This is set during their later college years, contains spoilers for Season 3, and briefly describes an event in the High Speed novel.
In the English Dub, instead of calling Haruka 'Haru-chan,' Makoto calls him 'Haruka,' who then asks him to stop (still preferring Haru.)
All the text in bold italics are lyrics from the song "A Conversation with God" by Darren Hayes.
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My hands fly off the steering wheel
Can't recall getting here
-A Conversation With God, Darren Hayes
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Makoto smiled, as Haruka walked him to the door, taking care to bundle up before going outside. He had a bit of a trek home in the brisk autumn air.
"Now, don't stay up too late, Haru. And make sure to drink plenty of water, you don't want to get dehydrated!"
"I will."
And Makoto could hit himself. He always did this with Haruka, who already knew these things and was just indulging him, as Makoto rambled on about some last minute thing, to draw this visit out a little bit longer.
It had always been hard, when they parted ways, though Makoto liked to think he'd become more graceful about it since childhood – his tight grip on Haruka's hand as they neared home, his series of anxious waves as they grew further apart, continuing long after Haruka could see him – but he was struck now, by how little had changed.
In his fluster remembering, he got turned around with his scarf and his coat, furthering his embarrassment. Just as he was about to make some joke at his own expense, Haruka reached out to him, straightened his collar, and untangled his scarf.
Makoto looked down, surprised. Haruka looked up, and before thought, he was leaning down, Haruka was raising up. It was so synchronized that he couldn't say one or the other moved first, it was as if they'd done this a hundred, a thousand times when in fact they had never, this was the first time he'd had Haruka's lips against his, had his against Haruka's and when they pulled away it was just as synchronized.
Just as synchronized as when he called "Goodnight, Haru." and Haruka called it back. As though it was perfectly routine to then walk out the door, descend the stairs, step outside and feel chilled to the bone, beyond any of the air's doing. As he looked back, to Haruka's window, and Haruka was there, looking down on him, backlit by his apartment lights, and Makoto waved to him, and Haruka waved back.
It all happened so fast, he repeated to himself, as he hurried home, not because he was cold, but because there was a restlessness within him he did not know what to do with. Only when he was safely inside his own apartment and had removed the scarf Haruka had wrapped around his neck, did he begin to shake.
Everything he had with Haruka… How could it be so quickly and completely destroyed?
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If I could, I would reach behind
And turn my light off
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No answers were forthcoming, as the days continued on: he and Haruka went to classes, studied together, met with Asahi and Kisumi for meals. No one treated them any differently.
Even for the most part when he and Haruka were alone, nothing changed. Only when they parted ways, did they kiss each other farewell, always brief, always chaste, as though some higher force decreed it, and they simply obeyed. And though he could now say he knew what Haruka's lips felt like, pressed against his, the jolt, the flood of emotions it unleashed each and every time only grew stronger and stronger. It would soon rise over, over this break wall he had helplessly erected around it. Or simply crash through.
Makoto didn't know what would happen then, but, he had the feeling he would find out.
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My thoughts run off the beaten path
There's no light, how's the way back
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He did begin to notice a frustration, when he didn't get to see Haruka for a few days, when he was busy with training and tournaments. Jealously towards all these others who wanted Haruka's time and attention – particularly unsettling because these were often people he considered friends – Asahi, Ikuya, Rin.
More so as he watched them compete together, the thrill he was no longer part of, and another old familiar feeling – one he had thought long put to rest – made itself known: that he had not had what it took to keep up with them, with Haruka. So many times, he had felt that. From the very beginning, really.
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It's draining
The pain has reservoirs it keeps for itself
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Asahi invited him to observe a practice: "We can go to my sister's place after, and it will be good for you, Makoto, you can see what a college level's is like. See if you like it."
He sat up in the stands, along with a few scattered others. The atmosphere was intense, and he found himself longing for the ease of the swimming club. Then he wondered, another old feeling: was he cowardly? Afraid to push out of his comfort zone, which looped around to the other, waiting in the wings: should he have tried to compete as a swimmer after all?
He witnessed the stunned silence that Haruka and his swimming created in their wake. Saw the admiring looks of his female teammates, how beautiful they all were, athleticism and grace. Humidity and chlorine searing his nose, settling on his skin.
Practice was not over but he rose. He still struggled, to move gracefully in his adult frame, but he did move fast. Once outside, calmer, he wondered if that said something unfavorable about him: he was always fairly decent at running.
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I need to be where you are
The leaves and trees are shaking
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"Is everything alright, Makoto?" Haruka asked, blue eyes deep and endless as they sat in Haruka's apartment.
"Yes," Makoto answered honestly. His family, his studies, his students. His friends. Haruka. Everything was alright. "Why?"
Haruka frowned. "… You've lost weight. Kisumi asked me about it."
