A/N: Happy birthday to Sousuke! He's not really in this chapter, but he's here in spirit.

This is the second half of the previous chapter, which were originally intended as one, hence it's a lot shorter. This chapter has a bunch of dialogue and a sprinkle of terrible descriptions of blacksmithing, but nevertheless, I hope you'll enjoy it!

Despite no one being there to answer, Makoto called out a soft "I'm home," as he swung open the front door.

He put his guitar down in a corner and slung his bag and hat on the arms of the coat rack. Then he grabbed his tin cup of earnings. All the coins he collected that day were stashed away safely in a drawer of the wardrobe, that stood beside the kitchenette and took up a large portion of the humble family room. When the cup was tucked back into his bag for future use, Makoto went over to the sink to wash his hands and Haruka followed suit.

"Please take a seat wherever you like," he said as he passed on the towel.

Once his hands were dry, Haruka sat down in the same chair he had last night. Meanwhile, Makoto took a small glass out of a cupboard and filled it with water. He removed the dandelion from behind his ear and gently placed it inside, putting the makeshift vase on top of the windowsill. The sunlight that shone through danced on the little petals, and somehow, it made Makoto's house feel even homelier than it did before.

"What do you want to drink? We have milk, tea, perhaps even a bit of coffee-"

"Just some water is fine, thanks," Haruka said, "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, it's alright! You're a guest." Makoto brought two slightly larger glasses of water to the table, set one down in front of Haruka and the other one across from him. "Let me just go ask if my dad wants anything real quick."

Haruka nodded in understanding and Makoto left through the door that connected the shop to the house. As he waited for Makoto to return, Haruka took a small sip of his water.

The water wasn't as cold as he was used to and tasted slightly different, but in the end, water was water and Haruka could never dislike it. So he downed some more, only now feeling how dry his throat was. It wasn't odd, considering he talked more this morning than he usually would in a week and hadn't drunk anything since breakfast. Water proved itself once more to be a blessing regardless of its source.

Makoto came back as swiftly as he had gone, and a kind smile lit up his face when their eyes met. "He doesn't want anything," he said as he returned to the kitchen counter. "Now, lunch," he muttered more to himself than to Haruka. "We don't have any more leftovers from last night, so is some bread alright? I don't trust myself to make anything else."

"Of course." Although he was sure that Makoto was more skillful when it came to cooking than he gave himself credit for, he didn't want to come off as demanding by objecting to that. When he recalled how Makoto cut his finger while chopping onions, bread did seem like the safest option.

Two plates were put on the counter and Makoto took eight slices of bread out of the box. "Let's see what we have," he mused as he opened another cupboard. "Oh, we have strawberry jam! I suppose Mrs. Tamura had a good harvest this year. Ren will be so happy about this, it's his favourite- Is strawberry jam okay?"

Haruka smiled at Makoto's stream of thoughts. "If that's alright with Ren."

"Of course it is, he won't mind." Makoto took a knife from a drawer and began to smear some jam onto the slices.

As Haruka watched how his long fingers guided the knife over the bread to spread the strawberry jam evenly, he noticed that the slices on one plate received a far richer layer than the ones on the other.

"Horizontal or diagonal cut?" Makoto asked as he added the top slices to create four sandwiches.

"Doesn't matter," Haruka said, so Makoto opted for a horizontal cut.

Once he finished coating and cutting the bread, he licked off the remnants of jam that lingered on the knife and when he did, Haruka let out a huff of amusement. "What?" he whined in defense, "It's covered in breadcrumbs so I can't smear it back into the jar, but it's a waste to just rinse it off!"

Another smile of endearment tugged at Haruka's lips. Admittedly, he did have a point. "Be careful not to cut your tongue, though."

"This knife is blunt, so I don't think I could cut it even if I tried."

"With you, anything is possible."

"Hey!" Makoto yelped, and Haruka snorted at how insulted he sounded. He was too cute.

Just like he had expected, when Makoto brought the plates over to the table, he put the sandwiches with the thick layer of jam down in front of Haruka.

"Can I have the other plate?"

"Oh," Makoto said in surprise, "but I-"

"I know," Haruka assured, "but you like sweet things more than I do."

"Yeah, but… are you sure?"

"Yes."

Per Haruka's request, Makoto switched their plates around and then he sat down as well. "Sorry I can't offer you something better."

