Hey guys. This is just a short story that I wrote in like two days. Just something I thought about writing as a quick story. It's also a love at first sight story but not in a different way. I hope you guys like it. I do not own Free! or the characters used. Enjoy.

Now, the only reason why Haru noticed him, was because it was very windy that fall.

Haru lived in an apartment on the second floor. Every morning, as routine, he would wake up early and make a pot of coffee. He'd take a bath as it brewed, going over the portraits he had to finish painting or start on in his mind. He'd then get dress, have a cup of coffee and watch the little people on the street below.

His window looked out towards a cross walk, there were a few store in a line, then once you cross the street was where the tall big buildings where everyone was heading to. Sometimes he would see a mother with her children, maybe out for a walk. A park was close by. Most of the time it was men in business suits who checked their watches constantly, or women in matching blouses and skirts rushing across the street in heels for a business meeting.

But today, in the hustle and bustle of a small group of people waiting for the street sign to turn, Haru saw a hat breeze off into the cross walk. Cars seemed to stop coming for a few moments. He noticed it was just a regular cap (nothing special) but after the cars were clear a man moved from the group and carefully out on the street.

Wind started to pick up again, the man's hair blew in his face. He was tall, very broad as well. The hat started to skid across the road. He tried to catch it again, but it blew away again. Haru thought it was kinda amusing. But, he quickly caught it and put it back on his head. Then, he looked up at Haru.

Haru couldn't see much detail, but he knew this man was beautiful. His autumn brown hair was messy, his eyes this green that was indescribable. Like ivy ripen and in full bloom and his skin seemed smooth. He must have seen Haru, because he smiled directly towards him.

Right then, Haru felt like his heart was going to stop beating. He had never seen a smile, quite like that, and it was from a distance away. Still, it glowed. Haru swallowed and waved shyly. The group of people started to walk, and the man followed with them. Haru tried to move with him, but the long and wide window soon ended.

Just like that, the man was gone from that street. But it hadn't fleeted from Haru's mind. No, that face from far away stayed imprinted in Haru's mind. God, did he pray silently that the man was a regular. He didn't care what the man would be a regular to. Maybe for a job, lunch, or a meet up with some friend. He just wanted to see him. Impatiently wanting to see him again.

Of course, Haru thought this was strange. He was never one for love at first sight. But now, he had a reason to believe it was something real. Something you could see, like some walking day dream. For that brief moment, he was sure he saw a walking day dream.

At night, it was always noisy. From top to bottom, it was noise. Above him was a single mother with a baby, crying every hour on the hour. She'd shuffle tiredly around the apartment, trying to quell the child. Below was an old man, his wife died a few years ago and had gone into this schedule of falling asleep with the television set blaring loudly. To the left of him, was a couple. A cute, bubbly blonde man and a dark haired glasses wearing man. They, of course, woke up a few times at night to have sex.

But to the right, it was his favorite room. It was a college student, his hair red and long, eyes like a venomous snake and a grin like a shark. He had passed him in the hall sometimes. His name was Rin, and he was working to become a police officer. Their bed rooms were closed off by a thin wall. Rin worked late at a station as an intern. Coming home at about one, fueled by coffee and the cringing thought of looking more paper work tomorrow. Haru would hear the shower run for fifteen minutes, the shuffle of new clothes and then, Rin would start to study until three usually.

Haru never slept well, it was nice to have someone up. Rin must have liked it too. So much, they both made a way to communicate with each other. A series of taps against the wall. Usually spelling out words with a number of taps. One tap A or I, two taps B and so on and so on. They got so good at this, that soon, three quick taps meant the and four slow taps meant because common phrases like that. This did take a lot of time, but at night with nothing to do, you could waste sometime.

Haru leaned against the wall. He heard the spring of Rin's bed. His hand hit the wall.

Hi (two fast taps)

Hi

What's (five long taps) up?

Studying. You (u)?

Thinking.

About (abt)?

This (three slow three fast taps) guy I saw.

