Dear Readers,

I am that pathetic writer who can't stop producing multi-chapters. I'm pleased to meet you, dear lovely readers, and I thank you for giving this fic a chance.

Although it may be late, English is not my native language, but I won't use that as an excuse to request a special tolerance. When I post a writing, I am aware that my work is open for public, and therefore I will try to keep up with the standards. I hope as I write, I learn.

This fic is dedicated for MakoHaru and the wonders of its loveliness. This fic may contain lots of fluffs and slice of life, probably a little touch of angst, but it is simply a love story. That one with a happy ending. I hope you enjoy this fic.

Warm regards,

Gariell

Chapter 1

That One Winter Night

:-:

With slightly shivering legs stepping over the cold street, Nanase Haruka strolled along the lively shopping district of Tokyo. In this icy season, when dusk gradually covered the entire town under a dark blanket, the district was dressed in colorful bright lights and glowing christmas trees. Every shop was cheerfully decorated, presenting various charms to attract customers, who never stopped roaming the city streets no matter what hour.

Haruka was never fond of the bustling and hectic atmosphere of a big city. He came from a rural seaside town of Iwatobi. He'd enjoyed the contentment and quietness of his hometown, the tranquil night and the lazy day. Haruka was born with natural love of water and incredible talents in swimming, art, and cooking. His parents concluded that his talents shouldn't be wasted and flew him to all the hassle he could only get from a city like Tokyo.

In all honesty, Haruka himself didn't regret his decision to come to Tokyo. It was a place where he could take a big step to pursue a career in professional swimming—a dream ignited by the fiery spirit he received from Rin, his childhood friend, who was now staying in Australia to pursue the same career. Still, even when he didn't regret his decision to be here, Haruka couldn't bring himself to wholly like the city. All the noises were a bit overwhelming for Haruka's taste.

He had just finished his swimming practice for the day and was making his way to a restaurant where he worked as a part-time chef. Haruka looked around, silently enjoying all the christmas decorations.

Haruka was aware that as the temperature plummeted, there were silent deaths and fragility of frozen nature beneath all the cheerful festive goodies and songs. For Haruka, winter was a season of contrast—the season of laughters and tears, celebrations and mournings, new romances and heartbreaks. It wasn't that he cared, but it gave him a tiny idea of spilling paint all over a blank canvas—of creating a boundary between the richness of colors and a vision in shades of gray—to produce a portrait of winter.

"Welcome!"

A warm, unfamiliar voice caressed his eardrums the moment Haruka entered the restaurant. A tall, lean brunet dressed in waiter uniform chimed his greeting with voice clear as bell. It looked like he was just serving a customer sitting at one of the many tables, carrying an empty tray and hastily making his way in front of Haruka.

"Please take any seat you like, sir." The waiter beamed the brightest, most adorable smile Haruka had ever seen. His face was flushed, probably in exhaustion, but that little feature just made his smile radiated more like the sun. Haruka was charmed, although his expression didn't show any change of emotion. Yet, he couldn't help but admire the brunet's beautiful green eyes. They were like a pair of bright emeralds—or seemed to be in-between emeralds and peridots.

He'd never seen this guy before. "Are you still new to the job?"

"Eh?" The brunet's body went rigid, his smile going stiff. Haruka noticed that his question had made the guy worried over any flaw he might have shown that indicated amateurism.

"I've never seen you before." Haruka helpfully stated. A small whiff of air escaped the waiter's mouth.

"That's right. I'm still new. Actually, this is my first day working here, but I hope my service will be satisfying to you, sir." His smile stretched wider, and those green eyes glinted under the bright restaurant lights. As if he was just remembering what to do, he took a set of menu in a frantic gesture. "Would you like a seat near the window? There's a nice scenery outside."

Haruka released a deep breath, walking past the new guy. He could feel the waiter loyally followed him to the back and toward a door exclusive for the staffs. Haruka stole a glance behind him, finding the brunet's smile had vanished.

The taller man tilted his head in genuine bewilderment. "Sir? I'm sorry, but that's the kitchen. Follow me. I will lead you to a vacant seat near the—"

"I'm the chef here." Haruka released his backpack and pulled out a tall chef hat, a blue short scarf and a brown chef apron. "I just haven't got the chance to change."

Deep blushes creeped over the brunet's cheeks. He looked dumbfounded—his droopy green eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped. "O-oh..." He blinked several times in his attempt to compose himself, "I'm sorry! This is embarrassing." He slapped a hand over his flushed face, one arm still held the menu pressed to his chest.

"It's okay." Haruka released his winter coat and gloves. "Keep doing your work."

