Chapter Text
If Haruka could list all the things he hated, noise and crowds would be among them. Unfortunately for him, Narita Airport was both of it combined.
When he arrived in the absurdly large airport after a 45-minute flight from Iwatobi, he was greeted by no one, other than shadowy strangers and occasional foreigners with their big bags and spinners while Haruka stood there almost to the point of cluelessness with only a heavy gym bag of clothes. To be honest, he felt afraid, even just for a moment. Where was the exit? Why was it so bright? Why were there so much people? Why was it so cold? Would he look stupid if he asked directions? Despite this his face remained calm, but his pale hands were sweating regardless of the harsh air-conditioning. Haruka stood frozen in place for a good few seconds and took about a minute more to gain the courage to walk out of the domestic terminal's arrival gate. With the LED lights and confusing signs and the increasing amount of people, he walked alongside passengers from the plane. As it was already seven in the evening, it wouldn't be a good idea to waste time, but even so Haruka opted it would be best to sit down in one of the many waiting areas to regain tranquility.
He realized he could've just taken the bullet train route, but that scared him even more, considering he had to transfer several times between lines and endure stopovers to get to Tokyo. To think that he also had to endure travelling alone for more than 45 minutes. Haruka preferred the plane. It was easier to book. Besides, Haruka always had the notion that train stations were harder to venture into.
He slid his phone so it would lit up. There were no new messages. A text or call from his parents would be helpful but nothing came. Haruka chose not to get his hopes up. His parents lived in a condominium in Shinjuku, too busy at work to even fetch their own son from the airport. What was up with that anyway? A perfectly sane mother would be excited to see her only son after years of separation. A perfectly sane father would drive his car to the airport to give his son a ride home. Haruka found it hard to empathize, since he himself wasn't too eager to reunite with his family. Perhaps indifference and stoicism runs in the family.
Fiddling with his blue phone, he remembered receiving instructions on how to go to his parent's home the day before his flight. He expected it would be easy, but when the poor boy reread the text message from his mother, he was at complete loss.
"Buy a ticket to Shinjuku Station," Haru muttered as he read the message. Okay, first things first. Buy a ticket. It should be easy, right? He stood up, but then sat down again as a nervous sigh escaped from his lips. "Where the hell do I buy it?" Was it a bus ticket? Or a train ticket? He clicked his tongue. Could his mother be any vaguer? He texted her about his worries but she never replied. Busy, most likely. His head looked right and left, his silky black hair flowing in respective directions, trying to look for anything that sells tickets. He regretted not having to research first. It was his first time traveling alone, in the capital at that. He was torn between asking for help from the airport staff and rushing in to battle by himself.
He was alone. Completely alone. So, he let himself relax in his frosty seat.
And all he could think about was wanting to swim.
He wanted to completely submerge himself in the water and mute every annoying sound that the stupid airport makes. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deep through his nose and then exhaled audibly. Haruka tried to replace the beeps of machines and endless murmuring of strangers into the sounds of the ocean waves hitting rocks and restlessly and boundlessly embracing the shore. It calmed him down for a second. He already missed the waters of Iwatobi. He had never been outside of his usual environment alone, outside the peaceful provincial atmosphere of Iwatobi, outside the presence of friends. But he wasn't alone for too long.
"Haru."
His eyes snapped open. The waves were gone and he was back in the airport. Oceanic blue eyes glistened at the tall outline of a man that shadowed over him.
Surprised, he let out a breathy, "Makoto?"
And the said man smiled. Haruka had never been so happy to see that same smile he had been seeing ever since they met. Makoto's hand was reaching out, and his towering build had the same posture whenever he pulled Haruka out of the pool.
Before responding to the kind gesture, Haruka asked, "How…?"
To Makoto, his question seemed incomplete. "How did I know you're here? Your mom told me you were arriving today." Haruka let himself be pulled up, possessing that feeling that his friend had already heard the voice inside his head. "She said you already knew the way, but I figured Haru wouldn't know how to go to Shinjuku."
There he was talking too much again after a simple question. And what did he meant when he said he wouldn't know how to go to Shinjuku? Was he mocking him? Haruka scoffed at himself. No, Makoto wasn't like that. There wasn't even a hint of arrogance in his tone. It was more along the lines of genuine concern, as always.
Haruka joked with narrowed eyes and a frown, "Just a few weeks in Tokyo and you're already this cocky?" He heard Makoto laugh inoffensively and apologize so he looked to the side and mumbled, "I know how to go to Shinjuku."
