Haru's wrist was beginning to hurt. That was probably because Makoto held onto it so tightly. Haru could feel the bruises forming; a large hand mark coiling around his wrist, darkening where the fingers would be, would be there by morning. But for now, Haru didn't mind. No matter what bruise Makoto gave him, he wouldn't care. It was Makoto after all. As long as Makoto still held him, no matter what way, Haru would not complain.
Tears were pooling in Makoto's green, green, eyes. Haru's heart panged and his throat went dry. Who did this to you Makoto? Take your pain out on me. His jaw was set and his teeth dug into his lower lip. Haru yearned to raise his hand and run his thumb over those plump lips, maybe give them a little tug. He wanted to press his own chapped lips to Makoto's and replace those teeth with his.
Makoto was so beautiful. Even when he was on the verge of breaking down, he was beautiful.
Haru kept staring at Makoto blankly. What was behind that poker face? Makoto sometimes wanted to take apart Haru's brain and pick at it. Perhaps he could finally figure out what made all those cogs turn in his head.
His heart beat loudly in his chest and his hands were clammy. With his fingers still wrapped around Haru's wrist, Makoto tugged the other boy closer until he could feel Haru's breath fan against his neck. Why wasn't Haru saying anything?
What was that, Haru? God damn it, answer me. Stop staring at me. Tell me, tell me. Makoto's heart broke bit by bit as minutes passed without a word from either of them. He knew what he saw. He knew that those lips pressed to Haru's were not his at all. The hand carefully placed on the small of Haru's back wasn't his either. Makoto knew they weren't anything, he and Haru. Best friends, that was all there was to it but that gave him the right to know at least, didn't it? Best friends told each other these things. Haru, why was Rinkissing you?
"Haru." Makoto couldn't care any less if his voice cracked. "Stop.. stop staring at me like that. Answer my question, please." The 'please' he tacked on at the end was oozing with desperation. Why didn't you tell me?
Haru, Haru, Haru. The sound of his name rolled off of Makoto's tongue so nicely. He wondered what his name would taste like if he kissed it off of Makoto's lips.
He was finding it so hard to concentrate when all he could think about was just how close their mouths were and if he pretended to trip, would his mouth land on the right spot? Makoto, stop crying. Let me lick the desperation from your mouth. He wanted to remove the foreign taste of another person's tongue. He wanted to forget the scraping of shark-like teeth against his bottom lip. Makoto, I want to kiss you.
"What.. what was the question?" Haru finally asked, deciding to stare at Makoto's chin instead. His chin was a lot less distracting than his lips.
He could already hear the sigh before that breath even made it out of Makoto's mouth. "I asked you, what just happened? Why—why were you kissing Rin?" For some reason, Haru could hear the tremble in Makoto's words. Why was he so tense?
"Rin kissed me. He told me he liked me." Haru shrugged and looked away, the memory of the encounter resurfacing and putting him off. He didn't want to look at Makoto, not when his mouth tasted like guilt.
A sharp intake of breath signalled the next silence. As if burned, Makoto let go of Haru's wrist immediately. Why did you let Rin kiss you? Something not unlike betrayal flashed in Makoto's eyes for half a second before he steeled himself and lifted the corners of his lips up into a guarded smile. "Is—is that so? I'm happy for you, Haru." The stray tear that ran down his cheek said otherwise.
But Haru wasn't looking. He was looking at everything but Makoto. He could imagine that usual easy smile of his accompanying that sentence. I'm happy for you, Haru. Why are you happy? You shouldn't be. Get mad at me. Hurt me. Kiss me.
So this was Makoto's answer? Then what were those tears for? Tears of joy? Bile rose in his throat at the thought. He couldn't bear to see the look on Makoto's face. It would probably be the first time that Makoto's smile would ever hurt him.
"Stop it," he said in a low voice. He had the inexplicable urge to explain himself, to make Makoto see sense. That kiss wasn't anything at all. That wasn't the kiss he wanted.
As a last ditch effort to make Makoto understand, he lifted his eyes to meet the others but what he saw there made his heart break. Makoto looked so broken and there were tear tracks on his face but he was smiling. He was smiling so beautifully and yet why was he crying? "Why are you crying?" Sweet, sweet Makoto, don't cry.
Makoto gave him a pained look, as if willing him to stop, please, don't make me say anymore.
"Stop crying," was the last thing Haru whispered before he closed the space between them and grabbed Makoto by his tie, crashing their lips together.
Haru could taste the salt of Makoto's tears. He could taste the chapstick he saw Makoto put on just an hour ago. He could taste the surprise, the pain, and the betrayal.
Bashfully, he slipped his tongue out and licked at Makoto's lips, as if coaxing him to open, to let him in. Let me make good on my promise to lick the desperation from your mouth.
Makoto could not fathom why Haru was kissing him, him of all people. Was he being pitied? But he couldn't afford to care because the one moment he thought would never come was finally there. When he first felt the brush of a tongue against his mouth, he could feel shocks stemming from that one touch. His arms go around Haru the next second, a hand bunching his clothes into a wrinkled mess while the other carded fingers through black, silky hair. He responded to the kiss and moved his mouth in sync with Haru's. He sent his 'I love you's through each nip and lick and kiss. He made Haru feel his 'I can't live without you's with his tight grip. He hoped, dear god he hoped, that Haru could comprehend all the messages he was sending with just this one kiss.
Haru understood perfectly.