He did his best, because he had promised, but patient was the very last thing he wanted to be.

He started itching again, but it was entirely different than when his skin was drying out and he was scratching all over. This kind of itch was a deep-seated desperation prickling way down in a place he couldn't seem to get to. Nothing satiated it — not even the times that Makoto was with him … because he couldn't have him the way he wanted him, the way he needed him.

Which meant it was only that much worse when Makoto was away, and he started being away for much longer stretches of time. His visits dwindled down at first to just once a day, then something like once every other day, and then he started throwing Haru into a panic when the sun rose and set, rose and set, and he didn't show back up on the shoreline.

He found himself pacing — pretty much nonstop. Just swimming in nauseating circles, swearing up and down that he could feel his fingers getting cold, feel his heart freezing over.

He wanted to pitch more fits about it, but that was too exhausting, and he was always tired now, but he barely slept. He didn't want to miss a single moment in which Makoto might be there, might show up.

His human apologized every single time that he did rush up on shore. He always ran right into the water and squeezed Haru nearly half to death (which he didn't mind at all) and breathed about how he'd been trying to find a moment to get to him all day, promised him that he never at any point forgot about him, and that he was doing his best to get "this" done quickly.

Haru didn't know what "this" was, and Makoto didn't explain it to him. Haru didn't ask either, because at this point he was a bit bitter that he was so often left on his own, but he was also trying to force himself to trust Makoto, because he seemed to at least be doing something to remedy their situation, and that was more than what Haru was doing. But also, cuddles with the bottlenose and the orca were not the same.

They weren't warm. And they didn't have sweet, charming voices and blood-filled cheeks. They didn't have strong arms to hold him with, and when they laughed it was actually rather annoying. Also, as much as they were fond of him, they were much more interested in each other, and he understood that.

He hated watching them happily swim in loops around each other.

"Also, they keep trying to bring me raw fish, and I don't want that," he complained.

Makoto gave him a sympathetic smile. "Do you want me to pick something up for you? I can get anything you want. We can Google around for the best mackerel nearby."

Haru frowned, tracing the exhaustion under Makoto's eyes with his gaze, noticing how frazzled his hair looked, and that wasn't just because of the sea breeze. He was already shivering again, and he'd hardly been in the water for ten minutes. Haru knew he was clinging to him so tightly partly because he was looking for body heat, but Haru didn't have any of that, and that's probably what had his grip so tense.

He didn't answer the question.

"You're pushing yourself too hard."

Makoto blinked at him, and for whatever reason smiled wider. "Maybe a little, but it's only temporary."

"Don't kill yourself for me please."

Makoto took his face into both hands and pressed a hard kiss to his lips. "I need and want to be with you just as much, Haru. Sometimes you have to push a little harder for the things that are worth it, yeah?"

Haru pinched his lips together, turning his eyes away, because now he felt guilty for being so mad that Makoto hadn't shown up the two days beforehand.

"Are you staying patient?"

"'m trying to," he mumbled under his breath.

"You can trust me," Makoto said, kissing him again.

Haru sighed. "I know."

And yet, when the next three days rolled past and he didn't see Makoto again, he was all the more furious.

And he couldn't really put all of that on Makoto, didn't want to put all of that on Makoto. He knew Makoto was currently busting his ass at whatever he was doing to try and make it so that they could be together. But it felt like such a counterproductive thing — not being together so that they could be together. What kind of sense did that make?

"He keeps sending delivery people to the pier to leave me food," he complained to the orca as he munched on soggy fries. Meanwhile, the bottlenose was swimming out a burst of the zoomies in the background.

"What am I supposed to do, accept that as an apology?" he said through a mouthful. "I don't want food. I want him. I want him to bring me food. I want him to bring me his food dammit. How sad is that? He's not even any better at cooking. But now apparently he doesn't have time to do that either … You're not even really listening to me, are you?"

The orca trilled happily and nudged him under the chin with his nose. Haru scoffed out a sigh and gave him a pat.

It was the end of October, and Makoto had been away for an entire week.

At this point, Haru was sulking in the sand at the very bottom of the ocean, half-buried, cheek squished against his arm with his head down, staring blearily at nothing but water and shifting particles of sea floor. The bottlenose and the orca were swimming in worried circles above him, calling out to him every now and then, but he ignored them.

They'd stopped trying to nuzzle him into cheering up.

He recognized this feeling. It was very akin to the months following that initial grieving period after he'd lost his grandmother. He didn't know how long it had lasted, had stopped counting the days after a while, but it had been a period of time in which he'd done this very same thing. Just laid around — either on the seafloor or buried underneath the blankets in the bed on shore. He'd go hours, even days without moving, not bothering to eat, not bothering to sleep, not bothering to live anymore, and it hadn't made a difference to him for the longest.