"Hm? But it seems like you were sleeping earlier," Makoto said innocently.
"I was tired."
"Do you have a ticket, then?"
"A ticket to what?"
"I thought you knew."
Haruka wasn't even sure anymore if Makoto was hiding his arrogance beneath that smile of his. And he decided it would be hopeless to go against someone who totally knew what he was thinking. Makoto wore that face—the face whenever he went inside his best friend's mind. "Fine. I don't, okay? Just get me out of here."
It was the train after all, Haruka thought, watching Makoto do nothing but stare into space. Haruka sat on the window seat with Makoto next to him. There were still a lot of people, but it was unnervingly quieter. Probably because it was a Sunday, even though it was already the evening rush hour. The train didn't make much noise and the people were either asleep or too busy tampering their smartphones.
"She didn't tell me it was Narita Express," Haruka said in a low voice, embarrassed as he scrutinized the 'JR East NEX' letters on his ticket. He really shouldn't be especially when it came to Makoto, but he couldn't help feeling a little ashamed. He crossed his arms and looked out the window to see nothing but black and dark metal scaffoldings and blurred city lights.
There was a soft laugh and a smile afterwards. "I was just like you when I first arrived here. You shouldn't feel embarrassed at all. And I've only been in the city for three weeks so once we get to Shinjuku I would be just as lost as you."
"Where do you live again?" Haruka knew of course, since Makoto kept his texts to a minimum of a hundred per day about his first days in Chiba and Tokyo, but he just wanted to keep the conversation going while changing the subject all the while. He removed his vision from the windows and focused his gaze to Makoto who looked at him just as earnestly.
"Me? Chiba. I've told you that before, I think? Mom and dad insist that I live somewhere in Tokyo near Haru but I didn't want to burden them so much. It's really too expensive. My tuition is already a bother so I want to cut expenses as much as possible. And the apartment we rented was half the price of studio types in Tokyo."
He was such a saint, Haruka thought. A selfless, noble saint. "But we're attending Waseda," Haruka said, secretly happy to say they were both attending the same university. Then, he asked, eyebrows furrowing. "Why'd you have to live so far?" He could tell Makoto was glad that he was worrying over him just by looking at his buoyant, green eyes.
"Don't worry," Makoto gently assured him with his usual smile. "The commute doesn't take too long. I'm only forty minutes away."
He had to look away. Haruka's thoughts were filled with how Makoto was simply too wonderful. So when the train speakers bellowed that they were arriving in Chiba, the boy with the starry blue eyes stood up abruptly and began walking towards the train exit.
"H-Haru?" Makoto frantically called out and got out of his seat as well, trying to catch up to Haruka. "We aren't in Shinjuku yet!"
The train came to a stop, slowly, but quietly, unlike the screeching trains in Iwatobi. Innocently, Haruka waited until the high-tech doors open, not paying attention to any of Makoto's warnings behind him.
"Haru!" he called out again.
It was too late. They were on the platform and the train was already leaving. The night was still young and Haruka couldn't quite describe Makoto's expression.
"Haru…" He mentioned his name again, this time with a voice coated with both kindness and surrender. But mostly surrender. Haruka didn't talk, as if waiting for the right timing. Instead, he began to walk away from the platform, feeling the weight of his gym bag over his shoulder again.
Haruka's silent steps stopped when Makoto blocked him, his big hands grasping both of his narrow shoulders. And that was when Haruka might have completely lost his guard, because as soon as his deep-sea eyes were snared by Makoto's green ones, he knew he was trapped.
He looked away desperately. Maybe a little too desperately. Makoto was going inside his head again.
Then he felt his grip lighten. So he looked back.
"You want to go to my place." It was more of a fact, the way Makoto said it. He didn't need to imply his words as a question. Because he knew. "What about your parents?"
Haruka frowned and looked at the platform floors that were surprisingly clean. He got to thinking. He might've acted impulsively when he got off the train, but he wasn't sure exactly what made him do it. "I'll tell them I got lost."
Makoto sighed. "They would blame me too, you know."
Haruka knew he didn't need to say anything else, didn't need to add anymore. Makoto had already read him. There was no escaping whenever he did that.
The one with green eyes just smiled, the usual sunny smile, a smile so sunny it felt like it bright as day, and Haruka was simply enchanted, by his warmth, by his kindness, by his touch. Makoto still had his hands on his shoulders, but it was light, like there was no weight at all. Haruka surrendered, finally, and stared straight into Makoto's eyes. Surrendered because he decided to speak.
