Haruka's right ear had been less functional since the time he nearly drowned when he and Makoto were kids. Makoto knew this, so he had taken care to be on his left side when talking to him.
Always, Haru had taken for granted that unspoken reserved spot next to Makoto.
Makoto ponders the inactivity and relative normalcy between him and Yamazaki-kun as he taps his pen against his clipboard. It's been a week since that rainy day sharing an umbrella, and his coworker has been keeping his distance respectfully. Makoto has difficulty reading his face, so it's hard to tell if he's shy or non-feeling about the whole endeavor. Either way, he's grown something akin to impatience at the other man, petty and out of his right it may be.
The confession really was out of the dark if he was being honest with himself. Makoto hadn't expected someone of Yamazaki-kun's league to even glance at a fumbling florist like him. It was like a surreal dream and an eye opener that people could be attracted to him, and others could potentially harbor feelings of love without him knowing.
It shocks him that someone other than Haru could love him like that, not as family or a friend, but as a lover.
The concept of starting a love fresh without knowing the ins and outs of another person scares him. He only has Haru, and he felt Haru was the one for him with their mutual understanding spanning their whole childhood, adolescence, and high school.
The time spent with him has never felt enough, sometimes long and stressful and others short and wonderful. By his side, there has always been Haru.
Their argument at the festival was the beginning of his regret and guilt. If only he hadn't pushed Haru away with the truth and chose to hold fast to his hand, maybe then he would have stayed and realized his dream was with Makoto.
"Everyone...and me…it's because we love you. Because we care about you. Why can't you understand that?"
Why couldn't he understand him?
He couldn't have done a thing to stop him anyway. For all he has known, Haru has always had a wanderlust for something to provide the freedom he needs. Other people may have thought his desire was waterlust, but Makoto knew better; water was only a temporary relief from the rest of the suppressing real world. Though Haru had said he wanted things to remain as they were, he was looking for a place—a dream—that would welcome him and set his life on the right course.
Makoto would have offered himself to be his dream, but that was a bit too romantic and cheesy. After all, Makoto chose to become independent from Haru precisely because he wanted Haru to depend on him. This was the message he was trying to convey that night.
As he could see, he failed miserably.
Makoto sighs. What-ifs, maybes...he can't change what's happened.
"Excuse me, Manager."
"Yes?" Makoto faces Yamazaki-kun, wiping his frown clean. He has a hand on the shoulder of an indifferent female customer.
"She says she wants to know the difference between these flowers," he explains, letting his hand fall to grip his shoulder, a tick Makoto has noticed he does when he's even slightly distracted. "The evening and the morning primrose, you said?"
The woman nods.
Makoto smiles the smile he reserves for customers and strangers. "They are different, you have that correct."
"I see," she says.
Yamazaki-kun glances at Makoto, and Makoto nods to indicate he's got this. He stretches out his shoulders and lumbers back to his tasks dutifully.
"What are you looking for specifically?" Makoto asks the woman, eager to help.
"The evening primrose," she replies.
He scans the rows of stocked flowers until he finds the one.
"This, miss?" He plucks them from their pot and raises them for her to see.
"Yes, thank you. Can you arrange them in a bouquet with mainly those, please?" she requests.
He's iffy about allowing her to purchase them, when in the language of flowers they mean infidelity, but the customer's happiness comes first. They could be for purely aesthetic purposes, for all he knows.
"Right away, miss."
As for infidelity, they would be a perfect match for Yamazaki-kun, who is willing to participate in an act as capricious and daring as a love affair.
Makoto is confused; why couldn't Yamazaki-kun ask to date rather than something as drastic as that? At the time, he seemed rushed, anxious even.
He doesn't know how long Yamazaki-kun has had his feelings. If it began all the way from the moment they met, he could understand the impatience.
He waited years loving Haru and believing he didn't share the same kind of love. It was an emotional time for him, especially in middle school when Makoto wasn't always with Haru. Those years seemed to be the hardest on both of them.
Makoto peers over at Yamazaki-kun rearranging old pots into a box, at his broad back under his shirt, at the pronounced deltoids that flex with each movement, half long dark hair that has grown to fall into his eyes.
Certainly, the brunet is an impressive sight to admire. He had skimmed over his resume before calling him up to hire, but he remembers distinctly that one of his previous experiences was as a cop. It explained a lot and had Makoto embarrass himself silly imagining Yamazaki-kun dressed sleek and in uniform.
