Chapter Text
Makoto Tachibana had always been a gentle soul. Quiet, steady, and reliable. He was the kind of person who was always there for those around him, whether it was supporting his teammates or just being there when someone needed a friend. And Haru… well, Haru was everything to him. The water, the silence, the stillness—Makoto admired Haru in ways he couldn't explain.
But there was one thing that Makoto had never been able to control: his heart.
His unspoken love for Haru was an ache that had settled deep inside of him, and every day, it became harder to ignore. The tender looks, the quiet moments alone together—Makoto wanted it all to last forever. But there was something even more complicated than his feelings for Haru: his omega instincts.
It was something Makoto had learned to manage, something he had always kept under control, but recently… everything felt different. His omega hormones had been acting up, growing increasingly difficult to suppress. He’d been feeling it for weeks—an undercurrent of heat pulling at him, pushing him to places he wasn’t ready to go. And it was so much worse when Haru was nearby.
It started when he couldn’t stop his heart from racing around Haru. The way the smaller male moved, the way he would lean against the wall, silent and deep in thought—it made Makoto's head spin. The heat made him want to be closer to Haru, so much closer. But it was dangerous. Haru would never understand.
That was his fear. The fear that everything would fall apart if he let it slip. If he let the omega instincts take over, and worse, if Haru found out about his unrequited feelings.
The first time Makoto had felt it, the surge of heat that gnawed at him from within, was during their swim practice. He could barely concentrate as the tingling heat pooled in his abdomen, his breath hitching each time Haru’s smooth strokes cut through the water. The sharp scent of Haru’s body, that mix of chlorine and something uniquely Haru, filled his senses, and it was almost too much. It was hard enough being so close to him during practice, but today… today was different. His body was betraying him.
Makoto couldn’t even finish the practice. He excused himself early, telling the others he wasn’t feeling well. But he didn’t go home. Instead, he went to the rooftop of the school, hoping the fresh air would cool the fire burning inside of him.
He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on his breathing, but all he could feel was the sharp pulse of his omega instincts. The heat was coming. And it was only getting worse. His body was aching, his skin prickling with an unbearable desire to be close to someone—to Haru.
Makoto pressed his fingers to his temple, trying to will the heat away, trying to control himself. He couldn't let it happen now. He couldn’t let Haru see him like this, couldn't let him see the truth of what he felt.
But then, a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Makoto?" Haru’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it still sent a shock through Makoto's already frazzled mind.
Makoto stiffened, quickly turning his back to the other boy. He was already sweating, a nervousness he couldn’t quite explain crawling up his spine. "Haru… what are you doing here?"
"I saw you leave early," Haru said, walking closer. "Are you okay?"
"I’m fine," Makoto replied quickly, his voice strained. He couldn’t face Haru like this. Not with his body betraying him.
There was a brief silence, and Makoto could feel Haru standing just behind him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of his presence.
"You don’t look fine," Haru said, his tone slightly concerned but calm. "You’ve been acting off lately. Are you sure everything’s okay? You’ve been… distant."
The words cut through Makoto like a knife. He couldn’t tell Haru the truth. He couldn’t tell him about the heat, couldn’t tell him about his feelings. It would ruin everything.
"I—" Makoto stopped himself, unable to find the right words. His vision blurred slightly, the heat in his body intensifying. He had to leave, now. But his feet felt heavy, his body unwilling to obey.
"Haru, please," Makoto said, his voice low, his tone pleading. "I just need some time alone. I’m not feeling well."
Haru didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Makoto braced himself for Haru’s rejection, his withdrawal, his inevitable confusion. But then, he heard Haru’s soft footsteps approaching him. He didn’t move away.
And then, Haru’s voice was in his ear, gentle and sincere, "You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I’m always here for you."
Makoto’s heart hammered in his chest, his pulse erratic. He couldn’t—he couldn’t breathe. Not with Haru so close. His omega instincts flared, his body reacting to the proximity, to the scent of Haru that filled the air.
He wanted him. No. He needed him.
"Makoto…" Haru murmured again, his voice a little more cautious now. "What’s going on?"
The heat was unbearable. Makoto’s vision blurred as his body burned with a desperate need. His omega instincts screamed at him to mark, to claim, to push past the limits of what was safe. But this wasn’t safe. He couldn’t do that to Haru. He wouldn’t.
"I—I have to go," Makoto gasped, backing away from Haru quickly. His hands shook, and he could barely stand up straight as he turned on his heel and bolted toward the stairs. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t.
Days passed, and Haru never questioned Makoto about what had happened that afternoon. He kept his distance, sensing that something was wrong, but not pushing. For Makoto, it was an unbearable weight. Every time he saw Haru, every time Haru smiled at him or spoke to him in that easy, unaffected way, Makoto could feel his heart ache. Haru didn’t know. He couldn’t know. And it was slowly driving Makoto mad.
He had done his best to hide the worst of it, to bury his feelings, to manage the heat surges on his own. But it was becoming harder and harder.
It was in the middle of one particularly hard week, when the scent of Haru lingered too close for too long, that Makoto finally cracked.
He couldn’t take it anymore.
Makoto found himself in the hallway, hands trembling as he leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. The heat had come early this time, and it was stronger than ever. The full force of it gripped him, his body pulsing with the need to seek warmth, to find comfort, to claim.
And then he saw Haru, walking down the hall, completely unaware of the storm raging inside of him.
Makoto couldn’t move. He couldn’t run this time. His body was already too far gone. The scent of Haru, the softness of his voice, the warmth that radiated off him—Makoto couldn't fight it any longer.
“Haru…” Makoto called out softly, his voice unsteady. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I… I need to talk to you."
Haru turned toward him, his brow furrowing slightly. “Makoto? You don’t look well. Are you—”
Before Haru could finish, Makoto closed the distance between them. He didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate. His lips crashed into Haru’s, desperate and needy, his body trembling with the force of his longing.
At first, Haru didn’t respond. He was stiff, surprised, but then Makoto felt it—the faintest brush of Haru’s lips against his own. Something softened between them, and it was the moment that sent Makoto spiraling.
Pulling away, Makoto looked at Haru, his eyes wide with panic. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”
Haru was still staring at him, but his gaze had softened, his own breath coming in quick gasps. He took a step forward, reaching out with both hands to steady Makoto.
“You don’t have to apologize,” Haru said quietly, his voice a little hoarse. “I don’t… I don’t know what’s going on with you, Makoto. But you don’t have to go through this alone.”
Makoto’s heart nearly stopped. He was sure his omega hormones had completely clouded his judgment, but now… now it seemed like maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t alone after all.
“Do you…” Makoto whispered, his voice fragile. “Do you feel the same?”
Haru’s eyes softened, and for the first time, there was no confusion in them, no distance. “I’ve always felt the same, Makoto. You just didn’t know it.”
Makoto’s breath caught in his throat. And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was hope.