"I... I will." He inherently bowed in polite manner. Haruka immediately bowed back, returning the gesture of respect. The brunet smiled sheepishly at him. "If it's okay with you, may I know your name, sir?"

"Nanase Haruka." The blue-eyed man answered, "How old are you?"

"I'm nineteen years old." He seemed to have relaxed now.

"I'm nineteen, as well." Haruka looked up at the taller man, his ocean blue eyes fixed on those pair of bright emerald irises. "So stop calling me 'sir'."

"Oh, sorry! Okay. My name is Tachibana Makoto. Glad to make your acquaintance, Nanase-kun." He presented his sunshine smile again. Haruka concluded that it was simply a habit of his, rather than a smile trained exclusively to please the customers. "You're amazing, Nanase-kun. You're still so young, but you have become a professional chef."

"I'm working part-time." Haruka explained, "I'm just a regular chef. You're also working part-time." It wasn't a question. Haruka was that sure of his statement.

"I am." Any trace of nervousness had gone from Makoto. This time, he curved up a different kind of smile—an amiable one, one that had a purpose to bring ease. Usually, Haruka didn't really enjoy a new company, but he found Makoto to be completely bearable, if not comforting. Despite this being their first meeting, Makoto gave him a presence of a good friend—that one friend in whom he could spill whatever mess his heart had without the fear of being rejected or judged.

"Tachibana!" The restaurant manager called out, "Take care of the customers on table three!"

Makoto's smile instantly drifted away as he turned hectic. "Coming!" He raised his voice, which left his vocal cords with higher pitch than necessary. His fingers fidgeted with a green tie around his neck, nervously adjusting its position. "N-Nanase-kun, I'll talk to you again. Enjoy your cooking!" He practically ran off toward a table at the corner.

Usually at dinner time, the restaurant was ridiculously crowded, and Haruka had gotten used to all the bustles going on in the kitchen. That particular night, however, unexpected waves of customers crashed through the restaurant. For a new waiter like Makoto, who was still on his first day—barely floating on the surface, they weren't waves.

They were tsunami, and the brunet was desperately sinking in the disaster.

Children wails, frustrated moms, messy tables (and floors and seats), grumpy customers, all chit-chats, laughters, cries and calls were nearly driving Makoto close to insanity. It was a night when Makoto believed that he wouldn't be able to ever feel calm again—shy presence and suspended thoughts sounded totally ridiculous. Calm was a word he would laugh at.

Makoto's smiles had turned stiff and forced, lips twitching in fatigue as he scurried around the restaurant. His breaths were rapid when he stopped beside the counter connected to the kitchen. "The john dory is overcooked." He breathed, face flushed. If Haruka didn't know better, he would think Makoto was suffering from a high fever. "They request a new one."

Without waiting for another chef to hand him the job, Haruka quickly nodded and slapped the fish roughly over his cutting board. One of the many challenges in the kitchen was to keep the food perfectly neat while racing against a very short time. Haruka thrust his kitchen knife through the fish body, deftly producing clean cuts.

"Nanase, work faster. We still have mountains of orders." One of his seniors called, his arms flailed around the frying pan and the cutting board. The other chefs dashed around the kitchen, slamming the fridge and pushing the oven with their legs, with arm holding a bowl of dough and hand whipped a whisk over it. Haruka accelerated his pace, working on another orders while arranging the cooked fish as neatly as possible.

Makoto came to a halt near the counter, leaving another slips of orders. "The john dory?"

"Here." Haruka placed the plate in front of Makoto. The brunet gave a very slight nod before taking it on his tray. He also took as many plates and glasses as he could on his tray. "Careful," Haruka commented, "customers can be messy and the floor isn't always dry."

"Thanks for the reminder—" Makoto smiled tiredly before dashing to one particular table with a group of grumpy old men.

Oh.

Those old men. Haruka had known them as customers who were rarely satisfied with the foods, but kept coming here anyway. Probably just to piss the staffs off, he didn't know. That reason was stupid, but those old men did look stupid. Makoto should've left those specific customers to another waiter. He was still new, and Haruka worried if those men would upset his new friend.

Were they friends yet?

"Nanase! Get back to your work!" The head chef's furious voice boomed in the kitchen. Haruka almost jumped at the unexpected growl. He knew the head chef didn't expect a 'sorry', so he didn't bother to waste any more energy to utter the simple word and quickly made his way back to the boiling pot.

When Haruka put more plates of food on the counter for the waiters to take, his blue eyes caught a very confused and distressed Makoto who was still lingering near the table of his least-favorite customers ever.

"This is still overcooked!" One of the men protested. Makoto said something that failed to reach Haruka's ears. "You dare talk back to me?"