Speaking of which, he forgets how old Yamazaki-kun is. On the outside he appears bored and knowing when he catches Makoto's eye. In contrast, the brunet's rare smiles are youthful and his sparse laughs light and genuine.
If it was matter of looks, Makoto would consider him in a heartbeat.
The only thing holding him back would be letting himself go.
xXx
Nanase, get out of the way, I swear I'll…, Sousuke threatens silently as he shifts in all different directions to avoid the apparition, careful not to drop the box in his hands.
Nanase follows his movements, all the while picking his nose or posing every which way possible to obstruct his view of Manager Tachibana. He's been doing the same thing all week.
Sousuke gives up and decides to gather the contents of the box right there on the ground.
So annoying.
"I'm go around the back to put these away," he says.
"Sure," Manager replies, busy with the customer's bouquet.
Once that's done, he settles for a quick smoke. Manager wouldn't mind.
Sousuke reflects on the progress he's made, which has so far been nill. Things had more or less stayed like they were before. Manager had taken the days off while Ryuugazaki and he had turns minding the shop. The strained atmosphere of normalcy replaced afterwards had given Sousuke plenty of spare moments to think.
June thirtieth would have been the day Nanase turned twenty-five and their celebrated anniversary of their relationship. Guilt pricks his conscience when he realizes Nanase will eternally remain eighteen.
He pushes the thought out of his mind. There's no need to feel pity toward the rival, is there?
"Yamazaki. You were here."
"Why must you always sneak up on me while I'm smoking?" Sousuke grumbles to Nanase, where he had crept through the wall to the dark space under the staircase.
"It's bad for you," Nanase says, as if it explained everything. "You're a chicken."
Sousuke rubs the space between his brows, the stress he had accumulated over the week about to burst from the seams.
"What's with you? After I came back that day, you've been upping your antics in getting in my way," Sousuke demands, confronting him at last. "Making silly faces when I'm trying to speak to Manager, are you a kid?"
Nanase looks away, stubbornly. "I will not let you have Makoto," he vows. "I'm not a kid," he adds as an afterthought with a press of his lips.
Sousuke raises his eyebrows, his stress dissolving. Unexpected laughter bubbles up from somewhere deep in his abdomen. He coughs halfway, having forgotten his cigarette, but continues in another peal of laughs when he sees Nanase's offended expression.
"Why?" Nanase asks.
Sousuke has to clutch his sides hard to get a hold of himself. "That's ironic. After what Manager told me about you wanting him to be happy when you're gone, now you want to claim him as yours?"
"'s going too far," Nanase mumbles. "I think I'm normal."
"That's wrong" Sousuke retorts. "You are the furthest thing from normal here."
He sighs as he recalls the occasions where he had tried to approach Manager Tachibana and a dark head would interfere and block his line of sight.
"Go away. You're the one who made him cry, so you have no right to meddle," Sousuke admonishes. He puts out the half burnt cigarette and squints at Nanase until his figure blurs and he goes cross-eyed.
"Life. It doesn't always go the way we want it to," the fuzzy peach and black smudge says.
"That sounds even more depressing coming from you," Sousuke groans and rubs at his eyes as they refocus. "Very true, though."
"I know. All this time has made me think. Who hurts the most: the one who is gone or the one who is left behind?"
Nanase stares somberly at the swirling clouds above, entirely entranced. He flips over to face Sousuke, who blinks to find Nanase close enough to whisper low. A sense of deja vu overcomes him.
"I found my answer a long time ago. Can you change it, Yamazaki?"
xXx
Trimming the stems with practiced precision, Makoto's mind wanders to many things, those being his life before, with, and after Haru.
Makoto does not remember the last time he cried. It's such a rare thing to expect from him now. Along with Haru went his ability to easily succumb to strong emotions like fear. To harden his resolve was to harden the armor around the missing place in his heart.
After an extended period he had wept himself to sleep so many nights it made his family worry. He thought he shed enough to be worth a lifetime.
His tears had lessened when he had visited one of the various places special to he and Haru, this one in particular being the route they would take each day to and from school along the shore.
They would communicate to each other, with him doing most of the talking and Haru responding with minute expressions and short answers. As they spoke, they would watch the water glitter colorfully and the stars twinkle and blink out of existence, as nonsensical as the little game they participated in silently, playfully trying to figure out what the other was thinking.