He'd noticed his stomach was upset, that he sometimes skipped meals, that that was easier, sometimes. He hadn't thought it enough to lose weight. He reached up to scratch the back of his head.
"I guess I've been working harder than I thought, between school and the club! I'll eat better, so please tell Kisumi not to worry about me."
Haruka nodded, but Makoto knew he wasn't convinced. When they kissed goodnight, they lingered.
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I'm falling, I'm not myself
I'm diving
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Makoto ate, yet his appetite would not return. Still, he tried to take better care of himself, to sleep enough, drink plenty of water. That's what he was always telling Haruka, after all.
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The bubbles, the surface race
They shine and, they replicate
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He started dreaming of the ocean, roiling waves, of monsters lying in wait deep below, and there was never anything he could do about it.
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I hear it, the voice of God
Is laced with sarcasm in your hands
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He stood at the edge of the club pool, and laughed. He could barely believe it. He hadn't been afraid to get in a pool since he was a child. However, there were his students, waving happily, and his heart lightened, enough to give them a genuine smile in return, and prepared himself for another lesson.
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The rust of the metal bridge
It beckons, it pulls me in
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Makota knocked on Haruka's apartment door, bright and early. It wasn't necessary to do this anymore. He knew Haruka was happier here, would and could go to school on his own. Still, he continued, and unlocked the door. Haruka had a key to his apartment as well. It seemed only natural at the time.
He walked inside, to the bathroom, and there was Haruka, soaking in the tub, as he always was, as Makoto had seen time and time again, year after year, yet his face started to warm up, to burn, and he took a step back, then two. Haruka noticed, eyes growing wide.
Makoto did not recover himself, to offer Haruka a hand up as he always did. Instead, he fled to the living room, stood in front of the window, looked out for a moment, then covered his face with his hands.
He heard Haruka moving about in the bathroom, then heard the floor creak as he approached. Makoto decided to speak first.
"I'm sorry, Haru." His voice sounded small.
"Makoto."
He knew Haruka was asking him to lower his hands, to look, but was he frustrated, worried? Makoto didn't know, couldn't read him – hadn't been able to since this started – but he couldn't face him.
Cool hands touched his, pulled them away and down, and continued to hold on, and only then, because they had done this so many times, held hands, and he'd always been safe, did Makoto dare to open his eyes, just as he had dared to do so many things if Haruka was at his side.
His eyes were cool as well. He'd dressed, which Makoto thanked the heavens for, then was pushed back into choppy water when Haruka spoke.
"I… feel the same. When I see you."
They kissed – they'd only kissed goodbye before, and this was not the same. Not brief, not chaste, fingers intertwined. He felt that even if the world were ending, and in some ways, he felt it was, he could not be moved, so rooted was he to Haruka in this moment.
Later, as he looked to Haruka – his faraway gaze that unsettled so many, but never him – through heavy panes of glass, on separate buses, heading to separate schools, in separate directions, he put his hand against the window, despite himself, and was shocked when Haruka did the same.
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I'm driving, just me and God
And it's raining, it's raining hard
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Makoto swam out to the deep end. He was going to face it, prove to himself there was nothing here. He was at the club, after hours. He'd worked an evening shift, and had agreed to lock up. He and Haruka were going to meet here tonight, but Haruka called, saying he wasn't sure he could make it.
The let down was tremendous, more than it had any right to be, but it gave him the opportunity to prove to himself he could do this – without Haruka, without anyone – as he dove down to the bottom, to the deepest point of the pool.
He got there – it took far too long – and looked up, felt the weight of the water on him. He so wanted to push his feet against the floor, get to the surface, get out of here, but he made himself stay, in this quiet, heavy abyss, light refracting strangely from up above. Made himself be in the silence that wasn't really silent, the ever shifting water, never truly contained.
He was so frustrated he could cry. He was still afraid. Just as he was ready to admit defeat, something large crashed the surface, heading straight for him, so fast it didn't immediately register as Haruka, nor could he figure out what was happening when Haruka was suddenly in front of him, grabbing his arm, wrapping it around strong shoulders and propelling them high. Only when they breached to air, could he put it together.
"Haru! I'm alright!"
Haruka either wouldn't or couldn't hear him, continued dragging him to the shallows. He had never seen him swim like this, none of his fluidity – like the dolphin they both so admired – but a razor, cutting, barreling his way through.
Makoto thought Haruka would calm when they could both stand, but he didn't. He pulled himself out first, then reached back, pulling Makoto up so forcefully Makoto lost his balance upon standing, falling into him, yet that did not detain them. Haruka only continued to drag him away from the water, settling on a bench on the far wall.
"I'm alright, Haru." Makoto repeated, had been saying this as a mantra since they surfaced.
"What were you doing?" Haruka asked him, level, but nowhere near calm, and Makoto could see the beginnings of trembling.