That actually offended Haruka more than the meal in front of him ever could. Makoto did everything within his might to provide for his family day in, day out and still didn't earn much. The last thing he had to feel guilty about was not being able to give something 'better' to him. "Don't say that."

"Sorry, it's just," Makoto sighed, awkwardly rubbing his finger around the rim of his plate, "I wish I could give you something you'd like."

"Who said I don't like this?" To prove the contrary, he sank his teeth into the bread, taking a larger bite than he usually would have and jam clung to the corners of his mouth. It was obvious the bread was a day or two old and it wasn't buttered up, but that didn't make it any less tasty; though he wasn't the biggest fan of strawberry jam, its flavour was decent and not too sweet so that was good too. As long as it was edible, Haruka wouldn't have complained, so this was no disappointment at all. "See, it's really good," he claimed when his mouth was empty, licking the excess jam off his lips.

Makoto laughed at that obvious lie; Haruka knew he had tasted the food he was served on a daily basis, and that was objectively leagues tastier than these somewhat stale sandwiches. Still, he seemed to appreciate Haruka's attempt at reassuring him so he played along, "Better than mackerel?"

"Hmm," Haruka hummed, feigning deep thought, "it's certainly a contender."

Again, Makoto couldn't do anything but laugh.

The amicable ambience that Makoto carried wherever he went surrounded them as they ate their sandwiches. Out of all of the meals they shared, the ones where it was just the two of them felt extra special regardless of what was being served. And as Haruka stared into those gorgeous eyes while Makoto tried to find a balance between eating with his mouth shut and talking, Haruka realised that this was all he ever wanted.

The table wasn't made with a fancy cloth, there was no cutlery besides their hands and the porcelain dishware had been traded in for steel plates that were undoubtedly homemade. Instead of a large flower vase as a centerpiece, there was a tiny dandelion perched up on the windowsill, one of the sole touches of colour in this rustic room. The pristine water drained from the mountain springs in Iwatobi he usually drank was replaced by tap water of an unknown source. Two sandwiches that were composed of slices of brown bread and locally produced strawberry jam on each plate made up the entire meal, as opposed to the endless stream of mackerel and turkey and pies he was used to. And Haruka didn't care about any of it, because Makoto was the one sitting across from him. His presence made any meal the best Haruka could possibly experience.

In his heart, he had long since reached his decision. It was made the second Makoto confessed to his act and apologised and told him his name. His rationale had forced him to wait and see how things would develop, to let Makoto prove his honesty before he allowed himself to take the greatest risk in his life, all to protect himself from getting hurt again. But he knew from the start it was futile, because the moment Makoto's lips touched his, he fell so deeply that attempts to crawl back to where he was before he met him would be in vain.

There was no denying it now; he would give up everything he had if that was what it took to be with Makoto. And if this was destined to end up in a heartbreak, then Haruka wouldn't regret taking the leap. The chances of having their happy ending were slim, but as long as it was within the realm of possibility, it was worth it.

Once their plates were empty and their hunger was stilled, it was time to get to work.

Haruka offered to clean up since Makoto had prepared their meal, but Makoto declined. They hadn't used much stuff and in order to save water and soap, they wouldn't do the dishes until there was a fair stack of them. Seeing how that did make sense, Haruka would postpone his offer until then.

When the door to blacksmith shop that was adjoint to the house was unlatched, Haruka realised he hadn't actually seen the workplace before.

The area was a bit bigger than the family room, stretching out further where it presumably bordered the bedrooms and bathroom. A large oven stood at the back, casting a flickering light on the two anvils placed in front of it, one for each blacksmith. A long, weathered workbench took up almost half of the shop, the years that passed clearly visible on the discoloured wood. One of the walls was decorated with various tools and equipment that Haruka couldn't even begin to recognise, and another was empty, yet the nails that were embedded in it suggested that the wallspace was previously used. Opposite of the main entrance beside the oven was another smaller door, and Haruka figured that it either led outside or to a possible storage room.

The second they stepped inside, the scent of smoke and metal hit his nose and the heat that came from the oven enveloped him; if it was hot outside, then it was absolutely sweltering in this room. Makoto didn't appear to be bothered by it at all and if he was, then he was great at hiding it.

Mr. Tachibana was seated at the workbench, polishing his latest creation with a cloth. He looked up from his work and smiled when he saw them. "Hello, boys," he called as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm.

