He felt movement return to his limbs, the fingers of his right hand toying with the edge of the blanket, as if seeking consent.
Makoto blinked, twice, wanting to know what Haru's hand was up to, but apparently not quite yet wanting to break eye contact.
Haru sucked in a deep breath as he fully grasped onto the edge of the covers and peeled them back so that there was an opening to invite himself inside, not wishing to prolong any of this madness as he heedlessly lifted himself up from his knees and onto the bed. The mattress bounced underneath his weight a bit before he settled on his bottom, his arms outstretched and supporting him from behind.
"H-Haru…?"
The blue-eyed boy tossed his hair out of his face diffidently, bringing the bedcovers up and over his lower body before looking down at Makoto, who hadn't seemed to had moved a muscle. His eyes were still clear and immersed, a hint of nervousness knitting in his brow.
Haru bit the bullet and lowered his body.
His head caused a disturbance on the surface of Makoto's pillow.
And the abrupt presence of him so close, in the low light, concealed beneath dense layers…. Haru was swimming in senses so warm and deep and delusional.
Makoto had rotated onto his side anxiously, his eyes a bit wider than before, his cheeks undoubtedly several shades darker at this point. His mouth was slightly parted in awe. He wasn't really giving away too many hints as to how he was feeling about the situation, however.
A moment of panic tore through Haru after he instinctively turned onto his side as well, realizing just how little space separated them from head to toe; mere inches. Haru was incredibly aware of Makoto's breathing as he scanned his face up and down, hungrily taking in every handsome detail of how alive he was.
Makoto blinked again and looked as though he was positively aching to know what was going on. Haru nearly trembled, burning to know what it would feel like to touch Makoto…. He was so wide-eyed and innocent and perfect and Haru was helpless and perishing and undeniably aroused.
Feeling childish, Haru diverted his eyes once again and ducked his nose underneath the covers. A small and familiar giggle from the boy opposite of him drifted through the dark stillness, sending both alarm and alleviation to the knot in his core. He peeked at Makoto carefully to find a calm smile replacing some of the confusion in his expression. It was Haru's turn to look as though he was in awe.
Makoto's smile softened ever so slightly, his one arm curled up beneath the side of his head comfortably. "samui, ne?" he asked, on the verge of a whisper. It's cold tonight, huh?
Haru's heart was thrumming. It's not so cold when I'm with you, he felt like saying. No, no, no no no, absolutely positively gross. Not that it wouldn't be true; he felt like he was being engulfed in flames. In actuality it was a bit of a chilly evening, but Haru hadn't been feeling very cold for the majority of the day, apart from the occasional chills that had snuck up on him.
Haru gritted his teeth. "Yeah, i-it is cold," he uttered in half-truth.
Makoto bit coyly at his bottom lip instead of smiling more like Haru had mostly expected him to.
The flames were now literally scorching him, he couldn't think of anything to do other than to divert his eyes and press his forehead down onto Makoto's chest.
With a fragile hand he gripped onto the fabric of Makoto's nightshirt and oh shit what was he doing; what was he suggesting here?
Haru choked back a whimper. Being so near was giving him all sorts of trouble.
He held his breath, concentrating on the warm, firm feeling of Makoto's chest, anxiously waiting for Makoto to do something, anything. Haru was worried, worried that he was ruining things… But it felt so good… It felt exhilarating to do something that he thought he would only ever dream of doing. He didn't want to pressure Makoto into anything he wouldn't feel comfortable with… Well, the raging storm below his waist told him that he kind of did maybe a little bit. But in truth, Makoto wasn't showing any signs of resistance. He was hushed, wholly allowing Haru to lean into him. Haru felt the smallest trace of Makoto's chin graze the top of his head, but that was all. Haru wouldn't be surprised if he had sent the poor boy into shock. His heartbeat was rather steady though; Haru could feel it, repeatedly nudging him as he hid his face. He tried to focus on all of these little details instead of his hammering thoughts. If Makoto was seriously against this he probably would've acted all squirmy and outraged by now….
The brisk sound of mild rainfall from outside gave the silence something to enfold, the sleepy minutes feeling dreamlike as they leapt by.
Makoto deliberately angled his shoulder forward, enclosing Haru in his spot, seemingly alright with this unfamiliar amount of closeness… Maybe Makoto wanted this, too? If anything, maybe he really was alright with this. Haru felt thankful, thankful that Makoto had just moved of his own accord; had chosen to tilt even closer into Haru's touch.
Makoto scrunched his legs up towards his chest just a little bit, almost as if he was going to curl himself up into a ball, causing his knees to brush up against Haru's underneath the blankets. Haru let out a shaky breath, a miniature sigh escaping him at the new contact. Makoto left his legs where they were and gingerly reached over to grasp the hem of Haru's shirt sleeve between his thumb and pointer finger, the heartfelt hum vibrating at the crown of Haru's head firing something straight down to his crotch damn it.
