Author's note: Whoa, a Free! fic I can actually put on FFnet! I've written one MakoHaru before and am currently working on a multichaptered RinTori, but I will only post them on AO3 because of their explicit content. Please do check my other fics out though if you're interested! The link is in my profile.
This fic happened because I wanted to write something a bit more artsy for a change.
Ocean By His Side
Haru's body is made to merge with water, but if you look into it more closely, his soul resembles air. One often thinks they can see the wind blow, but what they actually see is just the way surfaces react to the touch of an air current; it's not the air itself, it's the impression it gives. In reality, one can never quite see where air is and where it's going. Air is restless, never still, and impossible to read.
Yet to Makoto, Haru is always there, all around him, and he has learned to read air. He's learned to feel it rather than see it.
Makoto has also learned that although the wind is always on the move, it does not always have a direction.
Haru is at his door, looking at him with a serious face; no-one else would be able to see any emotion in Haru's eyes when he has that expression, but Makoto sees sadness.
"You can't keep doing this", Makoto says, and this time he's determined to refuse excuses.
Haru says nothing, but leans in and almost collapses into Makoto's arms. Makoto does nothing to oppose it; he actually welcomes Haru with just as much willingness as ever, even though his heart aches.
Makoto gets goosebumps when he tastes apologies on Haru's tongue, and can't for the life of his remember why he wasn't supposed to do this.
Makoto has told himself time and time again that if he had any self respect, he would not keep participating in this chaos. Haru is his best friend but being a best friend doesn't equal unconditional responsibility; he should not just sit back and accept anything that comes his way. He should definitely not accept that Haru keeps going back to Rin and comes back mentally wounded, only to return right after Makoto has healed him.
Rin is fire. Rin burns and his affect on other lingers for a long while. He is fierce flames that attract Haru like he has no free will, which is ironic, because Haru's life has always been about water.
Haru has always failed to notice, or grown too accustomed to ignore, that Makoto is exactly that; mellow water. The kind of water you can rely on, float on. It's strong enough to hold your whole weight if you need support. Haru is too blinded by the fire to see it.
When Makoto knows Haru has been with Rin, the ocean inside of him becomes dark and endless. There are deep waters, always unseen from the surface.
"Why do you do this when all he does is hurt you?" he asks quietly.
"He doesn't hurt me", Haru claims, and every ounce of him feels wounded.
What fire has destroyed, mellow water can heal. And it has done so, again and again.
Haru falls softly onto the mattress and he doesn't need to pull Makoto against him; Makoto's body moves without thought, like it's following a choreography. A mad, twisted one, but so beautifully constructed. Hips collide. Makoto's hand shoves into black hair before he can think. God, he has missed this.
"Stop repeating your mistakes", Makoto says almost angrily. His lips brush over Haru's. "What good has it ever done to you?"
Haru gasps into a heavy kiss. "He's not a mistake. You can't call a human being a mistake", he says, but doesn't answer the question.
The color of Haru's eyes deceives Makoto, reminding him of clear skies, even though right now there is an unavoidable storm rising over the ocean. The expression in those eyes is the exact same Makoto has looked at Haru with for years now; soft, longing, pleading. It begs him to believe that this cycle will not go on forever, even though there is no way to prove it won't.
Makoto can't help wondering what Haru's eyes look like when they look at Rin.
The thought of Rin saddens Makoto, and he hates it. It's frustrating; he's so angry that the person he loves the most in the whole world lets himself be hurt again and again, yet he always forgives, because it's Haru. But he can never really forget. The only way to push his anger aside even partially is to undress Haru once again and drown him into his touches. He tightens his grip on Haru's wrists enough to leave temporary red imprints, but not bruises, and thrusts.
His hips demand answers, even though every question in his mind is rhetoric.
Has he touched you like I have?
Does he know you like I do?
Is he as devoted, as loving as I am?
Makoto doesn't even hear the bed creaking over the rushing of his ears. But he can hear Haru's voice, out of breath and answering him with wordless gasps.
He can never love you like I can, Makoto thinks. It's a bitter thought, but it's a true one all the same.
Haru gives in to everything, arching his body and gasping. His skin and smell and the way his body feels fill Makoto's every sense. It is the manifestation of how perfectly Haru's body merges with water. This is the deepest form of it.
Afterwards they both drift into sleep, but Makoto wakes up without reason after just a few hours; his mind doesn't want him to miss on the hours he has with Haru. He watches the sleeping face silently in the darkness and lets his mind wander. He knows he can't step back even if it would save him from potential heartbreak. He knows he needs Haru just as much as he needs to breathe. Even when he's drowning in the deepest and darkest waters, by watching the air bubbles he can always tell which way is upwards.
If he could only make Haru feel as sure. Then, maybe, he would not want to keep playing with fire anymore.
Earlier, Makoto made love to Haru to make him forget. Now he runs his hand gently on Haru's body to make himself forget.
"I'm the one you should be with", Makoto says quietly.
Haru's eyes flutter and Makoto knows he's awoken, even though he doesn't really open his eyes. Makoto shifts to hover over Haru and whispers his name. He wants Haru to hear him, to know who he is with.
"Makoto", Haru whispers back.
Makoto smiles quietly, but does not say anything.
Haru curls up in Makoto's arms.
"I don't know", he says slowly, as if the question he's answering was asked now instead of hours ago. "I don't know why I keep going back. I don't know why I keep hoping..." The sentence fades.
Somewhere around those minutes, something in Haru becomes loose or breaks or falls. He can't name the feeling, but even with the safeness of Makoto's arms, he has never felt this vulnerable in his life. Makoto sees it and tightens his arms around him.
Haru can hear Makoto's heartbeat; it's calm and steady and familiar.
Suddenly, Haru feels like he can breathe again.
Fire is tempting, fire is intriguing, and it has taken years for Haru to realize that all he needs in life is water. He has kept searching for depth to dive into, but he has searched for it in the wrong place. He has lived his whole life with an ocean by his side.
And now, when suddenly gets it, everything instantly feels easier. There's no smoke in Haru's lungs and blinding sparks in his eyes.
Going back to Makoto is like diving into cool, calm water. Natural.
"Makoto", he says. He's so tired, so very tired. "I want to stay. Help me stay."
Makoto has always wanted to hear those words, and when he does, he's almost suffocated by the raging wave of relief and affection they raise in him.
He leans into Haru again, touching every inch of him, kissing him in the gentlest and most loving way he's ever kissed anybody. He breathes Haru in and gasps at the thought that he has ever even considered being able to walk away. The thought that he'd ever be able to live without something that constantly fills his lungs and everything in him.
Deep dark ends of the ocean blend in with air, until Haru doesn't know what's him and what's Makoto. And the important thing is, he doesn't need to know. He's home.