"Here you go." Makoto refills your cup with still-fizzy soda. You still feel that current when his fingers brush against yours, but it doesn't startle you anymore. Well, not as much as it used to, at least.
This year-end party has somehow become your fourth date because his friend group has so many guys they needed to balance the numbers, and you accepted the resulting invitation. Swarms of people you don't know crowd the room, so you stick with Makoto, but there have been multiple close calls where you've almost lost him in the throng.
"Oh dear," Makoto sighs, watching everyone make a beeline for the TV. "It's going to get even wilder now. Here," he says, offering you a hand that is only shaking a little, "Stay close to me."
You've held his hand a grand total of TWICE so far, and the prospect of holding it a third time has you feeling a little lightheaded. You stagger slightly, nearly spilling your drink.
It's four minutes to midnight.
"Are-are you okay?" Makoto yelps, grabbing your shoulders to steady you. Unfortunately, that does not help.
"I'm fine," you mumble, extremely conscious of his hands on your sleeve, only a thin barrier of cloth separating his palms from your skin. You're floating an inch above the floor, but at the same time ready to sink into the ground because his face is so close to yours now.
Makoto gets this little furrow between his brows when he's worried. It's cute. "Let's go somewhere quiet," he suggests.
He offers you his hand again. Heart pounding in your chest, you take it.
It's three minutes to midnight.
The balcony is surprisingly empty. From here, you can see the local residents heading towards the temple next door. The lanterns cast a soft yellow blanket on the neighbouring buildings, including this one. They make Makoto's brown hair glow and his green eyes glitter.
When you're with him in this sheltered nook, the noise behind you doesn't seem all that bad anymore.
"I'm okay now," you reassure him. "Thanks."
"That's a relief," he says, smiling. "I was worried the party might be too much for you, especially since you don't really know anyone. But this place is okay, isn't it?" He adds.
"It is," you confirm, and the worry in his eyes fades.
"I'm glad. You see…" Makoto hesitates. "I didn't want to scare you off."
It's two minutes to midnight.
You tilt your head. "Why would you scare me off?"
"Not me, specifically, just…this." Makoto gestures to the party. "I invited you here because I…I wanted to spend more time with you…" His voice is soft, and the thumping in your heart quietens to a flutter.
He's still holding your hand.
You take a step closer. "Me too," you admit. "I like spending time with you. I can deal with the chaos if you're here." You laugh, and he allows himself a chuckle.
Makoto's free hand hovers in the space between the two of you, close to your hair. You take another step forward so that his knuckles are almost resting on the shell of your ear. "I know all your friends are here, and I liked meeting them…but can I be a little selfish and have you all to myself tonight?"
It's one minute to midnight.
"Is it really a selfish request if I want the same thing?" Makoto muses, moving even closer to you. Your free hand comes to rest on his chest.
"Maybe not," you say. "I'm not used to being selfish."
"Me neither."
Still holding your hand, Makoto takes one step to the side, leading both of you into the shadows. In this corner, nobody can see how close you are to each other, almost in an embrace.
In the room, you can hear the growing excitement of the partygoers as the clock approaches midnight. "Thirty seconds!" You hear someone shout.
"If we are being selfish, I think we can excuse it in the name of holiday celebrations," you remark softly. You've gotten used to his touch as the minutes pass, and you don't want him to let go.
"That seems fair," he agrees. "Can I be selfish and ask you for one more thing?"
"What is it?" You smile. He's always so careful when he's with you, and you appreciate how considerate he is. The shoulder-grabbing was the only time he's touched you like that, and that was an emergency anyway. For all other things, he asks.
Including this one. "Can I kiss you?"
The furthest you've gone is you giving him one peck on the cheek, so it's no surprise that your heart skips a beat at the question. Or is it because of the countdown in the room?
"Ten…nine…eight…"
"Can I kiss you?" You breathe back.
"…six…five…"
"Yes," he whispers.
"three…two…one…"
"Yes," you sigh back, and as the temple bell begins to toll, the peal echoing through the neighbourhood as it marks midnight and the start of a new year, Makoto's lips find yours.
Okay, here’s the intro at least. @council-of-colors , what do you think of it so far?
The sorceress regarded the dozing figure in the chair. “A blessing, you say?”
From behind the counter, the young looking man arched an eyebrow. “Uhh…hate to interrupt, but isn’t that the kid whose mega rich parents were…” he trailed off even before the sorcereress shot him a sharp glance.
The older man nodded, seemingly not offended. “Yes. Master Wayne could live a long life of dissipation without ever having to work another day in his life. But-“
“He was marked by tragedy,” the sorceress cut in. “And such marks do tend to-“ She stopped, eyes arching in surprise. “He has a destiny,” she whispered, surprised. “And…a vow.”
“Yes. I am…not young, and I don’t wish him to be alone.”
“Wait, are we talking, like a capital ’D’ destiny?” The man behind the counter looked startled. “He isn’t…”
“No. Though it is not unheard of for those without a hint of fae blood to have such destinies placed on them.” She glanced at the man. “I believe I can give a suitable blessing, though there would be a sizeable price. However…”
The man stood up. “Yes. As he is a child, he cannot legally agree. I offer myself in his place.”
“Can he do that?”
The sorceress glanced back at his ward, though there was a faint trace of an affectionate smile. “When…’capital D destinies’ as you call them are involved, the rules can be…bent somewhat. Your name?”
“Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth.”
“I will ask a favour of you, though I swear that it will not be anything that would bring harm to your ward, or conflict with his destiny. Do you accept?” Alfred nodded. Eyes glinting, the sorceress looed down at the boy. “Then, Bruce Wayne of Gotham, you will find the drive to fulfill your vow, and as long as you stay true to your destiny, you will never be truly alone.”
Warnings: occasional depictions of panic/anxiety episodes
A/N - First sleepover with Makoto, complete with first relationship reflections and tooth-rotting fluff!
Pick your favourite pajama set from the pic! Outfit is from Honeys Japan 💕
As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, hands gripping the edges of the bathroom sink, you realise there are three ways you can respond to the current situation.
Option one: panic and have a meltdown right here in the bathroom. That’s exactly what your body’s telling you to do, and it’s the easiest option too.
Option two: change your mind and head back home. If you time it right, you can catch the last train back. Sure, you’ll reach home at twelve-thirty in the morning, but your neighborhood’s pretty safe, and nobody’s going to give a crap if you walk around in your pyjamas.
Option three: walk out of Makoto’s bathroom like nothing’s wrong. This is just a normal sleepover - your first sleepover at your boyfriend’s house - and there is NOTHING TO PANIC ABOUT.
