Haru pulled himself out of the warm-up pool half an hour before the first heat would race in the 100 meter free qualifier. His muscles stretched and in top condition, he headed towards the locker room, wrapping his towel around his neck.

He sighed at the incessant chatter that filled the room as he slowly spun the numbers on his lock to the combination he'd used for as long as he can remember – 1117. People used to question why he always brought his own lock with him, instead of renting one from whatever world-class pool they were racing in. Honestly? It was troublesome to try to remember a new number every time, this was easier.

Digging through his bag, he let a smile slip through his usual mask of indifference as his hand closed around the small, cool rectangle of plastic. He'd gotten better at packing his cell phone – especially on race days.

Pulling the phone out of his bag, his smile grew at the familiar buzz of vibration that told him he had a message waiting for him. His thumb slid gently over the side of the phone to press the power button, eagerly awaiting the short but no less heart-felt wish of luck from his best friend.

The smile slid from his face just slightly – completely unnoticeable by anyone but the boy in question – when, instead of the text message notification he expected, the voicemail icon flashed up at him.

Makoto never called him this close to a big race. His friend had a tendency to get caught up in conversation when Haru had been away for this long. While comforting to both of them, it made Makoto feel guilty – telling Haru he should be mentally preparing for the race instead of wasting his time listening to Makoto natter on about nothing. Despite constant protests, consisting mostly of Haru telling Makoto to stop being an idiot, the larger boy stuck to text messages the day of a race.

He hit dial and waited impatiently until the feminine voice prompted him to punch in his password. 1117 – Concerned about security, Haru was not.

"Ohayou Haru-chan!" Haru breathed out a sigh of relief he hadn't realised he'd been holding in. His friend's voice sounded fine, if a bit tinny, through the speaker of his phone. "I was just calling to wish you good luck today, although I know you don't really need it!" Makoto's small chuckle followed that statement and Haru could almost picture the sheepish smile that would be on the boy's face and the hand that would be rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll try to catch your heat during break but if I miss it don't tell me how it goes. You're so bad with spoilers Haru-Chan! My mom's taping the event for me so I'll text you when I watch it." The silence that followed was so long that Haru almost ended the call then and there, thinking the message was over. Still, something stilled his finger and, after a full minute of silence; "I hope your dream is turning out the way you hoped it would," followed by the click of a disconnected call and the overly sweet voice of the answering machine woman.

By now the smile had completely left Haru's face, replaced by a slight frown and a line of confusion between his brows. The voice had seemed fine, so why did Haru still feel like something was very wrong with his best friend? It could be his own nerves over the race, it could be he missed home, it could be any number of things. It could even be nothing, although Haru sincerely doubted it.

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to focus on the race with all these questions, Haru pulled up the web browser on his phone. Time for some research.

His time in Tokyo for university had scarcely prepared Haru for life as a professional athlete. He loved swimming, and he even loved travelling around the world for tournaments, but he often regretted how much he missed back home in Iwatobi. Knowing, in the way that only Makoto knows, the younger boy had set Haru's homepage to that of the local newspaper. 'So you can keep up' he'd said, smiling.

Haru scrolled through the first few results, just glancing at the headlines. Kendo at Iwatobi High had made nationals, big-box store was denied opening. Then, halfway down the page, a headline that stole all breath and warmth from him.

'Local Coach Fired Amidst Assault Allegations

Tachibana Makoto, coach for the swim team at Iwatobi High, has been fired and banned from school premises in light of claims that the newly elected coach has been having sexual relations with at least one of his underage pupils.'

The article went on but Haru couldn't force his mind into reading any more.

Lies.

Obviously it was all lies. Haru could hardly breathe.

"Oh God, Makoto." Why hadn't he said anything? They had just spoken two nights ago and the boy had said nothing. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He had talked about Ran's soccer game, about Ren's science project that had blown up in his parent's kitchen, about the postcard he'd received from Rei and Nagisa. Nothing about what was going on in his own life, nothing to clue Haru into just how much his life must be swirling down the toilet.

"Nanase, your heat's up next"

No. He wasn't ready to race – he could still hardly breathe. He wasn't supposed to be here, in this brightly lit pool with the noise of a crowd bouncing off the walls and windows. No. He was supposed to be home.

He beat his best time that day, by almost 3 seconds. It was a personal best, and a tournament best too. Everyone was congratulating him. Telling him his hard work was paying off. How could he tell them that all he could think about during the race was how the faster he finished, the faster he could leave? He was supposed to be home.

AN:

So, I am very much out of my element here. This is a little head-cannon I've developed and, after talking to my husband about it, was encouraged to get down on paper, so to speak. I haven't really written much recently, and I don't usually write something this dramatic. I have a few ideas on how this will go but If you're interested in helping me round out the story, I would be completely thrilled! Constructive criticism is always appreciated – whether it be about this chapter or future ones.

Just FYI, this will be a very slow-build (Read: Bang-Your-Head-Against-a-Wall Slow) romance. It will, more than likely, contain no smut, a little violence, a few triggers and fair amount of Hurt/Comfort. Hope that's okay!

P.S. Bonus points to anyone who figures out Haru's password and locker combo!