It didn't take much persuading for Haru to agree to spend the night, either.

At this point he was beginning to wonder if he had forgotten how to say no. Not that a sleepover was out of the ordinary for them on a weekend night or anything. Perhaps Haru's restlessness was being provoked by each passing of just another common occurrence in their practically life-long friendship. He was beginning to feel out of control, sensing some of that usual coldness about him melting away, dripping at his feet. Makoto wasn't the type to hold much of anything back, and yet Haru had hardly any clues as to what his friend thought and felt about some certain things….

Haru pondered all of this as he sunk with ease into the futon rolled out and made on Makoto's bedroom floor, the magazine that he had been flipping through tossed and disregarded somewhere beside him. He sighed at the ceiling, feeling good after his bath, and a bit warm at the thought of how the nightshirt that he was borrowing from Makoto didn't quite fit him right.

Makoto was taller and stronger than him, always having to glance slightly downwards, Haru having to tilt up his own chin accordingly. Makoto's shirts hardly ever covered Haru's collarbones, fitting shapeless on his torso and arms.

Haru's thoughts were granting him absolutely no mercy for his magnified feelings over a freaking shirt, when the sound of the bedroom door being opened carefully interrupted his quiet chaos.

It was Makoto, entering as though not to disturb the still of the home at this hour, his movements gradual and his hair slightly damp.

"Sorry, Haru, the twins caught me on my way out of the bath and I had to coax them back into bed," he explained in a low voice as though he had been gone for eons, shuffling in his slippers as he sheepishly made his way over to his bed.

Haru murmured in acknowledgement as Makoto maneuvered around Haru's futon. He stood by his bedside table where he carefully placed his thick-framed glasses after removing them from his face. Haru rotated onto his stomach, nestling half of his face into the pillow below him and feeling unnecessarily shy as he watched Makoto's little bedtime routine.

It was almost always the same for the brown-haired boy, starting with him removing his glasses and taking a moment or two to stretch his arms up and behind his head one at a time, making his shirt ride up again God damn it. Makoto would then pull back his bedding, fluff his pillows, and crawl on his knees to the center of his bed before lying down and bringing the covers up to the bottom of his nose, just as he always had since childhood, his honest eyes peeking out. He fingered through his hair and gave a finalizing sigh before reaching over to switch off the lamp atop his bedside table.

The room around them went dark, the light outside from the high moon allowing them to still see basic outlines, casting interestingly indistinct shadows throughout the snug space. Haru continued to squish his face into his pillow, not feeling very sleepy at all.

"So, having any mackerel withdraws yet?" Makoto asked lightly, his bedcovers rustling as he situated himself, resting on his side so that he was facing in Haru's direction.

Haru rolled his eyes before he could stop himself, the slightest of grins breaking free on his face. He was thankful that it was too dim for Makoto to see his reaction.

"I'm fine, dinner was good," he replied plainly, mostly muttering into his pillow. He always enjoyed meals at the Tachibana's, whether or not mackerel was on the menu.

"Hmm?" Makoto vocalized questioningly after a beat of silence.

"I just said I'm fine."

Makoto gave an approving hum. "Good, I'm glad," he professed sincerely. "It wouldn't ever be a problem for Mom to keep a stash of mackerel on hand for when you're over though, you know."

Haru gave a mild sigh. "You worry too much," he stated openly, taking a moment to steal a glance in the vicinity of the bed beside him. He could make out the shape of Makoto's shoulders beneath the covers, a pale silhouette of his profile embossed upon the wall.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry! I just can't help it…," Makoto whined gently, allowing the room to fall silent afterwards.

Haru closed his eyelids peacefully, imagining that Makoto was most likely grinning despite himself as well. "You care about the strangest things," he muttered teasingly.

"I care about you…. That's strange?" Makoto responded, much to Haru's surprise; his sneer must've been just loud enough for the backstroke swimmer to snatch hold of. Makoto was teasing him right back, but the earnest tinge underlying his question made Haru choke on his breath.