It’s tempting to listen to your body and just slump on the floor or run away. REALLY tempting. But you take a deep breath, gather your clothes and tiptoe out of the bathroom, looking for Makoto. Last you saw, he was reading.
He’s still on the bed with his book when you find him. One of his knees is drawn to his chest, the other leg extended leisurely in front. “H-hey,” you whisper. You’ve been in his bedroom before, why is this so hard now?
Makoto looks up. “Hey,” he replies, green eyes softening as he takes you in. You see his eyes processing your thick pastel sweater and comfy sweatpants and…is he blushing? What’s there to blush about? It’s not like you’re wearing sexy lingerie; this was the sturdiest set of night clothes you could find. “Your pajamas are cute,” he says.
Oh. You fiddle with the ends of your damp hair. “Um…thanks. I’m-I’m done with my bath, if you wanna go for yours. Thanks for letting me use your bathroom.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Makoto sets his book aside and hops off the bed. When he brushes his hand against yours, there’s a pleasant tingle running through your body, like when a flower petal touches your skin. “I’m going to go for my bath now. You’ll be okay, right?”
You nod, and before losing your nerve, you give him a quick peck on the cheek.
Makoto goes pink again. “Wh-what was that for?” He asks, but he looks pleased at the kiss.
“Just…I just felt like it,” you mumble. It’s still so hard to be affectionate with Makoto: he’s still the one initiating most of it.
When he’s in the bathroom, you get a few minutes to yourself, so you walk around his bedroom. You’ve visited Makoto’s apartment a few times before, but only for a couple of hours, and most of that is usually just sitting on a small cushion at the low table, frozen in place because holy crap you’re in your BOYFRIEND’S house.
It should be easier after two and a half months. You like Makoto. You really do. And he likes you just as much if not more. But dating and falling for someone is all so new to you. If you’re being honest…it’s scary. You don’t know what to do with all these feelings in your heart, with the butterflies in your stomach when he smiles at you, with the warmth that envelopes you during his hugs, with the soft breeze that always finds you when you’re smiling at him.
The windchimes hanging on his curtain rod go clink-clink-clink with the breeze from the heating. When the days turn warm again, he’ll have to switch to the air conditioner. He has a kotatsu in the living room, right? What if you cuddled with him under—
Your brain screeches to a halt as panic floods your system. It’s hard enough for you to initiate regular hugs and cheek kisses! Where the heck is a kotatsu cuddle sesh going to come from?
You grip the blackout curtains so hard your knuckles almost pop out. This is all too much for you, maybe you’re not meant for relationships, maybe you should just—
The sound of Makoto softly and sweetly calling your name jolts you back into the room. You spin around to see him just a few feet away. “Hey,” says gently, almost as though he’s talking to a deer in the headlights. “You okay?”
“Huh? I-yeah, I’m good. You’re done already?”
Makoto nods. When you glance at the clock on the side table, your stomach lurches: it’s been twenty minutes? Where did the time go? Didn’t he just head into the bathroom?
“You sure you’re okay?” Makoto asks. He rubs his towel between his fingers as he eyes you cautiously. “You seem…I don’t know, a little nervous.”
“I am?” Your reply is way too high-pitched and you want to slam your head into the wall. Stay. CALM.
“We don’t have to do anything, you know,” he assures you. “I didn’t invite you over for anything specific. I just wanted to spend time with you.”
Makoto beckons you to the bed, and you sink on to the mattress, willing yourself to sink into it and never emerge. When he joins you there, he wraps a muscular arm around you and pulls you close.
He’s warm.
The ends of his hair are still damp, and they tickle the top of your head. Your shoulder tingles where his hand touches you, fingers splayed out against the soft barrier of your sweater. “Are you comfortable?” He asks.
Goosebumps erupt on your skin at the sound of his voice. You close your eyes and lean against him. “I’m okay,” you whisper. “It’s just…never mind.” You shake your head. You like Makoto. You really like him. Sometimes what you feel for him terrifies you, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Okay.” He lets it go, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder.
The bedroom is silent apart from the quiet hum of the heating system. You slowly reach out and rest your palm over Makoto’s chest; the thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat eases your tense muscles.
Makoto kisses the top of your head. “I’m glad you agreed to stay over. For a moment there I thought you were gonna run for it.”
“So did I,” you admit with a laugh. “I don’t want to run. Not anymore.”
Falling in love is scary. Why romance stories don’t talk about the fear that goes with love, you’ll never know. But the reward is worth the fear.
You yawn, and Makoto giggles softly. “Want to turn in?” He asks.
“Mmm…okay.” It’s getting late; you wouldn’t mind calling it a night.
Makoto lets you go (reluctantly) and gets some blankets ready. He slips into bed and pats the empty space next to him, an extra pillow taken out just for you.
As tired as you are, you can’t help the trembling that starts as you back up and tuck your legs under the blanket. The side of your body closer to Makoto tingles, hyper-aware of how close you and he are right now, and in bed together. Together.
Are you seeing things? Or does Makoto really look as nervous as you feel?
He bites his lip and takes a visibly deep breath before lying down on his side to face you, propped up on one elbow, other hand reaching out to you. “Come on,” he says.
You lie down too. Makoto’s hand trembles ever so slightly as you lace your fingers through his. “Your nail beds are so dry,” you tell him. “I’ll lend you my moisturizer.”
As Makoto takes a look at the nail beds in question, you close your eyes and feel him turn your entwined hands. Then, you feel something soft brush against the back of your hand and your eyes fly wide open.
Makoto’s lips caress your skin in a fleeting kiss. It’s delicate and carefully calculated, and you wonder if he’s afraid you’ll break if he pushes further. This is your first relationship, after all, and Makoto knows that.
But you won’t break. And as you lean in to press your forehead against his, then accept his tender kiss, you hope you’ll be able to tell him that someday.
What if you shared a dance with Sebastian Michaelis?
Perhaps it’s at a ball, where you linger on the terrace by yourself, governess to a young woman who is far too busy dancing and meeting her friends to care about where her chaperone has disappeared to. Perhaps you too wish to dance, but your current circumstances forbid you from doing anything but watching over your charge. Or in this case, remaining unseen by the distinguished guests at this event.
Perhaps he introduces himself as tutor to the young Earl Phantomhive, and wonders aloud why a lovely lady such as yourself is out here alone without a dancing partner.
What if you told him the reason why?
As a tutor in Victorian England, he is bound by strict rules of propriety, especially around a lady of your position. Nothing can happen between the two of you. If you are compromised, so is the girl in your care.