What about him?

He was, there was a pause, Beautiful.

What's him name?

Don't (dnt) know (no). Didn't (dnt) meet him.

But you saw him.

On the street (st).

Oh (o) why (y) don't you talk (tlk) to him next (nxt) time (tim)?

Maybe (two slow taps).

Scared?

A bit.

About what?

What if he isn't what I think he is?

It's the risk. Take (seven slow taps) the chance.

Haru stayed quiet for a while. Rin probably assumed he went to bed or got bored. But really, he was repeating those words in his head

Take the chance. Take the chance. Take the chance.

Haru got off of his bed and went to his bathroom. He ran himself a bath.

Take the chance. Take the chance. Take the chance.

For the next few Haru altered his routine. He got up earlier skipped brewing coffee, immediately cut his time in the bath (hated that), and got dressed. Standing in front of the window all morning. In the afternoon, he would set up his canvas by the window and glanced towards the window.

But on Wednesday, he finally came. Haru saw him again. He wore a black button up and black pants. There was a restaurant across the street, maybe he was interviewed last time as a waiter. He came to the cross walk at around three thirty.

Take the chance

Haru looked around and saw a sketchbook, filled with doodles. Something he could live without. He tore out one of the thick pages and turned it into a ball. He unlatched his window and opened it, Haru aimed up and tossed the ball as far as he could in the street. It didn't hit the man, but it did catch his eye and make him look around to see where it came from. He spotted Haru. He tilted his head as Haru lifted his hand.

Haru had a pen in his pocket, he clicked it and connected ink to paper. He started to write quickly and big. He turned it over

Hi

It took a moment, but the man waved slightly. Haru licked his lips and turned to a new page and wrote again.

How are you?

The man looked around probably to see if anyone noticed him making gestures to nobody. He rose up his thumb to signal he was good. Haru didn't see that the street light changed. He still wrote and turned the page

You look beautiful.

But, the man was gone. Haru's hands lowered. His head ducked down. What an awkward and blunt thing to write anyway. But it was true. It's not like he would lie about something like that. He was glad he talked to him, verbally or not, Haru was still happy.

He closed the sketchbook and held it close to his chest for a moment.

The man came again the next day. But, Haru thought since the strange way they met, the man wouldn't care to talk to him again. So Haru didn't look out the window all morning and afternoon. He felt back almost. But, once he heard pebbles hit his window while he was walking to the bath, he looked out the window and saw the man waving his hand. Directly at Haru.

Haru was surprised by this and waved back. The man was holding a duffle bag. Probably filled with his work clothes and other things for work. He stayed farther away from the group of people at the cross walk. Haru could see a glint from the man's eyes. Glasses, maybe.

The man balanced the bag on his knee while he unzipped It He got out a fat magic marker and a notebook. Brand new; he flipped it open and started to write. He held it up.

Hello.

He was talking to Haru. He was really talking- well writing- to Haru. Haru quickly scattered and got the sketch book again. He wrote back.

Hi.

The man started to write again.

I'm Makoto.

Haruka. Haru.

Makoto smiled and flipped to a new page.

I like that name.

Likewise.

It's nice to meet you.

Likewise.

Makoto's smile grew wider as he wrote. Haru wondered how he got his attention in the first place. But he wasn't going to complain.

Want to get a coffee sometime?

Haru paused. Meeting? That meant talking, real talking and not seeing each other like a blur. That frightened Haru. What if he wasn't what Makoto thought he would be? Haru thought the same, he really liked Makoto. Or maybe the idea of him. Haru started to write back.

I can't. Sorry.

Makoto's smile faded.

Why?

I have a lot of paintings to do.

Makoto couldn't help but grin a bit.

You're an artist?

Yeah. Portraits.

Interesting.

This may be weird, Haru flipped to a new page, can I take a picture?

Depends. What camera?

My phone

Makoto shook his head.

That's not a real photo.

How so?

It's not the same without a real, Makoto got a new page, Camera.

