Under a Starless Sky

by tonfea

During one of the Style Five's live shows, Haruka kisses Makoto on stage right in front of the audience.

Sitting on a very uncomfortable leather sofa outside agent Toudou's office and listening to the muted snippets of his heated conversation with their manager Azuma, Haruka thinks that, despite all of it, he has never in his life been surrounded by so much quiet.

It is well past 3 a.m.; all the office workers have long gone home, except for the five of them, their manager, agent, and chauffeur Sasabe, who excused himself to the bathroom about forty minutes ago and hasn't come back since. Probably went out for a smoke.

Haruka can't blame him. He, too, would have sneaked out long ago, headed to a small patch of greenery in front of the office building to stare at the bleak starless sky. Perhaps, even dipped his toes in a small fountain there if no one else were around. Maybe Makoto, smiling his usual knowing smile, would have joined him, thrown his head back, exposing the elegant curve of his neck to the warm summer breeze, and complained about Tokyo's light pollution, reading Haruka's mind as he always does.

Haruka squeezes the paper cup in his hand, causing the leftover cold coffee to spill and stain his jeans. He would have if he weren't the very reason they are all stuck here.

He looks around the room at the other Style Five members. At Rei, slouched in an equally uncomfortable leather chair, having already replaced the dried-out contacts with his trusted red-rimmed glasses. At Nagisa, plastered across the secretary's desk and snoring quietly. At Rin, pacing around the tiny room, still muttering curses under his breath.

When they first arrived here and Azuma slammed the office door right in their faces, Haruka accidentally met Rin's piercing gaze for the first time since they left the venue. He half expected Rin to grab him and push him against the wall, demanding an explanation for why the hell he had done that. But perhaps Rin managed to read Haruka's gaze this time (Not now, it implored. Not you.) and left his groupmate alone, choosing to unleash his frustrations on an innocent water cooler standing by the office door. It didn't make Haruka feel better, however.

He shifts his gaze from Rin towards the office window but doesn't dare to look at Makoto. They are currently on the nineteenth floor of the building, so much closer to the vast night sky, yet he doubts that Makoto is looking for the missing stars. Makoto probably knows it is futile: the artificial city lights are too oppressive to let the faint flicker of their celestial counterparts outshine them with their fragile beauty. Instead, he is looking down at the deserted streets of the largest city in the world. The same streets that soon will be filled with hundreds of thousands of people rushing to their jobs in an unsettlingly orderly stream. People who are always hungry to see him, who always notice him, no matter how hard he tries to hide from their scrutiny. Indeed, it's impossible not to notice him, a shiny beacon of light that could rival the stars that abandoned this city a long time ago. And they certainly noticed him today, there is no doubt about that.

Because Haruka, who isn't that different from all these faceless strangers, let himself get drawn to Makoto's light like a moth to a flame and dragged him right into the spotlight for the whole world to ogle.

The bitter taste of coffee still burns the back of his throat, making him nauseous.

The quiet is thick and deafening, and Haruka is so sick of it. He wants to go back to just a few hours ago when everything was so loud that he forgot who he was, where he was, and what he was doing.

They were wrapping up their performance, getting ready for the final act, when his eyes landed on Makoto, standing just a bit to the side and looking positively radiant with excitement. When he caught Haruka's gaze, something foreign gleamed in his eyes, something that Haruka had never seen before (or maybe he had, but consciously chose to ignore), making his heart squeeze. The wild cacophony of music and the enthusiastic cheers of their audience made his whole being tingle with so much energy and emotion that he gave up on trying to hold it all in, submitting to the unstoppable avalanche of emotions and noise overwhelming his senses.

Nothing can or will ever compare to the thunderous beating of his heart and the unstoppable roar of blood in his ears when he, led by the amalgamation of the conflicted feelings he had never dared to put a name to, glided across the stage to Makoto, his flushed, breathless, beautiful Makoto, roughly dragged his head down, tangling his stiff fingers in the brown locks sticky from sweat and hair gel, and pressed his lips to Makoto's smiling mouth in a clumsy, desperate kiss.

Haruka doesn't remember much of the kiss itself, his mind having been unable to process anything around him. But he can vividly recall the salty taste of Makoto's sweat gathered on his upper lip; the searing flutter of his eyelashes against Haruka's flushed cheeks; the electrifying shudder that ran through his body and made Haruka's respond with an equally thrilling shudder of his own; the way Makoto instinctively leaned into Haruka's palm cradling the side of his head; how the roars of the crowd seemed to get weaker and weaker with every beat of Haruka's pulse in his temples and then went completely silent when Makoto gasped into Haruka's mouth, breaking through the fog enveloping Haruka's senses and making him suddenly aware of all the commotion around them, drowning him in all the noise.

The kiss couldn't have lasted more than a couple of seconds, but it felt like a lifetime had passed before Nagisa slammed into them with full force, throwing his hands around their necks and subtly separating them in the process. A moment later, Rin and Rei joined them, and Haruka grimaced when he felt Rin's elbow jab him hard in the side.

It was obviously a desperate attempt to distract the audience from Haruka's faux pas. To their fans, they were a perfect team, tied together with strong bonds of friendship. A group hug wasn't anything out of the ordinary for them. But it gave Haruka enough time to get rid of the befuddling fog of longing clouding his mind while Makoto got the chance to shake the dazed expression off his face and stretch his lips (still red, still kissable) in an overly cheerful smile that never quite managed to reach his eyes. They needed to get it together. They had a show to finish.

And finish they did. Everything after the diversion went without a hitch. Their dance routine stayed on point, their voices a perfect harmony of high and low notes, their smiles, though not as genuine, still as blinding as they had been before. As the last accords of their final song got drowned in a wild mixture of cheers and cries, Haruka let a wave of relief wash over his whole body. It was over. It was over, and he managed not to break apart right in front of the audience, not to run off the stage and far, far away from the faceless crowd, from their crew, his friends, himself. He had been good at it, at running away. But as he had learned just a couple of minutes before, running away was fruitless in the end.

And so he bore the crowd's cheers and screams, knowing full well that this same crowd would waste no time exposing this incident to the whole world. Posting hundreds of pictures worth of proof of Haruka's stunt on the Internet, analyzing, speculating, celebrating, jeering, taking their lives apart, pixel by pixel, as if the whole point of their existence, of all the ups and downs, struggles and joys they had experienced in the course of their lives, was to decorate the front pages of some sleazy tabloids.

Haruka grits his teeth and stands up suddenly, accidentally bumping into a glass coffee table standing right in front of the sofa. The table's legs scrape indignantly against the wooden flooring, attracting the attention of his friends, even waking Nagisa mid-snore. He quickly makes his way to an empty bin and throws away the coffee-soaked remains of the paper cup as if it had personally offended him. To be fair, it somewhat did.

It was Makoto who brought him coffee about an hour ago after Rin had roped him into searching for a vending machine with "at least one drop of fucking caffeine" left. Evidently, they did manage to find one, returning with a couple of cups for themselves and sodas for Rei (who always gets sleepy even from the strongest of brews) and Nagisa (who is not allowed to drink anything caffeinated after 3 p.m.).

While Nagisa was enthusiastically trying to thank Rin with a bone-crushing hug, Haruka suddenly found himself staring at a different cup. He looked up, meeting Makoto's eyes for the first time since the incident, and felt his breath stutter. There was nothing out of the ordinary in Makoto's gaze. It was as soft and caring as always, making Haruka instantly feel calmer and more at ease. There was no hint of anger or resentment in his eyes, no blame, no shame, no reproach, even after Haruka went and turned his life upside down.

But even though his gaze was still as warm and comforting as always, Haruka wasn't that blinded by his feelings to miss how the smudged eyeshadow made his eyes look deeper, more exhausted; how puffy his eyes were from all the strain the stage lights put on them; how the bags under his eyes from almost twenty hours of no sleep made his face look almost mournful.

And when Makoto urged him to take the damn coffee ("Here, Haru, you look like you really need a boost right now"), finally drawing Haruka's attention to his stupid irresistible mouth stretched in a small, yet encouraging smile, he couldn't help but notice how red and ravished the lips he had kissed mere hours before were. Makoto is always biting them when he is nervous, but at that moment, Haruka wondered whether Makoto was simply anxious or if he could no longer stand the ghost of Haruka's mouth on him anymore.

He reached out more out of reflex, an always present instinct to heed Makoto's words, let his honey sweet voice envelop him in a warm embrace, follow him to the edges of the world. But when his fingers brushed Makoto's and he felt a familiar electrifying spark send shivers down his arm, Makoto's expression didn't change. His breath didn't hitch; his eyes didn't widen; his cheeks didn't redden. All the little signs that Makoto had been carefully hiding and Haruka had been studiously pretending not to notice for the last year, if not more, suddenly disappeared, leaving him lost and confused. Had he imagined it all? Had the feelings Haruka considered mutual never been there at all? Or had he managed to not only potentially blow up their careers but also completely destroy whatever intimate feelings Makoto might have had for him?

Makoto tilted his head after Haruka finally took the drink from him, raised the corners of his mouth ever so slightly in approval, and, after tearing his gaze from Haruka, slowly made his way to the window. Haruka watched his back tense and relax, shoulders hunching. He was clearly exhausted and shaken, yet didn't want his best friend to see it. His smile and eyes were kind, but he no longer seemed willing to share his true feelings with Haruka. The bond, the mutual understanding they always had seemed to have evaporated somewhere, leaving Haruka alone with a cold feeling squeezing his heart.

He quickly, almost desperately, took a gulp of his coffee, trying to chase it away. He knew it was hot, but it wasn't the temperature that shocked and burned his mouth, making his eyes water. The drink was unexpectedly bitter, almost making him choke, and he scowled in frustration.

Tastes like disappointment, his mind supplied. Like betrayal, it taunted him. Like what you put Makoto through. Haruka squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shoo the nagging thoughts away, but to no avail.

These thoughts still haunt him, no matter how hard he tries to banish them from his mind.

Haruka sighs and opens his eyes, casting a glance around the room and finding his friends staring at him. Apart from Makoto, looking at him with mild concern, an emotion he easily recognizes after years of being on the receiving end of it, he can't decipher what the other three are thinking. Are they annoyed? Angry? Disapproving? They may not be thinking anything at all, completely exhausted from the whole affair, following him with their gaze out of pure instinct.

Haruka feels another pang of guilt for dragging them all into this unnecessary mess. He doesn't want to think about what will happen with Style Five after this. He might have destroyed not only his relationship with his friends but also their dreams.

He can't bear feeling their gazes on him anymore, so he looks down at the floor, clasping his sticky hands behind his back. He knows he should say something, but he has never been good with words. How can he possibly express this mixture of guilt, regret, anxiety, and shame he is feeling? And would a couple of empty words even be enough of an apology for the shock and confusion he has already caused as well as other problems that are sure to come their way?

Still, he opens his mouth just to say something, anything. But before he manages to utter a single syllable, the office door opens, letting out their agent and manager, both looking a little less frazzled than when they first disappeared behind this very door, though Azuma still has a scowl on his face. He leans against the wall, his eyes distant and trained on the floor, while Toudou loudly clasps his hands together, drawing everyone's attention to himself.

"Well, it's been a long night, hasn't it?" he starts lightly after clearing his throat. "We've been monitoring the social media posts, but the situation seems contained at the moment."

"However," he relays briskly, "we can't say for sure if and how far the information about the incident is going to spread, so we'll have to reconvene with our PR team in the morning and see what we can do to salvage the situation," he doesn't voice it, but they all can hear the ominous 'and if we can salvage it at all' hiding behind his words.