But one dance away from prying eyes wouldn’t hurt, would it?
His eyes - are they brown? Or are they red? - gleam behind those thin spectacles as he takes your hand in his own, his pure white gloves preventing any kind of touch between you two. His other hand touches your lower back, long fingers splaying out against your dress, while your free hand rests on his padded shoulder.
You can feel the tingle from his touch travel up your spine, and the sensation forces you to look at him, his expression calm yet amused. His raven hair never once moves with the wind, though you fear your own bun is about to unravel.
A lively tune wafts in from the ballroom behind you two, and you begin to dance, Sebastian taking the lead. He must be a dancing master, for his steps are effortless and he guides you without words. He laces his fingers through yours as you drift across the empty terrace, moonlight illuminating your tryst with this stranger.
You never once step on his feet, even by accident. It’s as though he controls your movements and makes you dance as skillfully as him.
His skin is pale, even without the moonlight, and something about his strange eyes makes you wonder if he is older than his appearance suggests, or if he has seen so much of the world that he looks older than he actually is. Something about those eyes conveys a man who has seen the world begin and might live long enough to see it end.
Most would fear those eyes. You do not.
In his arms, you are safe, despite never having met him previously. He twirls you around in time to the music emanating from the golden ballroom while the silver moon remains the only witness to this moment. If the music slows, he does too. If it quickens, he speeds up as well. You follow, the tingling in your spine now spreading to your entire body.
Throughout the dance, you never once take your eyes off his pale and handsome face, nor he yours. You wonder if it’s even possible to do so; a mysterious force holds your head in place - almost like an index finger and thumb lightly gripping your chin and keeping you in prime position to gaze at him.
The life of a governess is lonely. You have few options for socialising besides the young ones under your supervision, and despite being “in service” like them, even the other servants consider you too high up on the social ladder for friendship. Yet you are too lowly to be real friends with those you chaperone, never mind the rest of the family. And when your charge is gone - married and establishing a family of her own - you will be alone again, unless you find another family to work for. Your youth passes in service to others, and yet you never know what or whom to count on afterwards.
But tonight, in the arms of this strange tutor named Sebastian Michealis, you put your cares aside and dance. Your hand grips his shoulder, grounding yourself in the present rather than worrying about the future.
As the music ends, he suggests that your young charge might enjoy visiting the Midfords while they are at the Phantomhive estate this spring. She is friends with Lizzie, after all. “As her governess,” he adds, “you would of course be welcome, and as the butler, I can make, ah, arrangements for accommodation that suits everyone’s tastes.
“Butler?” You repeat, still unable to take your eyes off him, still unable to extract yourself from his arms. “I thought you said you were the tutor.”
“Ah, yes,” he concedes. “I am many things for the Phantomhive household. I am a tutor, and I am also a cook. I am a guard, and I am also a companion. But at the end of the day…” he smiles widely, and you swear you can see fangs among his perfect white teeth “…I’m simply one hell of a butler.”
Tags: Fluff, Childhood Friends, Mutual Pining (with a happy ending)
Notes and Warnings: F!reader, slight canon divergence, Reader is 1 grade older than Makoto & has known him and Haru since childhood, set about 1-1.5 years after Part 1, reader is implied to have experienced bullying and social ostracism at school
A/N: I started writing this fic and forgot about it 2/3 of the way in, but @mitsuwuyaa’s Makotoposting made my heart go squee and inspired me to finally finish this! The button idea from this and part 1 was inspired by that one anime magazine cover where Makoto, Haru, Rin and Sousuke are holding out their school blazer/jacket buttons to the viewer.
Read Part 1 here
Recommended listening: Shunsetsu no Koro (the GazettE)
It’s not as if Makoto hasn’t been to big cities before. He’s visited a few places with his family and friends in the past, and spent time in them for tournaments during his two years in the swimming club. Heck, he was in Tokyo just months ago for nationals, to say nothing of the time he and Haru showed up to finalise on their new apartments.
But living in Tokyo? That’s another story entirely.
There are cars coming and going at all hours and people walking down the streets at two in the morning. There are convenience stores everywhere he goes, with one main road near his apartment having three - each conbini just a stone’s throw away from the next. The trains are jam-packed even during off-peak hours, and people in the heart of the city walk with purpose, wearing sharp suits and carrying cushy leather bags.
Makoto feels like a little boy all over again, surrounded by dozens of pairs of unfamiliar eyes at the pool. The eyes don’t stare at him like they used to ten years ago - in fact, nobody in Tokyo seems to be bothered about the sudden appearance of this small-town guy towering over them - but he has to fight the urge to run back to Iwatobi.
I can do this, he tells himself, taking deep breaths. I’ve got this.
Besides, it would be rude to take off without warning when he’s waiting for someone. Waiting for you.
It’s been a year since you graduated from Iwatobi High School and started a new life in Tokyo. Between Makoto’s schedule of school, club activities and work, and your holiday schedule, he never got to meet you the few times you came back to visit your parents. But now, after a whole year, he’s moved to Tokyo for university too, and your days off finally line up with his.
I can’t wait! you texted him yesterday. It’s been sooooo long since we hung out!
It’s been ages, he agreed. I’m looking forward to seeing you again.
You’re always so formal on text lol, came the reply. I’ve missed that hahaha
Now Makoto is here in Shibuya, clutching his bag like a lifeline, waiting for you. He missed you so much, but he would die before he admitted it. Even if he still has the first button from his blazer tucked away in his wallet.
Where are you? How much longer does he have to wait until he can see you again?
And that’s when he hears the sweetest sound ever - a voice he hasn’t heard in over a year.
“Makoto!”
He spins around so fast he almost knocks over three passers-by. Where is your voice coming from? Where are you? Where are you?
Makoto looks and looks and looks…and there you are.
You stand by the Hachiko statue as promised, a bright smile that makes the sun a little brighter and the world a little better, waving and calling out to him in the cheeriest voice he’s heard from you in ages.
The last time you two spoke, you were in your uniform, a corsage pinned to your blazer, your voice quiet and low. Back in high school you used to shrink into yourself and hide from the world, but now you’re not afraid to take up space and make sure the world knows how happy you are to see your friend again.
You jog up to him, still beaming. “Makoto! It’s been so long!”
Makoto doesn’t even bother with a facade, his smile as wide as yours, if not wider. “It has! How are you, senpai? What have you…” he trails off as he finally gets a good look at what you’re wearing, his jaw dropping. In Iwatobi, you just wore regular t-shirts and jeans, with the occasional skirt or dress. But this…
What happened?