Makoto moved around once again underneath his covers, rather gracelessly up against the somewhat now-awkward quiet gripping them both.

"W-Well, goodnight, Haru," Makoto said, a bit dejectedly. "I had fun today…. Not that I don't always have fun! It's just, I guess I don't say it often enough, s-so…."

Crap. Haru squeezed his eyes shut tighter, marveling at how easy it was for him to be such a thoroughly awful person. He was literally at a loss for words, unable to think of any witty or truthful comebacks to Makoto's question, and now there were signs of despondence stirring inside of the taller boy's voice. He was bumbling around as he often did, which was both winsome and heartbreaking, only deepening the pressure by bulldozing over Haru ruthlessly.

"Goodnight…," Haru replied slowly, his eyes wide open once again. "I had fun, too," he added in a whisper, attempting to make up for being such an ass. It wasn't at all a lie.

But these just weren't the type of things you say out loud. Well, unless you happened to be Nagisa, always shouting whether he was happy or sad or needing to pee or this and that. He was the very definition of a fun day, one could argue. But you either had a fun day or you didn't, or a mix of both, to be more realistic. There's really no need to comment on it though because it's simply just the way it is… Right?

Haru bit back on his tongue, his pulse quickening on the verge of regret.

"Haruuuu, you spoke too quietly…," Makoto complained softly, as if he was used to all of these suppressed exchanges by now. "What was that?" he asked, lowering his own voice while still remaining audible.

And that was when the moonbeams pressing through the curtained windows took hold of everything that was weakening Haru's entire being, supporting him as he crumbled.

He sat himself up in his futon, shoulders suddenly light as air. He sensed Makoto jerk his head over in response to the sudden movement, his eyes most certainly lingering in bewilderment as Haru removed himself from the futon and crawled the short distance over to Makoto's bedside.

Haru remained kneeling, hesitantly placing his arms along the edge of Makoto's mattress, promptly finding those green eyes buried in the downy bunch of blankets. Haru felt some of his dizziness return, this moment and everything in it coated with surrealism, the heat escaping his toes and rising to the very tips of his ears.

He hastily looked downwards and off to the side as casually as possible, wishing with every bone in his body that the flush of his face wasn't obvious.

"I had fun, too," Haru repeated steadily. There was no way Makoto wouldn't be able to hear Haru now that he was right there at his bedside. Haru remained stationary, by some miracle still alive and not yet dead from humiliation. He could see the rise and fall of Makoto's chest out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh."

With Makoto's weak response ringing in his ears, Haru chanced a look back down at the amiable face that so expertly rips him apart. There were those green eyes, like brilliant treasure in the dark, the unusually preoccupied expression on Makoto's face making chills dart down Haru's backbone.

Despite the fact that this was turning into some sort of a blundering staring contest, Makoto didn't seem uncomfortable, as far as Haru could tell. They were simply observing each other; really looking at each other. Maybe for the first time ever…? Makoto was easy to look at, Haru mused. But it was practically agonizing not knowing what Makoto was thinking; not knowing what he saw and felt when looking so raptly into Haru's eyes.

And was it just his imagination or was Makoto leaving enough room for Haru to lay beside him, you know, just because? Who ever actually lays directly in the center of their bed? Haru thinks he can probably fit, not probably most definitely he would fit, fitting beside Makoto inside his bed wasn't the issue, it was just- What the hell were these ideas running races through his mind?

The whole situation was an awkward mess at this point and Haru desperately didn't want it to be. If he crawled back to his futon now without another word, where would that leave things? If he somehow peeled back the covers hanging off the edge of Makoto's bed and scooted himself up onto the mattress….

Now convinced that he was pretty much certifiably out of his mind, Haruka Nanase was proceeding along with his impulse before he had time to choose an alternate way out.

Ohoho, slumber party.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope to have Chapter 3 up within the next week. *^_^*