"But now," Toudou continues after a brief and somber pause, "I think it's time for you boys to go home. We'll call your manager when we're ready to discuss our next steps, so make sure to get some rest in the meantime."

'While you still can' is all Haruka hears.

They all bow to their agent and shuffle towards the elevator in a single line, with Azuma following them like a prison warden. After they all file inside the elevator cabin, Haruka manages to catch sight of their agent, standing alone in the cramped lobby and already engaged in a heated discussion with someone on the phone. Toudou has been a good agent and a decent person all this time, always greeting them with a smile, getting them drinks from his personal cooler and telling them funny stories about his toddler daughter. Will he stay as amiable and supportive? Or did they lose this privilege?

They probably did. Haruka muses that it is just a natural consequence of putting him in the heat of a PR scandal. The world of show business has always been cruel. And the idol industry is just straight up ruthless. Constantly competing with other idol groups, trying to stand out among your own group members while simultaneously keeping up with the wholesome image you all have carefully curated over the years. Knowing that a slight misstep may lead to you being replaced by some overzealous trainee.

Haruka wonders if this is what is going to happen to him. Perhaps, they will tell him to come alone to their office tomorrow, sit him down at the round table in the meeting room, give him a simple pen and an inconspicuous sheet of paper, informing him that he is no longer part of Style Five and has no right to disclose any information about his time with the group, expecting him to sign away years of hard work, his friendships, his heart.

Which makes Haruka further wonder if they are considering having Makoto sign a similarly worded contract. Makoto had no idea Haruka would decide to kiss him on stage in front of their fans, but if this incident gets enough attention, Makoto will probably be deemed just as responsible for causing it as Haruka himself.

Haruka will never admit it aloud, but he hopes for it to go this way. If their agency kicks them out, they will probably get blacklisted from other agencies as well. They will be forced to leave the entertainment industry altogether and go back to their ordinary lives, void of glamor, fame, and the invasive attention of millions of people from all over the country. They will return to their families, perhaps enroll for some university course, find standard office jobs, the thought of which Haruka used to loathe but now finds comforting, and live the rest of their lives in peace.

If Makoto forgives him, Haruka will visit him occasionally in Iwatobi, a small coastal town that Makoto still considers his only real home.

Makoto took him to Iwatobi a couple of times back when they were trainees, and Haruka couldn't help falling in love with its quaint winding streets and the omnipresent whisper of the ocean waves greeting him in the morning and lulling him to sleep at night. It was probably during one of these visits that his feelings for Makoto first took root, and later, nurtured by Makoto's accepting smiles and meaningful glances, grew into this unrelenting longing that now threatens to overwhelm him every time he looks at Makoto. Has already overwhelmed him if what happened today is any indication.

If Makoto forgives him and accepts his feelings, he might get a chance to call Iwatobi home, too.

In any case, they might let this whole thing blow over and not do anything at all. Perhaps, no one even saw them, too wrapped up in whatever Rin, Rei, or Nagisa were doing on stage at the time. Or someone did see them but didn't manage to take pics. And even if people did manage to film them, all the photos and videos might turn out too blurry or simply indiscernible, rendering them useless to the drama-loving internet crowd. The possibilities are endless, and Haruka can't help but wish for everyone to forget about this night.

(But not Makoto. Haruka hopes that Makoto will remember this night, accept what happened, return Haruka's feelings. Because in spite of all the anxiety, fear, and embarrassment he has had to deal with today, it will all be worth it if he gets to kiss Makoto again.)

The doors of the elevator open up, and the six of them step out into an eerily empty entrance hall. Haruka knows that there are security guards somewhere around, but they are nowhere to be seen, and only the rhythmic taps of their shoes against the pristine tiled floor echo loudly through the unsettling quiet.

He tries not to look around, planting his gaze firmly on Nagisa's fluffy blond head. He is scared that if he looks away for just a second, they will all disappear without a trace, leaving him all alone in this cold empty building with this cold empty feeling clawing at his heart. Even though he knows it is an irrational fear, he is feeling anything but rational, so he unconsciously quickens his pace.

When they finally step into the street, Haruka has to stop himself from turning and rushing back inside. The summer air, humid, heavy, and hot, clings to his skin, fills up his lungs, making it hard to breathe, suffocates him. It is good that he never managed to sneak out of the office; this blistering heat would have only made him feel worse.

He hears the quiet rumble somewhere in the distance. It may be some crazy driver revving up the engine of their car, but Haruka knows better. He has learned to recognize the sound of an approaching thunderstorm quite well over the years. Looking up, he can actually see the dark shadow of a thundercloud hanging menacingly above their heads.

He chances a glance at Makoto and sees him looking up longingly at the sky, too. A strange melancholic feeling comes over him. Because even if all the lights in Tokyo suddenly went out, not a single star would reach them through this thick coat of darkness. He wonders if Makoto heard the earlier rumble. Thunderstorms have always made him feel uneasy, and Haruka doubts that Makoto will seek refuge with him tonight as he would normally do. The thought that he might no longer be Makoto's safe place weighs heavily on his mind, completely overshadowing his other fears and worries.

It takes them a couple of minutes to reach their van. The parking lot is empty, save for a couple of other cars scattered here and there. One of them must be Toudou's, and Haruka thinks that it is probably not going to leave the lot tonight at all.

Sasabe greets them jovially and immediately starts the engine. Judging by how rumpled his usually impeccably ironed suit is, he managed to squeeze a quick nap in. Knowing that at least one of them hasn't lost sleep because of him makes Haruka feel a bit better.

Nagisa is the first to jump inside the van, quickly sprawling across the back and predictably taking all three seats for himself. Next is Rei's turn, and he doesn't forget to complain about Nagisa's lack of road travel etiquette, even though there are four more seats for him to choose from. Haruka patiently waits for Rin and Makoto to take their seats. When they finally do, he hesitates, afraid to get so close to all of them with so much unresolved tension in the air. He jumps a little when he suddenly feels Azuma grip his shoulder lightly.

"Go on, kid," he murmurs, and, after taking a deep breath, Haruka finally steps inside the pleasantly cool van. He is actually relieved to see that Rin has taken the seat by Makoto, leaving him no other choice but to sit with Rei. Rin has probably done this to spite him, but Haruka doesn't think he would be able to handle the whole ride with Makoto so close to him without breaking down.

Azuma closes the passenger door and takes the seat next to the driver. Haruka hears him instruct Sasabe to drop them off first. It is not really convenient for the men since Azuma lives closer to their office, but Haruka figures he just wants to see that they have made it to their dormitory building with his own eyes. To be fair, Haruka won't be surprised if Azuma insists on walking them to their rooms and tucking them in their beds after today's events. He thinks there might be a clause in their contracts actually allowing him to do this if one of the group members creates a mess as big as Haruka did today.

The van finally starts moving, and Haruka fixes his eyes on a pizza charm hanging on the rear view mirror. He is sitting right behind Azuma, and even though the two men try to keep their voices low, he can still make out their conversation.

"Long night, huh?" says Sasabe, stopping at a traffic light. The road is empty, void of its typical commotion and noise, and Haruka can clearly make out the ticking sound of the turn signal, reminding him of a bomb about to go off.

"Yeah," Azuma releases a long-suffering sigh but doesn't offer much else.

"How mad are the big guys?" Sasabe keeps prodding after the light switches to green and he makes a turn to the right.

"The big guys are fast asleep," Azuma barks out a humorless laugh, "so we'll see in the morning. And we might have to get this bunch back to the office somewhere around noon. I know it's your day-off tomorrow — or today — but we'll need your help here again." He sounds sincerely apologetic, as if he had anything to do with this whole mess.

"It's alright," Sasabe chuckles, waving off the unspoken apology. "I can always use some extra cash. Plus, we're a team, aren't we? We need to stick together, no matter what."

A team.

Haruka turns his head to the side, staring intently at the tiny dust specks splattered across the car window. He feels the unwanted tears well up in his eyes, threatening to spill over in a dramatic release of the day's frustrations, but he doesn't let them. He bites his lip, takes deep gulping breaths, refuses to blink. Feels the wet pressure subside from his eyes and the tight knot in his throat unwind. He has to hold it in until he is alone in his room. He can't fall apart in front of everyone, have them fret around him when it is him who started this nightmare. It is his mistake that might cost these people, his team, their jobs and livelihood, and he can't make it about himself. Because while the selfish ugly creature inside of him is worrying about Makoto losing his affection for him, this whole ordeal is much, much bigger than Haruka's stupid pathetic feelings.

They are an idol group, after all. They have a list of rules they have to abide by. And it just so happens that there is a very firm no-dating rule on this very long and rather ridiculous list. They need to keep the pretense of being romantically available to their adoring fans, or something like that. Haruka didn't care about this rule when he first signed his contract. He wouldn't have time for a relationship, anyway, he thought. And how was he even supposed to find someone to date when the entire population of Japan is only interested in his flawless image, not the real Nanase Haruka hiding behind the stage persona?

Easy, it turns out. He just needs to look at his best friend for proof.

What makes him grit his teeth in frustration is that they could have probably pulled it off. Makoto and he are always together. They work together, live together under the same roof, spend all their waking (and occasionally sleeping) moments together. It wouldn't have been hard for them to sneak off for some alone time during the day, and certainly not during the night. They could have told their friends about their relationship. They could have even told Azuma. He would have moaned and groaned, complained about having to deal with hormonal teenagers, but he would have kept them out of trouble, perhaps even tested the waters with the agency. Maybe they would have officially gotten the green light from the higher-ups with instructions to keep the relationship strictly behind closed doors.

He knows that it is too late now to think about these what-ifs. He ruined any chance of this happening because he was too cowardly to admit his feelings for Makoto, to find out if Makoto felt the same. Now he can only wait for the agency's decision and pray that they don't disband Style Five altogether, don't fire Azuma for not keeping them in line, and don't destroy his friends' dreams and ambitions.

His depressing thoughts are interrupted by Azuma unceremoniously dangling a small plastic bag right in front of his face. "Take yours and pass it on, will you?" he murmurs and turns his face back to the road.

Haruka raises his brow but does as he is told. He dives inside the bag and realizes his phone is inside. After their show was over, he took all their mobile devices to stop them from seeing any social media posts. It wasn't an unusual occurrence, but it did make for the boring wait outside the office.

Haruka fishes his own phone out and passes the bag to Rei. The screen lights up, showing him that he has only 9% of the battery left. He sighs and locks the screen again.

Suddenly, he hears a cry of outrage from the back of the van. "Ryuu-chan," Nagisa whines, "why can't I open my Instagram?!"

Azuma shrugs noncommittally without turning his head. "Parental control," he shares impassively. "Don't want you to doomscroll the night away. You'll get it back tomorrow, don't worry."

Nagisa groans loudly and miserably, and Haruka hears Rin's petulant "I'm not a child " ring throughout the van. He is exhausted and petrified, but he still feels the ghost of a smile tug on his lips. He loves his friends so much. He hopes they don't take any heat for his mistake.

He unlocks his phone absent-mindedly, more out of habit than anything, and is immediately greeted by the colorful explosion of fireworks on his homescreen. The memories of last year's Obon that he spent with Makoto in Iwatobi immediately race through his mind, painting the world around him in phantom hues of the rainbow, drowning out the soft thrum of the engine with the ghosts of children's laughter and a crowd's cheer.

Spending Obon with Makoto and his family felt wonderful. It was just a couple of weeks before their official debut, and, despite all the effort they had put in to make it happen, they were nervous and terrified, feeling the tides of the imminent change threatening to drag them away from the familiarity of their everyday lives. But being there in Iwatobi with Makoto's parents and siblings helped them forget about the upcoming hassle, distracted them from their worries, lulled the gnawing fear in their hearts to rest. It was comforting to know that no matter how much their lives were about to change, Iwatobi would always stay a safe haven for Makoto. And, by extension, for Haruka as well.