How so?

It just isn't, okay?

Makoto checked the time on his phone and started to write.

I have to go now.

Will we talk again?

Of course. Bye for now.

Bye for now.

Haru laid the back of his head on the bedroom wall as he sat on his bed. Rin had said (tapped) that in a few, his sister was going to be graduating high school and that he and his mother would have to plan a party. This made Haru think that sometime soon, Rin wouldn't be in his apartment so he wouldn't have anyone to talk to.

That's okay (ok)

So.

So.

Did you see him again?

Yeah (yea) his name (nam) is (two loud taps) Makoto.

That's a girl's name.

You (six long taps) and I have (nine quick taps) girl names.

So where (five quick two short) did you meet him?

I stayed in my (three quick five slow) place (plc) he was on the street.

How did that work?

Writing.

Are (r) you ever going to talk to him? Really (rly) talk to him?

I don't even know him.

You know me and you don't talk to me.

I talk to you.

Taps isn't talking.

Sure.

This could (cld) be easier for you to do. Try and say something.

Haru heard a faint sigh from the room. Like Rin was exhausted, or maybe sad. Sad because Haru was interested in a strange on the street, rather than the college student he created morose code with at night. Maybe. But he enforced this relationship, maybe because he'd rather see Haru happy, then alone.

I need to study.

Yeah. Sure.

Get some (ten fast taps) sleep.

Yeah. Sure.

Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday was when Makoto would show up at the cross walk. He'd come at least an hour early before he'd have to leave. They had to keep notebooks (for Haru, sketchbooks) close by and in stock.

Makoto would lean against the wall of a building, still in Haru's view. People would be confused from seeing Makoto flash notes to nobody, but he didn't care. He would just smile at Haru's short sentences, even laughing sometimes.

Haru imagined what his laugh sounded like while he was in bed. Maybe a low chuckle or a soft quick giggle, a snicker even. He didn't imagine he'd have a loud, long laugh like he had. He thought of Makoto blushing when he laughed. Haru smiled.

Tonight was the night Rin had to go to the graduation party. Probably spending the night at his old home after the celebration. He still stayed up, laying his cheek on the wall like normal. His hands were filthy with washed colors of paints. He got a good amount of paintings done on Friday. Yes, his living room was a mess, along with glasses of water filled with brown liquid. His house smelled like acrylics, but that was a normal thing.

The baby from upstairs was sleeping soundly tonight. The old man had a date so his TV set wasn't on. And the couple who banged every night, tonight all they did was kiss and cuddle. They were both tired. Everyone was probably tired. The apartment building was quiet for once. So very quiet. And Haru had nothing. Just the sound of silence.

Haru went into the kitchen and turned on the stove, putting a kettle on the burner. He decided to look through the sketchbook of one sided conversations, but he remembered the replies Makoto gave. He thought about Makoto's smooth penmanship. How his letters, even in print, connected like some sort of odd cursive.

The kettle whistled after a few moments an Haru made a cup of tea. Adding two sugars and stirred as he walk out of the kitchen. He noticed his living room and how it was a mess. Leftover paints were still out, his finish canvases in a corner of people he never knew finished drying hours ago. He didn't feel like cleaning up, he still had an unused canvas. Haru always bought bulk canvases, four always coming in a package.

He looked under his arm, seeing the sketch book. Haru shrugged, sat his mug on the coffee table and flicking on a lamp light on one of the end tables. He took one of the stained cups that were left and cleaned it out (along with the brushes) and sat up his canvas.

And on Saturday, Haru couldn't stop the excitement fizz inside him. He leaned his palms on the window sill and kept bouncing his leg in anticipation. The thing was, Makoto hadn't shown up at his usual time. It was true that he had waited a couple hours earlier, but that didn't mean anything. Makoto would come at around two and then leave at three- thirty, but it was already three- twenty.