He wanted to hear Makoto make that sound again. And again. And again and again and again and again and again.
Haru wanted to scream and maybe dig his hands into the perfectly untidy nest of hair lying parallel to his, driving their mouths together to feel the heat of their blush skin on skin, to feel how soft Makoto's lips must be, giving that bashfulness of his some release. He wanted to curl his leg around Makoto until they were constricted enough to feel each other completely, panting inside the crook of Makoto's neck until he'd somehow find an adequate amount of air. He wanted Makoto to take hold of his chin and tip it upward so that all he would ever see is that brilliant, euphoric green. He wanted to pin Makoto on his back and grind down into him wildly, only to have the stronger boy flip him over onto his own back, pressing him securely into the mattress beneath, enveloping him. He wanted them to claw at each other's clothes urgently, leaving their cheeks and ears even more reddened and vulnerable. Haru wanted to feel the arc in his back and a mind-numbing tightness and know that maybe just possibly Makoto needed Haru just as much he needed Makoto... He wanted the warmth to swallow him whole... He wanted to die in Makoto's arms, in blissful fire.
Somehow these feelings, and thoughts, seemed so new, even though Haru could've sworn that they had been around for some time now…. He was emotionally exhausted from puzzling over whether or not his desires had even the slightest chance in hell, but Makoto's heartbeat, existing right there against Haru's body, was surprisingly keeping him centered despite the fervor.
He took a deep breath in through his nose, allowing his muscles to relax. He wondered if Makoto was falling asleep….
He wanted to savor this moment… It was pretty damn special. They had always been close; always together.
Maybe this moment was a stepping stone to what they could be, strung together by little sparks of vulnerability.
Haru had to admit that in a way he liked how it still felt innocent… Despite the fact that he knew he was crossing a line, that he could literally feel the shift in the foundation of a not-so-impenetrable wall. He liked how they could be calm together like this.
And apparently, now quite obviously, he liked Makoto.
More than a friend.
He had just fantasized about being fucked by Makoto for God's sake. And why else would he crawl right up to his bedside and invite himself in? And why else would he wait to get out of the bath every morning before school until Makoto loyally arrived, or glance over at him during class in hope that he was ignoring the lesson as well, or walk beside Makoto close enough so that their hands brush only often enough to be nothing more than a coincidence.
And Haru could only ever hope that all of the little details day in and day out that were of Makoto's doing instead were the farthest thing from a coincidence. Purposeful, meaningful; the most bashful flirting that ever existed.
Haru liked the closeness… He feared the opposite, he feared the idea of everyone who was supposed to love and care for him abandoning him, leaving him hollow. He instinctively tried to keep a distance in an attempt to soften the blow of any inevitable partings, because he knew how deeply it hurt….
But the closeness, he liked it and needed it, and although he somehow feared it also, he feared the opposite far greater.
And here he was with Makoto, whose breathing remained fairly steady, dancing right along the top of Haru's head, making the moonstruck boy blink almost excitedly.
"Haru-u…," Makoto spoke familiarly, his tender voice faltering at the end as if trying so hard to hold onto the uncertainty of the moment. Haru was anxious to know if Makoto finally had something to say about all of this.
"Hm…?" He ran his teeth along his bottom lip as he stayed glued to Makoto's torso.
Makoto seemed to be struggling for exactly what he wanted to say. Haru let the feeling of the taller boy sink down into him, straight to the anticipation in his core, his one hand continuing to grip onto Makoto's shirt, mainly because he wasn't sure what to do with it if he were to let go.
Makoto tilted his head to nuzzle his left cheek assuredly on Haru's forehead, yielding more audible intakes of breath from the both of them.
"Mmm…," Makoto murmured, low and affectionate. "Haru's hair is… soft."
Oh.
Haru was rather startled by how the lower half of his body was responding to this simple remark.
But it wasn't simple at all.
Makoto's face was on Haru's forehead. Makoto's lips were right there. He was breathing in Haru's hair, still the slightest bit damp from his bath.
Makoto thinks Haru's hair is soft. Makoto likes Haru's hair. It was all so warmhearted, as to be expected from Makoto.
Haru continued to cling on for dear life, feeling like an idiot as he urged forward even further as if it would prevent him from falling apart. All he wished he could do was reach up into Makoto's hair and tell him how soft his was, too.
"Is this… okay?" Makoto whispered hopefully as he removed his hand that had been clasping onto Haru's borrowed shirt sleeve. He placed it carefully on Haru's lower back, pressing them closer together.