From the neck down, Mr. Tachibana was a stereotypical blacksmith: broad shoulders that looked even wider thanks to the leather apron that was tied around his neck, strong arms fit to work with clamps and hammers, large hands with a tight grip that nothing could slip out of. But from the neck up, with his inviting smile and crooked spectacles, he looked more like a friendly librarian. Which was ironic, considering his illiteracy. It was easy to tell Makoto inherited his build from his father, while the kind faces seemed to run in both sides of the family.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Tachibana," Haruka uttered with a bow, the nerves he felt when he first met him resurfacing in their entirety.

"Hi again," Makoto said and he grabbed his own apron from a peg on the wall, "Haru wanted to see how we work so I'm going to make something for him. Is that alright?"

"Of course!" Mr. Tachibana said and his warm smile never wavered, like it was permanently etched into his face. He got up from his stool and untied his apron. "I was just about to go bring these sickles to Mr. Isurugi." He held up two sickles, one slightly larger than the other, to show them to his son and Haruka.

"I thought he was coming to pick them up tomorrow?"

"He was, but I finished them early and I don't have anything else to work on right now, so I figured I'd spare him the trouble of coming here and drop them off instead." With the sickles in hand, Mr. Tachibana hung his apron on another peg and gave Makoto an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "Business isn't just about getting new customers, it's mainly about ensuring the customers you have stay happy and loyal."

He shot Makoto a wink so subtle that Haruka could clearly see it too, and the blush that lit up Makoto's ears at the gesture didn't go unnoticed either.

"Feel free to use anything you'd like," Mr. Tachibana said as he walked towards the entrance.

Flustered by his father's knowing grin, Makoto stammered, "Thanks, Dad."

"Thank you, sir," Haruka replied and he bid Mr. Tachibana's back another bow.

"Then I'll leave the shop to you, boys," Makoto's father said, waving at them over his shoulder and then he opened the door, "Tell your mother when she gets home that I'll be back before dinner."

"I will. Have a safe trip!"

With that, the door clicked shut and Makoto and Haruka were alone once more.

Although he hadn't meant to chase Makoto's father away from his shop, Haruka would be lying if he said he wasn't relieved that it was just the two of them. Mr. Tachibana was an incredibly nice and welcoming man, but Haruka's desire to leave a good impression on Makoto's parents resulted in him still walking on eggshells when they were around. Being alone with Makoto made him feel a lot more comfortable for obvious reasons.

"In the meanwhile, have you decided on what it is that you want, or do you still want me to pick?" Makoto asked as he hooped his leather apron over his head and fastened it at the small of his back.

"You can pick," Haruka said, curious to see what Makoto would come up with.

A smile brightened Makoto's features and he made his way to the mysterious door. "Any preferred material?"

Haruka frowned. "What choices do I have?"

"Let's see," Makoto mumbled and he unveiled the storage room, that was more like a storage closet. "We have iron, steel, copper… and hey, even a bit of gold!"

"Copper and gold?" Haruka asked in confusion. "I thought you were a blacksmith."

"I am! We are," Makoto corrected, "We mainly work with iron and steel."

"Why do you have copper and gold then?"

"Well, it's because my grandfather, the first Blacksmith Tachibana, actually planned to become a redsmith at first."

"Oh?" Haruka pulled out Mr. Tachibana's stool and sat down. He put his elbow on the workbench and rested his cheek on his knuckles. "I'd love to hear the story behind that."

Makoto let out a chuckle and leaned against the doorframe. "My grandfather originally comes from a family of luthiers. His father, so my great-grandfather, had a shop where he made string instruments like violins and cellos and guitars. He's the one who made the guitar that I have," he mentioned as a side note. "My grandfather was the third child, and because his older sisters were going to take the shop over from their father, my grandfather decided he wanted to do something completely different."

"So he wanted to become a redsmith?"

"Not exactly. He lived in a small village, and in places like that, it's all about supply and demand. It's no use opening a bakery when there's already a bakery up and running that everyone is familiar with, because folks won't switch over to your shop and abandon the baker that they know and love. It's a tight-knit community and the people are loyal to each other," Makoto explained, "My grandfather eventually wanted to open his own shop, so he decided that he wanted to bring something to the village that they didn't already have. He asked around and heard there was a redsmith in this town who was offering apprenticeships, so he decided that was what he wanted to do. So he gathered up his things and left his village with the plan to return as a fully-fledged redsmith."