"I want to stay at your place tonight."
And so they did. They might have spent a little too much on tickets since their original destination was Shinjuku and they both knew that didn't work out well. It was worth a thousand yen more than a ticket to Chiba. Then there was the starless night, a bus ride, short walks from one street to another, expensive-looking cars going back and forth from his vision, and the insufferable city lights. He relied on Makoto all throughout and had wanted to touch him, any part of him—his hand maybe or even just the sleeve of his jacket. He could say he was afraid of getting lost, even though the area where Makoto was living in wasn't exactly that urban, and had more of this residential feel to it. Although it was Tokyo's next door neighbor, Makoto's side of Chiba was quiet and suburban. Haruka liked it more than he expected.
"We're here," Makoto said, guiding Haruka by the wrist as he opened the door.
Makoto's apartment building appeared modern on the outside but became somewhat traditional on the inside. From the entrance, Haruka observed the three doors ahead, one north, one east, and one west, with only one butter-colored ceiling lamp illuminating the surroundings.
On the recessed and concrete part of the entrance, Makoto supported himself with his hand on the wall when he was in the midst of taking off his sneakers. He apologized, untying the strings of his shoes, "Sorry, it's still a bit messy. I haven't had the time to—!"
He was caught off-guard by Haruka by standing only on one leg. Then there was a loud thump on the ground when Makoto fell on the wooden elevated portion of the entryway. His eyes closed from the impact, so when tried to open it, the first thing he saw was Haruka's silky black hair.
"Haru?"
He stopped and finally noticed the weight of Haruka on his body. They were already down on the wooden floor when Makoto realized Haruka had tackled him, his arms tightly securing his wider waist.
Haruka hid his face in Makoto's chest and was tempted to fall apart above Makoto's warm, familiar figure. Because he missed him so much. He couldn't even begin to explain how much. He closed his eyes shut because he had wanted to tackle him ever since they reunited in the airport. But he couldn't at that time and held back. Makoto was good at holding back, and since Haruka knew he would be too shy to take initiative, he did him a favor by initiating the first move.
He wasn't able to see Makoto's face, but Haruka guessed it would be all red and confused. So he hugged him tighter.
How could three weeks without Makoto be so painful? Did Makoto missed him just as much as he did? He needed to know if there were times that Makoto would smile and think of him for absolutely no reason, if there were times he couldn't sleep at night and had to hug a pillow for comfort, if there were times he couldn't just breathe because they were just so far apart. It was painful. Because that was how it was for Haruka. There were mornings he woke up disappointed, afternoons when he forgot to get out of the bathtub, subconsciously waiting for Makoto to wrap a towel around him, and nights when he just couldn't breathe.
He wondered about how Makoto would react until he felt strong arms wrap around his entire upper body. And Haruka felt like he was at sea, his big, strong arms hugging him the way the waves embraced the shore. There was that same sense of peace whenever he was streaming against the cool, serene water. Makoto was the sea, the waves, and his own form of water.
Makoto didn't even need to look at his eyes to know what Haruka wanted to say.
"I missed you too," he confessed, his voice strained and low. Haruka loved his low voice, because he knew he only used it during the highest point of his gentleness, of his emotions, of his love. The boy on top clenched the fabric of Makoto's jacket, moderately clawing his back. And Makoto reacted back and continued to stir and shift his arms because he felt like his embrace wasn't strong enough and he buried his face into Haruka's locks of dark hair.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you," Makoto murmured softly, and was loud enough for Haruka as he was speaking right next to his ear. He sounded so loving and the fact that he said the words Haruka wanted to hear made his heart flutter. "I couldn't sleep for three weeks." Haruka felt a hand on the back of his head, running through tresses of black, pulling him closer, again and again. Makoto breathed out, "And the truth is, I would've gone insane if Haru hadn't come here."
Blue, blue eyes sparkled and widened. Haruka had never felt so relieved. Makoto never woke up disappointed in the morning because he barely even slept. He was relieved because Makoto was suffering just as he was when he thought he was the only one. Because the thought of Makoto forgetting him and replacing him was far too unbearable. It didn't help one bit that Haruka grew so accustomed to his warmth and kindness and affection that having to touch and feel him and hear his quickening heartbeat were all he needed to survive.
Haruka sensed Makoto's chest heave, then the tall man beneath him kissed the side of his head before speaking ever so soothingly.
"I love you."
And for the first time that day, Haruka smiled, his lips curving against Makoto's chest.
"I know."