Author's Note: First, a heartfelt thank you to everyone who has reviewed/followed/favorited this story! The feedback that I received is partially the inspiration I ended up continuing this. The other piece is that the Starting Days subbed version was released and I died from the sheer cuteness and ohmygod. If you haven't watched it yet, GO WATCH IT RIGHT NOW!

So my only regret is how long it took to get a new chapter up. But that's because I didn't quite know where I wanted to go with this and for a while I was just going to keep it a one shot, however now I have direction and I want to adventure into some first person POV changes and well. It'll be fun.

Important: This chapter is in Haru's POV (first person) and will contain slight references to Starting Days, however it will not affect the understanding of the story. It just adds a bit of background to the conflict. And Haru's thought process is rather awkward and cluttered because he's a delicate little water boy who is confused over what happened, so if this feels a bit confusing then good. That's what I was going for.


What...exactly...was that just now?

Why was he being so strange?

I am stiffly standing outside the door to Makoto's house. It's cold, and I'm confused.

Why was he looking at me like that? I mean sure, our relationship isn't always one full of words, but that doesn't mean I always understand what he needs. Sometimes nonverbal cues aren't enough.

There are so many questions that I wanted to ask him, but no matter how much I want to, I know I cannot ask them. And even if I did ask, it's not like he would give me an answer.

I shiver a bit. It feels like I got thrown out even though I left the house of my own volition.

And I still don't know what he was thinking back there. For as long as I can remember, I've been wondering what goes on inside his head. There are three things I know to be true about Makoto. First, he is irrefutably kind. Second, he's a complete chocoholic. And third, his inside and outside are completely different—what he feels and what he shows are never the same.

It's the third thing that worries me most. Makoto is incredible at hiding his fears and inhibitions. He often doesn't reveal any ill feelings until he cannot bear it any longer. And even then, I can't get him to open up at times.

I really hate when he hides things from me, especially his feelings, but often enough I have to concede defeat when I know my efforts are futile.

My eyes lazily trail up the stone steps to my house. It is totally dark. The only light in the area comes from the dim street lamp...and Makoto's house. Never have those stairs looked so steep and uninviting.

I hate this.

I frown and start scaling. Each step is a reminder to me that I am alone, that there will be no one waiting for me when I get inside the door. Makoto was the last person that I will see. And he will likely be the first face to greet me tomorrow. In a sense, I feel lonelier than ever now. Now there even seems to be a wall between my best friend and me.

But I didn't erect this wall. Makoto did. So why do I feel so...strange right now.

It really does make me wonder. Did we make this change willingly? And did I have a part in it? What if I did? What was it that I did?

The sheer number of question marks appearing in my head next to everything that I want to know is frightening. I really don't know anything about our situation right now. This relationship between us is built on trust and mutual acceptance. It's not like I don't know anything about Makoto. I honestly believe that we know each others' lives better than we know our own...but that still doesn't mean that I understand his head. We put our differences aside a long time ago. And Makoto's ability to overlook the chinks in the armor or the outward twists in the personality of a person and his devotion to looking inside someone's heart to deem their worth is one of his greatest traits, but it is also his undoing.

He's always believed that those sort of things don't matter...but a person is defined by what makes them different from the one next to them...and if he overlooks those things, whether out of politeness or ignorance, how much can he really expect to know about those around him? I guess that's just how he is, though. And it's really not that bad...he's well-loved by everyone and has a great memory...

Something happens to me. My chest starts hurting. The pain is similar to not having enough oxygen. But it's a familiar sensation. I get it a lot when Makoto is involved.

I've been doing a lot of this recently. Evaluating him and then pushing past it all-no, more like pushing it all aside. I want to ask him all the things that I've held inside through the countless hours of existing in tense silence when we study, the walks to and from school, and basically whenever we are alone together.

Now I've got an urge to run back there...to do something. I find myself staring down at the house just ten steps below. So close...and still so far.

But what could I have done?

I can tell that Makoto's still in the entryway. Right where I left him and likely still caught in the feedback loop of his own thoughts. But what was I supposed to do? Once he bottles up, it takes a hell of a lot more than a little pleading to get him opened up again. He's always been that way...even with me.

I clutch at my heart.

A memory of a different time comes suddenly back to haunt me. The image of a younger Makoto in a green sweater as we stood outside my house in the dark and wearing the most forced smile that I had ever seen cross his lips. It was absolutely infuriating. My fists involuntarily clench as my entire body tenses in anguish over the memory.