"But then something happened," Haruka predicted with a soft smile.

"Then he met my grandmother," Makoto continued, mirroring Haruka's expression. "From what I've been told, he fell in love with her the second he saw her. She loved him too, but she refused to move to my grandfather's remote village that was too far away from her family and friends. His apprenticeship was still running, so he had to make a choice."

"Either he goes back to his village as a redsmith by himself, or he comes to live in this town to be with your grandmother," Haruka finished.

There was something about the situation that reminded him of their own circumstances. What Makoto's grandfather had done was obvious, for Makoto would not be standing here to tell this tale if the man had returned to his village alone. If it was up to him, he'd definitely make the same decision, but whether or not Makoto would choose this path too was yet to be determined.

"He really loved my grandmother, and it wasn't like being a redsmith had been his lifelong dream to begin with, so he put a stop to his apprenticeship. Now he needed to look for another job and because he couldn't just stay here for the rest of his life without letting his family back in the village know what happened, he decided to take up an apprenticeship at his village's blacksmith instead. Then he could learn a new craft that wouldn't completely disregard what he learned so far and that he could utilise at this town, since this town was a lot smaller back then and didn't have a blacksmith for ordinary folks yet, only for the rich and noble. So my grandmother agreed to come with him for his apprenticeship as long as they came back here once it was over. And well," Makoto trailed off, gesturing around himself, "Blacksmith Tachibana was born. He still had a lot of basic knowledge from his time spent at the redsmith's, so that information was naturally passed down to my father, and then to me."

"That's really interesting," Haruka said, glad to have been given this piece of Makoto's family history. "What happened to the redsmith, though?" he wondered, for he hadn't seen a redsmith's shop anywhere during their strolls around town.

"They went out of business about twenty-five years ago," Makoto said with a somber sigh, "the redsmith was old and didn't have a successor, so when working became impossible for him, the shop just disappeared."

"Oh, that's unfortunate."

"It's sad, but it's the sad truth for many folks. Some people who are still able to work and have successors are forced to close their shops too because they don't make enough profit to keep things up. There's nothing we can do about it, not for now at least."

The thought of the shop Makoto's ancestors worked so hard to build and establish going out of business like that was heart-wrenching. Especially after hearing his story, Haruka felt the need to protect these decade-old walls, this trademark that had been nourished by Makoto, his father and his father before him. He might not have a say in what happened here in Sano, but Haruka knew he would do anything to keep Makoto and all that was precious to him safe and sound.

Not wanting to linger on a depressing note, Makoto perked himself up and said, "The gold's a different story though."

Any story that left Makoto's lips was an interesting one in Haruka's book. "Enlighten me," Haruka urged, the corners of his mouth curling up at the sight of Makoto's smile.

"My father is the one who introduced gold to our shop," Makoto started, taking a moment to think about the order of events. "Have you noticed that my mother wears her wedding ring on her middle finger?"

"I can't say that I have," Haruka said. If he had, he probably would have assumed this was customary in Sano.

Rather than revealing the answer as to why she did, Makoto continued on a different note, "My parents met when they were teenagers; one day my mother walked into this shop with her father while my father was at work. He was forging by that anvil, and when he looked up, he saw her standing near the doorway. She was the prettiest girl in the entire town - according to him - and the instant he saw her, he fell in love. So much so that he couldn't take his eyes off her and promptly slammed his hammer down onto his thumb."

"Ouch," Haruka chuckled at the mental image. Clumsiness apparently ran in his father's bloodline.

"Needless to say, it was love at first sight for her too," Makoto giggled along. "From that point on, they saw each other more and more often and became the best of friends, but neither dared to make the first move. My mother was rather popular and had lots of suitors waiting in line for her hand, men and women alike, and my father was afraid that he was inadequate compared to all the others. He wasn't very wealthy and could never offer her the things that others could. Wanting the best for her, he kept quiet about his feelings and hoped they would go away eventually."

"But they didn't," Haruka said with an odd sense of relief.

"They never did," Makoto affirmed, a fond smile gracing his lips. "My mother kept rejecting every courtship and declaration of affection that was sent her way, and when she turned down a particularly wealthy merchant's son, my father asked her why. She just stared at him for a solid minute before she told him to take the hint already and then she kissed him. That was the official start of their relationship, and things moved along pretty quickly from that point. I think my father was afraid she'd change her mind."