In some ways, it had been a very gracious time of unfeeling, when he didn't have to deal with all the hurt and devastation of mourning the loss. He felt nothing but heavy and tired. And he could deal with those, could just sit and let gravity pull on him, do whatever it wanted. The magnetism of the earth had been his only friend then anyway.

This was very similar to that. And he wasn't sure if he'd be able to convince himself to snap out of it a second time. Back then, there had been an otherworldly pull in him, an insistence, not even just from the sea but from the universe itself maybe, that had told him not to give up on everything, had convinced him that he needed to keep going, and at the time he hadn't understood why, but now, he felt like Makoto was the reason. Whatever red string it was tying them together had tugged on him and pleaded that he get up and eat, move, find something to keep him occupied until fate washed the other half of his soul up on the beach.

He felt silly now, for being so irritated at Makoto's arrival, for so quickly wanting to dismiss it when he knew that having someone dumped into his lap by the ocean itself was an obvious shove back into a life where he would actually be alive again. He should have been grateful from the start. He might have gotten more joy out of having someone in his life once more — before being left alone again.

Don't mope, was something along the lines of what the sea was saying now.

He ignored that too. Though, his heart woke back up with a single fluttering pulse just a moment later, and the bottlenose and orca stirred out of their worry only seconds after that.

He felt his presence even from as far out and as deep as he was, but he didn't move a muscle, not even when he heard the very distant call of his name from the shore.

The bottlenose and the orca both chirped happily and swam down to nudge at him again. He tried to bury himself deeper in the sand.

"Go away," he murmured, pushing them with his palm. "I don't want to see him if he's just going to leave in five minutes."

They continued with trying to coax him up out of his slump, swimming right back every time he pushed them off of him. It was annoying. Most especially because his pulse was right there with them, picking up even more with yearning, with excitement, with anticipation.

His Makoto was there. His Makoto was on the shore, calling for him to surface, his voice was bright and anxious, and Haru was filled with dread. He'd been in such a solid state of numbness. If he allowed himself the bliss of being held by his human even for a moment, and then had to endure the ache of watching him walk away and the returning sting and gut-wrenching dread of him not coming back, he seriously wondered if it was worth it.

"Haruka~!"

"Goddammit," he hissed. And all of a sudden the rage came flooding back.

He pushed himself out of the sand and swam up to the surface, but didn't get any closer to the shore, and he only allowed for his eyes to poke up out of the water.

It was dark still. Sunrise was maybe another thirty minutes out. But there were lights from the beach front shops and street lamps that were just constantly on across the way, so Makoto was able to make him out just enough, which was evident by the way that he so heavily gasped with relief.

He was avoiding the water just now, huddled up in an inshore jacket with his hands in his pockets. Dreadfully handsome, especially with that smile that cut straight through the shadows and had Haru blushing furiously. He glared, but he didn't think Makoto could make out that much detail from this distance.

"You scared me," his Makoto said, looking so vibrantly happy, and for no apparent reason. God this sucked. "I thought maybe you'd left."

"No," Haru said bitterly, not bothering to raise his voice loud enough to be heard. "I'm the only one that's been here."

Makoto had the audacity to chuckle. "I can barely hear you, but I know you're pouting."

Haru pursed his lips sourly and finally raised his chin above the surface. "What the hell are you so smiley for?"

He could see the puff of Makoto's breath excitedly leaving his lips, and he shuffled his feet in a happy jog. "It's time."

"Time for what?" he complained, rolling his eyes and turning his back just to make it known that he was not happy.

"Haruka, come on~," Makoto goaded.

"Don't say my name like that."

"It's too early for you to have an attitude right now."

"My attitude is completely warranted. I don't want to talk to you."

Makoto chuckled again, and it was so irritating. "I know you're mad at me. I'm sorry it took so long, Haru. I really am, but everything's done now, and I have something to show you."

Haru peeked back over his shoulder. He pretended it was because he deserved answers for all of his waiting, but really he just didn't have it in him to withstand the genuine sorrow in Makoto's voice. And the way his smile perked up when Haru looked back at him was so damn cute.

"I hate you for leaving me alone, you know."

Makoto bowed deeply at the waist. "I deserve that. I tried to get it all done as quickly as I could."

"You still haven't even told me what it is that you've been doing."

"I'll show you what I've been doing," Makoto said, standing at full height again.

Haru sagged. "I can't leave the water."

"You don't have to. There's a harbor just west of here," he said, pointing. "It's only about three kilometers down. There's a dock with a blue flag on the end — Dock 19 — meet me there."

Haru pursed his lips. Makoto's smile only brightened and he nodded his head with enthusiasm.

"Trust me."

Then he turned and scampered off with a wave over his shoulder. Haru sighed and started in the direction Makoto had pointed.