His heart aches. He wonders if it will ever stop aching.

His somber train of thought is interrupted when the van finally stops in front of their dorm. He didn't expect for them to arrive so soon. Normally, their ride to and from the office takes twice as much time. But, he muses, these are the perks of driving late at night with no traffic around.

Before they start getting out of the van, Azuma clears his throat and turns towards them. He gives them all a once-over and nods to himself in approval.

"Well, gang," he says around a yawn, "time for us to part our ways for the night. Or the morning. I need you awake and waiting for my call by 10 a.m., so if I were you, I'd go straight to bed right now. You can gossip all you want tomorrow, you hear?" He looks pointedly in Rin's direction, making it clear that it is not really gossip he is talking about. Then, he claps his hands. "Now get the fuck out of this van. I don't want to hear about any of you for the rest of this night. Off you go."

He doesn't need to ask them twice. Haruka is the first one to get out, and he winces from the heat still lurking outside. It seems as if the air has gotten thicker, even more invasive, blocking Haruka's airways, slipping its blistered fingers under his clothes, dragging them down his tired body and leaving uncomfortably moist trails of sweat in their wake.

He hears another rumble of thunder, this time much closer. Turning his head towards the sound, he makes out a subdued flash of lightning somewhere in the distance. Hopefully, it won't come near them, but Haruka is too tired to care at this point. All he wants to do is to get inside, but he can't do it without his friends. Normally, he would have already taken off towards the dorm building. But not tonight. Because tonight is not about him anymore and because he can't handle being alone with his thoughts right now.

When Nagisa finally jumps out of the van, stretching his limbs and groaning like an old man, they hear the van's window slide down. Azuma peers at them solemnly, as if debating whether to say anything or not. At last, he opens his mouth:

"I know today was hard and you're wired and anxious. Been there, done that. But I want you to know that it is possible to salvage this. We have trained professionals working on this, and it's not the end of the world. So don't do anything stupid, you hear me?" At that, he fixes his eyes on Haruka, but his gaze is distant, as if it isn't really Haruka he is seeing before him. After a moment of silence, he shakes his head and turns away. He raises his hand in a silent farewell and rolls the window back up. They hear a quiet 'Go on then' before he and Sasabe disappear behind the thick glass, their faces hidden in the dark.

At last, Sasabe takes off, flashing the headlights at them once and leaving them huddled together like a brood of orphaned featherless nestlings.

They don't move for a while, letting the silence fill all the empty spaces between them. Now that he is alone with his friends, Haruka doesn't know what to say, if he even needs to say anything. He feels like there are no words that can make his friends feel better, especially coming from him. Because no matter what he feels, whether he acts on these feelings or buries them deep inside his heart, he will only make everything worse.

He looks up, hoping for a hint from the missing stars. But the heavens are still dark and silent, still hiding behind the shield of thunderclouds, taunting him with their indifference. He is not mad at them; he knows that the answers he is looking for aren't written in the stars. They are all inside him, but he is too exhausted to seek them out, his thoughts a jumbled mess, his feelings wrung out, his heart cold and his soul hollow.

He turns his gaze towards his friends standing silently nearby. It occurs to Haruka that they probably don't know what to do either. They became unwilling witnesses to the trainwreck that is Haruka and his repressed feelings, got dragged in the middle of it and are now left to clean up the emotional consequences of this wreckage. He doesn't envy them, not in the slightest. He wouldn't know what to do either if he were in their place.

He starts to mentally count to ten, resolving to break the silence once the count is over. His palms start to sweat and he still doesn't know what to say—

"We should probably get inside," Makoto's soft unsure voice startles them, breaking them out of their stupor.

Haruka squeezes his eyes shut. Whether consciously or not, Makoto just read his mind, felt his distress and indecision. He opens his eyes again and meets Makoto's gaze, hoping to express at least a fraction of his gratitude without words. He feels a bit relieved when Makoto gives him a miniscule nod, offers an absent-minded smile to the others, and starts walking towards the entrance to the dormitory, leading them in this moment of uncertainty just like he always leads them on stage.

Haruka hears Rin sigh, sees Nagisa cross his arms behind his back, feels Rei's silent agreement. He waits for them to start moving, closing their formation, watching their backs. They are tired and sleepy, he can see it in the way their hunched shoulders tense and their feet scrape against the smooth pavement. But it is a good sign, he thinks. At least, they will soon be able to give in to sleep, forget about this whole ordeal for a couple of hours. He doubts that he and Makoto will join them, but it is comforting to think that their friends will be able to find some kind of rest tonight.

It is quiet inside the building; the only sound that greets them is the artificial buzzing of the fluorescent lamps overhead. Haruka is a bit too happy to discover that the air conditioning system of their dormitory manages to prevent the clingy summer heat from sneaking inside. He inhales deeply, trying to clear his lungs of its cotton-like puffiness, allowing his chest to relax for the first time tonight. He doesn't feel relieved or free from the day's troubles, but it is nice to finally return to this place that has been his temporary home for the last couple of years.

The dorm building is not huge but big enough to accommodate everyone their agency is willing to make into the next big thing. Haruka started living here as a trainee several years ago. It was far from the glorious life they keep advertising to young folks on social media and TV. Sharing a room with another wide-eyed and awkward kid, taking communal showers, having no recreational space whatsoever. The life of a trainee would have been miserable if he had had any energy or time left to care about such trifles. Besides, he shared his room with Makoto, and even if Haruka used to get annoyed at his messiness a lot, he knew he lucked out. Some guys had to deal with openly hostile roommates who would often resort to plain sabotage if they wanted to get rid of a potential competitor.

But his friends and he no longer have to share their living space with others. They made their debut almost a year ago, so they naturally get more perks than other no-name trainees. They finally have their own separate (albeit tiny) rooms with attached bathrooms, which, to Haruka's very reserved delight, include real (but also tiny) bathtubs where they can soak for hours without a care in the world. They also now have a so-called living room with a loveseat, a squeaky armchair, a small TV and a real gaming station that Nagisa managed to sneak in from his home. They don't get to spend a lot of time there, what with their busy schedules, but when they do manage to carve out a couple of hours in between live shows, photoshoots, recording sessions, and TV appearances, they spend those moments in heated arguments over who gets to have the controller next.

Their living arrangements aren't overly comfortable and Haruka does wish he could rent his own apartment (having Makoto as a roommate is an option he may be willing to consider), but he also cherishes every second he gets to spend with his friends even if they annoy him to no end. He loves them and is grateful for their friendship. And he knows for certain that he will be absolutely crushed if he gets kicked out by their agency tomorrow and has to say goodbye to all of them.

He resolves to do anything he can to keep their group together, to save them from paying for his thoughtless actions. Because he won't be able to bear knowing that he is the reason their dreams and lives are destroyed.

However, despite this promise to himself, Haruka still doesn't know what to tell them. He doesn't think he needs to announce that he does, in fact, have feelings for Makoto. He is pretty sure they are well aware of this, especially after tonight. But how can he explain to them the sudden haze of longing that enveloped him earlier on stage, the urge to obey its insistent call that he failed to tame? They wouldn't understand. How can they? Haruka is still reeling from his own recklessness, just as astonished as them; perhaps even more.

And Makoto? His best friend, who, unlike Haruka, always manages to keep his feelings under control, knows how to bare just enough of his soul for the world to see without attracting its hungry gaze to the people he loves. He has to talk to him, apologize, explain himself, try to salvage them. He can't gloss over it, pretend that nothing happened. Not just because of the publicity of his stunt, of how it will further reflect on their careers. But because he turned their first kiss, something so personal, so precious, so desired into a spectacle; stomped all over their budding feelings without letting them bloom. If Haruka doesn't apologize for this, he will never forgive himself for betraying Makoto so cruelly.

Haruka feels all these thoughts buzzing in his head, pounding against his temples, making him dizzy. Say something, he hears their loud chants as the group finally reaches their living quarters. Now.

Rin yawns, stretching his arms.

Say say say

Nagisa jumps facedown on the loveseat, complaining about missing his favorite TV program.

Now now now

Rei chastises him for caring about such trifles, taking off his glasses and rubbing them absent-mindedly against his shirt.

What are you waiting for?

Makoto… Haruka doesn't know what he is doing. He doesn't hear him, doesn't see him, can't look in his direction, doesn't feel like he is allowed to anymore.

Makoto

"I'm sorry," he hears his voice ring out across the room, slicing through the thick tension between them like a knife through melted butter. His friends turn to him, surprised, questioning, unsure. He opens his mouth again, "I—" but nothing comes out.

His mind gets foggy, refuses to cooperate. He suddenly feels as if he is stuck in a nightmare: he opens and closes his mouth, trying to explain, to plead, to scream, but no sound comes out of it. He takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut and bends at the waist in a deep bow.

"I'm sorry," Haruka repeats again, still keeping his eyes shut. "I… I did something very wrong. Today. I…" the words fall from his mouth like rocks, landing heavily on his chest, making it hard to breathe. Clenching his sweaty palms and ignoring the sharp pain from the nails digging into his skin, he takes several shallow breaths and tries to go on. "I messed up. And now you're in trouble. Because of me. It's— I'm sorry. It's so unfair to all of you. Especially to—"

Makoto

His best friend's name refuses to fall from his mouth, squeezes the air out of his lungs, makes his head spin. He gulps once, twice, but the oxygen fails to clear the fog in his head, ease the tightness in his chest. Haruka feels the pressure behind his eyelids grow but refuses to open them, knowing that he won't be able to keep the tears from spilling.

It's not about you it's not about you it's not about you

He straightens back up, tries to utter something more but fails. His resolve crumbles. He can't do it. Whatever he says, it's not enough. Even now he is letting his friends down. Letting Makoto down. Pathetic.

Haruka turns his back to them, stumbles blindly towards his room, trying to get the key inside the lock through the haze of tears in his eyes. He hears Rin's alarmed 'Oi!', but he has already unlocked the door. He steps inside, swaying; leans against the door, shutting it; slides down, keeping it closed.

He feels more than hears urgent steps coming towards his room. He tenses, expecting harsh knocks on his door.

"Rin!" Makoto's voice is clear and high, and Haruka can't help but shiver from how hard it makes his heart beat. The stomping stops, and although there are no more words spoken, he knows that Makoto's gaze must be saying enough. He can imagine its gentle firmness, its silent disapproval, its quiet plea.

('Not now,' it probably begs. 'Not you.')

Haruka feels the world closing in on him, rushing to envelop him in darkness. He can barely make out his friends' voices outside, too busy trying to suppress the onslaught of his emotions. Whatever they may be talking about is over soon, and he hears the sound of two doors closing to his left. The third door slams somewhere in the distance, rattling the paper-thin walls. Haruka opens his eyes, stares through the gaps between his fingers at the barely lit sky hovering behind his window.

He hears another door, the closest to his room, open and close. The sound is quiet, barely audible, but the finality of it reverberates through Haruka's exhausted mind, piercing through the tangled mess of restless thoughts swarming inside his skull. He feels empty. That's it, he thinks but the thought trails off before he can understand what it means.

He sits in the quiet emptiness of his room for a while, watching the darkness slowly drain from the sky, unveiling the heavy silhouette of the thunderclouds still sprawled above the city. Haruka stands up, raises his hand to lock the door, hesitates. Leaves it unlocked. Trying to shake off the numbness in his legs, he comes up to the window; watches over the city, still wrapped up in the possessive embrace of slumber.