“Senpai, you…that…that’s so cool!” He blurts out.
You laugh, giving him a twirl. “Isn’t it? I figured it was time for a change once I started college.”
Makoto’s only seen this sort of outfit on TV. You’re wearing a baggy black band tee tucked into black skinny jeans. The black boots give you a centimeter or two of extra height, the silver zips on each side glittering in the afternoon sun. On your wrists are half a dozen bead bracelets, mostly black and white with a few colourful charms in between. Your hair is the same as ever, only with a bright blue streak on the left. And your ears…your ears…
“Are those…are those real?” He asks, gaping at your piercings. How many do you have?
“Oh, these?” You tap your ear. “Only the bottom one on each. The others are clip-ons.” To prove your point, you easily unclasp the silvery earring on the top of your ear and put it back in a second.
“You look amazing,” Makoto gushes. He can’t help it: you look so cool and confident and tough. When you left Iwatobi, you were this small shadow of a girl, and now you’re so comfortable in your own skin. Nobody in Iwatobi would recognise you.
Then again, maybe that’s what you were aiming for.
“You look great, too,” you tell him. “How’s swimming been?”
“It’s been good,” he says.
“Yeah, I heard you made it to nationals last year! I’m sorry I couldn’t come and see you guys, but if you’ve got any meets here, let me know! I’ll come cheer you on!”
He’s about to say that he’s not joining a club and planning to get into coaching instead, when your last words stop him in his tracks. “You…you will?”
Makoto remembers how much you hated it when he spent more time with the swimming club than he did with you. He remembers how resentful you were of Nagisa and Rei and Rin taking up all his time.
So why are you talking about coming to any potential swimming meets?
“Sure! I feel bad that I never came to support you back in high school.” Your eyes are sad now, and you look away. “I was a bit annoying then, wasn’t I? Only thinking about my own problems and never really thinking about you. You’re still my friend, Makoto, and I want to be there for you the way you’ve always been there for me.”
Oh.
What happened in the year you were away?
The answer comes to him almost instantly. You’ve started to heal.
You’ve started to find happiness here.
And the contentment on your face as you talk to him eases his own heart. You’re okay now. I’m so glad.
“So,” you continue, “college, huh? It feels like just yesterday when we were in preschool and elementary school together. Did you get scouted?”
Makoto shakes his head. Why are your sentences so short? Why won’t you let him hear your voice more? “No, I just took the regular entrance exam and came in to study physical training at Meijo Chuo. Haru got scouted, though. He’s at Hidaka with a few others we knew in junior high.”
“That’s nice! And Rin?”
“Back in Australia, but he’s planning to drop by for tournaments every so often.”
Fortunately for Makoto, you get quite chatty now, asking after his family and other friends. You never mention your old classmates who stayed on in Iwatobi and Tottori, though, and Makoto is careful not to bring them up. He remembers everything.
“What about you, senpai?” He finally asks. “How’s college been for you?”
“Oh, it’s amazing,” you gush. “I’m majoring in literature, and I decided to join the hiking circle!”
“Hiking?”
“Yeah! We visit the hills and mountains around Tokyo for day hikes, and we’re going to hike around Mount Takao next month if the weather holds up. It’s great for building my stamina, especially since I have a few lives coming up.”
Makoto’s about to ask, but he realises he doesn’t need to. The black and silver aesthetic makes sense now.
Years ago, you showed him the bands you were into, hiding this one part of yourself away from the people who liked to hurt you. You kept it a secret, so it was easy for even him to forget, but now you don’t need those walls you kept up for so long.
To use one of Haru’s terms, you’re free.
And freedom makes you look more beautiful than ever.
Your hand with the bracelets on your wrists dangles to the side as you chat, your fingers wiggling in delight. You stand straight-backed and happy, able to look him in the eye even though you’re almost half his size. You do a little happy spin as you lead him through the bustle of Shibuya Scramble Square, at ease with the world, at peace for the first time in your life.
Maybe now…maybe he can ask…
“Se-senpai,” he blurts out as you reach the other side of the crossing, glossy buildings surrounding this world you’ve found a home in.
You turn back and smile. “You don’t have to be so formal with me, Makoto. We’ve known each other forever, and we’re in college now. You can say my name.”
Makoto hasn’t said your name even once since the day he realised he was in love with you. If your name were to pass his lips, he might collapse on the spot. Instead, he fumbles for his wallet, his fingers trembling as he opens a tiny pocket inside.
Taking out something so precious in Shibuya of all places is a risky move. What if it falls? What if these stupid shaky fingers drop it and it gets lost in the crowd?
But Makoto simply takes a deep breath, looking at the sky above. If the Scramble Square was replaced by a swimming pool, would he have the same view of the sky with its shiny skyscrapers and bright billboards?
Maybe.
Your eyes widen. “What’s that?”
“I took this out a couple months ago,” he says softly, rubbing the delicate felt paper between his thumb and index finger. “I wanted to give it to you back then, but we didn’t get to meet in March.”
Makoto hands you the paper, which you take with fingers that tremble just as much as his did a few seconds ago. Is he seeing things? Or was that a flash of anticipation - or hope - in your eyes?
When you unwrap the paper, you gasp. “Makoto, this button…it’s…you…”
“I don’t know if this is the right time - or place - to tell you how I feel,” he continues, “never mind if you feel the same way. But I’d like you to have this. I…senpai, you mean a lot to me as a friend and as…well, as something else. I won’t ask you for a reply. Just knowing you’re happy here is enough for me.”
Even that little speech knocks the wind out of him, thanks to years of buried feelings finally having a sliver of space to slide out. It was all Makoto could do to hold back and stop himself from telling you everything in one go.
But when he sees how your eyes are shining, hands clutching the little button so tightly it might break, he wonders if he might be able to tell you more soon enough.
Spring is in the air at Shibuya, the cherry blossom tree in the corner discarding its pale pink petals as green buds emerge around the last of its flowers. A lone petal drifts through the air and lands on your head.
Makoto reaches out to extract it from your blue streak, fingers almost running through your hair. As he takes it out, your own hand moves up to touch his. “There’s a small park nearby,” you say quietly. “Can we go there and talk? There’s something I need to tell you as well.”
His heart races faster than an Olympic athlete can swim. Whether or not this can actually work out is something he’ll worry about later. If you’re going to say what he thinks you’re going to say, he wants to live in that moment, feel what he’s stopped himself from feeling for a long time.
You’ve both made things right for yourselves and grown as people over the last year or so. Maybe now it’s high time you two figure some things out from the past.
