I ONLY SWIM FREESTYLE

With time, the storm passes, leaving only the sound of gentle rain drops on the roof. Once she’s sure that everything is calm again, Makoto peeks up at Haru, green eyes luminous in the flicker of the candlelight.

"I’m okay now, Haru."

"I knew you'd be," he mumbles quietly, scooting down a little so their eyes are level with each other. He rubs his thumb against her arm quietly, watching her for a moment. "What do you want to do?" As in, stay here? Or crawl out and go to bed or something?

"I'm going to the convenience store." Unsaid: are you coming?

#rp #open

vvictor-blog1

Want some mackerel?

With his hand over her other ear, the world around her becomes muffled in sound, distant and distorted. Makoto can definitely still hear the storm, but like this, it’s more manageable, just a odd rumble instead of a loud crack against the silence. Bit by bit, she relaxes until all she focuses on is Haru’s breathing and warmth instead of the forces of nature outside their house. She touches her forehead to his collarbone, breathing out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you."

He nods, doesn't say anything, just rubs his fingers against her scalp the way she might do if he were in his cat body. Words don't always come easily to his mouth and he's having one of those moments now, where he doesn't know what to say. Saying "you're welcome" just feels so formal, or something. Not like the right words. So instead he just kisses the top of her head, quiet, then sets his chin there.

Makoto makes a small noise of consent, trying to at least cover one ear using his shoulder so that the lightning rings less loudly in her head. “I hate storms,” she whispers, closing her eyes tightly. Haru already knows that— has known that for the twenty odd years they’ve been together. But she tells him everytime they end up like this, as if saying the words will offend the storm and make it go away faster. “I hate them.”

"I know," he mumbles, as if she hasn't heard him say it before, but it seems to be the right thing to say in this conversation -- because he knows, but he's not judgmental about it either. He's not saying to calm down, or to get over it, he just wants to acknowledge what she's telling him. He pulls her closer to him, so she's in his lap, arms curled tight, as if he could get her any closer still. "You're okay." He slides his hand up, pressing it flat against the ear she isn't covering.

"You already have come in.” She lets out a shaky laugh, but once he’s settled, she immediately turns and presses her face into the crook of his neck, her fingers clutching at his shirt. But now that he’s here next to her, her trembling slows down, as does her breathing. Slowly but surely, she relaxes, only tensing every time a new crack of lightning sounds outside the house. “S-Sorry about the mess.”

"I don't care about that. We can clean it up later." He reaches up with the arm around her shoulders, slides his fingers into her hair gently. She's shaking still, even if it's less hard, and he's quiet, rubbing a bit of her hair between thumb and forefinger. "Once this goes away, I'll make you something to eat, okay?" He doesn't care what it is. She could ask for something extravagant and he'd be all right with that.

"Over here," comes the quiet reply. Makoto has shoved herself in the space under her work table where her traveling trunk usually goes. It’s her safe spot, and when she felt the storm in the air, she had immediately tossed the trunk aside to get there, as evidenced by the mess on the floor in front of her. Her arms are wrapped around her knees, and the tremors of fear are just starting to run through her body.

He approaches the table, then crouches, reaching to place his hand on her knee. "Can I come in too?" He might be too big in human form, though, he muses, though he moves to try and get under anyway. The broken glass is nearby, clearly part of what she was working on, and he pushes it away with a spell as he climbs carefully into the space next to her. It is a little cramped, but he works to curl his arm around her anyway. "It's okay."

witch mako and sometimes cat, sometimes boy haru

Haru's in the library, trying to decide whether the Grimoire Nox or the Standard Book of Standard Potions would be better for what Makoto is working on, when suddenly it starts to rain. Not just rain, but pour, a veritable downpour that he can hear through the roof, a barrage of water. He sets both books down on the table, eyes directed up to the ceiling, when the crash of lightning sounds, and only about two seconds later comes the boom of thunder. With the first noise, there's the unmistakeable noise of glass breaking somewhere else in the house, and he leaves the library, returning to the workroom. "Makoto," he says quietly, scanning the room. She's in here, he can smell her, but... where?