"No!" Haruka could finally hear Makoto's voice. He thought Makoto would turn frantic, probably crying, but it seemed like his distress had turned to silent anger. "This is the restaurant's standard for the dish. You can't request another change, sir."

"Call the chef! I will tell him how to do it myself."

Makoto stubbornly shook his head. "I can't do that!"

The man abruptly stood up from his seat. "You've got guts, kid."

"Wait!" The restaurant manager sprinted toward them, "We're terribly sorry, sir. Please forgive him—this is his first day of the job—he's still new—please tell me your request, sir." The manager blurted a series of sentences without a pause.

Makoto was too tired to listen to any more of their argument. He stood still behind the manager, until he turned to him and commanded with irrefragable tone, "Ask the chef to make another one."

Heaving a sigh, Makoto made his way back to the counter. "Nanase-kun," he breathed in fatigue, "another one, please. Still overcooked."

After receiving a nod from Haruka, Makoto continued to serve the other customers. Invisible dark clouds floated over his head like a halo, producing cold rain to shower onto and lightning to strike his head. Gloom clouded his face, and his smile was no longer radiating its usual charm, not even to the customers.

He was sure he would lose his job immediately after this day was over. It was only his first day, and Makoto failed it.

The clock struck nine. Although the tsunami was over, the aftermath lingered. Makoto's body was aching all over. He was a swimmer, but one night as a waiter had unpredictably drown him in fatigue. As he had expected, the restaurant manager asked him to talk in private.

He would lose his job today. He knew it.

"Don't get discouraged." The restaurant manager heaved, "Those grumpy old men are regular customers. They are always complaining, but they keep coming back here. Every staffs, including the chefs, have known how ridiculous they can be. You must be a bit shocked."

Makoto was indeed shocked. He thought the manager would yell at him. He had even imagined a picture of himself being kicked out of the restaurant.

"I have seen your performance today, Tachibana. You really are a hard worker. I have only one complaint. Do not, ever, offend our customers, no matter how annoying they are. Replacing a couple of dishes won't be as damaging as losing regular customers. Is that understood?"

The brunet quickly nodded. Invisible ray of sunshine had replaced the dark clouds, kissing Makoto with its happy light.

"You're still really young. Usually, youngsters had their way to be emotional, but I've seen how sweet-natured you are, and that is good for our customers. So keep up the good work and improve the pace of your service. Most importantly, keep that smile. Have you met Nanase Haruka? He's a part-time chef, and he's the same age as you. I think you two can be good friends."

"Oh, I have." Makoto answered, "And I hope so." He didn't know if he was blushing by the thought of the gorgeous guy with dark blue hair he'd just met today, as his face was already flushing all over with fatigue, but he was sure of one thing.

His heartbeats were strangely capricious, just after the manager uttered the name 'Nanase'.

Without waiting for Makoto to come out of the manager's room, Haruka made his way home. Although he couldn't judge the situation himself, he strongly doubted the manager would let someone like Makoto go. His smile and demeanors were perfect for the job. Haruka had never seen a smile as charming as his, and he believed the others were also aware of that special smile.

The night winter breeze sent shivers through his body. Haruka tightened his thick blue scarf around his neck. A strong aroma of freshly baked cookies stopped him on his track. Haruka bent his body to take a closer look at a display behind the opaque glass window of a bakery, which was clouded by his own visible puff of breath.

The aroma was pleasing. Haruka wondered if he could make the same thing for himself. He'd grown a special love for mackerel, but the unbearable cold sometimes brought him an appetite for various kinds of warm foods.

"I really want that one." A group of kids were chattering beside Haruka, huddling in front of the glass like little chicks. Unlike in Iwatobi, the streets of Tokyo were still crowded even at this hour. Haruka could see their parents standing near, engaged in conversations. The kids enthusiastically pointed at different kinds of sweet goodies.

Haruka silently entered the shop and purchased two gift boxes of christmas cookies, and one regular box of cookies for himself. When he made it outside, the kids were still lingering in front of the shop. "Here." Haruka said with flat tone, approaching them and handing a gift box of cookies to one of the kids. "Share with your friends."

The kids exchanged confused glances, but wide smiles promptly followed after. "Thank you, Onii-san!" They chanted. The kids vigorously scampered back to their parents, showing them the box of cookies. One of the moms approached Haruka and delivered a sweet thank you.

"It's still early, but Merry Christmas, young man."

A polite smile formed on Haruka's lips. "Merry Christmas, ma'am."

That cold night, Haruka settled his body under a kotatsu, watching the remaining beautiful gift box of christmas cookies on the table. The box was red, nicely tied with a knot of green silk bow. The green was so similar to Makoto's eyes. Brighter than emeralds, darker than peridots.

He wondered if the sweet green-eyed guy also liked sweet foods.