You’re quiet as you lead him to the park a short walk away. But as you do so, your hand with the bracelets reaches out to hold his; fingers interlaced, the two of you stroll down the streets of Shibuya, enjoying a perfect spring, a new life, a new beginning.
Notes and Warnings: F!reader, slight canon divergence, Reader is 1 grade older than Makoto & has known him and Haru since childhood, set shortly after S1, reader is implied to experience bullying and social ostracism at school, Rin and Nagisa are unfairly scapegoated in this and I am SO sorry about that, my sincerest apologies to Rin and Nagisa fans for the in-universe slander bc I genuinely like them both as characters
Recommended listening: PLEDGE (the GazettE)
He finds you on the roof. Again.
You don’t even look up from your book as the door creaks open and you hear his footsteps approaching. The days are getting colder, and it’ll soon be time for university entrance exams. You might as well use the extra time to read.
“Senpai, did you eat lunch?” Makoto asks. Always the caring figure, even though you’re older than him. It stopped bugging you around four years ago.
In response, you show him an empty bento with one hand, the other still holding your book. Your mom will kill you if you don’t maintain a balanced diet during this crucial time period - you’ve grown up hearing horror stories from around the world about students collapsing during exams, being hospitalised on test days, and more. You need to eat well and sleep well if you want to do well this winter.
It’s your only hope of getting out.
“What are you reading?” is the next question you hear from Makoto as you put your bento away. He leans down and stares at the book cover hiding your face. “The Hunger Games…senpai, you’re reading this in English?” He almost yelps. “Isn’t it hard?”
“Not if you consider it the best book of all time.” You grin while dusting crumbs off your school skirt. “It’s not one of those two-hundred-year-old classics, so the vocabulary isn’t all that difficult. You should try it sometime.”
Makoto sits down beside you, legs crossed. “I’ll think about it,” he chuckles, because it’s a running joke between you two that English is your best subject while being his worst.
“Where’s Haru?” You ask.
“Helping Amakata-sensei with some classroom supplies,” Makoto tells you.
Truth be told, you knew that already; you saw Haru in the hallway just a few minutes ago. You just want to hear Makoto’s voice.
Ever since he and Haru restarted the swimming club, you’ve hardly gotten to spend any time with him. For six whole months it was always, “sorry, I’ve got club practice” or “sorry, we have a tournament coming up” or “sorry, my training camp starts tomorrow.”
A part of you hates that first-year - Nagisa - for coming up with all his hare-brained schemes, and another part of you hates Makoto for actually going along with them. The fact that he chose some Matsuoka kid over you still makes your blood boil. You knew him for, what, a year? You wanted to scream. You’ve known me your whole damn life!
It was always supposed to be the three of you - you, Makoto, and Haru. Walking home from school together. Going into the city together. Hanging out at each other’s houses. Even if Makoto and Haru were best friends, they never made you feel like an outsider. It didn’t matter that you were one grade ahead, or that your own classmates stifled their laughter every time you spoke, words stumbling over each other, or every time you wrote on the board with a shaking hand. Your real friends never judged you.
And when they joined you in high school, a part of you hoped…especially since April, when you and Makoto spent almost the entire first week together when Haru ditched…
Well, there’s no time to think about it now. You have books to finish and entrance exams to study for when you get home. Dwelling on how lonely you’ve been this year won’t change the past.
You’ll have time to make friends and date boys in Tokyo.
“Done with the swimming season?” You ask casually, hoping the word swimming doesn’t drown in the hatred you’ve had for it since the spring.
“Pretty much,” Makoto says, leaning against the railings that line the roof. “We have meetings every so often, and a few joint practices with Rin and the others at Samezuka, but the tournaments are over, so I’ve got a lot more time on my hands.”
There it is again. Rin. Samezuka.
You’ve haven’t seen Rin since he was in elementary school, but you hate him. If he hadn’t come back from Australia, you wouldn’t have lost the only friends you have left in the whole world.
You close your book. “I should go,” you say flatly. “I have a meeting with my homeroom teacher later.”
The meeting is in half an hour, but Makoto doesn’t need to know that.
Turning, you grab your bento and are about to stand up, when Makoto calls out, “Wait!”
It’s the plea in his voice that makes you pause.
And for the first time in weeks, if not months, you finally get a proper look at Makoto Tachibana.
He was always tall and well-built, but there’s something about him that’s different now. His shoulders seem broader, and there’s a firmness to his jaw that you’re certain wasn’t there six months ago. His green eyes bore into you with a determination you’ve definitely never seen before.
There’s one more thing that hits you only now.
When Makoto was little, he always made himself smaller, retreating into his shell the way you do now. He seemed uncomfortable with the amount of space he took up, even as a kid, hunching his shoulders and looking anywhere but ahead. But now he sits straight-backed, looking much more relaxed in his body than he has in years. It’s as if there’s a completely new Makoto Tachibana sitting beside you, gazing at you with concern. Is this because he’s gotten back into swimming? “Is…is something wrong?” You ask hesitantly.
“Senpai, I…” Makoto bites his lip. “I’m sorry I haven’t hung out with you much this year. The swimming club took up a lot of my time, what with me being Captain and having all those training camps and tournaments.”
You blink. This wasn’t what you were expecting. But Makoto Tachibana has never liked conforming to people’s expectations. You’ve seen him almost your entire life - you know this better than anyone else. Except maybe Haru.
Makoto isn’t done. “I saw you during the lunch breaks, heading to the roof like today. I wish…I wish I’d called you over. Maybe you could’ve been part of the club.”
“Like…like a manager or some, uh, something?” You manage. Oh, come on!
You hate it when your voice shakes like this around Makoto. He’s your closest friend, why are you panicking around him? You didn’t even blush seven months ago when you realised you liked him!
“Maybe,” he muses. “Or you could’ve been a swimmer too and we could’ve started a girl’s team.”
“I’m not much of a swimmer,” you admit. “Haven’t been since we were at the pool together. And nobody would join the club if I was there.”
“That’s not true!” Makoto says hotly.
You smile bitterly. “You know what they say about me. How much they laugh at me. I can’t be in any club while I’m in Iwatobi. I have no chances left. Why do you think I’m going to Tokyo?”
He looks away, but the expression on his face isn’t one of fear and shyness, the way it used to be eight, nine years ago, when you were all swimmers at the ITSC.
No, that’s an expression of shame.
“I should’ve said something,” he says, more to himself than to you. “I know you better than anyone else here, senpai. We could’ve done something. You would’ve loved the swimming club, I’m sure of it.”