Haruka looks back at the sky, scans the horizon. In the safety of his dorm he no longer hears the claps of thunder. However, he does see an occasional flash of lightning reaching its skeletal hand down to some building in the distance, closer than it was before.

He tries to check the time of his phone, but the battery is dead. He sighs and turns toward his nightstand, groping its surface in search of the charger. It must be past 4 a.m. already if the sky is any indication; he has to get some sleep.

He turns to the bed, shakes off his clothes slowly, letting them fall to the floor in disarray. He does contemplate jumping straight under the covers, burying his face in the pillows, hiding from the world. But Haruka feels the uncomfortable layer of sweat and grime sticking to his skin, and he is itching to wash the day's pain away, hoping water will offer him some sort of solace.

In the bathroom he stops near the tub, not sure if he wants to soak or just take a shower. It isn't like him to be so hesitant about taking a bath; normally, he doesn't even have to think before turning the tap on to fill his tub up. But tonight there is a strange weight pressing on him, making him reluctant to fully bare his soul to water, afraid it will reject him.

Haruka steps into the tub, fixes the showerhead above his head, and turns the tap on. The hot water takes a while to find its way through the winded labyrinth of pipes, so he raises his face to the cold stream, lets it wash away the puffiness around his eyes and cool the sharp pain pounding in his temples.

When the hot water finally comes, he bows his head and arches his back, leaning on his forearms against the wall. The steady beat of water against his skin feels familiar and soothing, and he closes his eyes, presses his forehead to the cool tiles in front of him. Water has always been a constant presence in his life, giving him much needed respite from the outside world. He is well aware that water does have its fangs and will not hesitate to show its true might when it so desires. Haruka has always respected its turbulent nature and accepted whatever it may decide to test him with.

So when the stream of water gets progressively more scalding, he doesn't flinch. At first, it feels good, relaxing even, to have the steady flow of warmth unravel the tight knots in his back and neck muscles. But soon his back goes numb from its searing heat and his lungs start to feel stuffed from the heavy steam gathering in the tiny room. It is uncomfortable, being surrounded by so much boiling heat, but Haruka grits his teeth, presses his forehead harder into the tiled wall already covered in condensation, accepting the punishment water gives him. He feels strangely thankful for it, considering all of his friends preferred to pretend that nothing had happened instead of confronting him and demanding some kind of explanation (even though he knows he has none to give them in return).

Only when his vision starts swimming and his heart begins to beat furiously, as if wanting to rip out of his chest, does Haruka turn off the tap. He drags a hand down his face as though to get rid of the black dots blocking his sight. Not trusting his legs, he sits down heavily into the tub. It is really small, and he has to bend his knees to fit, but he is used to it, and the relief he feels from the cool porcelain walls pressing against his overheated back makes it worth the minor discomfort.

Haruka closes his eyes. His heartbeat is still erratic and he can't seem to catch his breath. He is actually mad at himself for almost passing out while taking a shower. Even though he no longer feels as filthy, his headache is back tenfold and his hair is matted from the unwashed sweat and styling gel, but he doesn't have any energy left to take care of it. And even though he does understand where its wrath came from, he is upset and disappointed that even water no longer accepts him and cherishes his company.

Come to think of it, it is not really surprising. He witnessed firsthand how much respect water holds for Makoto, and Haruka hurting him was probably taken as a great offense.

Haruka lets out a dull chuckle. He knows he is being ridiculous, perhaps a bit delirious from the lack of sleep and oxygen in his blood. Even if he does believe that water is alive, it is not human. It doesn't have emotions, it doesn't get attached. It exists on its own, ancient and eternal, the mother of all forms of life that couldn't care less about its creations. It either accepts you or not, but being accepted doesn't mean you are safe from its fury.

Makoto is actually a good demonstration of this axiom. Haruka knows he is a good swimmer, has seen the way water welcomes him and gives way under his powerful strokes. Yet, Makoto still carries this deep-seated fear of water that first lodged itself in his mind when he was a child. Haruka doesn't know the full story, but he saw the tightness around Makoto's mouth when they would go to the beach back in Iwatobi. Water is never malicious on purpose, but it doesn't hesitate to remind others of its true power. Even if doing so brings them unimaginable pain.

Haruka wonders if he hurt Makoto in a similar manner: eager to express the magnitude of his feelings but scarring him for the rest of his life as a result.

He watches the residual drops of water gather on the showerhead and then fall apathetically on his ankle. He wonders if it is possible to match his heartbeat to each drip.

Thump

Thump

Thump

Thump

Drip

He scrunches his nose in frustration.

Thump

Thump

Thump

Drip

Thump

Haruka is too focused on this task to notice him at first. He does hear a sigh but thinks it is just air leaving his own lungs. Only when a shadow falls across his body does he become aware of another presence in the room. He whips his head up, eyes growing wide when he finally catches sight of Makoto wearing a loose yellow T-shirt and cotton shorts, his hair ruffled and a little wet, dripping on a thin towel wrapped around his shoulders. He looks like an ordinary boy, not at all like the idol pop star who was making the audience swoon mere hours ago, but somehow Haruka finds it hard to look away from him.

When Makoto meets his gaze, Haruka comes to his senses and quickly averts his eyes, scared to see the emotions lurking in the depth of Makoto's green eyes (or to not see anything at all). Instead, he fixes his gaze on the floor. If Makoto notices, he doesn't comment on Haruka's jerkiness. He stops near the sink, and Haruka sees him lean against it out of the corner of his eye.

"You haven't had your bath yet, have you?" Haruka's heart does a somersault when he hears Makoto's rueful chuckle. He doesn't need to answer; Makoto is already turning away, moving, and all Haruka can do is stare at the tanned skin of Makoto's strong legs as he sets to block the tub's drain and fiddle with the tap. He tests the temperature a couple of times and, deeming it satisfactory, lets water flow freely into the tub.

Haruka hugs his knees closer to his chest, trying to shrink from the water's touch and Makoto's gaze. His attempts are proven unsuccessful when he feels the warmth lick the back of his thighs and hears Makoto's amused laugh.

"You look like a really disheveled panda, Haru," he giggles quietly, and Haruka huffs in embarrassment. He completely forgot to wipe his makeup off, and he doesn't want to imagine how pathetic he looks right now. He is really annoyed with himself, and with Makoto for making fun of him when he is brooding; at the same time, he does feel a bit proud for coaxing the first genuine laugh of the night out of his best friend.

He watches sheepishly as Makoto rummages through various bottles standing haphazardly on the shelf above the sink. He hums triumphantly as he finds what he is looking for. He turns toward Haruka with a bottle of makeup remover and cotton pads, then sinks to the floor next to the tub, suddenly so close that Haruka shivers involuntarily despite the warm water slowly crawling up his body.

"Let me take care of you," Makoto asks him gently, meeting his gaze, and Haruka's lids flutter shut in response, not able to handle the overwhelming affection shining in these green eyes. Makoto takes this as an agreement, and soon Haruka feels the wet press of the pad against his cheek.

It isn't quiet. The sound of pouring water echoes loudly in the tiny room, bouncing off the walls, filling in the empty spaces between the two of them. Haruka knows he is shivering but he can't help it, not when Makoto is being so kind to him, so gentle, carefully wiping his brows first, then his eyelids, making sure to clean the corners of his eyes properly, then his cheeks. Haruka doesn't hear his breathing, but he feels the warm puffs of air cling to his skin, making his face a little hotter, his eyes wetter, the tightness squeezing his throat harder to ignore.

At one point, when he thinks he has finally gotten a grip on his emotions, he suddenly senses a soft and warm touch on his cheek. He opens his eyes in shock, sees Makoto's shy smile and the rosy blush on his cheekbones, realizes it is Makoto's palm cradling his face. Makoto's thumb grazes his chin, carefully turning Haruka towards himself, exposing the other side of his face, and gets back to wiping off the soggy remains of Haruka's previously glam makeup.

Try as he might, he can't close his eyes anymore, can't avert his gaze from Makoto's serene face. It is probably the first time he has an opportunity to look at him so boldly without the fear of being caught staring. Haruka allows himself to freely admire the way his fluffy fringe falls over his forehead; the elegant curve of his eyebrows; the softness of his green eyes; the lightest sprinkle of freckles over his cheekbones, barely visible under his unrelenting blush; the ghost of a smile always hiding in the corners of his lips; his lips , still looking a little raw, but so delicate, so inviting…

Haruka catches himself leaning in and finally comes to his senses. Makoto is no longer moving, seemingly frozen in place with his hand still gently cradling Haruka's face. Haruka chances a brief glance back up his face, taking in Makoto's dazed expression, the deep blush now fully concealing his freckles, completely mesmerized by the intensity of the foreign, yet strangely familiar emotion clouding Makoto's half-lidded eyes.

But then Makoto moves the thumb still resting under Haruka's chin in an agonizingly slow caress, presses it lightly just under Haruka's jaw, exactly where all his unreleased emotions have molded into a giant ball of tension, threatening to smother him, not letting him speak. This is what finally breaks Haruka, makes him come undone right in front of the person he loves the most in the entire world, has loved since the moment he first laid his eyes on him, since before they even met, waiting for him to appear, to save him from the unrelenting ache of loneliness always looming over him.

Haruka tries, he really does, to swallow the tension, to free himself from its shackles, but instead of disappearing, it bursts out of him in a strangled sob, barely audible over the steady flow of water, but still so loud to his own ears. His vision goes blurry, and he can no longer see Makoto's face, which, he thinks, is a tragedy because if anything can keep him sane right now, it is the vivid green of his eyes. Or maybe it is a good thing because he wouldn't be able to handle seeing the concern that is undoubtedly already clouding his kind face and that Haruka feels so undeserving of.

Haruka closes his eyes and gives up on holding his tears back, letting them roll down his face. He doesn't mean to, but some instinct makes him turn his face into Makoto's palm, inhale sharply, graze his lips clumsily against the warm smooth skin.

"I'm so sorry," he breathes out into Makoto's palm. "I don't know what came over me. Makoto, I—" he takes another shaky breath, feeling as if his lungs are about to give out. "I was so stupid. But you were right there and I… I forgot where we were. I'm so sorry."

The words rush out of him in one breath, barely above a whisper, melting into Makoto's palm. Haruka feels frustrated with them, frustrated with himself for not finding better words to express his guilt and sorrow and remorse, for not having the wit to think of a better apology than a string of nonsensical ramblings that Makoto probably couldn't even hear.

He feels Makoto's hand move and starts to panic, opens his eyes wide, afraid to see him leave, yet terrified of him disappearing without another word. What he isn't prepared for is for Makoto to cup his face in his hands, brush his thumbs under Haruka's eyes, wiping away the tears blurring his vision.

"I know, Haru," he says simply, caressing his cheeks. "Of course I know. It's alright."

"It's not!" Haruka protests. "I ruined it all. You… They might kick you out, Makoto. They might even kick the guys out, too. All because of me! Don't you understand it? Don't you care?"

Haruka knows he is being unfair to Makoto, spitting his own fears right in his face, as if Makoto hasn't already realized the potential consequences their public kiss may entail, but it feels weirdly cathartic to acknowledge it aloud, to share his pain. The tension in his throat gets slightly weaker, and he quickly gulps for air while he can.

Makoto doesn't speak for a while, looking somewhere to the side of Haruka's face. He furrows his brows as if in deep thought, opens his mouth a couple of times just to close it again. Haruka tries to keep still, scared Makoto will finally realize that he actually hates him, but also not really because surely Makoto would have stopped holding him so tenderly by now if that were possible, right? The tub is already full, threatening to overflow, but Haruka makes no move to stop the stream. Instead, he waits for his best friend to speak, willing him to finally interrupt the clueless babble of water before it is too late. Before Haruka drowns in his own despair.