Oh hell yes it was more than okay. Haru could've cried from joy.
He bit down on his lip furiously to keep from moaning now that Makoto's thigh was up against his own, and the stark weight of Makoto's hand….
He was the one who initiated all of this insanity and yet he continued to suffocate himself like a coward. The heat overtaking his body was hotter than summer itself. How could Makoto be so kind to him? How could he be so tolerant of someone so insecure? Haru hated how his spirit wavered like this…. He wanted to hide away forever, he was always under so much pressure….
But somehow, slowly, he willed himself to lift his chin, feeling just how warm his own cheeks were against the fresh air in the room.
His eyes paused on Makoto's lips for just a moment before looking up to meet his patient gaze, some of the moonlight through the curtains illuminating their faces. Short, adrenalized little breaths caught at the corner of their mouths suspended above them midair, like a handmade mobile. Haru wondered if this is what it felt like to drown.
Makoto sucked in a sharp breath, and then giggled, surprising Haru yet again. He could tell that Makoto's eyes were crinkling jovially at the corners.
"What?" he croaked, remembering that he had a voice.
"Nothing…," Makoto answered modestly, giggling again before lowering his gaze somewhere down around Haru's shoulders.
Haru rolled his eyes. Please, it wasn't nothing. Haru poked him playfully in the waist without really thinking.
"Ah-!" Makoto's airy yelp penetrated the silence, the hand on Haru's back grasping him tighter in alarm.
"What's so funny…?" Haru asked impatiently, trying really damn hard not to perish over the fact that their abdomens were now at high-risk of touching.
"Nothing, nothing's funny, exactly, I'm just, it's just-"
"Tell me," Haru complained intently, his fist on Makoto's shirt finally loosening. He knew he wouldn't have to wait long for Makoto to give in, he just enjoyed seeing Makoto wriggle under the fluidity of his voice.
Haru moved his hand, settling to place it on Makoto's arm, near the bend of his elbow.
"Well, it's just… Haru's really cute, is all…."
Haru held his breath as a combination of glee and annoyance hit him headlong.
kawaii. Makoto's voice had a habit of echoing in his ears.
He, he was not cute. Haru found it ridiculously cute that Makoto thought he was the cute one, but, honestly.
Haru braced himself for yet another wave of warmth as he watched Makoto lift his gaze bashfully, seeking a response. Oh, he'd give him a response all right. He glared threateningly, hoping that Makoto could sense his disapproval through the dim light.
Makoto only laughed, velvety and a little louder than before, not finding Haru's conspicuous pouting very threatening at all.
"I'm not cute," Haru grumbled, nudging Makoto's thigh teasingly. Makoto nudged him back without pause. Haru was beginning to think that maybe today was turning out to be reasonably productive after all.
"Fine then, you're not cute," Makoto answered, his voice as sugary as ever. His smile was the last thing Haru saw before he lowered his face once again to rest his cheek against Haru's forehead.
"kirei…," Makoto whispered simply after a moment's silence.
Haru felt his eyes widen and his pulse downright quit.
He wanted to doubt that he had heard Makoto's mumble correctly, but….
kirei. Beautiful.
Haru closed his eyes. His muscles easing, his limbs melting, his heart soundless underwater.
Makoto's feet found Haru's below the bedcovers, and it felt cold, Makoto's toes tracing against the burning that stretched down the entire surface of Haru's body.
Timidly, Makoto tried stroking the place behind Haru's right ear; a bit awkwardly at first, until it wasn't anymore.
He nestled his nose into the crown of Haru's head, sweetly disrupting the perfect fall of dark indigo strands.
Haru had so many things to say, so many words unspoken, so much so that he said nothing at all, like he often did. He listened instead, he was much better at listening, to the quietness and harmonious breathing sounds.
He began to drift off, though he wasn't sure if he was ready to, sleep sweeping over the room unexpectedly swift. He felt his mind go fuzzy, the dull ache in his pants not seeming so bad anymore.
He had no more energy to wonder, to wonder what every day would be like from here on out, to wonder if Makoto was drifting off too, or if he would wait until he knew that the boy in his arms was sound asleep first.
Haru felt there was always a promise for the future every time water touched his skin; the fire extinguished, making space for dreams of resting in the tidewater embrace of seafoam green.
Heeeey! I'm honestly so sorry for the wait! I had previously promised to release this chapter sometime last week, but um, that didn't quite happen, did it. My most sincere apologies! But here you are, chapter 3; possibly the last chapter...? I have an idea of where I'd like to take this if anyone would be interested in reading more, but at the same time I also feel like these 3 chapters stand alone decently.
Either way, I want to thank you so very much for reading! Until next time!