“The damage was done before you even started high school,” you tell him. “I’ll always be the unpopular, weird girl who sits alone all the time and can’t make friends. At least Tokyo’s big enough that I’ll get more than one chance to try again.”
Makoto looks up at you, shame still lingering in his eyes. “Senpai, I’m sorry. You’re still one of my closest friends, and I wish I could make things right. I shouldn’t have left you alone for so long, e-especially since…”
He blushes and looks away, and your heart skips a beat. Is he saying what you think he’s saying?
You smile. None of it matters. Not anymore. Just knowing how much he cares is all you need. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “You being here is enough to make things right.”
When Makoto turns back to face you and the shame in his gleaming green eyes is replaced by hope, you know it’s going to be okay. “Are you sure?” He asks, voice as soft as yours.
“I am.”
Finally, he smiles back, cheeks still bright pink. “I was thinking about going to Tottori and seeing a movie next weekend. Would you like to come along? We haven’t watched a movie together in ages.”
“That sounds nice. I’d love to! What do you have in mind?”
“I’m not sure yet…unless there’s something in particular you’d like to check out?”
“Well…” you think about it for a moment. “There’s this really cool horror movie I’ve been hearing about…”
All the blood drains from Makoto’s face, and you burst out laughing. “Just kidding. I’d never do that to you. Well, not on purpose anyway. Hang on, let’s check what’s playing next week.”
You whip out your phone, not even noticing Makoto leaning in for a closer look. His light brown hair tickles your cheek, his arm brushing against yours. You don’t notice him looking at you instead of at your phone as you read out all the movies being screened at the theaters this month. You don’t see his eyes soften as he watches you, his smile widen as he listens to the excited tone of your voice. You don’t realise that your free hand is just micrometers away from his.
You’re just happy to have your friend back.
****
The weekend you spend with Makoto is as fun as any other day you’ve spent with him all these years, even if nothing comes from it. He’s still got club activities and his own future to think about, and you’ll be studying for entrance exams anyway.
You leave for Tokyo in the spring with no regrets, the burden of your girlhood lifted from your shoulders as you prepare for a fresh start in a new world. You stay in touch with your old friends and make new ones, but somehow, dating never really makes it into your plans.
Makoto continues on his own path, reflecting on the experiences he’s had as a swimmer and what his friends and family look to him for. He has his dreams, and he wants to devote himself to those dreams wholeheartedly.
But on his own graduation day one year later, he removes the first button of his school blazer and wraps it in soft felt paper, slipping it into his wallet.
A/N: no beta, I wrote this at work do not judge me
"How do you do it?"
"Do what?" Makoto repeats. He rests his arms on the balcony railing as you watch the sunset paint the city orange and gold.
"Be so brave?" You finish your question. It's hard to look him in the eye, now that you've made it this far.
"Brave? Me?" He laughs, sending your heart into a tizzy. You look up new jokes and funny stories every week, just to hear him laugh when you say them. It's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard. "I'm not sure I'd call myself that," he continues, still smiling at you. "Remember the spider from last week? Or that time we were at the clinic and the power went out?"
"But you are brave," you say. "You're braver than me. And kinder," you add.
Makoto tilts his head. "What do you mean?"
How do you explain it to him? How do you tell him he has something within that's far greater than yours? That he's dating a coward who will never step out of your comfort zone even if it kills you?
"When you were in high school," you begin, "you went for a seaside training camp with your juniors in the swimming club."
"Yes," he confirms, trying to figure out what you're saying.
"That night, one of the juniors - Rei? - went back to the ocean in the middle of a storm to practice, and you rescued him when he was stuck."
"Oh, that." Makoto sighs. "I'm not sure I rescued him, really. I was pretty useless once the waves came in. You know I had a really bad fear of the ocean, right?"
"But that's the thing," you push. "You were scared, and you ran to help Rei anyway. It didn't matter how you felt, someone else needed you more than you needed to be safe. You were so brave even when you didn't need to be. How did you do it? Because…" and here your voice shakes "…because I don't know how to be brave."
Makoto watches you carefully. Even after all these years, you still consider yourself lucky to be dating him. He's kind and friendly to everyone he meets, even strangers. He looks after people who rely on him. He puts his own fears aside to help others no matter what it costs him.
He's everything you can never be.
You don't trust anyone outside a small circle of people you care about. You always avoid situations that might hurt you, even if someone else needs your help. You're cold and aloof and only care about yourself.
A hand on your cheek makes you jump. Makoto doesn't say anything, but he cups your cheek and sends some of his selfless warmth through your veins. You guiltily lean into his touch: no matter how much kindness he gives you, there's no way you can share it with the world like he does. You're too selfish.
"Remember the spider?" He eventually says, his voice soft. "I couldn't do anything. I was shaking like a leaf in the corner." He points to the living room behind the two of you. "But you caught it in ten seconds and took it out of the apartment without blinking. That's brave."
"Well," you begin, unwilling to give him that, but he's not done.
"And when we went to the clinic? I never really got over my fear of the dark, so I probably looked like a complete baby when the lights went out." Makoto laughs at the memory. "But you held my hand and squeezed it as hard as you could until the lights came back on. Even if you were scared, you never showed it. You made sure I was okay instead. That's brave."
"I…" Your mouth is dry. You'd almost forgotten about that evening. You didn't think holding his hand through it was a big deal: it was just something you did for him.
"And then there's this." He gestures to both of you. "Meeting me, saying yes when I asked you out, moving in with me…that's a pretty big deal. And pretty brave, if you ask me."
"So what are you saying?" You ask, covering his hand with your own. The warmth seeping through your cheek grows, as does the glow in your heart.
"There's more than one way to be brave." He leans in to kiss the top of your head. "Maybe you can't run out in the middle of the storm to save someone's life. But there's no way I can catch a spider the size of my palm. You're brave, too. Just a different kind of brave than me. And that's okay."
The golden city is home to a very kind and brave man who would set aside his own fear of the ocean to rescue someone who needed him. It's also home to you, who can't do that, but who can be brave for that same man when he's afraid of the dark.
Notes and Warnings: reader is feminine-coded but i tried to make ‘em gn, internalised (and external) aphobia (a lot), suggestive themes/open discussions about sexuality and sexual activity, reader is basically Going Through It and so is ya girl, happy ending so don’t worry, Makoto Tachibana basically being the green flag to end all green flags
Summary: You find Makoto Tachibana so easy to love, and why not? He’s the best boyfriend anyone could ever have. The problem is, you’re starting to worry you might not be able to love him the right way.