What on earth was he really thinking at that moment? With his eyes shining with painfully veiled emotion...what did he really want to say? Even though he told me that he felt conflicted over swimming...was that really what was bothering him?

Then I had screamed my concern in his face and assured him that his identity was safe, except now that I think about it, I had only said two words. You're you. But it seemed to be enough because Makoto's expression became genuine for the first time in nearly a week. At that time, I didn't clearly see it, but when he took my arm and started dragging me to the SC pool, as we ran together all the way there Makoto had cried while wearing a wide grin.

But it wasn't the exchange that we had in the pool that makes me so skeptical of his real feelings. If anything, the pool talk had wiped any trace of worry from my mind. It was when we got back home that everything became complicated. For when we got back, Makoto assured me that we would always swim together but when I caught his eye, there was something else lingering there. It was akin to longing but yet, still, it was something deeper that was less easily assuaged.

It was the same thing that I had seen just earlier tonight in his eyes when we were cleaning up. When I had asked him if everything was alright.

So what is it?

I sigh. I might not ever know. And I probably ought to just get used to the feeling of not knowing. I just want to go home.

And then the feeling dissipates. The pain subsides and my hand falls away from my chest as I feel calm once more. A bit empty, but calm. But in order to be calm, you have to be empty.

My shadow slides up onto the door to my house and my fingers touch the wood, connecting with the dark figure upon it before I feel anything again. It's the chest pang again.

Such a familiar pain. I think this feeling is normal now. It only happens when I think of Makoto.

The shadow on the door trembles when my hand falters. It looks frail and weak. And it makes me mad.

I frown and push through the dark wave of emotion. I already gave in once. Two times would be unwise. I might end up actually doing something.

Wrenching the door open, the entryway that greets me is cold and dark. The door clicks shut behind me and I kick off my shoes. My coat is hung on the rack and I head immediately to my room.

It feels like I am walking for miles as I take shaky steps up the stairs. I stare at the floor, except the dark outline that is my shadow seems almost to look up at me in pity. And it is then that I see how bad I am shaking.

I bite my lip and avert my eyes. I really do hate this. This dance that Makoto and I always participate in...this little game of tug of war. Where we give and we take from one another, but we never seem to get anywhere. How we like to hang the answer right out in the open, except behind each other's backs, so the one who really wants to know never can grasp it.

I suppose it's okay though. Things always seem to calm down eventually when one of us caves in...or, rather, forces the other to. We've survived for this long with this system, after all.

Or is our survival an illusion?

Every day I feel like I am drowning when I see Makoto. My chest tightens and the wave of unspoken words in this unspeakable foreign language washes over me until I am swallowed up. He seems distant from me lately, but not once has he ever complained or spoke up...and I struggle to remember if it's always been like this.

Have we always been this way? Yes? No?

It's at times like these when I just don't know anymore.

But I do know one thing. I want Makoto to be happy. But right now I don't know what. And knowing him, he'll just brush all of what just transpired off as a lapse in proper judgement and be perfectly peachy by tomorrow.

He'll be wearing that damn forced smile and be as painfully tight lipped as ever.

The perfect swim club captain. A picture of strength and morality.

But no one knows how fake that image is.

I open to door to my room and glance around the sparse area, moving to the window without a second thought and grasping the curtains as my eyes automatically search out his window. His curtains are drawn shut.

Clicking my tongue, I pull the blue fabric in front of the glass and silence my mind. I was hoping again. Hoping for the impossible.

Frustrated, I carelessly fall down on my bed. This is already too much.

I guess I'll take a bath in the morning.

Now I'm irritated.

I lose myself in the ceiling and it's oh-so-captivating blandness, giving my overactive mind room to take control. I have always been a slave to my inner worries. Those feelings that I can't even put words to.

Something's obviously bothering him. That piece of the puzzle is obvious. But what the heck is it? I'm no mind reader Makoto. I don't know everything! And right now, I feel like I don't know anything!

Hands are tugging at my hair, and something tickles on my cheeks. I make to wipe it away, only to realize it is water.

I'm crying.

I wonder if he is too.

Damn it, Makoto. Why? Why is this happening? Please tell me why.

Everything in my sight is blurry now and I bury my face into my pillow in fatigued awareness. I've never been more tired and yet felt so uncomfortably awake.

For the first time, I really don't know what I'm supposed to do...


A/N: Please, if you wouldn't mind, tell me your thoughts whether they're good or bad! Reviews are like candy.