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The first light of spring cast dancing shadows between the trees over the fertile soil below. Dew drops dotted the leaves of every tree, colourful rows of ripe fruits reaching as far as the horizon line in the distance. Isolated rays of sunlight filtered through the leaves’ canopy, reflecting in Haruka’s aquamarine eyes and glistening over his hair as blue satin. Of all the beauty that Niigata’s most popular fruit-picking orchard had to offer, Fuuta did not think it biased to believe that Haruka was the most beautiful sight amongst them all.
Of course, in true Haruka fashion, it would not be long before the man’s wide-eyed curiosity surfaced, and its associated antics ensued. Unbeknownst to Fuuta, Haruka had come into possession of an exceptionally large, green apple somewhere along their stroll.
“Aa–a? Oi, don’t eat that,” Fuuta warned. “You’re not s’posed to eat the green ones, y’know?” the redhead chided, then added with an arrogant nod, “I’m older than you, so I know better.”
“But it looks so tasty…” Haruka whined, eyeing the verdant fruit in his hand; its glossy skin much too inviting not to take at least one little bite.
“Well, if you want a mouthful of disappointment so badly, then by all means, be my gues–” before Fuuta could finish the lightly-teasing disclaimer, the crisp fruit in Haruka’s grasp had found its way to his tender lips. Fuuta watched with doubt as the other man took a generous bite of temptation, screwing up his nose as he gulped the regrettable flavour down.
“AwhAa–” Haruka frowned. “B-bitter…!”
Fuuta chuckled playfully.
“Hah, told you so,” the redhead folded his arms. “The green ones are just for cooking; everyone knows that.”
“Hmph–!” Haruka pouted like a child who had been squirted in the face with a prank flower. “Then, what does that make me– ‘no one’?” an awkward feeling spread across his chest. Those words hit uncomfortably close to home, even for just a joke.
He waited for the other man’s scolding response to his deprecating comment but blinked in confusion when none came.
“… Fuuta?” Haruka wondered.
He glanced up from the half-bitten apple in his hand, peering over his shoulder when he realised Fuuta was nowhere in sight. Finally, he spotted the older man beneath a cluster of nearby orange trees.
“Fuu– ah… hm?” Haruka observed the other man; an arm outstretched above his head, supposedly struggling to reach one of the lower-hanging oranges on the tree. “Is it too high for you to reach?” Haruka tilted his head.
“N-no– what,” Fuuta startled, retracting his arm quickly to his side. “Wh-what makes you think–”
Haruka reached above his head and plucked the fruit with embarrassing ease, tinting Fuuta’s cheeks a subtle rose-red.
“You might be older than me, Fuuta,” Haruka handed the orange to the older man with a rare, mischievous smirk.
“But I’m taller.”