Banner made by me (Canva & Unsplash), divider credits @anonimusunnoaniswriting
A/N: don’t mind me, just processing many complicated feelings about my sexuality.
In the four and a half months you’ve dated Makoto, you have found him easy to love.
His smile is brighter than the sun. The way he holds your hand with such tenderness warms your heart. He’s not the best texter, but you can’t help smiling at his attempts to use exclamation marks when he messages you first thing in the morning. He likes to try his hand at crane games when you’re out on dates, and even snagged a fluffy bunny keychain for you once.
When he kisses you, he always checks first to see if you want it, whether verbally or otherwise. He holds you close and carefully, but not as though you’re a fragile being. He admires your goals and supports you as you chase your dreams.
Why, then, does something still feel off?
Why do you feel as though your love for him, which has come so easily since the day he confessed to you, is not quite right?
You lie on his bed, staring at the open book in your hands. It’s obvious what’s wrong, even if Makoto is too gentlemanly to say it.
And it’ll be a cold day in hell before you open your mouth about it either.
Makoto calling your name softly breaks into your thoughts, and you turn to stare at him. “Everything okay?” he asks, seated at the low table. “You’ve been staring at that page for the last twenty minutes.”
“I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.” You smile, hoping he doesn’t see how strained it is. But this is Makoto - if he can read people like Haru and Sousuke, he will unfortunately be able to read you.
If Makoto does sense something wrong, he doesn’t say. Instead, he returns to his work. “You know,” he tells you, not looking up from his tablet, “we both have some free time coming up in August. Let’s go on a holiday together.”
You turn and watch him. He hasn’t been to the barber in some time; strands of his light brown hair fall in front of his brilliant green eyes as he watches videos of the swimmers he coaches and makes notes on their performance at the recent tournament. “Where should we go?” you ask.
“The seaside?” he suggests. “Or maybe the mountains, since it’ll get really hot in summer.”
“Mountains sound nice.” You hum, setting your book aside. “It’ll be good to get away from the heat for a bit.”
“It will,” Makoto agrees. He finally looks up from his work and smiles at you, the sight bringing you peace. It’s hard to be stressed when you’re with him.
But there’s still something you can’t shake from the back of your mind. The feeling that you’re missing something important in your love and care for him. The feeling that you’re loving him the wrong way.
When you meet your friends who have partners, the way they talk about relationships leaves you in the dust. You have all been raised in the same language, been educated in the same language for well over a decade. And yet, when they speak of touch and heat in the body, it’s as though they’re speaking a completely different language that you’ve never heard of in your entire life.
You read the great poets of the world, and no matter where they come from, they talk of the same things. It’s not just love talk - it’s something else. You read about tongues and flames and silken sheets and none of it makes any sense.
When you see couples at parties or in dark corners near Shinjuku, the gazes and touches seem so normal for them. Why isn’t it like that for you?
Why isn’t your relationship with Makoto normal like everyone else’s? Why do you have to be like this?
So when Makoto taps at the tablet screen a few days later and says “Let’s spend a couple of days here,” your blood runs cold, because you know what it means for a couple to stay overnight in the same room. And you don’t know if you can give Makoto what he probably wants. What everyone wants from someone they’ve been dating for almost five months. Six months by the time you two reach the resort.
He says something else, but you don’t hear, your heart pounding in your ears. Makoto’s never pushed you for anything in this relationship, but he surely has needs. They all do. Does he need you in that way too?
If you say no, he won’t do anything. But what if it’s always a no? What if you never feel that…that desire that comes so naturally to everyone else? What if you can never give him what he wants? What they all want?
Makoto is so easy to love, but something must be wrong with you because despite being so wonderful, so handsome, so perfect…he is so hard to desire.
****
Even so, you do look forward to the rest of the trip. It’ll be good to get away from the city and how hot the place gets in August. Plus, the two of you haven’t had much time to spend together lately thanks to work and stuff. The occasional day off at his apartment or yours is getting rarer by the week. So a two-night retreat to the mountains is something you both need for a million reasons.
Your lodgings have the most amazing view of the nearby lake and mountains, and there’s a stone bench that’s perfect for sitting together and watching the sunset.
Makoto handled the bookings, so you examine the framed photos in the lobby while he gets the room keys. Hopefully the beds are at least separate, because cuddling on Makoto’s bed (or yours) for a few hours is not the same as sleeping in the same bed with him all night.
It would be nice to wake up in Makoto’s arms, though.
He calls your name in that soft voice you’ve come to love so deeply. He’s always so gentle with you, even when you’re not touching. You walk with him down the hallway till you reach the room. Maybe it’ll be okay. Maybe you can just make it work somehow. You love Makoto a lot, after all. You don’t mind doing something that’s probably not your cup of tea if it’s with him—
“Here’s your key. I’m just next door.”
You blink, staring at the keychains in his hand. Keychains.
“We-we’ve got separate rooms?” You blurt out.
“We do.” He tilts his head. “I said I’d get us single rooms, remember?”
“You did?” You can’t help the relief in your voice.
“Of course I did; I wasn’t going to…” he trails off, and something occurs to him. “Ah.”
It’s the only time he’s given you a smile that sad. The sight breaks your heart, and a part of you wonders if you messed up. Does he know? Does he suspect?
You’re not sure if you want to know the answer.
“Would you mind if I came into your room for a bit?” Makoto asks. “I think there’s something we need to talk about.”
****
The two of you drop your bags in a corner of the small lodge room. There’s one bed, a table and chair, and a door leading to the bathroom, with a sliding door opening to reveal the balcony with its gorgeous view of snowcapped peaks in the distance.
Makoto sits on the bed and pats the space next to him on the mattress. You join him there, hesitant to go closer. What will he say?
In the moments before he speaks, you watch him closely. In the old photos and videos, Makoto still towers over almost everyone else, but he’s always holding back. He would get embarrassed quite easily, and rarely assert himself in a way that matched his stature. But adulthood has given him the confidence he needs to express himself clearly, and he actively works to become a rock everyone can rely on for support, without burning himself out too much..
Makoto watches you too, and takes your hand in both of his. “I know something’s troubling you,” he says, meeting your eyes. “It’s been bothering you for a while, hasn’t it? That’s why you were so nervous when we got here.” He pauses. “And I think I know what it is.”
Your stomach lurches. This is it. This is the end of the best love you’ve ever had…
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I thought I could handle it, and I don’t think I’d really mind if it’s you because I really love you and I’m okay with trying different things as long as you’re here, but I keep thinking about it and trying to make myself more okay with it because it’s supposed to be a normal part of relationships and everyone else is okay with it too, but nothing works because it doesn’t make any sense no matter how hard I try….”