Haru was worried. Not if Makoto got hurt on the way or earlier, Makoto wouldn't get hurt so easily. He was worried that maybe Makoto finally figured out, this was strange. That talking to a complete stranger with a notebook, wasn't what he needed in his life and changed his route. Haru was starting to feel weary, overthinking about Makoto, losing his eagerness. He also started to regret the painting from last night.

People started to cross the street and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Makoto rushing over to the stop. Notebook already under his arm and pen in hand. Haru picked up his sketch book and looked to see Makoto writing.

Sorry, I'm late. Can't talk long.

Oh, of course. But can I show you something?

Have to make it really quick.

Haru held up his finger and picked up the canvas by his feet. He took a deep breath, he felt his palms become sweaty, his face was still neutral. He put the canvas on the sill, hiding his face from Makoto. He was afraid to see a reaction, to see anything at all from this painting. But there was nothing to be afraid of.

The paint was made all from memory. But Haru remembered the face well. The strand of choppy bangs and layered hair looked soft and fluffy, the sun kissed skin showing no scars no flaws, everything perfect. It was hard to get the shine and color green right. He had to mix many colors. And the smile, lips a light pink with gentle curve.

This was what Haru believed what Makoto look liked up close.

Haru peeked behind the painting. His cheeks lightly flushed, but they then soon turned red. Makoto was grinning, ear to ear from what he could make out. It look like he witnessed some miracle or a fantasy of his coming true. Had he always wanted to be painted? No, but recently (today) he wanted the stranger from the window to paint him. Makoto bit his lip.

This was the moment that Makoto realized that he had fallen in love with Haru. He didn't notice, that the weeks had passed, he was falling for Haru.

A messy, distant, impossible love that he couldn't understand. He didn't care if it made no sense, it felt right. It felt beautiful. Makoto then learned, Haru felt the same. He could feel that Haru felt the same. Why else would he turn a person on the street into a piece of art? Makoto quietly laughed and began to write.

I love it. It's amazing.

Really? You like it?

Makoto shook his head, No, I love it, Haru.

Haru darted his eyes away and blushed, Glad you like it.

I have to go now. Bye.

Goodbye.

Makoto wish he could have written:

I could stay here for hours with you.

Then Haru could have written back:

Me too.

Haru had woken up on Sunday, refreshed and new for once. Sunday was his free day: No work, food shopping, and waiting for Makoto on Monday. He took an extra-long bath, had two cups of coffee and read the news on his phone. The portrait stayed by the window, and every time Haru glanced at it, he couldn't help but smile at the details. Haru reread old messages he sent to Makoto, reading from the first book but seeing mostly unfinished drawing. But the he started to see more messages.

You look beautiful.

His fingers stayed pinched on this page. This had to be Haru's favorite message. Haru tore the page and stuffed it in his hoodie pocket. His hand curled around the folded sheet. For a while, Haru did some chores, took another bath, had lunch and read until the afternoon. At around three, he planned to go grocery shopping.

Haru rarely liked leaving the house. He felt strange around people (he didn't even like calling anyone), like a bullseye was painted on him and people were drawn by that. He was antisocial, yes, and Haru didn't mind. Well maybe he did, he didn't or couldn't meet new people.

Haru got his food money, grocery lists, and keys. He locked up his apartment and headed down to the lobby. When the elevator doors opened, Haru heard gum popping from the lobbyist bored out of her mind while reading manga. Haru stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked to the big doors.

But before Haru could pushed the door, it pulled open. Haru stepped back, feeling the cool wind and lifting up his head. Haru shivered out a gasp, his eyes becoming a brighten blue. Makoto was looking down at him, shocked as much as Haru was.

Haru didn't know what Makoto was doing there. But he was happy Makoto was there. He squeezed the message in his pocket. He was no longer a zoomed out image, he was clear as water and something he couldn't even imagine in his dreams.

You look beautiful.

Makoto smiled.

"Hi, Haruka."

"Hi, Makoto."

So I hope you enjoyed. Review and favorite if you did. Helps me a lot. See you next time.