously staying over), the last thing Makoto remembers is half-heartedly cleaning up some of the squashed origami flowers and then piling into bed with Haru curled around his back and Rin sort of draped across both of them.
And now, well, now he's waking up alone.
There's no headache, no lingering pain; in fact, he feels light, airy. Content, even. The sun hasn't been up for long, so the light is still soft through the windows and the open curtains. His gaze trails over to the balcony door, which isn't quite closed, letting in a refreshingly cold January breeze.
Haru and Rin are sitting outside, huddled together in thick hoodies, legs dangling between the gaps in the railing. Rin's arm is tight around Haru, while Haru's head rests on Rin's shoulder.
Makoto waits for the jealousy; it doesn't come. There's warmth instead, and love, a lot of it, and he has to smile at his own silliness. They're never all going to feel the exact same thing for each other, but that was never the goal – instead, they're choosing to be together and hold on in whichever way they can, and really, that's more than Makoto would ever have dared hope for.
Like he's heard his thought, Haru nudges Rin's side and says something to him. Rin turns around, then, a brilliant smile on his face, and waves him over.
“Good morning,” Makoto says, stepping into the freezing cold air of the new year. Rin and Haru make some space between them so he can sit down.
“Makoto,” Haru greets him with a soft smile on his face. He slips an arm around Makoto's waist.
“He knew when you woke up without looking,” Rin says, snuggling into his other side. “It's honestly the weirdest thing.”
And Makoto knows that it will never quite go away, his fear of being too clingy, too overwhelming, too much. But he also knows that Haruka knows how to ask him for space, and that Rin says things like I like having you all to myself, and he wants to trust that.
The truth is, they're all too much, the three of them. But they're also really good at holding on.