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With the regional qualifying tournament a week behind them and their spot secured in the regional medley relay, Makoto’s concerned about Haruka’s continue silence. Of course, Haruka never speaks much to begin with, anyone around him for five minutes would know that, but the air of melancholy and uncertainty that had settled around him is very much unusual.
They’d moved on, they were getting recognition, Haruka had discovered that something about swimming that, when it came to Rin, when it came to all of them,, lit a fire in him.
But Makoto had yet neither seen spark nor sizzle of that fire since the tournament.
Haruka wasn’t even happy about moving on; no small private smiles or triumphant smirks. Little words other than to express his desires (mostly for swimming and mackerel, but that was nothing new) had slipped passed Haruka’s lips in the last seven days and it frustrated Makoto to see him like that. Even last night’s festival had done little to make Haruka open up more, despite his confession about how lost he had been. So far, it seems like last night hadn’t even happened, and Makoto had much more than suspicions as to why; Kou’s little morning announcement had been important but ill-timed at best. Makoto had felt terrible when he had to return home first for an errand instead of walk Haruka back to his house.
Which is why he’s there, standing in Haruka’s living room at four o’clock on a warm Sunday afternoon, checking his phone and trying to squish down the little bits of anxiety that are trying to force their way to the forefront of his mind. This is for Haruka’s well being and his own peace, nothing more.
How Makoto wishes that was true, but you can’t exactly just blurt out a ten years running crush while the object of said affections was in the bath, now can you. He taps his foot, once, twice, too many times before he sucks it up and starts to climb the stairs, only to bump nose-first into Haruka’s chest.
“Ah, Haru, I wasn’t sure you’d gotten my last text…” Makoto starts, slightly awkward and with nowhere to go but backwards. Haruka’s still damp, patting at his hair with a towel and eyebrows knitting together.
“Oh, yeah, I got it. Where did you want to take me again?” Haruka asks, still standing on the step ahead of Makoto. His voice is quiet and questioning, saying what Haruka does not.
“This little place I’d heard about, it just opened and it’s on the north end of the beach, overlooking the sea. Thought you’d like to judge how it makes the water look?” That... didn't make a lot of sense, but it seemed to do its job. Makoto misses the slight raise of Haruka’s eyebrow by attempting to back up into the living room without falling on his ass. Haruka follows him, reaching for clothes he’d left on the table.
Makoto scrunches a little, too close to twiddling his thumbs. Haruka shrugs. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”
“Yeah, I thought you’d li- Haru are you really putting your clothes on over a wet swimsuit. That you wore into the bath. Again.” Haruka was unmoved by Makoto’s incredulous stare, stepping into his shorts like it was nothing.
Haruka rubs at his hair a bit more, before shaking his head side side to side like a dog. Makoto bites his lip. That should be annoying, not cute. “You said it was overlooking the ocean, maybe we can wander in afterwards.” His voice is quiet, prodding almost, like Haruka’s hesitant about the suggestion.
Makoto blinks, but chuckles. “That’s an odd way to go about it, but alright.”
Haruka smiles slightly, but it’s swept away as he pulls on his shirt and heads towards the door. “Come on Makoto, don’t be slow.
***
Makoto leads them up a small batch of stairs to the front of a teeny, brightly colored cafe. “They have a veranda out back,” he says in lieu of any introduction. He holds the door open for them both with a soft smile.
Haruka nods and walks ahead of him, holding up two fingers when the small woman at the front podium asks. Makoto is close behind, adding “on the patio,” when she seems to incline her head for another question. She nods and sets them at a small white table, takes their drink orders, and then leaves them alone to look at the menu. They sit in silence for a few minutes, Haruka studying the menu and Makoto studying Haruka, before Haruka speaks.
“Makoto, I feel like there’s something other than the sea you wanted to bring me here for.” He doesn’t look up.
Makoto blushes, hurrying to look engrossed with the food choices. “Well, not really. I mean, just wanted to make sure you were alright and all.”
Haruka finally catches Makoto’s eyes, staring through him like he doesn’t really need a verbal answer, but it would be nice, thanks. “More than that.”
This wasn't supposed to go like this. This was supposed to be about Haruka and the sea and cafe food. But now he can't avoid it and it seems Haruka might have been waiting to bring this up too. Makoto moves to open his mouth, his voice catching, when they were interrupted by the waitress stopping by for their order. Haruka asks for a mango parfait while Makoto just waves her off for a glass of water. She takes a moment to look at them both, but is gone. Makoto hopes Haruka doesn’t push.
“There’s more, Makoto. It’s not just the tournament, it’s not just here and now, is it?”
The sea is beautiful, the sun sinking closer and closer to the deep blue horizon, and Makoto swallows. “We’ve been friends for a long time, Haruka.”
“Yes. You’ve always been there for me.”
Makoto smiles, but it’s a small, brittle thing. “No, we’ve always been there for each other.” He breathes in, out, the air thicker with salt this close. “Lately, though, I’ve been selfish.”
Haruka tilts his head, looks out towards the ocean, seeing more than Makoto could ever hope to imagine. They don’t speak for ages, or at least, until their little waitress comes back with Haruka’s giant fluffy sweet and Makoto’s water. They’re alone on the veranda, the sea whispering beneath them.
Suddenly, Makoto has whipped cream on his nose and Haruka is smirking around his spoon.
“How could Makoto be selfish,” Haruka asks, and it’s genuine. Like he can’t fathom the thought.
Makoto’s heart hurts as he wipes the cream from his nose with his napkin. “Oh, I’ve been very selfish.” Haruka takes another bite, his eyes not leaving Makoto’s face. “I’ve always wanted you close to me. I’ve been with you through a lot, and you me, but it’s always because I wanted to be near you. To help you. To see you smile.”
“Makoto, those things sound like something you’d tell a girl.” But he’s joking, despite his straight face and Makoto eases a little, just a bit.
“I’d only ever want to tell them to you Haruka. Do you get it?”
Haruka blinks a few times, but looks down at his parfait. Makoto’s hopes fall. “So Makoto likes me, then?” Haruka says to a cube of mango he has perched on the edge of his spoon. He doesn’t say anything else for a long moment. “That’s good, because I certainly like Makoto.”
But this time he’s not talking to the fruit. Haruka locks gazes with Makoto and he smiles, true and sweet and Makoto feels like he’s going to faint. Instead, Haruka offers a spoonful of ice cream to Makoto, pressing it gently to his lips. Makoto takes it, swallows, and then hopes he chokes only on the chill and not his relief.
“When this is done, we should go down and walk along the shore.” Haruka suggests, scooting his chair closer. Makoto nods and leans his shoulder against Haruka’s.
They’ll have to talk about what this really means, about how they’ll work through it and if they’ll tell anyone, let alone the team. They’ll have to talk about what this means for school and maybe, if Makoto’s allowed to think about it, after that. They might have to even talk about how they’re gonna work this out physically and mentally because the closest Makoto has to experience with something like this is one surreptitious skimming of a random comic in the larger bookstore in town.
But they can think about that later. All relationships come with bumps, even if theirs are a little more… unusual.
And when Haruka takes Makoto’s hand when they’re walking along the shoreline, Makoto feels like he can do this. He’ll give it his all.
That’s why he kisses Haruka in an alcove, hands gentle and touches fleeting, and absolutely melts when Haruka kisses back.