"I was sitting at the bottom. Remember? We did that sometimes, in swim classes?" Makoto queried gently.
"The surface was calm." Haruka stated, lost in an alternate scenario, and Makoto began to understand what he was seeing, that he had fallen below the waves, and had been there long enough for the water to equalize itself after his struggle. He started to shake himself.
"I'm sorry, Haru."
"I was so scared." Haruka said, as though it was something he needed to vomit, to get out at all costs. "Just like that other time. You were barely breathing. I was so scared." He repeated, his eyes welling up and he leaned his forehead on Makoto's shoulder, taking deep, ragged breaths.
Makoto was transported to the past: the shore, Haruka lying with his eyes closed and screaming his name, beside himself with terror. He returned to the present, wrapped his arms around Haruka's shoulders, though to his surprise, he did not cry.
He did not cry in the locker room. He did not cry as they turned off the lights, locked up the club in silence, or as they walked home – clouds heavy overhead – to Makoto's apartment. It was unspoken but understood Haruka was going to stay the night. They'd known at the pool club.
It was strange to have him here, as the downpour began outside. Makoto was so used to chasing after him, that to see him amongst his things – his photos of friends and family, of Haruka himself – felt foreign, something ever unattainable suddenly real.
Thunder clapped, lightning lit up the sky as they laid down, sharing his bed. It was a tight fit, though they managed to keep their distance, but all of it, including the chaotic drum of rain, kept him from rest.
Catching glimpses of Haruka in the brief flashes of lightning, Makoto had the most surreal feeling of not recognizing him – the jaggedness of his cheek bones, the harsh lines of muscle, the glint of steel in his eyes.
He had the feeling of not recognizing himself either – laying here in shorts and a t-shirt, his best friend in the same. It had been a long time since they had shared a bed but he could recall how happy he had been.
Maybe that's why it seemed especially cruel tonight, because it struck him, just as surely as the lightning struck the ground, that whatever he and Haruka had as children was gone. They were not touching, but there was gravity between them. This was a temporary truce – sheer exhaustion – as the thunder shook them and everything else along with it.
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I argue, I scream at God
And what he's offering
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"It's great to have the old gang back together again!" cried Nagisa.
They were home in Iwatobi for the New Year, and had met up at a local restaurant, Nagisa and Rei, Rin and Gou, and he and Haruka. Of course, much of their conversation was devoted to swimming.
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We're driving, I talk to God
He's screaming, I only nod
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It was a busy trip home, so Makoto was surprised to receive a text from Rin, asking to meet up for a walk along the ocean.
"Yo!"
"Is everything alright?" Makoto replied in a hurry, expressing what he had held back in his messages.
Rin smiled, crossed his arms over his head. "Actually, that's what I wanted to ask you. I didn't really want to say it in front of everyone, but I thought something seemed off, between you and Haru. Basically, I was worried you two got in a fight, and didn't know what to do about it."
"Did Haru say something?" Makoto asked, unsure.
"No, no. I'm not sure what it was, just, something reminded me of high school, when Haru and I went to Australia together. He was real upset you two had argued. I remember I was so confused; Sosuke and I fight all the time – no use crying over spilled milk – we just get it out and move on with it. Maybe throw a punch or two now and then!" Rin answered with a grin, then continued:
"Honestly it's hard to even imagine you guys throwing a punch. 'Still waters run deep,' and all that. But, I was right? You two get into it about something?"
Maybe it was hard to imagine, but he and Haruka had come close. He braced himself just remembering it. What Haruka had said to him. He knew how much Haruka had regretted it, when he came home, and he'd been quick to reassure him. He hadn't thought about it in awhile, but now it lingered, another memory come back to haunt him. If only he had told Haruka sooner, maybe they could have avoided the whole thing.
"Not exactly, it's just… everything's changing."
"Yeah, uncharted territory, right? But, it's kind of exciting, isn't it? And just remember, Haru's a pretty decent swimmer. Not the best, but you know, decent. And you're not so bad yourself. I think you all can manage whatever's up ahead."
Makoto thanked him, and Rin gave him a rueful smile. "What are friends for, right? And I know I'm busy, trying to get to the Olympics and all, but I'm here. So's everybody else. So keep that in mind, yeah?"
Makoto looked out to the ocean, even more menacing in the cold. He envied Rin's philosophy, his resilience. He'd felt it, swimming the relay with him.
"I will."
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The bullets melt
The hunger, of hunger itself
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They made one last plan as a group. To go up to the Buddhist Temple on New Year's Eve and listen to the bells.
Their usually boisterous group was somber as they stood in the crowd, everyone wrapped in coats and mittens and hats. 108 rings to purify 108 sins. He'd never felt more of a need, as he risked a glance at Haruka somewhere in the middle, as he felt everyone's anticipation of the coming New Year. It wouldn't be long now.
