A small drabble on a personal headcanon I have at the end of ES, because I'm happy that MakoHaru are legit soulmates, sad that Free! is over, and pleased that they will always be one of my closest OTPs in my heart.
Made this in a few hours, so mistakes are completely mine.
-/-
Deciding to swim competitively was a lot harder than it should have been.
Haru knew what he was signing up for when he found it, a dream he could follow wholeheartedly and without hesitation, but he didn't expect it to be so damn demanding.
It was a good thing that his trainer understood him. He never pushed Haru into getting a higher time, or for him to even win, just enough for Haru to make it to the other waters of the world and have the chance to dive deep into its depths.
More often than not he'd go back to his apartment completely exhausted and just drop off to sleep in his bed (or couch, if it was a particularly grueling training session) without even showering or eating. Haru knew he would get used to it eventually, once he got into the rhythm, but the adjustment was taking some time, especially now he was smack-dab into the busiest city in Japan and not in peaceful, slow-going Iwatobi.
Like now.
Haru was so tired he couldn't even think straight. He barely managed to dress himself in the locker rooms, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he forced his aching legs to move, one step at a time. His vision was dazed, head curiously light and floating as he bypassed the swarm of people going home as well, the sun already sunk on the horizon.
His body was moving on autopilot now, buying his ticket in the train station and waiting for his train to arrive, eyelids threatening to shut down every few seconds. Haru yawned as the train pulled up, covering his mouth with his hand as he entered along with the rest of the crowd and positioned himself by the nearest handle, grabbing one and resting his head on his propped arm. He should rest just a bit, Haru thought, barely able to see his shoes below despite his efforts to keep his eyes open. But he wasn't too familiar with the stations yet, he might miss his stop if he let himself sleep.
Maybe he did doze off, Haru didn't know, because the next thing he knew his eyes were blearily opened and his feet were moving onto the platform. He moved with the evening rush, not even knowing if he was at the right stop, if he was on the right street back to his apartment. But he was too exhausted to really care, finally arriving into a complex that was vaguely familiar to his addled mind. He trudged the stairs with an herculean effort, almost toppling down if not for the firm grip he had on the metal bar. But he managed, and eventually made it to the right floor, dull blue searching for the right door.
There. Second on the right. He moved, almost tripping on his laces as he finally arrived, shoulder banging against the wood in an abnormally loud manner. He patted his pockets for his keys, while the other hand was rattling the doorknob. Where was it, he was so close, his bed was only a few meters away he could almost feel it--
Without warning the door opened and Haru found himself falling towards--
Warmth.
"Haru! What are you doing here?" A surprised voice sounded above him, large, gentle hands cradling his shoulders, effortlessly holding up the weight Haru suddenly couldn't carry anymore.
"Mmph." Haru mumbled into Makoto's chest, almost falling to his knees if not to Makoto's sure grip. He gripped Makoto's shirt and inhaled deeply. The scent of the ocean breeze still clung to his skin, enough to lull him deeper into a sense of calm.
Makoto always smelled like home.
"It can't be helped." Haru could almost visualize the tilt of Makoto's lips, the fond exasperation on his face as he all but carried Haru inside his apartment. "Come on, inside."
Haru didn't answer, completely boneless in Makoto's arms and already on his way to dreamland. Makoto was just so warm, so familiar it was too easy for Haru to drop his guards and let himself be guided by Makoto's presence.
He was safe with Makoto.
"Haru? Come on, on the bed..." Soon enough the warmth at his front disappeared, weight sinking beside him and hands brushing on his sides as his shirt was pulled over his arms and head. The cold air hit his bare skin, enough for Haru's sleepiness to dissipate and raise his head with a slight glare, but fluff replaced it when he was pushed to his back, with light cotton draped over him. Haru sank into the cool softness, the scent of home faint but still recognizable.
"Go to sleep." Makoto's voice was warm, whispered against his ear while a hand ran over his hair, and a rumble sounded in Haru's throat. It felt nice and soothing, his head torn between craning to feel more of those fingers, or towards the cloud he was resting his cheek on.
"Stay." He murmured. Still wasn't enough. He reached out, caught fabric and a solid wall of muscle. His arm raised weakly, haphazard in their placement over Makoto's waist, he recognized it with his fingers, He moved closer, away from the cloud into something firmer but much more warm as his breaths evened out.
He could feel Makoto's breath stutter over his head, a bit quickened, his muscles tense against his cheek. But eventually he relaxed, his fingers resuming its work on his dark hair.
