Just after one o'clock, a brief repeating chill landed on Makoto's neck and he opened his eyes in the dark. A dull wide blue light seeped in from the nearby window and dimly outlined the room. Alarmed by the unfamiliar ceiling and surroundings, he moved his head and his lips brushed Haru's hair.

Ah.

That was right. Makoto could just see the edges of his still packed suitcases from the bed, the walls around him bare and waiting for decoration. He was in Tokyo. He was safely sleeping in Tokyo.

A faint breath hushed against his neck again and he held his breath to hear Haru breathing, deep, slow, soft breaths that ran against his skin when Haru exhaled, pressed so against Makoto's side, his shoulder just under Haru's head, his head just above Haru's.

Makoto lay back again and relaxed. He could feel one of Haru's knees jutting into his thigh but didn't move, pausing to let his lips feel against Haru's hair again, the subdued scent of chlorine making him want to lapse back into sleep.

A sharp click outside sounded and a light buzz came from down on the street. The unending trickle of cars flowed through, their coming and going almost musically muted, a rise and fall like a cloud of metal insects. There was nothing quite like this in Iwatobi and Makoto hadn't gotten used to the city sounds yet. He thought he could even hear the stars turning high above them, swirling in their sockets and emitting a dark, drenching silence, filtering over Tokyo all night.

Haru shifted against him, moving his knee and pressing his cheek deeper onto Makoto's chest, the corner of his mouth a bit wet as his breath started again. Makoto couldn't keep himself from smiling.

There didn't seem to be an end to the comfort he felt at that moment, even in the cold spot spreading on his skin where Haru's slightly open mouth was. It felt like the warmth around him spread out forever, that the bed expanded and the stars wrapped the sky above them up, two or three twinkling through the window. But it was only the two of them, safe and sound, in Tokyo.

It could have been a dream and Makoto was drowsy enough to believe it but the warm bend of their bodies felt too good, too warm and golden to allocate to dreaming. Makoto twinged his right index finger where his arm stuck out from under Haru. There was nothing unreal about the definite weight of Haru making his limbs fall asleep, nor the resonant peace filling up their room in the busy city.

Makoto's mind played over the earlier images of the day; how Haru had almost been detained for wearing his swimming bottoms in the airport; how they'd nearly been late to meet the landlord after getting lost some several times; how meticulously Haru had opened and shut each door in the new apartment, testing whether they'd been installed correctly; and the feeling of putting his old sheets on the mattress, spreading them out, smoothing the creases out with his hands, feeling as though in one change of bedding, the foreign had become familiar and what seemed inhospitable became home.

It was their first night together in Tokyo.

Far off, Makoto heard a cat yowl. He couldn't move to check the time and didn't dare think of what they'd planned for that day. The night ought to go on and they ought to stay asleep, closer than they'd ever been, their breath mixing under the covers, softly upsetting a loose thread that extended near Makoto's collarbone. Neither of them had had a moment before they were curled up the first time, ready to rest. The moon had even followed them from Iwatobi, keeping tabs in Tokyo, somber, brilliant, bluish-white.

Makoto wondered if Haru had had the moon to look up to in Australia, if it strayed even there to keep him company. He didn't know what he would have done had he not had it to wish him well. He knew from the beginning the risk involved. He knew what could happen, how some things could not survive when moved from their perfect place.

He bent his arm and hooked his finger again, lightly playing against Haru's spine. Everything about him was soft, as though Makoto was enrobed in a warm mist, colored blue and black and silver. There was nothing more precious he could think of right then than knowing the small knot right in the middle of Haru's back, running a knuckle against it where his lips had been hours earlier, as well as its owner.

When he'd made his decision, Makoto had taken the risk and he'd accepted it. After all, there was no other way to grow but to bet earnestly and hope. He would probably even tell Haru one day that it wasn't until he'd said it, until he'd told Haru directly that he was leaving, that he understood what he wanted, what he wanted more than anything else, what would make him happier than he'd ever been, and what he absolutely couldn't have.

His leaving was as much for Haru as it had been for him, as much for Haru's future as for his own. It might have been selfish to wish it, to wish something as improbable as taking Haru with him but it might have been equally selfish to have stayed so close so long and to have expected it to never end. The moon would never have heard him say it, would never have whispered back to Haru his exact words, would never have let a secret slip through the waters of the world to where Haru had gone.

But there wasn't even luck in explaining the goodness of this moment, a place where their dreams had miraculously intersected and then run parallel, allowing them a good bit longer to enjoy the paths they'd planned out. Makoto closed his eyes and felt the deepest part of his body hum, a hum similar to Haru's hum, and he could swear the moon outside was twining them together with the softest light, gracing down in whispers of blue.

Makoto had gotten everything he'd ever wanted. And to add to it, a first night unspoiled either by the meter outside or the moon.

A/N:

This was a birthday drabble for (lord)(zuuko).(tumblr).com. I highly recommend visiting their blog and basking in their beautiful art.

Thanks for reading!