Haruka laughed at that, reminded of Nagisa and Rei. He supposed he would do the same if he were in the situation of Makoto's parents or their friends. When love was pure and true, there was no reason to postpone the inevitable.

"My father wanted to give her something special and meaningful, but he couldn't afford an engagement ring or anything fancy like that. The feelings of inadequacy returned, but this time, he wouldn't let himself get discouraged; my mother's love fueled a fire inside of him that couldn't be tamed. So instead of buying her an engagement ring, he set his mind to making one for her himself. He begged the local goldsmith to give him a brief apprenticeship and after a lot of persistence, the goldsmith agreed to teach him the basics provided that he pay for all the gold he used. However, he would only teach him for three days, and that was it."

"Three days?" Haruka questioned, quirking his eyebrow in disbelief, "That's unreasonable. Who could learn the basics of a craft in only three days?"

"It sounds impossible, right?" Makoto said with a smile, "But my father was desperate so he agreed. He kept it a secret from everyone but my grandfather, who he had to ask for permission to leave work for three days. The days flew by but he was eager to learn, and though it was certainly a challenge, by the end of the third day, my father thanked the goldsmith for all he had taught him and returned home. Here, he made the engagement ring in secrecy, and he was so excited about it that he forgot to pay attention to the size," Makoto snorted, "It was the first real thing he made on his own out of gold, so it ended up being too big and a bit askew, but my mother loved it. Throughout the years, my father has offered multiple times to make her a new one or at the very least adjust it to fit her ring finger, but she always declines. Its imperfections are what makes it perfect to her."

That made Haruka's heart flutter, for he understood her completely. "That's very sweet."

Makoto's droopy eyes crinkled in fondness as he tilted his head in that adorable habit. "He returned to blacksmithing after that, but soon word spread around town about the ring he made for my mother. The usual clientele came in with requests for rings and jewellery too; they had never been able to afford wedding rings and the likes before, but they knew that our prices were decent and figured it was worth to ask. Just because folks are poor doesn't mean they don't want to have something nice for special occasions like that, you know?"

There was no need for Makoto to justify it. Haruka could imagine there was little joy in living if one only focused on the necessities to survive, and he thought everyone deserved to have some luxury in whatever form regardless of their socio-economic standing.

"My father hadn't expected for there to be any interest so he hadn't considered making more beyond that, but after getting so many requests, he couldn't refuse," Makoto continued, "So he began to hone his goldsmithing skills. Working with a precious metal like gold is very different from working with regular metal, so the results aren't as substantial as jewellery made by an actual goldsmith. But the people are happy with it, and that's all that matters."

It was a heartwarming tale, but something didn't quite add up. "Isn't the material very expensive, though?" Haruka asked, "Does he undersell his craft to make it more affordable for your patrons?"

"Gold isn't that expensive," Makoto said nonchalantly, but when he realised how odd that sounded coming from him, he clarified, "It's definitely not cheap, but he uses gold of a low karat and makes sure to purchase it from the miners directly. It obviously still costs more than iron or copper, but the raw material is nowhere near as much as a finished piece from a professional goldsmith; they normally use gold between 14 and 24 karat, whereas my father only uses up to 8 karat, which is a lot less pure and therefore less expensive."

"I see…" Haruka mumbled. It was funny how someone as poor as Makoto was teaching someone like him about the different types of gold and their worth, but unlike many other princes, Haruka had no interest in gold and never bothered looking into it.

"It's not like the jewellery my father sells is cheap either, but he tries his best to keep his profits to a minimum so his prices are as affordable as possible for our customers."

"That's kind of him, but you need the profit to live off of, right?"

"We do, so it's all about finding that balance." He made a gesture with his hands that mimicked a scale. "He charges just enough to cover the material cost and the time he spent working on it, as opposed to actual goldsmiths who usually ask that in tenfold, if not more. But their work is also leagues fancier and they work hard to tend to their craft, so I guess it's worth its price to those who can afford it and wish to have it."

To people like him. Haruka had seen the gold brooches and candelabras and other paraphernalia members of royalty would use to show off their wealth, and his family was no exception. Their bragging was oftentimes so subtle it nearly seemed desperate. Haruka didn't care for those charades. "It's just a symbol of status. Anything would do as long as it costs a fortune."

Kindhearted as he was, Makoto tried to view it in a more positive light. "There must be a lot of pressure to uphold the status-quo."