"…probably." If he’s perfectly honest with himself, he’d rather Haru look at pictures than dress up again. It’ll still be embarrassing, but a more tolerable level of embarrassment. "Anyways, you didn’t change into this, er…costume, until later, right? So you were in a butler suit for a while? Do you think Nagisa got a picture of you then?"

"Hm." Did he? Haru doesn't remember. He doesn't really pay attention to Nagisa and his phone, which must have to be emptied of images like five times a day.

"... I think so. You can ask him." He gets back up, then sits next to Makoto, handing him a Wiimote. "Mario Kart?"

blindspotsandsunshine-deactivat

reblog if you want your followers to tell you one thing they secretly think about you.

#[icly of course]

"I don’t really get it…but even if I wanted to show you, I can’t. The theater club took back the suit. Sorry, Haru." He’s a little relieved about that fact, to be honest. Even if it’s a request from Haru, wearing that outfit was just too embarrassing…

"Mmn." He looks like he's considering this, reaching to push a lock of hair behind his ear. It's a more feminine gesture than he's used to, but this wig just has so much hair... "Nagisa will probably have pictures though."

Makoto murmurs a “no, thank you,” and then his brain processes Haru’s request. A second later his body catches up, face catching fire as he sputters through his embarrassment.

"W-Why would you want to see it?!"

"Everyone else got to see it," he replies, turning to face him. "It's not fair if I don't." Besides, Makoto would fit an outfit like that. Even if he's not that good at domestic tasks...

"What occasion could you even wear it for…?" The girls in their class are nice, but he really wonders about their thought process sometimes. It would’ve made more sense for them to keep it for another culture festival, or even let one of them keep it. But what’s done is done.

"I guess it was nice of them to compensate you for your trouble, though." Even if the compensation is less than practical.

"I hadn't thought about it." Haru continues to eat quietly, then sets his empty bowl aside. "If you want some, there's still some rice." Aloof or not, he's still an all right host.

He sits quietly for a moment, and then looks back up at Makoto. "Will you show me your butler outfit later?"

"You’re going to spoil your appetite before dinner…" But he walks the few steps in, his expression turning amused. Haru is a little strange sometimes, but it’s part of who he is, so Makoto just accepts this new revelation just like he has all of Haru’s other quirks. "You do have to return that to the theater department later, so don’t get too comfy in it. Or are you giving up your jammers for good?"

"Can't swim in a dress," he mumbles, picking his chopsticks back up. He has to push a lock of the wig's hair behind his ear at the same time, and reaches up with the opposite hand. "And they gave it to me. They said it was payment for being a good sport." Not that... Haru will have much use for it outside of the festival.

Really, should Makoto have expected anything else? This is the same boy who willingly wore a girl’s swimsuit when he was younger, after all. So he just shakes his head and smiles sheepishly.

"Sorry, Haru! I was getting too hot in the suit. I’m pretty sure the girls in our class will have lots of pictures though."

"Oh." This seems to be enough explanation for Haru, who nods, then reaches to tug at Makoto's hand a little. "Come sit down," he says quietly, turning to move back to the table. "My rice is getting cold."

He sits again, looking over his shoulder expectantly. "The dress is airy," he adds. "So it's not uncomfortable."

He’d heard rumors about how his female classmates had roped Haru into being an extra maid for their class cafe. (Probably by offering him mackerel; their classmates know Haru’s quirks very well by this point of the year.) He’d been working in the butler cafe right next door the whole afternoon, though, and hadn’t gotten a chance to see the spectacle for himself— and when Haru texted him from his house inviting him over for the night, he thought he never would. Which is okay, since he wants to respect Haru’s privacy, but at the same time he’s terribly curious.

So when he steps into the Nanase house, he’s very bewildered at the sight of the pretty girl seated in the living room, but doesn’t hesitate to step closer to get a better look. Even if Haru is dressed as a girl, he can tell it’s him.

"Haru, you haven’t changed yet?"