"It's not that I don't care," Makoto finally speaks up, still frowning, no longer smiling. "I do. How can I not? I love what we do. I love our friends. I'm so happy we get to work with them every day. I couldn't ask for a better team than you guys. Of course, I am worried about what might happen to them."

"But Haru," Makoto sighs, letting go of Haruka's face and reluctantly moving away to turn the tap off. The following quiet feels strangely oppressive, and Haruka tries to slide lower under the surface of the water to get rid of the goosebumps breaking out over his body. "When I think about it all," Makoto continues, "about what the agency's going to do next, I really can't bring myself to care that much if they kick us out, or demote us, or whatever."

Haruka opens his mouth to interrupt him, but Makoto raises his hands in a silent plea and starts talking a little faster, as if afraid to lose his train of thought.

"I've been watching you the whole night," he whispers, still not looking at Haruka. "I've never seen you so… so lost, so wrecked. It hurt so much to look at you. It's obvious you're beating yourself up because of this, so how can I care about all this stupid PR stuff when you're in so much pain?"

Makoto reaches for one of Haruka's hands still wrapped loosely around his knees, laces their fingers together, and Haruka wonders if Makoto can discern the wild beating of his pulse, if he realizes that it is racing because of him.

"You're more important to me than whatever it is the agency thinks I'm supposed to care about," he says louder this time, finally meeting Haruka's eyes shyly. "I do enjoy what we do, and getting to perform in front of our fans is so fun. I'm grateful that I have this opportunity. But I just can't imagine doing this without you by my side. If you're not there, it's no good. It's meaningless without you, Haru!"

It's obvious that Makoto is embarrassed: his ears are deep red and his lips are trembling. But he doesn't backtrack, doesn't try to smooth over the bold proclamation of his feelings by hiding them behind the barrage of unnecessary explanations. He simply squeezes Haruka's hand in his, brings it to his mouth, pressing his warm lips to Haruka's cold skin, closes his eyes, not letting go.

Haruka trembles. His heart has gone mad, beating faster and faster each time Makoto's exhale grazes his skin. He wants to hide from Makoto's bright eyes, but he can't look away, not now, not ever. The water sloshes against his sides encouragingly, urging him to accept Makoto's words and let them lift the heavy weight pressing on his chest.

But he can't do it because Makoto is too important for him to just let go of his mistakes so easily.

"But how can you say this?" he hears his own voice, small and shaking. "I hurt you. It's not like I didn't know what would happen if I… kissed you in front of everyone. I knew and I did it anyway. How can you still think like this after I," he feels the words getting stuck in his throat, not wanting to come out, but he needs to say them, needs Makoto to understand, "after I dragged you into this mess?"

Haruka exhales unsteadily. Somewhere in the middle of his question the tightness in his throat finally goes away, leaving him gulping for breath to fill up his empty lungs. His tears have also run out, now drying uncomfortably on his cheeks. Now that all his fears are out in the open, all he can do is sit in the silence hanging over them and wait for Makoto to speak.

Makoto is still thinking over Haruka's question. But he hasn't let go of Haruka's hand, now absent-mindedly rubbing his chin against the knuckles, and Haruka unconsciously relaxes the taut muscles in his neck.

"You know," Makoto breaks the silence, raking the fingers of his free hand through the water surface, "I just don't see it this way. You didn't kiss me thinking 'Oh, I can't wait to get you in trouble', did you?" he laughs softly when Haruka timidly shakes his head.

"And I doubt you were thinking about other people at that time. Because I wasn't," Makoto averts his eyes, hiding his mouth behind Haruka's hand once again. "Not when I saw you staring at me like… like I was the ocean and you haven't touched water in ages," he blushes furiously at the comparison, and Haruka feels his own cheeks heating up in return. He doesn't remember what he was thinking then, but Makoto's description doesn't seem far from the truth.

"To be honest," Makoto's hushed words tickle Haruka's wrist, "if you hadn't kissed me then, I don't think I wouldn't have jumped you instead."

Haruka feels heat spreading down his neck and wants to hide his face from embarrassment, but he doesn't really feel like taking his hand from Makoto, so he settles on splashing him with water. Makoto giggles and splashes at him in return, and Haruka huffs indignantly, trying and failing to hide his own smile.

But then Makoto's smile dims and he sighs wistfully. "It's so unfair," he says, giving Haruka's fingers a final kiss before letting go of his hand which Haruka unconsciously presses close to his heart. Makoto folds his arms on the edge of the tub, lowering his head to rest on them. He sighs again and continues, "You did nothing wrong. It was just a kiss. It's not that big of a deal. Why do we have to be punished for this?"

Haruka doesn't reply. He never even thought about it himself, certainly not before this night. He just quietly accepted that this is how it is meant to be. Sometimes you need to make sacrifices on your way to the top, turn away from the temptations of youth to ensure a brighter future. But is the top he has been working to reach for the past several years really worth it?

His parents would say that yes, it really is worth it. You can fall in love whenever you want, especially when you are handsome, rich, and famous. Waiting a couple of years or decades means nothing in the grand scheme of things if you manage to achieve this ultimate goal. Throwing all your potential for a passing fling would be, to put it mildly, extremely unwise, he hears his father's phlegmatic voice in his head.

But Makoto isn't a mere "fling", a convenient nobody used only to relieve stress. He has known Makoto for several years already, has spent almost every hour of every day next to him, learned about his dreams and fears, knows all his smiles and the ways to coax them out of him, how to stroke his back after a particularly nasty nightmare. And Makoto knows when Haruka's social battery needs recharging and how to deflect attention away from him when it happens, recognizes when Haruka wants him to fill the silence between them with meaningless chatter or if it's time to enjoy the peaceful quiet. Haruka has never been in a relationship before, knows nothing about romance, but he doesn't think this kind of mutual understanding, love and respect that he and Makoto have is easy to find, especially if the only reason others may be interested in him is his looks, potential wealth, and fame.

He wonders if his parents have heard about the incident. He didn't check his messages before putting his phone to charge. Even if they haven't tried to contact him, they will in the morning. But he doesn't want to think about them right now, not when Makoto is here with him, looking at him with so much admiration as if Haruka hung the moon and the stars.

"I know it's hard to think about it this way," Makoto speaks up softly, "but whatever happens isn't your fault, Haru. Do you remember our first year? When I stumbled and bumped into one of our senpai during practice? It was an accident but I still got bullied pretty hard for the rest of the year. You too, because you didn't stop hanging out with me. Do you remember what you told me back then?"

"'It's their fault if they took it personally'," Haruka recites, shrugging. He remembers the first year and how distraught Makoto was back then. Haruka didn't mind that others kept away from him, though he didn't appreciate how much they enjoyed messing with Makoto. He also clearly remembers thinking It's their fault if they don't see how good you are but he already knew that such words were too dangerous to say out loud.

Makoto nods, "And you were right about it, even if it felt like it was all my fault at the time. It wasn't, and it isn't your fault now. All these rules exist to protect the agency, not us. And they will do what they think will make them look better, not us. But in the end, there is nothing wrong with us being together," Makoto finishes this thought and goes quiet. Then he lowers his gaze and smiles. It is a humble smile, but it's one of Haruka's favorites because it appears when Makoto is really happy but tries not to show it. "And it's okay if everyone sees it. If it's Haru, I don't mind if the whole world knows how much I love you."

It takes Haruka a couple of seconds to process what Makoto said, and the realization squeezes the air out of his lungs. He covers his face in his hands, hiding his embarrassed blush and happy smile, but he knows he failed when he hears Makoto's breathy laugh, the teasing lilt of his voice.

Haruka wants to slide underwater, let it wash away his embarrassment, help him untangle the jumbled mess of his thoughts, find the right words to say. He doesn't know how to properly express his own feelings; the only thoughts occupying his mind are the echoes of Makoto's I love you . But it would be too easy to just blurt these same words out back to Makoto, and Haruka doesn't want to parrot his confession without letting his own feelings guide his mind.

So he doesn't say anything, basking in the warmth of happiness spreading across his body. He peers through the gaps between his fingers, worried that he might have disappointed Makoto, but Makoto just gazes at him tenderly and offers him a knowing smile. Haruka sighs with relief. Even if he doesn't understand Haruka's thought process completely, he knows how important it is for Haruka to gather his thoughts and express his feelings freely.

"I still don't like that it ended up like this," Haruka murmurs into his palms. Makoto hums quizzically, and Haruka sighs, sliding his hands away from his face. "Our first kiss," Haruka doesn't think it is possible to blush deeper, but the heat rushing to his cheeks proves otherwise. "It feels… tainted now. It shouldn't have been like this."

Makoto turns his head towards him, studies his face with a barely concealed smile. "You know, Haru," his voice is quiet, tentative, but Haruka listens with rapt attention, "the best thing about a first kiss is that you get to have more kisses after it."

Haruka feels as if there is steam coming out of his ears. He takes in Makoto's teasing smirk, his eyes, twinkling mischievously with a not-so-subtle longing, the inviting curve of his mouth. Haruka almost listens to the insistent voice in his head begging him to turn away, ignore it, pretend he doesn't notice Makoto's obvious anticipation just like he has been doing for over a year. He knows he had conditioned himself into hiding his true feelings to keep them both safe from the unnecessary scrutiny.

But it is different now. Completely unintentionally, Haruka overpowered his own defenses, threw caution to the wind, let his feelings burst out and overwhelm him in the most excruciating and beautiful way. It doesn't matter now. Because Makoto is here. Makoto accepts him, returns his feelings, waits for him to do the same, to accept himself and allow himself to be loved.

And so Haruka does. Because he is young and deeply in love. Because he is finally free.

He folds his arms on the edge of the tub, mirroring Makoto, lowers his own head down, turning his face toward him. "Yeah, I guess you're right" he breathes out.

They are so close now that Haruka can see the light specks of color in Makoto's irises, twinkling like stars, can feel the warmth of Makoto's exhales on his lips, the sparks of electricity bursting in places where their arms touch. He gazes into Makoto's half-lidded eyes, not able to look away, caught in a whirlpool of emotions drawing him in, closer and closer, until he bumps his nose against Makoto's, making him chuckle sweetly.

Haruka opens his mouth to ask Makoto if he can kiss him because this time, he wants to do it right, but before he can say anything, Makoto closes the achingly small distance between them and captures Haruka's lips with his own.

This second kiss isn't much different from their first. Makoto's closed mouth presses firmly against Haruka's, making his lips tingle and his mind go blank from the heady knowledge that it is Makoto he is kissing right now. But there is no rush, no adrenaline coursing through Haruka's blood drowning his other feelings out, no noise threatening to break their connection. This kiss is chaste, light like ether, meant not to start a fire, but to calm down, to reassure. A silent permission to Haruka's unspoken request. A seal of mutual acceptance. A promise of more to come.

Makoto pulls away, gasping, but Haruka doesn't let him take a breath before chasing him and kissing him again. This time he angles his head a bit to the side, brushing the tip of his nose against Makoto's cheek, and moves his lips just so, slotting their mouths together almost perfectly. Makoto's lips are warm and pliant under his, his tiny sighs tickling Haruka's cheek, sending pleasant jolts of electricity down his body.

They break apart too quickly for Haruka's liking when their lungs can't bear the lack of oxygen anymore. But Haruka can't complain, not when Makoto starts peppering tiny kisses along his jaw in between shaky breaths. They come together again, a little bolder this time, with Makoto catching Haruka's bottom lip between his own and lightly sucking on it, drawing a breathless whimper out of Haruka, almost making him faint.

