Haruka is nothing like the sun. Makoto knows that too well, and yet, it doesn't stop him from looking up to the navy blue haired male. Sometimes he wonders why he stares (as he would call it "parental guidance" or whatever supposedly it entails) and he doesn't stop to question his actions. Maybe it is the fact that Haruka naturally draws people in. His passive behaviour about life (life, life and nothing related to water or Rin for that matter) is a little too passive for a high school student, but his way about doing things, especially when it comes to swimming, supposedly makes people admire him. Haruka is, well, all there is to a great swimmer. Actually, scratch that, Haruka is a brilliant swimmer, and that's all there is to it. And Makoto doesn't really know what made him so modest and meek, but that's all part of the package that came with the freestylist, and thus, he accepts itaru wholeheartedly.
Even if his feelings of admiration isn't exactly reciprocated in any way. Because that's Haruka, and he's Makoto. Two red lines never meant to cross in any way other than being best friends. Sometimes it makes him concerned, and sometimes he learns to live with the fact that Haruka will never care about Makoto the same way as Makoto would him. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes...well, he learns to cope with the lonesome feeling because seeing a smile on Haruka's face is worth more than a thousand kisses.
That's what he tells himself every night.
And that's all there is to it.
Makoto is nothing like a fish. Haruka notices, and it makes him think. Why exactly did Makoto take up swimming in the first place. It makes him wonder, but he decides that probably, the one strength that Makoto has over everyone else is his backstroke. The powerful yet graceful swing of the arm makes his heart sway. Haruka doesn't say anything when he sees Makoto swim, and he never does. There is a silent connection between the two of them, and really, he doesn't need to say a thing. Makoto just knows. He wonders sometimes that if he can do the same style as neatly as Makoto's. But when it comes down, Makoto always tells him that the happiest he's been is when Haruka swims for himself.
Haruka gradually learns to accept that. Even if he has to override the feeling of loneliness he feels when he sees Makoto swim so elegantly in the water, the full swing of the arms echoing in his mind. He wants to say it, but he's afraid. He will never be on the same level as Makoto, and the beauty is astounding. He can only admire. It's strange, actually, how much he wants to be like Makoto. Yet the idea of the inapproachable male makes his heart quiver uncontrollably. It scares him. So he stays away. To him, Makoto is his idol. Look, but no touching.
That's what he tells himself every night.
And that's all there is to it.
