I'm sorry for being both SouMako and MakoHaru trash.
819 words
“Ahhh, there’s food in the fridge that my mom made, so it’s edible. And I cleaned up your room a little because I couldn’t really think of anything else to do. You should probably have a bath and relax Haru. I’ll be on my way…” Makoto awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, avoiding Haru’s eyes.
“Makoto, I…” Haru looks as if he’ll cry, unable to reach out for Makoto, unable to ask him to stay.
He wants Makoto to know what it felt like to be without him.
He wants to explain all the overwhelming feelings and thoughts still swirling around his head.
He wants Makoto to stay next to him, and hold his hand again, and guide him through the mess of confusion in his head.
He wants Makoto…
It’s Makoto fault really, always knowing what’s on Haru’s mind.
Always knowing exactly what needs to be said and done.
And Haru always knows what Makoto wants.
They have always done everything together.
And Haru never wants to think about losing that closeness, of losing Makoto.
In Australia, with the ocean between them, Haru felt like his heart would break.
But it was Makoto who let go of his hand. It was Makoto who called Rin, instead of coming to Haru himself.
Makoto was the one who pushed Haru away.
The distance between them seemed to expand unreachably in the span of one heartbreaking night.
How could he tell Makoto that the reason he was afraid of moving on was because he did not want to be without his best friend?
And Makoto had gone ahead and made the decision for them both, without asking him anything.
It scared him that there were parts of Makoto he didn’t know at all.
It frightened him to his core that Makoto was capable of imagining a life without him.
Because to him, the idea of being without his Makoto is unfathomable.
It is alien to his very being, and he feels nauseous when he thinks about staying in Iwatobi, or going to Australia or anywhere else in the world where Makoto is not by his side.
His night in Australia was spent twisting and turning in bed next to a soundly sleeping Rin, thinking about the moment Makoto let go of his hand.
But the words Makoto said as the sky lit up with fireworks, and the hurt in his eyes, meant something else entirely.
Haru thinks about having to let Makoto go once more, and it sends his mind spiralling into a cold darkness.
He hugs himself instinctively, reeling a little from the icy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
When he looks up, Makoto’s eyes are focused on him, filled with unspoken concern. His gaze burns a hole right through the core of heart, as if they can see everything.
If those honest eyes, green as the first leaves of spring, keep looking at Haru, he will surely drown in them.
Haru finds himself closing the distance between himself and Makoto, feels his hands reaching up for Makoto’s face and placing them in front of the beautiful pair of green eyes that have haunted his every moment since he last saw them, with fireworks reflected in their limpid depths.
“H-Haru?” Makoto’s confusion seeps through the space between them, infecting them both.
The urge inside Haru is too overpowering, and his body is already miles ahead of his mind, leaving his reason in shambles.
It feels like Makoto is so much taller than Haru.
It’s so hard to take that pale face between his hands and draw those soft, pink lips closer.
Makoto’s lips have always held a fascination for Haru.
Back in school, Haru often found himself drawing rough sketches of eyes and lips in the margins of his notebooks, and realized that they all resembled Makoto’s features.
He wants to taste them now, to see Makoto’s eyes up close, to see himself reflected in their glistening green mirrors.
When their lips meet, Haru feels Makoto’s skin heat up.
It’s awkward at first, bumping lips together, but Haru refuses to let go, standing on his tiptoes, his thin fingers twisting firmly in locks of Makoto’s hair.
Makoto smells like the comfort of home- the scent of his cherry blossom shampoo invades Haru’s senses and he cannot help but want more.
Haru's small tongue escapes his thin lips and traces the outline of Makoto’s mouth.
Makoto moans involuntarily, opening up to Haru.
He tastes like matcha mixed with honey. And a hint of chocolate.
It’s the sweetest, purest taste Haru has ever savored.
It is Haru’s first kiss, and he knows that Makoto has never been kissed before either.
All of Makoto’s firsts belong to Haru, and no one else.
He will not give Makoto up, he will not be parted from his best friend, from the boy he loves the most.