It takes a couple more attempts before they figure out how to breathe without breaking their kisses. They shift, unfolding their arms, itching to be closer to each other. Makoto cups Haruka's face in his hands, smiles at him in adoration before diving in for another kiss, and Haruka doesn't know what to do with his own hands, but for once he doesn't care, not when he can finally taste Makoto's smile, so he simply covers Makoto's hands with his own, not wanting him to move away, keeping him where he belongs.

Haruka traces the hard mounts of his knuckles with his fingertips, slides them down to Makoto's wrists, presses quick pecks to the heels of his palms when Makoto moves away to take another shuddering breath, making him gasp and whisper a reverent Haru into his mouth. Haruka runs his fingers down Makoto's forearms, lightly scraping his nails over the sensitive skin, basking in the muffled noises coming from the back of Makoto's throat. Chasing them, he moves his hands to Makoto's neck, skims his thumbs down the column of Makoto's throat, making him shiver.

He isn't prepared to feel the wet pressure of Makoto's tongue on his lower lip. He isn't prepared, but he opens his mouth nonetheless, letting Makoto deepen the kiss. It is exhilarating, feeling the water lap softly at his skin with Makoto's tongue licking into his mouth. Caught between the two things he loves the most, Haruka feels light-headed, as if all the blood has left his brain. He grabs onto Makoto's shoulders, trying to ground himself, while Makoto slides his hands into Haruka's hair, sifting his fingers through the wet strands. It feels absolutely amazing, and Haruka is so caught up in the kiss and the heat enveloping his whole body that when Makoto's fingers tug on his hair, he can't hold back a moan, the sound muffled by Makoto's mouth but still loud enough to cut through the heavy silence floating in the bathroom.

They separate with a loud pop, and Haruka finds some solace in the fact that Makoto looks as out of it as Haruka feels: his pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed, mouth red and glistening with saliva, which he promptly wipes with the back of his hand. Still, Haruka can't help but be mortified that he just made such a sound, and so he averts his eyes and, hesitating for a moment, burrows his face in the juncture between Makoto's shoulder and neck, hiding his embarrassment. He feels Makoto's hand on the back of his neck pressing Haruka closer, hears the breathy laugh rumbling in his throat, and can't contain an embarrassed but happy chuckle of his own.

"I'm sorry, Haru. I got a little carried away," Makoto whispers, planting a quick kiss on the shell of Haruka's ear. Haruka hums in response and nuzzles into Makoto's clavicle. They sit like this for a couple of minutes, trying to catch their breaths and calm down the liquid fire burning inside their bodies.

When Haruka no longer feels like he is going to spontaneously combust on the spot, he raises his head, leaving a couple of stray kisses on Makoto's jaw and cheek. He meets Makoto's sparkling eyes again and rests his forehead against Makoto's, reveling in the simple touch. Makoto's hand moves to the back of his head, playing with the short hair growing there. Haruka brings his own hand to Makoto's jaw and places a chaste kiss on his lips.

"I think I'm done with the bath," he murmurs, kissing the corner of Makoto's mouth. Makoto blinks at him in mock astonishment.

"This is the first time I hear these words from you," he chuckles and nuzzles into Haruka's cheek. "But," he suddenly sounds uncharacteristically sheepish, "your hair feels, ah, absolutely disgusting, Haru. I can't let you go to sleep like this. It will fall off and Ama-chan will kill us both!"

Haruka rolls his eyes. His hair wouldn't fall off, and the most Ama-chan would do is passive aggressively quote some proverb, like hair is a mirror to one's soul. He says as much, pouting when Makoto moves away from him to get the bottle of shampoo from the shelf. But he doesn't complain, not when Makoto settles back down near him, pecking Haruka's lips once again, and squeezes the liquid soap onto his hands, intending to do all the work on his own.

Haruka's eyes flutter shut when Makoto's hands burrow into his hair, spreading the shampoo all over his head. The water trills lightly when Makoto scoops some of it into his hand to lather Haruka's hair up. It feels nice when Makoto starts massaging his head, his hands big and warm, his fingers deft and his nails just a perfect length to scratch Haruka's scalp without hurting him, wiping away any stray suds sliding precariously close to Haruka's eyes with his forearms.

Haruka feels the dull headache still pulsing in his skull start to dissipate under the careful attention of Makoto's hands. He sighs contentedly, unconsciously relaxing the muscles of his neck and letting Makoto fully support the heavy weight of his head. Makoto chuckles and stops his massage to brush his lips against Haruka's mouth before continuing with his ministrations.

"Does it feel good, Haru?" he asks quietly, running his thumbs behind Haruka's ears, making him purr from pleasure. Makoto hums at that, moving his hands lower, to the back of Haruka's head, "I'm glad. You looked so tense back in the office. I was so worried. It's so nice to see you relaxed once again."

Haruka sighs a quiet yeah in response, but opens his eyes. He is once again reminded of the fear he felt back there and the acidic bitterness that burned at the back of his throat. Makoto notices, of course he does, and carefully props Haruka's head higher, looking into his eyes with a questioning gaze.

"It's nothing," Haruka starts to say, but waving Makoto off like this feels wrong, so he takes a breath and tries again. "It's just… I thought that I'd lost you for good back then. That you didn't lo— like me anymore. After everything."

He feels annoyed with himself for bringing up his own insecurities again after Makoto has already spent so much time and energy trying to reassure him. But Makoto just nods in understanding.

"I was still a bit stuck in my own head, I think. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," he sounds genuinely regretful and apologetic, "but I wasn't mad at you. A little shocked, yes, but not mad, Haru."

It's Haruka's turn to nod. He gets it. He doesn't think it would have been a good idea for them to huddle together, not where Toudou could have seen them. Nor would it have been a good idea to make a scene in front of the other guys. Haruka shivers when he remembers his friends and feels the cold tendrils of guilt wrapping around his throat.

"You do know the others aren't mad at you, right?" Makoto reads his mind once again, sliding his fingers up and down Haruka's neck, warming up his stiff muscles. "Not even Rin," he claims with confidence, but after a moment of silence lets out a nervous laugh. "Though, to be fair, Rin is a little mad. But not at you," he adds hurriedly, "just at the whole situation."

With that, Makoto shuts his mouth and purses his lips tightly, piquing Haruka's curiosity. Haruka clears his throat meaningfully, regarding Makoto with a prodding look. And even though Makoto pretends to not notice Haruka staring at him, his cheeks grow pinker under Haruka's heavy gaze.

He doesn't last even a minute.

"It's just… Rin is seeing someone," Makoto blurts out quickly, still avoiding Haruka's eyes and sliding his hands to Haruka's shoulders to spread the leftover soap.

Haruka waits for more, but Makoto stays tight-lipped, and Haruka sighs. He mulls the revelation over in his head, racking his brain for hints as to who Rin's mysterious love interest may be. He doesn't know much about Rin's personal life, but he doubts Rin would have time to sneak off on some dating adventure. It must be someone from their professional circle…

"Oh," he finally remembers, "the Yamamoto guy."

"Yamazaki," Makoto corrects him automatically, but then sputters indignantly when he realizes he has just swallowed Haruka's bait. "Haru!"

Haruka smirks triumphantly, but does leave an apologetic kiss on Makoto's forearm. It's not even that hard to guess. Yamazaki, one of their part-time backup dancers, did manage to strike up an easy friendship with Rin and even joined him on a couple of Rin's solo projects. And no matter how hard Rin might try to pretend, it is obvious that Yamazaki's splits aren't the only reason Rin can't take his eyes off of him when he dances.

"How did you know?" he asks because Rin is a private person. No matter how well they get along with each other, he doubts Rin would up and share this incriminating information with Makoto voluntarily.

"I forgot my jacket at the studio once and had to go back," Makoto giggles in embarrassment, cringing at the memory. Haruka hums sympathetically; if he had been in Makoto's place then, he would have probably ripped his eyes out to get rid of the image of Rin canoodling with someone else. He wonders if Rin has been having the same thoughts about him after today's incident.

"It was really awkward," Makoto confirms his suspicions, sliding his hands down Haruka's chest and back, and Haruka ignores an involuntary shiver the simple touch invokes in him. "But Rin's been good about it. He's just nervous that the agency will start digging deeper and find out about him and Sousuke," Makoto admits quietly, and Haruka wonders what else they talked about on their solitary coffee prowl earlier.

"Please, don't tell Rin you know. I don't want him to think I'm a blabbermouth," Makoto gives him his signature puppy dog eyes that he knows Haruka can't resist (not that he really wants to), making him nod in solemn agreement. Makoto smiles sweetly at him and gives his lips a quick kiss. "I can't believe I can just do this now," he whispers in awe and pecks Haruka's lips a couple more times, as if confirming it to himself. Haruka doesn't really mind.

Makoto finishes lathering him up and stands up, reaching for the showerhead fixed to the wall. The action makes the hem of his shirt ride up, exposing his hip, and Haruka can't look away, wants to press his mouth against the soft skin, just because it is there, just because he can. But he manages to restrain himself, though judging by the blush dusting Makoto's cheeks when he sits back down, the intent is still written all over his face.

When Makoto's hand cradles his face again, tilting his head back, Haruka closes his eyes, eager to feel the soft spray of water on his face. Once it comes, he sighs in relief and focuses on the quiet murmur of the shower while Makoto carefully washes off the shampoo from his hair and skin, letting Haruka enjoy the refreshing feeling of the water taking away the day's pain.

After he is done, Makoto turns the shower off, but Haruka doesn't open his eyes, not yet. He breathes in the humid air, no longer stifling, but warming and soothing. He feels lighter, as if the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders. Haruka opens his eyes and is immediately greeted by a warm smile and an outstretched hand.

"Let's get you out of here, Haru."

And who is Haruka to refuse him? He reaches forward to remove the plug and, when the familiar sound of the water draining down the pipes fills the bathroom, lifts his hand and clasps Makoto's palm firmly, letting him pull Haruka up. The water cascades down his body, clinging possessively to his skin, but he shakes it off, sending the stray droplets flying in every direction, making Makoto yelp and laugh. Haruka steps over the edge of the tub, lifts his eyes to Makoto's face, meeting his fond gaze, reaches up for a kiss. Makoto meets him halfway, parting his lips readily, but pulls away much too soon.

"You're too wet," he complains in response to Haruka's pout. Haruka huffs at that.

"You're the only one with a problem here, you do the work," he crosses his arms at his chest, and Makoto chuckles at that, but does take a towel from the rack, holding it up for Haruka to step closer. He does, and Makoto wraps the towel around his head, rubbing Haruka's hair meticulously to get all the moisture out.

Haruka just stands mostly still, content to enjoy the warmth of Makoto's body seeping into his bare skin, though his legs are cramping from having been folded for so long in the tiny tub. Makoto notices his discomfort and hums in understanding.

"Once we're allowed to get our own place," he murmurs near Haruka's ear, "we'll find an apartment with a huge tub, just for you."

This simple statement makes Haruka's heart skip a beat, and he catches Makoto's wrists to halt him and places a clumsy kiss on his chin. It seems to be Makoto's turn to feel flustered, and he quickly turns away to get a bigger bath towel, leaving the smaller one around Haruka's neck.

Being on the receiving end of Makoto's care has always felt good, and it is nice to have Makoto toweling him off now. He starts with Haruka's shoulders, rubbing down his arms, then patting his chest and shoulder blades, moving down to his waist and lower back next. The towel is soft and fluffy, soaking up all the excess water off his skin, leaving it comfortably dry and tingling in places where Makoto's fingers brush against it.