The final ring announcing the New Year came. Relief and excitement and hope. A fresh start. They made their way home, wishing each well as they parted ways.
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Take the hand of God
And bite the feeder, no more lingering
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"Haruka! Haruka!"
Makoto smiled at his siblings' excitement. Haruka was joining them for dinner tonight. His mother insisted. Makoto had actually joined Haruka and his parents for a previous dinner, before they returned to their work, a rare occurrence indeed. He knew they, and especially Haruka's mother, were fond of him, yet he'd felt flustered throughout. More blending, more bleeding that he never thought would occur.
More questions in this ever-shifting landscape: where did he fit with his family now?
Where did he fit with Haruka?
What do you when you can't leave, but you can't go back?
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I'm underneath the hull of a mighty ship
That steams away from here
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Makoto had never felt more alone with Haruka, here in his family home, under cover of gray skies at the beginning of winter, the beginning of a new year. It was so quiet, compared to the city. A quiet he used to be comfortable with.
Haruka's home always had a lonesome quality, but now even more so. No one lived here, not even Haruka, anymore, and most of his family's possessions were packed away, only the essentials remained. Makoto wondered how long it would be until they sold this place – so full of memories for him – now that it had served its purpose seeing Haruka through his school years.
Makoto picked up a carving of the Iwatobi mascot that had been left out, rubbed his fingers along it, remembering their excitement starting the swim team, trying to ground himself to something, somewhere.
"I still like it." Haruka spoke, startling him.
"I kept one, too." he replied.
Haruka sat down next to him, and they kissed, for first time in Iwatobi. He felt as if there were some invisible, powerful curtain between them, deceptive in its camouflage. As though he had lost his vantage point – using a magnifying glass, instead of binoculars – too close to see, to make sense of the details.
So he was unsure, when they pulled away, when he looked at Haruka and thought he saw something new. Steady, determined. A waterfall. Unsure enough that he had to ask aloud:
"Your room?"
Haruka only nodded.
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The windows are steaming up
The bridge engulfed by fog
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Haruka's hands were cool on the back of his neck, the side of his face. It was cold, but he more thought it had to do with Haruka himself. So imperturbable, so attuned to the water that even this wasn't generating heat.
The were standing, standing on the edge of a precipice – Haruka's bed was right beside them, and the fall seemed infinite. He could hear the crash of the waves outside, and thought of their ability to envelope and submerge, what swam below, but also his joy in swimming – the freedom of movement and flow.
He'd always been drawn to it, and to Haruka, and even though it scared him, he did want to connect with Haruka like this, and he retreated briefly, turned around for a moment to pull his sweater over his head, let it fall to the ground, but froze with fear when he saw shock on Haruka's face. Had he misread him, earlier? Maybe Haruka thought he was the one who wanted to come in here, when Makoto thought they both did?
"Haruka?" he asked softly, to which Haruka clenched his fists, agitated, as though he couldn't find words. Makoto did not understand, another failure to interpret, and felt a pit of shame well in his stomach.
"I thought… I'm sorry." he muttered, averting his gaze, saving face, which caused him to miss Haruka's sudden movement into him, hands on his torso that felt like pure electricity, hands that then angled him toward the bed and they took the plunge that so terrified him a moment ago.
Time seemed to slow, yet his landing was soft, head resting on a pillow, back cold against the blankets, Haruka's knees at his hips. He felt his own shock, as Haruka then leaned up to remove his sweater, and realized that was what he saw on Haruka's face, not the disgust he so feared.
He gave Haruka a watery smile, reaching his arms up around his shoulders as Haruka bent low. They met, continued their kissing from before, Makoto standing one of his feet, resting his knee against Haruka's torso. He was not sure where his boldness came from, as he tentatively pressed his tongue against Haruka's lips, relieved when he parted and reciprocated.
Haruka reached for his side table, eventually needing to pull away to accomplish this, and grabbed something from the drawer. Makoto's brain was foggy, trying to make out what it was, but once he did, blushed fiercely: a condom packet and lubricant.
"We don't have to," Haruka explained, blushing himself. "I just, wanted you to know I have them."
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They didn't, but Makoto felt there was still plenty to blush about, as he and Haruka rested warm under the blankets. The sun was starting to set, just a sliver of light above the horizon. He needed to say it, to make sure this crossed the bridge.
"Haruka?" he asked, into the twilight, who turned on his side to face him, face shadowed, and Makoto continued: "… I love you."
He couldn't make out Haruka's expression, only the stillness of his body, heard him speak, but didn't trust what he said.
"Always," Haruka repeated, voice anchored deep, no matter how far down. "I've always loved you."
And maybe it was inevitable, this dam of his would finally burst. Yet, they were not acid tears that fell from his eyes, and his cries did not choke him. What lurked behind that wall was not destruction and chaos, the monster he had always feared.
It was rejuvenation.
Healing.