The time he spent alone and with guilt was so lightless and cold, like the ocean that Haru loved but would not swim in as long as Makoto remained fearful of it. He had wished something, Haru's reaching hand, would come out of the dark and grip his own waiting one to pull him up to the sight he had seen the summer before, when Haru had requested Makoto to give himself to him while they swam together alone in the school pool. He had proceeded to sink to the bottom in embarrassment.
The special day was sakura pink, a shade lighter than the near transparent blush dusting Haru's cheeks.
The sky was in the middle of transitioning from day to night when he had reached the beach. In the distant horizon was the fuschia and orange of sunset and on land the dark shine of the town lights. Makoto had collapsed on the divide between street and sand as he relived the memories of that place with his head in his arms.
Makoto remembers the sudden impulse to challenge something and remove himself from his comfort zone, if only to forget even a moment. And what greater challenge was there than the open water before him?
He had slipped off his sandals, reveled in the coolness of the eroded earth on his toes, then rolled his jeans up to his knees.
He had stood before the receding tide, mentally preparing and reminding himself that nothing would pull him under and take him away. It was only his imagination and an irrational fear, one he would overcome.
The chill didn't deter Makoto from stepping out further, nor did the sensation of wet unknown things brushing his calves stop him until the water threatened to submerge his thighs and soak his clothes.
He had blinked up as a ray of light peeked out from the top of a passing cloud. As he squinted, he thought he saw something bobbing in the waves.
As his vision was subpar at best, he had trouble discerning if it was a person or a buoy floating far out where the drop off was. Makoto had raised a hand to shade his face to better see until the object decided to dip and disappear to his disappointment.
It then re-emerged and jumped out the water in a perfect arc and a flip of a tail. Makoto can recall in exact detail how it had seemed to happen in slow motion right before his wide eyes.
Fleetingly, he had thought, mermaid, and as he took in the beautiful creature, corrected it to dolphin.
The moment returned to normal speed as the animal fell and was enveloped by the sea once again with nearly no audible splash. It was as if it had never performed such an awe-inspiring act in the first place.
The time and location had caught up with Makoto as he looked at his watch and spun around to shallow dry land. He had cast one last glance, the image of the graceful dolphin vividly imprinted in his memory.
He had gotten what he wished for, a unique sight he had never seen before.
Only, it wasn't the sight he wanted, but was grateful to see nonetheless.
On that day, he learned hidden in his fear harbored beautiful things that would thrive in it, like the messy soil of his mom's backyard garden with its worms and bugs teeming within as surplus as the plants she grew. It was also the day he had an inkling of what he would rather major in than teaching, as learning to be a swim instructor would always remind him of Haru.
As his mind is brought back to the present, he looks back at the past few years and realizes he has survived this far because he had been so busy in university, working to come up with the money to purchase the shop, and establishing connections for business.
So, really, Makoto hadn't made any progress at all. He had managed to outrun his fear.
Makoto looks to where Yamazaki-kun is stacking boxes and wonders, why him?
Out of all people, he had to choose Makoto, the ordinary person who has no romantic experience whatsoever. Yamazaki-kun must be popular with girls, even, guys, too. He's young and healthy and handsome…
Yamazaki-kun turns around to see him looking, and Makoto has to glance away as he feels the heat rush to his face. The other man stands to face him.
"Um, Manager…," Yamazaki-kun cuts himself off to stare at the ground and bite his lip nervously.
"Yes?"
If Makoto was reading this right, does the brunet almost look...shy?
xXx
That guy doesn't know when to quit, Sousuke mutters in his head as he glares daggers at the floor.
"What is it?" Manager asks again, his eyes hidden behind Nanase's clasped hands.
Sousuke stumbles over his words. "Do...do you wanna go out with me again? For dinner. This time, wherever you want to go is fine."
"Dinner?"
"Yeah."
Sousuke waits for an answer, a rejection, anything as he keeps his eyes to the floor, refusing to meet Manager's inquisitive gaze.
xXx
He's not looking at Makoto, perhaps because he is shy or self-conscious in taking the first step.
Such a quality coming from a well-built six foot tall man isn't too bad.
"Sure."
Yamazaki-kun startles and looks up at him in surprise, as if he never expected Makoto to say yes. His eyes relax to their usual down-turned position, ever hopeful, and he smiles gratefully.
xXx
I win.
Nanase is gazing at Manager in wide eyed disbelief.
Score one for Sousuke.
A/N:
I'll be updating this fic at least once every two weeks, maybe even less depending.
And Sousuke, what are you, a kid? Act your elusive 20 something age.