They don't talk, letting the comfortable silence settle in the room, interrupted only by the gurgle of water leaving down the drain. Haruka alternates between watching the water droplets race down the tiled walls and admiring Makoto's focused expression out of the corner of his eye. Makoto's gaze is careful, considerate, warm, but not heated, and Haruka doesn't feel even remotely uncomfortable letting Makoto's eyes and hands roam over his bare skin. It is far from the first time Makoto gets him out of the tub, and even if the novelty of their relationship does add a new level of intimacy to the simplest of touches, it is still Makoto, his best friend, the only person in the world he would feel safe enough with to share the deepest secrets of his heart and body.

Even when Makoto lowers himself to his knees and moves his hands to rub the towel down his thighs, massaging his cramped muscles through the thin fabric, Haruka doesn't shy away from his touch, letting Makoto continue with his pampering. That's not to say that seeing Makoto kneeling in front of his naked body doesn't make his insides ache sweetly, especially not when he sees the tips of Makoto's ears turn deep red right before his eyes. But he stays still, moving his hand discreetly to cover his mouth with the towel, afraid to break the fragile tranquility with his uneven breathing.

Makoto's fingers work deftly on his thighs, and Haruka has to fight the urge to close his eyes, not wanting to look away from Makoto. Makoto keeps his head low and his eyes trained on Haruka's legs, ignoring the heat coming from Haruka's body. After a couple of minutes, he moves on to Haruka's calves, patting them with the towel, warming up his stiff muscles, restoring the blood flow in his limbs. Gradually, the cramping subsides, and Haruka sighs in relief.

"Feeling better?" Makoto whispers, looking up at him through lowered lashes. His hushed words break through Haruka's daze, and he nods, feeling strangely giddy when Makoto beams at him from below. He moves a hand to Makoto's face, grazing his thumb across Makoto's cheekbone.

Makoto's eyes flutter shut at the soft touch, his slow exhale tickling the sensitive skin of Haruka's thighs. His hands move again, this time dragging up the sides of Haruka's legs in a deliberate sort of caress, stopping at the hips, wrapping the towel around them snugly, tucking the corner in at Haruka's side. Having done that, Makoto leans back on his heels, admiring his work, admiring him, but doesn't remove his hands from Haruka's body. Makoto traces the lines of his hips, drawing invisible patterns on Haruka's skin with his delicate touch, then, glancing up, brings his mouth to Haruka's abdomen and presses a lingering kiss to his navel, never breaking eye contact.

Haruka sighs, one hand flying to Makoto's shoulder, gripping it a bit too hard, the other sliding through Makoto's hair to his nape, whether to keep him closer or to gently push him away, he doesn't know, not with Makoto trailing warm kisses up his abs. The feeling is far from unpleasant, but the fluttering in his belly is foreign, too unbridled, and Haruka can't help but squirm under Makoto's lips. Makoto doesn't fail to notice Haruka's conflicted emotions and chuckles softly, the quiet sound reverberating through Haruka's body. He wraps his arms around Haruka's waist, nuzzling into his soft skin, panting quietly, then raises his head, resting his chin on Haruka's belly.

"You're really beautiful, Haru," he whispers fondly, eyes full of unconcealed worship. Embarrassed, Haruka looks away, sneaking one hand to tug the towel from his shoulders and letting it fall across Makoto's beaming face. Makoto giggles, amused and unbothered, unwrapping one of his arms to get rid of the wet cloth. He places one last kiss to Haruka's navel and rises to his feet, leaving a couple of stray pecks on Haruka's sternum on his way up.

Back to his full height, Makoto hugs Haruka's middle, pressing their foreheads together, and hums contentedly. Haruka closes his eyes and wraps his arms around Makoto's neck, basking in the warmth of their embrace. Being so close to him, Haruka hears his quiet breaths, smells the faint scent of his skin, so familiar, so dear. He rises on tiptoes and lays a brief kiss on Makoto's lips, leaving another one in the corner of his mouth, then pecking his nose. His heart skips a beat when Makoto squeezes him tighter, pressing their bodies closer together, and kisses him in earnest. They trade some more languid kisses, keeping them just on the edge of heated, and Haruka simply relishes the slow fire burning under his skin, not too hot to set him ablaze, but still warm enough to make his body tingle all over. But all too soon, Makoto breaks their kiss and opens his mouth to speak, but Haruka knows what he is going to say.

"Stay with me tonight," he cuts Makoto off, not willing to let him go, to pop their cozy bubble yet, afraid he might never get to be with him so freely anymore.

Makoto sighs, kissing his temple, "It's too late, Haru. You should rest. I don't want to bother you."

Haruka rolls his eyes and huffs. "You won't bother me," he says with conviction, but pulls back a little, looking up into Makoto's eyes through his lashes. "And there's a thunderstorm outside," he says with a pout. "I need protection." At that, he nuzzles under Makoto's chin, feeling him shiver, though he isn't sure if it is because he is affected by Haruka's very amateur attempt at seduction or because he feels uneasy about the storm.

"Oh, you want me to protect you?" he feels the ghost of Makoto's rueful chuckle ruffling his hair and hums in affirmation.

After a couple of moments, Makoto gives up. "Alright," he says, squeezing Haruka's middle, "but we need to go to bed right now. Azuma will be very mad if we don't wake up on time."

Haruka nods and reluctantly pulls away. He wants to stay like this a little longer, but, he figures, he can cuddle up to Makoto in bed, which is a fair compromise for their interrupted embrace. He steps aside while Makoto picks up Haruka's discarded towel, taking off his own still wrapped around his neck and hanging them both on the rack.

Haruka leaves the bathroom first, itching to finally get under the covers of his bed and stretch his tired body, but stops in his tracks when a flash of lightning illuminates his tiny room with its unnatural brightness. It is gone in the blink of an eye, leaving him alone in the subdued shadows of the early morning. A couple of moments pass before Haruka hears the quiet rumble of thunder in the distance. He relaxes; the storm seems far enough, sparing them from the brunt of all the noise and chaos, so they might still get a couple of hours of undisturbed sleep, after all.

Makoto steps from the bathroom, flicking the light switch off, plunging Haruka's bedroom into shallow darkness. It isn't pitch black; the sun must have already risen by now. But the sky is still hiding behind the impenetrable wall of clouds blocking the first rays of sunshine from waking the city up. The light that does manage to sneak through is muted, cold, sobering. It lifts the fine film covering Haruka's eyes, leaving him feeling oddly refreshed. His own room seems strange in this light, new, unfamiliar. He takes a step forward, waiting for the illusion to shatter, but the long shadows hiding in the corners of the room don't disappear, don't change their shape. Everything is the same; everything is different.

Haruka shifts his gaze to Makoto, already sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone, probably to set up an alarm. With his back to the window, Makoto's face is illuminated only by the artificial light of his smartphone, his soft features distorted, his eyes squinted from the sharp brightness of the screen. Haruka waits until he puts the phone away on the nightstand, his expression quickly engulfed by greedy shadows. But Haruka wants to see his face, to find out whether this candid light will help him discover something new about Makoto, something never before seen.

He slowly makes his way toward the bed, invading Makoto's space. Makoto looks up, though his gaze lingers on the towel still wrapped around Haruka's hips.

"Aren't you going to change, Haru?" he asks softly, but there is an unfamiliar raspiness to his voice, and Haruka feels unnerved and intrigued at the same time. He hums noncommittally and places his hands on Makoto's shoulders clumsily while Makoto's own palms run down his sides, stopping at his hips, leaving shivers in their wake. They stare into each other's eyes for a long moment, and Haruka can't read Makoto's emotion, it's too dark, but his hands are burning against Haruka's sides, his shallow pants warming up his skin, yet he can't move, his limbs heavy, his mind blank—

A flash.

A rumble.

The air seems to crack as the tension breaks, the smell of ozone filling the room, as Haruka pushes Makoto's shoulders until they hit the mattress while Makoto's hands hurriedly tug on the towel, letting it slide down Haruka's smooth legs, pooling at his ankles. Haruka is hovering over him, body stretched uncomfortably, so he puts his knees on either side of Makoto's thighs, straddling them unceremoniously, and Makoto's hands slide to his back, pulling him closer, fingers teasing the ridge of Haruka's spine. The simple touch feels good, and Haruka almost closes his eyes in pleasure, but then he catches sight of Makoto's face and freezes, drinking him in.

Makoto's hair is disheveled, fanned out across the bed cover, framing his face as if it were an exquisite piece of art. Haruka's hand inches closer to stroke his hair, and he marvels at how soft it is. His eyes, though, roam across Makoto's face, now bathed in the same cold revealing light, open and earnest. Haruka's hand moves to Makoto's brows, following the elegant curve of the dark coarse hairs with a fingertip, but Haruka himself is caught in Makoto's eyes, dark but not from the lack of lighting, yet sparkling like two stars, a unique constellation only Haruka gets to see. It takes him a while to tear his gaze away from the fathomless orbs, following the sharp lines of Makoto's cheekbones, running his thumb across the tender skin. He looks down at Makoto's mouth, open slightly to let out his shaky breaths, and Haruka presses the pad of his finger against it, feeling the tight heat curl sharply in his lower abdomen when Makoto's lips wrap around the tip, kissing it gently. His hand is shaking as he presses his palm against Makoto's cheek, noting how hot it feels against his cool skin, that the weak lighting doesn't reveal the intensity of the blush dusting his face.

He is stunning, and Haruka is so mesmerized by his beauty that he doesn't know what to do, doesn't want to do anything but keep looking at him, until Makoto turns his face into Haruka's palm, exposing his long neck, pale and delicate and inviting. Haruka isn't thinking when he lowers his head, pressing his mouth to Makoto's throat, feeling him sigh and swallow and tremble, finding his pulse. It is exhilarating, feeling the beat of Makoto's heart on his tongue, and he laps at it, wanting to commit its taste to memory. He feels one of Makoto's arms tighten around his waist while his other hand snakes into Haruka's hair, and Haruka hears a strangled moan but doesn't know if it is him or Makoto, doesn't really care.

Haruka raises his head, eyes trained on Makoto's face again, admiring his half-closed eyes, the deep color darkening his cheeks, his open mouth, his shallow panting. He looks at Makoto, at the vulnerable expression on his face, sees the trust and love he has always seen there, yet there is something new hiding in his eyes, something he has never shown Haruka before, as if waiting for this exact moment, to be laid on Haruka's bed, to be touched, to be admired, only for Haruka, only by him. Makoto is the same; Makoto is different.

It is exhilarating, and being so close to him, seeing him underneath his own body in this dim morning light unravels something inside Haruka, making his mind race. How would Makoto look in a different lighting, enveloped in the warm embrace of the sun, basking in the timid caress of the moonlight? How would he taste then? How would it feel to lie under him, next to him, not knowing where his own body ends and Makoto's begins? I want to know I want to know I want to know I—

"I love you," he whispers fervently, and Makoto surges up, kissing him, tugging on his hair to pull him closer, breathing harshly into his mouth, and Haruka dives in, dipping his tongue into Makoto's warmth, feeling his toes curl from how sweet Makoto tastes. He cups Makoto's cheeks in his hands, drawing miniscule circles on the heated skin, and leans closer to him, pressing their chests together, wanting to be closer to him, kiss him deeper, feel each tremble of his body.

The room is quiet, save for an occasional thunderclap rumbling in the distance, but Haruka pays it no mind, too preoccupied with Makoto, drowning in the little noises spilling from his throat, harmonizing with his own breathy whimpers. Haruka can't get enough of them, so he slides his fingers under Makoto's jaw, sensing the mild vibrations of his voice with his own skin, feeling the racing thrum of Makoto's pulse against his palm. Following the line of Makoto's neck, he moves his hands lower, thumbing the ridges of Makoto's collarbones. He wants to glide his hands over Makoto's shoulders and down his chest, caress the wide expanse of firm muscle, but the shirt is in the way, too rough and dull compared to the warm softness of Makoto's skin.

