They finished practise later that day and the sun had already began its slow path down the horizon. The ocean-side road they took home every day met them with its familiar stray pebbles poking into the soles of their shoes. A light spring breeze fiddled with their hair, its slender fingers brushing the dark locks from his forehead to reveal the dark aquamarine orbs sparkling in the late midday sun. His ears were filled with the melodic sound of his friend's voice, lulling him deeper and deeper into his subconscious.
Makoto was talking,
Haruka wasn't listening.
Or rather, his mind didn't register the words that came from his lips while staying perfectly concentrated to his voice. Its ups and downs, the way the sound rumbled from deep within his chest when he seemed to be talking about something he cared about, or the high pitched annoyance lacing the silk of his voice when the topic was uncomfortable for him. It placed Haruka's sombre mind into a state of peacefulness that allowed him to sink deeper down into his own world but at the same time held him floating in between.
Haruka knew Makoto knew,
And Haruka was grateful.
He knew because Makoto's voice would always shift, change, and grow when he was addressing him directly.
"Haru." He tore his gaze away from the glistening ocean's surface and forced his full attention onto his taller friend. Makoto had grabbed the sleeve of his jacket with one hand while the other was pointing at the ice cream truck standing by the shore a little way down their path. "Let's get ice cream."
His face was lit up by childlike glee that seemed to have brightened it up even more than usual. His response came out as an affirmative hum and Makoto was excitedly dragging him towards the stand.
They returned back to the designated path five minutes later each with their own cup of swirly ice cream. Makoto was talking between spoonfuls of crunchy hazelnut topped cream and Haruka was poking at his almond topped one with disinterest.
(They only served roasted nuts as toppings - Makoto had laughed at his small pout before ordering for him and handing him his cup with a smile)
He eventually gave in. The temptation of its coldness was too great on that particularly hot day. It felt nothing but heavenly to have the cool of it travel from the tip of his tongue all the way down to his toes.
He delighted in scraping the last drops of it off the bottom of the cup - -especially when it was followed by Makoto's enriched laughter that seemed to have cause tiny little needles to gently prod against his skin.
He handed him his empty cup, knowing full well he'd throw it into the first passing trash can - which according to his quick scan of their surrounding was approximately ten steps ahead of them. His gaze returned back to the ocean whose surface was being littered by the suns golden rays. It broke the still blue into several different colours and while the palette was usually something Haruka marvelled in, he couldn't help but overlook the rich hues of red, purple and blue.
Makoto was still talking,
And Haruka was listening.
Except his mind would often remind him that he wasn't talking to him, but for him and he couldn't help but feel a little guilty as Makoto chuckled at his story about another one of Nagisa and Rei's escapades.
So he stopped. The fingers clutching the bag held onto it just a little tighter as he lifted his head to blink at Makoto's surprised stare. He didn't realize his eyes had grown wide, open for Makoto to see until a reassuring smile settled on his lips and he turned completely to face him.
He opened and closed his mouth to express something he didn't even know how to explain. His fingers dug into the leather strap of his bag as frustration began to bubble inside him. Words never came easy to Haruka. And he never spoke before thinking.
Thank you for-no
Keep talking- no
I love the sound of your voice-
His head snapped back towards the shore and the sound of the ocean's lazy song replaced the comforting tune of Makoto's voice. Never before had he wanted to hear it again with such intensity, such need as in that moment when he struggled. He stepped forward one hand reaching to grab his sleeve but falling back to the side the moment after.
-no
He sidestepped and glanced back at him - and stopped when he spotted the now knowing smile curving his lips. It hit him like lightning and if he could mentally slap himself he would. Because Makoto knew.
Makoto always knew.
He knew his thoughts, he knew his feelings, he knew his weak spots and his strong spots. He knew what he was about to do even before he did.
So it shouldn't come to Haruka's surprise when Makoto doesn't flinch or even stiffen when he presses his lips gently against his.
(But it did. It sort of frustrated him that Makoto knew because he didn't know until a moment ago. It sort of left him relieved too)
It was soft, softer than anything he could ever imagine and entirely nerve wrecking as every inch of Haruka seemed to have lit up when Makoto responded. His lips tasted of chlorine and ice cream and great sweetness Haruka would later in life swear was always there no matter what Makoto put in his mouth beforehand. It left his lips tingling and his heart soaring when he pulled back.
Makoto's eyes flung open with no trace of surprise or hesitance in them. They shimmered with something akin to happiness and relief and Haruka was left wondering if he should have known, too.
Makoto continues to talk,
Haruka continues to hear.
But Makoto's voice becomes lighter, brighter, more vibrant and the next time he points at something he wants, his fingers are laced with Haruka's.