And for the first time in a while, Haru felt he was back at home.
-/-
tl;dr When Haru's too tired to go back home after training he always ends up at Makoto's apartment somehow. And Makoto always takes care of him afterwards.
It's been a while I last posted something and I do apologize because I'm working 9 hours a day and I work night shift so in the mornings I'm pretty much out like a light. But the recent episodes of Free! is breaking my heart, and I need some MakoHaru comfort. So here you go.
-/-
It was the aftermath of his fight with Rin and it still left a bitter taste in Haru's mouth. Nagisa and Rei reluctantly went on ahead, exchanging worried glances, when Haru assured them that he'll still see them at the relay. But Makoto, understandably, stayed behind, still watching Haru with concern.
"Makoto, I--"
But Makoto shook his head, olive green eyes a little narrowed as he grabbed Haru's hand and dragged him out and away from the locker room.
Makoto wasn't looking back, fingers tight where they wrapped around Haru's wrist, but his strides were long and heavy with purpose. Haru looked at their joined hands and then at Makoto's back, eyes wide, as Makoto deliberately pushed against the people on the walkway with polite excuses, pulling Haru along.
Eventually they managed to find a darker, more secluded corridor, and it was only then that Makoto let him go and turned around to face him.
Makoto's face was half-covered in the shadows, eyes hidden under his bangs. Out of the two of them, Makoto's the more vocal one, and the fact that he was so silent disquieted Haru more than he thought.
"Is this what you've been worrying about all this time?" Makoto finally asked, looking up and staring at him.
Haru couldn't meet his gaze. Only Makoto could make him feel so ashamed of himself without really saying anything.
"I hate it." His fingers clenched into a fist. "All this scouting, competing, talk of the future.... I hate it."
Nothing good ever came out of competing against one another. He lost Rin that way once. All those talk of his potential, his talent, deciding for his future as if he wasn't even there sickened him. He didn't want to be the center of people's expectations, to be the tether to their dreams and the support for their goals. It was suffocating, crushing and before he knew it his love for water would disappear and he would lose the people he cared about.
He breathed in, but he was still drowning.
"But Haru--"
"I don't swim for them. And I will never swim for them!" It was selfish, self-serving, but Haru didn't care. Rin would never understand how he felt. Swimming for his friends and himself was his only happiness, his dream, and he wouldn't let anyone take that away from him.
He faced Makoto with fire in his eyes, expecting the same thing to come from Makoto's lips, only for his eyes to widen in shock as Makoto closed the distance between them and enfolded Haru into his arms.
"Haru, you idiot!" Makoto's voice wavered against his ear, hands splayed on Haru's back, clutching at his jacket. "Of course you don't have to swim for them! You've always swam for yourself! It doesn't matter what others say! So stop beating yourself up over it!"
Haru couldn't speak, couldn't think, surrounded by the large warmth of Makoto's body, cooled chests pressed skin to skin while Makoto's body trembled in front of him.
"I... was really happy when you said that you swim for your friends as well." Makoto's voice was still thick with emotion, and some part of Haru instinctively reached out to pat Makoto's shoulder because Makoto was starting to cry again. "You're happiest when you swim. So it's fine. You're okay, Haru."
"Makoto..."
"Haru, it doesn't matter. So... so swim the way you want to."
He should have known better. Makoto never expected anything of him, only accepted what he could give and was happy despite how little it could be. Makoto never had any illusions or goals about him, only saw him for who he was and liked him because of it.
Makoto, who only watched and waited for him. Makoto, who was now telling him the one thing he wanted to hear the most. That it was okay. That he could be as selfish as he could be, and still make Makoto happy.
Because Makoto never expected anything from him. Makoto understood him, more than anyone else in the world. And that made Haru work hard to make sure Makoto would be proud of him, every single time.
"This isn't something you should be crying about, you know." Haru's lips sighed, but his hands were running up to Makoto's shoulders to loop his arms around his neck. Haru was never really a tactile person, but sometimes... it was nice to be held. Just for a moment.
"But I can't help it!" The tears stained Haru's shoulder but he couldn't care less, holding on just as tightly as Makoto held on to him.
Haru wouldn't say it, never would in a hundred years, but it could be felt in the way in his body relaxed and melded against the other's, the gentle movement Haru's fingers made on the back of Makoto's head, the subtle way Haru's head leaned on Makoto's collarbone, breathing quietly against his neck.