Haruka huffs and breaks the kiss, ignoring Makoto's indignant whimper. He sits back up, dragging his hands down Makoto's clothed chest to the hem of his T-shirt, placing light kisses to Makoto's hand that has moved from the back of Haruka's head to his cheek, then grabs fistfuls of the shirt and starts tugging, hoping Makoto will understand his intention. Makoto does and raises his body along with his arms, letting Haruka undress him. Once he is done, Haruka chucks the shirt to the side, lowers his head to Makoto's neck, pressing his lips to the vulnerable skin, dragging his mouth down and over one of his bare shoulders, while his hands are exploring the smooth skin of Makoto's chest. Makoto's breaths are shaky, his own hands tremble as they land on Haruka's thighs, fingers digging into the plump flesh.

They fall back down, mouths slotting together in feverish kisses, hands roaming free, just to feel, just to touch. Haruka dips his fingertips under the waist of Makoto's shorts, teasing the sensitive skin there, until Makoto's hands join him, slowly dragging the last piece of clothing off. Haruka moves out of his way, parting from Makoto's mouth, lies on his side instead and watches with rapt attention as more of Makoto's body is revealed, pale and almost sparkling when another flash of lightning cuts through the sky outside. Makoto leans forward a bit to tug the shorts lower, and Haruka reaches out a shaking hand to help, sliding them past Makoto's hips and thighs, down to his knees, where Makoto just shimmies out of them, finally free for Haruka to look at, to touch.

Haruka knows he is staring but he can't look away, splays a hand over Makoto's thigh, all tender skin and firm muscle, slowly trailing his palm up, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Makoto nuzzles into Haruka's cheek, pressing a series of kisses down his jaw, and Haruka jolts a bit, roughly scraping his nails across the sensitive skin of Makoto's inner thighs. Makoto's shuddering sigh tickles the wet trail left from his kisses, making Haruka tremble and finally look away, chasing Makoto's mouth, capturing it in another kiss. Makoto hums in contentment and turns, facing Haruka fully again, arm snaking around Haruka's waist, palm hot against his lower back. Lying side by side with Makoto feels amazing, but Haruka wants, needs to be closer to him, and so he hooks his leg over Makoto's hip, bringing them flush against each other, feeling the heat of Makoto's body seeping into his own skin.

With their tongues sliding together, hands roaming over the shivering bodies, hips rocking in tandem to chase the sweet torturous friction, Haruka is overcome with a strong sense of déjà vu. It almost feels as if they are dancing, something they have done hundreds of times before, going through the same motions, mirroring each other's movements, eerily in sync, like two halves of a whole, one soul split into two bodies. But now, it is different. There are no spectators, no pressure to perform, to impress, to create an illusion of perfect harmony. Now, there are only Haruka and Makoto, discovering the secrets of their bodies together.

Their movements aren't flawless, not refined after dozens of hours of practice. Their noses keep bumping against each other, teeth clashing, hands colliding and entangling in their impatient explorations. But every little brush of fingertips, every sigh and whimper, every hushed moan breathed into the cool morning air are full of raw emotion, showing their true feelings, echoing other worshiping caresses they keep peppering each other with. Haruka sucks Makoto's earlobe into his mouth, teasing the sensitive skin; Makoto runs his hand down Haruka's back and bottom, squeezing the round flesh of his buttocks. Haruka presses his fingers into Makoto's back dimples, the ones he has been secretly itching to touch for months; Makoto drags his feet against Haruka's shin in a slow caress, squeezing a breathless moan out of him. Haruka thumbs at Makoto's hardened nipples, making him arch his back in ecstasy; Makoto mouths a reverent Haruka into his skin, making his body tingle from head to toe. Moving to the beat of their hearts, the melody of their moans, it is just the two of them, swept away in their own private dance, hidden from the invasive eyes of the crowd, learning to love each other, etching their devotion into each other's skin with feverish touches.

When their rocking starts to lose its rhythm and their kisses become sloppy, Haruka wraps his hand around them both, stroking them in a loose grip. The sensation of Makoto's cock, hot and hard and throbbing, pressed against his own is almost enough to take him over the edge, but not quite, so he hides his face in Makoto's neck, trying to muffle the noises spilling out of his throat. Makoto himself sounds close, too, his harsh pants warm against Haruka's ear. One of his hands covers Haruka's, tightening the hold on their erections, and his other hand grips Haruka's hip, as if he is trying to ground himself. Haruka's mind goes foggy, focused only on the sensation of Makoto's palm sliding against him, the smell of his sweat, the sound of his mewls, but then Makoto presses his thigh between Haruka's legs, rubbing it against his groin, and Haruka comes with a silent cry, the tightness in his lower belly uncoiling sharply, his body spasming in pleasure. Dimly, he hears Makoto follow him with Haruka's name on his lips, and almost instinctively grips his twitching cock harder to guide him through his release.

Soon, they are both lying spent, limbs tangled, trying to get their breathing under control. Haruka finally discerns a muffled pitter-patter of rain hitting against his window and realizes it must have started some time during their lovemaking. It is soothing and comforting, mixing well with Makoto's quiet breaths, and he wonders if it will wash away the remains of the night's unbearable heat from the streets. The light sheen of sweat on Haruka's skin is starting to cool, but not uncomfortably so, unlike his and Makoto's come on his hand and belly, sticky and a bit too wet, but his body is too heavy, refusing to cooperate, so he doesn't do anything about it, letting it dry slowly.

That is, until he feels Makoto shift beside him. Haruka immediately opens his eyes to find him starting to sit up. Instantly, he throws his arms around Makoto's neck, hugging him tightly, and Makoto falls into his forceful embrace with a loud yelp.

"Haru," he drawls, nuzzling into the side of Haruka's head, "I just want to get the towel. We need to clean up."

"... No," Haruka refuses, nipping at Makoto's earlobe with finality. Makoto sighs in mock indignation but kisses Haruka's temple.

"I won't leave, I promise," he whispers, moving his lips to Haruka's cheek, then his nose, then his chin, starts trailing a series of light pecks up his jaw, tickling him with his breath on purpose, and Haruka makes a face.

"Fine," he grumbles quietly and loosens his hold on Makoto's neck, but doesn't let go completely, making Makoto stretch his body and arm to scoop the discarded towel from the floor. It takes him some time, but he finally does manage to grasp it, and promptly flops back near Haruka, laughing quietly all along. He quickly wipes his own hand and body of the sticky fluid, then carefully cleans Haruka's belly and hand, placing a tender kiss on his knuckles when he is done.

Makoto barely has time to toss the towel away when Haruka tugs him back down again. This time, he lies down willingly, lowering himself on Haruka's body, and Haruka spreads his legs to accommodate him. Makoto is still chuckling breathlessly when they kiss, and the taste of his mirth on Haruka's tongue makes him feel light-headed.

"So much for going to bed right away," Makoto sighs when they break apart.

Haruka hums. "I don't mind," he says, drawing him in for another slow kiss, legs wrapping around his middle.

"Mm-hmm. Me neither," Makoto whispers into his mouth before their lips meet, and for a while there are no sounds.

They continue trading light lazy kisses for some minutes, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. It feels wonderful, feeling Makoto's strong body on top of his own, warm and grounding, sliding against his own as if he always belonged there. Haruka lets his hands wander, palming the strong muscles of his back, burying his fingers in his soft hair. Makoto's own hands aren't idle either, running up and down Haruka's thighs and buttocks, drawing abstract patterns on the tender skin. His touch isn't sexual, more absent-minded than purposeful, a wordless reassurance that Makoto is here and isn't going away, and even though he feels ticklish, Haruka relaxes under the gentle caress.

Lying with Makoto in his arms, listening to the quiet murmur of rain, Haruka feels at peace. He hasn't noticed when the crippling fear and worry finally faded away from his mind; he tries to look for them, but finds deep contentment and happiness instead. Makoto is his, and he is Makoto's, and this simple fact won't change any time soon, no matter what may happen after they wake up.

As Makoto moves his lips to Haruka's neck, pressing them against Haruka's heartbeat, Haruka thinks that he is really happy that he kissed Makoto tonight because—

"... because I can't imagine how I'd be able to live another day without kissing you," Makoto murmurs, kissing the shell of his ear, and Haruka jolts a bit, staring at him with wide eyes, wondering if Makoto has actually read his mind this time. Makoto raises his head to take him in, blushing and looking a bit starstruck, and laughs quietly.

"You look so sleepy, Haru. I think we should turn in for… the morning while we still can," with that, he kisses Haruka's forehead and lifts himself off his body. Haruka wants to argue, instantly missing his warmth, but he does feel a bit sluggish. Figuring that the sooner he lies down, the sooner he can cuddle up to Makoto again, he promptly sits up, crawling up the bed after Makoto, who has already settled on one of the pillows, and dives under the covers, stretching his body in silent contentment.

Makoto slides under after him, and Haruka raises his head a bit, waiting for Makoto to take the hint. Makoto does, sliding his arm under Haruka's neck, and Haruka snuggles up to him, using it as a pillow. Makoto chuckles, wrapping his free arm around Haruka's middle, while Haruka burrows his face under his chin, his hands splayed against Makoto's chest. He knows it will soon get very uncomfortable and too warm, but for now he wants to enjoy Makoto's warmth, his gentle embrace, and the light kisses he presses against Haruka's hair.

It is quiet. The rain is still pouring outside, but Haruka doesn't really hear it; all his senses are occupied by Makoto. Haruka breathes in his scent, his taste still on Haruka's tongue, his arm a welcome weight on his waist. Haruka closes his eyes finally, seeing Makoto's soft skin even behind closed eyelids. For a moment, Haruka realizes that he hasn't heard the thunder for a while, but the thought is fleeting, gone before he can process it, lulled to pleasant nothingness by Makoto's steady breathing…

Haruka opens his eyes again and winces. He must have really fallen asleep because the room is now brightly lit, and his eyes water from the intensity of sunlight beaming straight onto his face. He peers at the window, noting in sleepy surprise that the sky is still a deep gray; yet, the sun somehow found the way to sneak into Haruka's room and wake him up quite unceremoniously. For that, he decides to no longer pay it any mind and turns away grumpily, accidentally nudging Makoto.

He freezes, afraid that he might have woken him up, but Makoto just stirs a bit, his breathing even, his lashes still. Haruka lets out a long exhale and settles back down. They have changed their sleeping arrangements, with Haruka lying on his back and Makoto moving to lie on his stomach, his arm no longer cushioning Haruka's head. He is a bit miffed about it, but quickly chases the thought away, focusing on Makoto's serene face, the way his cheek is squished against the pillow, his mouth slightly open, letting out quiet snores. He is beautiful, his Makoto, and Haruka just drinks him in, happy to lie next to him and watch him sleep peacefully, free of all the worries and burdens he has to carry while awake.

Haruka shifts his gaze, noticing a strip of sunlight on Makoto's shoulder, and presses his mouth to the glowing skin. The sun tastes warm against his tongue, and Haruka sighs, wanting to cover other parts of Makoto's body in light morning kisses. But he doesn't want to wake him up, and so he lays his head down near Makoto's face, feeling his breaths tickle his own skin.

His eyelids grow heavy, and he lets them slip closed. The last thought Haruka has before the sleep reclaims him is that even though the sun might be the only star he gets to see these days, he doesn't care about it, not when Makoto is right here with him, warmer and brighter than any star that has ever littered the night sky.