FILL: TEAM TACHIBANA MAKOTO/YAMAZAKI SOUSUKE, T
I'm sorry for being both SouMako and MakoHaru trash.
819 words
“Ahhh, there’s food in the fridge that my mom made, so it’s edible. And I cleaned up your room a little because I couldn’t really think of anything else to do. You should probably have a bath and relax Haru. I’ll be on my way…” Makoto awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, avoiding Haru’s eyes.
“Makoto, I…” Haru looks as if he’ll cry, unable to reach out for Makoto, unable to ask him to stay.
He wants Makoto to know what it felt like to be without him.
He wants to explain all the overwhelming feelings and thoughts still swirling around his head.
He wants Makoto to stay next to him, and hold his hand again, and guide him through the mess of confusion in his head.
He wants Makoto…
It’s Makoto fault really, always knowing what’s on Haru’s mind.
Always knowing exactly what needs to be said and done.
And Haru always knows what Makoto wants.
They have always done everything together.
And Haru never wants to think about losing that closeness, of losing Makoto.
In Australia, with the ocean between them, Haru felt like his heart would break.
But it was Makoto who let go of his hand. It was Makoto who called Rin, instead of coming to Haru himself.
Makoto was the one who pushed Haru away.
The distance between them seemed to expand unreachably in the span of one heartbreaking night.
How could he tell Makoto that the reason he was afraid of moving on was because he did not want to be without his best friend?
And Makoto had gone ahead and made the decision for them both, without asking him anything.
It scared him that there were parts of Makoto he didn’t know at all.
It frightened him to his core that Makoto was capable of imagining a life without him.
Because to him, the idea of being without his Makoto is unfathomable.
It is alien to his very being, and he feels nauseous when he thinks about staying in Iwatobi, or going to Australia or anywhere else in the world where Makoto is not by his side.
His night in Australia was spent twisting and turning in bed next to a soundly sleeping Rin, thinking about the moment Makoto let go of his hand.
But the words Makoto said as the sky lit up with fireworks, and the hurt in his eyes, meant something else entirely.
Haru thinks about having to let Makoto go once more, and it sends his mind spiralling into a cold darkness.
He hugs himself instinctively, reeling a little from the icy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
When he looks up, Makoto’s eyes are focused on him, filled with unspoken concern. His gaze burns a hole right through the core of heart, as if they can see everything.
If those honest eyes, green as the first leaves of spring, keep looking at Haru, he will surely drown in them.
Haru finds himself closing the distance between himself and Makoto, feels his hands reaching up for Makoto’s face and placing them in front of the beautiful pair of green eyes that have haunted his every moment since he last saw them, with fireworks reflected in their limpid depths.
“H-Haru?” Makoto’s confusion seeps through the space between them, infecting them both.
The urge inside Haru is too overpowering, and his body is already miles ahead of his mind, leaving his reason in shambles.
It feels like Makoto is so much taller than Haru.
It’s so hard to take that pale face between his hands and draw those soft, pink lips closer.
Makoto’s lips have always held a fascination for Haru.
Back in school, Haru often found himself drawing rough sketches of eyes and lips in the margins of his notebooks, and realized that they all resembled Makoto’s features.
He wants to taste them now, to see Makoto’s eyes up close, to see himself reflected in their glistening green mirrors.
When their lips meet, Haru feels Makoto’s skin heat up.
It’s awkward at first, bumping lips together, but Haru refuses to let go, standing on his tiptoes, his thin fingers twisting firmly in locks of Makoto’s hair.
Makoto smells like the comfort of home- the scent of his cherry blossom shampoo invades Haru’s senses and he cannot help but want more.
Haru's small tongue escapes his thin lips and traces the outline of Makoto’s mouth.
Makoto moans involuntarily, opening up to Haru.
He tastes like matcha mixed with honey. And a hint of chocolate.
It’s the sweetest, purest taste Haru has ever savored.
It is Haru’s first kiss, and he knows that Makoto has never been kissed before either.
All of Makoto’s firsts belong to Haru, and no one else.
He will not give Makoto up, he will not be parted from his best friend, from the boy he loves the most.
Nothing will come between them again.