Your eyes burn with tears that you can barely hold back. How do you explain to your boyfriend that you can’t feel any desire for him without making it sound like an insult? That you love him with all your heart, but you don’t know if you’re able to feel something for him that would make you eager to have sex with him. That you might never be able to have sex with him because you don’t understand how desire and sexual attraction is supposed to work no matter how hard you try, and it’s not his fault; it’s you who’s the problem. “I’m-I’m sorry,” you finish. “If you…if you want to end things here, I won’t hold it against you.”
“End things?” Makoto repeats incredulously. “Why on earth would I do that?”
When you don’t answer, he says it for you. “Is it because you think us not having sex means our relationship isn’t a real one?”
That’s what everyone says. People annul marriages if they’re not consummated. If you don’t have sex, you’re immature and missing out. You’re a prude, and not understanding sexual attraction just means you’re childish and need to grow up.
The language of desire has always eluded you. Back in high school and college, you just assumed - as did others - that you were a late bloomer. But you’re in your mid-twenties and the only person that’s ever made you feel like you understand desire is that one guitarist who used to perform in skimpy outfits that revealed his thighs. And even then that’s a celebrity crush or whatever. When it comes to the people around you, when it comes to your boyfriend whom you love so much, you still don’t know what it means to truly want someone like that.
“I’m sorry,” you repeat. “Something’s wrong with me.”
“Why would you ever say that?” The pain in Makoto’s voice is too much to bear, and you drop your head.
“I can’t love you the right way, I can’t give you what you need…”
You don’t know what to expect after you admit your deepest fears, your dark secret, but when he presses his lips to your forehead, you freeze.
“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he says. “I made you feel like you couldn’t talk about this to me. I love you so much, and I want you to be able to tell me anything. Especially if it’s about us.”
You’re about to stop his apology, but he continues. “And if I ever made you feel like you had to have sex with me just to prove you love me, I’m sorry about that too.”
“There’s…there’s nothing to apologise for,” you mumble, still avoiding his gaze. Those green eyes can see right through you, and you don’t think this is the time for that. “You didn’t do anything.”
Makoto’s not done, though. “I want you to know that I will never push you to do anything you don’t want to. I promise. Sex is not some magic potion that makes relationships perfect, and not having it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with what we have together. Or anything missing, for that matter.”
Finally, you glance up. His eyes are brimming with worry, but he strokes your hair with a steady hand. “It feels like something’s not right,” you admit, letting a single tear trickle down your cheek. “Everyone else handles it just fine. I’m the only one who can’t feel that way. Something must be wrong with me, with the way I love you—”
“Nothing is wrong with you,” Makoto says firmly. But on seeing your face, he eases up. Before continuing, he lies down on the bed and extends an arm, inviting you closer.
You’ve cuddled up with him so many times before; why are you hesitating now?
Slowly, you lean against him, letting him wrap that arm around you, holding you close. He hums for a moment before saying, “There’s no such thing as a right way to love someone. We all express our feelings in different ways. I don’t need you to show me your desire to know how much you love me. And I think you already know how much I love you. I don’t need desire or sex to prove it.”
He turns on his side to look down at you, the love in his eyes almost bringing you to tears again. “Like I said, I don’t need sex to feel how much you love me. I feel it when you send me photos of the cats in your neighbourhood. When you held my hand and squeezed it during that typhoon. When you buy an extra chocolate cake from the pastry shop.”
Makoto strokes your cheek. “And remember: there’s nothing wrong with not feeling what you say everyone else feels. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
You bury your face in his chest. A part of you wants to believe him, to believe that you’re just fine the way you are. But it’s so hard.
“Remember,” he says quietly. “I will never force you to do something you don’t want. If you say no, then that’s it.”
“What if I always say no?” You voice the deepest fears in your heart, the possibility that you might never end up saying yes.
He kisses the top of your head. “Then you always say no, and that’s what we follow. I promise, I won’t push you into anything or guilt you into saying yes. If you do say yes, I want you to say it without worrying about me. And if you never say yes, then I want you to say it without feeling guilty. I can look after myself, don’t worry.”
You didn’t expect to have such a frank conversation with Makoto, but hearing those words - “I don’t need sex to feel how much you love me,” “There’s nothing wrong with you,” “I won’t push you into anything or guilt you into saying yes,” - has the world looking so much clearer, no longer clouded by the shadows that have plagued you all along.
Truth be told, you don’t know what the future holds. You don’t know if you’ll ever reach a point that’ll make you want to say yes, to want Makoto in the way everyone says is normal. You don’t know if you'll always end up saying no.
But in this moment, you can be sure of one thing:
You’ll always be safe in Makoto’s arms.
When he kisses you, it’s hesitant in a way it hasn’t been for a long time. He cups your cheek and brushes his lips against yours. Eyes closed, you feel the strands of hair he still has to cut tickle your skin, and the hardness of his chest beneath your palms.
And underneath that, you can feel his rapid heartbeat, like he’s still a boy experiencing the giddiness of love for the first time.
He needs some coaxing from you to deepen the kiss the way he likes to when he kisses you, taking things slow as he revels in your touch and taste. He pulls you so close it’s almost as though the two of you are one: your fingers interlocked behind his back, his legs entangled with yours. He whispers something against your lips that you don’t quite catch, but a part of you knows what he’s saying even then.
Makoto loves you. And when he loves someone, he does it with every fibre of his being, all the way down to his soul.
And you love him the same way.
****
Much later, you fiddle with the deck of cards he brought along. “Do you want to play something?” Makoto asks.
“Maybe,” you muse, humming, legs tangled with his.
He smiles as you shuffle the cards, your hands occupied. So there’s absolutely nothing you can do when he tickles your neck. And your sides. And your tummy.
You squeal at the touch and roll away, laughing. “Makoto!” you scold him. “Don't make me fall off the bed!”
“Sorry, sorry,” he says, but he’s laughing too.
A few cards slip out of the deck and land on the mattress. You pick them up, and see that one of the cards is face-up.
It’s the ace of hearts. It’s always been your favourite card, but you could never explain why. When you were a very small child, you used to make the deck into a royal court and pretend that the ace of hearts was a princess who rode horses to far-off lands and never married a prince, unlike the other cards. Even when her parents, the king and queen of hearts, scolded her, she always had a happy ending in your stories and games. There was nothing wrong with her. She just experienced the world differently.
Funny how things can come full circle over twenty years.