"That's not it." Haruka shook his head. "It's envy, greed. It's not so much that they want everything that others have, but more so that they want what they have to be the fanciest: if there's a set of silverware embedded with diamonds at one banquet, then all the appetizers and drinks will be served on platinum platters at the next masquerade," Haruka scoffed, scrunching up his nose in disdain. "It's nothing more than an act for people to boast about how much better they are than others."

"Even if the reason behind purchasing those things is ingenuine, I suppose they still serve their purpose," Makoto said with a gentle smile and a slight shrug. "When it comes down to it, things are only worth as much as we believe them to be. It's not like gold and silver coins are made out of actual gold and silver to begin with, we just collectively decided their worth and that's what makes them valuable. I assume it's the same when it comes to the things desired by noblemen."

Haruka nodded in concurrence. All rarity aside, if no one wanted to have gold or comparable precious objects in the first place then few would bat an eye at it. Subsequently, if a queen appointed horse dung as the new craze then everyone would hoard it and claim the fragrance was uniquely wonderful. For the most educated rank in the hierarchy, they were a herd of mindless, pretentious sheep. "It's downright ridiculous."

Makoto chuckled at the bitter undertone in Haruka's voice. "I can imagine. That mindset doesn't just impact folks in your circles; ordinary folks are influenced by what they see and hear from the rich too, so it's not strange that they feel a sense of longing for the luxuries they can't have. When they hear about my father's dabbling in goldsmithing, they feel like those luxuries might just be within reach. They save up for a long time before they're able to afford something like a ring or a bracelet, but I suppose it's worth it."

When faced with things like that, Haruka couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. He had all the riches in the world and didn't appreciate it, while there were others who dreamed to have even an ounce of the resources he had. Despite being born at the epitome of wealth, he wasn't materialistic at all and though Makoto grew up in unimaginable poverty, he didn't seem to seek prosperity as much as he sought out stability. In the end, everyone strived to have what was outside their reach, be it a silver necklace, a life without worries, or freedom.

"Have you ever made something out of gold?" Haruka then asked. Unlike when he was talking about the shop before, Makoto had only mentioned his father in this case.

"I haven't," Makoto confirmed his suspicions, "We haven't had many requests for them lately, and even if we did, then my father would be the one to make them because that's more efficient. I've had plenty of time, but I'm not at liberty to waste costly materials on experiments like that."

That did make sense. The last thing to spend money on was gold for practice when there were days they struggled to even put food on the table.

"So I was thinking that this might be a nice occasion to try?" Makoto suggested, sounding a bit unsure of himself but nonetheless excited.

"Is that okay? I mean, like you said, gold is more expensive than iron so…"

"You're a paying customer, aren't you?" Makoto beamed, "My father said we can use anything we'd like so I don't think he'd have any objections. Unless you don't want me to. I know you wanted to see me work as a blacksmith and this is different-"

"I want it!" Haruka blurted before Makoto could go off on a tangent. "I… think it would be very nice."

Makoto smiled at his undisguisable enthusiasm. "How about this: I'll try to make something out of gold and if I screw up beyond repair, I'll make you something out of iron later to make up for it."

Haruka bit his bottom lip to suppress a smile of his own. "Sounds like a plan."

Makoto ventured into the storage closet, retrieving a little gold nugget from its depths.

"Do you always have it in stock?" Unless they used it on the regular, it didn't sound wise to purchase it upfront when they didn't know when they were going to use it again. That wasn't even taking into consideration the risk of keeping something so valuable in their home in times of crisis.

"No, my father normally only buys it when he has a project to work on," Makoto said as he took the gold up to Haruka so he could see the raw material. "When he first got started and had a ton of demand for it, he bought it in bulk because that was cheaper, but nowadays he's rarely asked about it. We still had some left over because someone had to cancel their order some time ago."

"Oh… that's not good," Haruka stumbled in lack of a better response.

"It was quite a dent in our budget at the time, but it couldn't be helped. People don't usually cancel their order unless they absolutely have to. Fortunately, my father hadn't started to work on it yet so the material wasn't ruined. My mother told him that he should try to sell it back to the miner, but he was sure that it would be alright, that he would need it sooner or later anyway," Makoto recalled with an amused puff, "And now it can finally be put to use."

A smile graced Haruka's face, glad that he could help out in this way. Whatever the original patron would have paid, he'd pay at least double. Anything Makoto made was more valuable to him than all the stars in the sky.

With that Makoto got to work; he'd seen his father create things out of gold a dozen times, so even if he had never made anything himself prior to this, he wasn't clueless. As he forged the precious metal, he narrated what he was doing and why the steps he took were necessary in the whole process and, where applicable, how it differed from working with other metals.

Upon his insistence, Haruka watched Makoto's skillful hands melt and mold the material from a safe distance, but he made sure to follow each movement of his arm and every flick of his wrist.

On top of experiencing a part of Makoto's life like he desired, Haruka found that he actually learned a lot about the things he normally saw as finished pieces, yet that were works that had gone through many different stages, guided on their path from material to item by craftsmen like Makoto and his father. It was very fascinating, and watching him made his hands itch to try it out for himself. That was not what he came here to do, so for today, he would restrain himself and hope that there would be an opportunity in the future when Makoto could teach him for real.

The afternoon passed them by like it always seemed to do when they were together, boundless chattering filling up the minutes. What Makoto was making was no longer a surprise, as the gold was molded in an unmistakable form, but that didn't make Haruka any less elated. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so thrilled by the prospect of receiving a gift, but he knew that it was because Makoto was the one making it especially for him. He would always cherish anything Makoto gave him, yet this was extra special and he could hardly wait until he was done. Until then, he would enjoy watching his delicate hands craft it to completion.

When the item was finally done and had cooled off, Makoto took a brief moment to polish it. Once satisfied with the result, he crouched down in front of Haruka, the item concealed from sight in his large palms.

He gently took Haruka's hand in his and slipped the gold ring onto his finger. "It fits, I'm glad," he murmured, and he pressed a small but soft kiss to the back of Haruka's hand. Then he looked up at him with joy glittering in his gorgeous eyes.

Haruka's mouth fell open, abashed by the gesture, and he lifted his hand to study the ring more closely. The simple band was crooked and had slight indentations and it was the most beautiful piece of jewellery he had ever seen. It astonished him and his heart pounded fiercely against his ribs for even if he had seen Makoto make it, having it wrapped around his finger was something else. It rendered him speechless and there was nothing he could do but gape like a freshly caught mackerel.

"Sorry, it must be weird after all, huh? Making a ring for you, especially after everything I told you," Makoto said dejectedly and he got up, interpreting Haruka's silence as dislike. "It's just… I wanted to give you something that you could always carry around wherever you went, something that is suitable for a prince but also reminded you of me. I guess I overstepped a boundary here, so I apologise."

"No!" Haruka shouted, surprising them both with the loudness of his voice. He opened and closed his mouth rapidly, searched every part of his brain to express what he truly felt but the words were escaping him.

The ring was stunning and meant the world to Haruka, so Makoto didn't need to feel insecure. There was no way he could ever be offended by something he worked so hard on, something so pure and genuine - if he had been, then he would have told him that the moment he saw the mold, before he went through the trouble of finishing it. Truly, he felt honoured that Makoto made him something so personal, that he would be allowed to wear it. He would make sure to cherish it for the rest of his days.

"It's beautiful," Haruka mumbled after a second of hesitation, eyes pointed at his feet on the stone floor. "I love it."

Makoto shut his mouth before bidding him a shy smile. "Thank you. I'm sure it's not nearly as nice as all the other rings you have but-"

"Stop," Haruka cut him off, not wanting to hear any more of his self-deprecation. Suddenly, the words poured out of him. "It's absolutely beautiful. You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you for making this, Makoto."

Hit by a wave of courage, Haruka got up. He put his hands on Makoto's shoulders, stood on the tips of his toes, and pressed a light kiss to his cheek.

He meant to pull away afterwards, but he couldn't; their hearts were magnets drawn to each other and could only be separated by sheer force. Instead, he gave in. Slowly his arms wrapped around Makoto's neck, reducing the distance between their bodies, and he looked up at him.

Makoto's breath hitched when Haruka's nose brushed over his. Unable to resist the spell Haruka always seemed to put him under, his arms found their place at his waist and pulled him against himself. Then, he leaned his forehead to Haruka's.

The seconds ticked by as their gazes met and Makoto's warm, strawberry-scented breath tingled against Haruka's skin. Blood rushed through their veins as their hearts nearly beat out of their chests with anticipation and yearning, but held back by uncertainty.

The affirmation they needed was vibrant in the other's eyes like it had been a couple of nights ago. In this case, too, there was no reason to postpone the inevitable.

They followed their gut and leaned closer, only a whisper away from the kiss they had been craving ever since their lips first parted.

"Dear, can you hand me the-"

Makoto's mother burst into the room and startled them from their trance. Her appearance was like a rainstorm on a cloudless summer's day, unexpected and abrupt. Haruka and Makoto jumped away from each other immediately, before their lips could touch.

"Mom!" Makoto yelped, blushing all the way up to his ears at the scene his mother unintentionally yet so crudely interrupted.

"Makoto, Haruka!" Mrs. Tachibana gasped, just as surprised as her son and his prince. Although they broke apart the instant they heard her voice, it was obvious she had seen what they were doing - or rather, what they were about to do. Kind as ever, she tried to hide it with an awkward smile and asked, "Makoto, where's your father?"

"Um." Makoto cleared his throat. "He, uh, went to deliver the sickles he made to Mr. Isurugi. He said that he'd be back before dinner."

"He better hurry then because dinner is almost ready," she said, and it wasn't until then that Haruka noticed how much time had passed since he arrived at Makoto's house; from what he could see through the windows, the sky's blue had turned to a warm orange hue. "I'm assuming you and Sousuke are staying for dinner, aren't you?"

"If it's not too much trouble?" Haruka replied when he realised she was talking to him.

"Of course it isn't! You're always welcome here." A kind smile curled her lips and her eyes fell shut as she tilted her head in the same way her son did. "Makoto, can you bring two of the stools inside when you're done?"

"Sure," Makoto muttered with a stiff grin, "I'll clean up here first and then we'll come inside."

"Thank you." That was all she said before she disappeared through the door again as quickly as she had entered.

Now they were alone once more, the moment was gone. All the tension that hung in the air before the interruption vanished to make place for a bashful silence. An odd sense of déjà vu washed over Haruka and in his mind, he travelled back to Iwatobi, or more specifically to the palace's ballroom. It was almost like the universe purposely tried to keep them apart, but Haruka would continue to fight back.

In a need to whisk away the tense atmosphere that didn't belong anywhere near them, Haruka cleared his throat and asked, "What do I owe you?"

That snapped Makoto out of his embarrassment, but it made his eyebrows furrow. "What do you mean?"

"For the ring," Haruka explained as he held up his hand and shook it for emphasis.

"Oh, nothing."

"Nothing?" he questioned sceptically.

"You've already paid upfront."

"No, I didn't," he said with a frown of his own. He reached inside his jacket for is wallet. "That has nothing to do with this, that was for your singing."

"It's fine-"

"It's not," he insisted as he opened the pouch to grab a handful of coins, but then Makoto put his hand over his and pushed it to Haruka's chest.

"Haru, please," Makoto urged, and the steadfast tone made Haruka look up at him. His gemlike eyes were shimmering with conviction, unwavering. "It's not much, but this might be the only thing I'll ever be able to give you. Please accept it."

When confronted with such a heartfelt yet bittersweet reason, Haruka couldn't refuse. "Alright," he said and he stuffed his wallet back into his inner pocket - for now; he had seen which drawer Makoto deposited his earnings in. He happened to have some coins that longed to be reunited with the ones he tossed into the tin cup earlier. "Thank you. I truly appreciate it."

To show his gratitude, he leaned in to give Makoto another hug. He allowed himself to bury his face into Makoto's shoulder for just a second, inhaling his foreign yet familiar smell.

"I'm glad you like it," Makoto whispered with a smile he couldn't see, but that he felt within his every fiber.

Though he wished he could, Haruka didn't dare to let their embrace linger this time. Makoto's family and Sousuke were in the next room over, waiting for them to bring the stools so they could have dinner. There was a time and a place for everything, but alas this was not it.

With regret in his heart Haruka pulled back, comforted by the knowledge that the right time and place were just around the corner.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

I really hope I can continue the trend of posting on a character's birthday, therefore the next chapter should be out on Makoto's birthday. I know that may seem like a long wait when I've already started the next chapter, but it's an important one so I really want to take my time with it rather than rushing. I hope you understand and you'll stick around for the rest of this fic!

In the meanwhile, you can find me on Twitter, Tumblr and Curious Cat as DatHeetJoella for more MakoHaru stuff and snippets of my writing, among other things.

Thank you again for reading and I wish you a lovely day! ^^