Chapter Fifteen: December 14th

Makoto manages to pull himself out of bed twenty minutes early. Even though he admittedly did not get much sleep the night before, he is motivated to wake up this morning, because today he is going to walk to school with Haruka, and this time, he isn't going to let him sneak by unnoticed.

Feeling determined, Makoto rushes through the normal things one does to get ready in the morning, even deciding to take a brisk shower to wake himself up, as he had a couple minutes to spare. He finds himself staring off absentmindedly into space as he scrubs shampoo into his scalp, the words shared from last night swirling around in his head.

Promises are worse than lies.

He shakes his head to snap himself out of the lull and rinses the soap out of his hair. After washing the rest of his body, he quickly exits the shower and dresses himself for school.

The house is quiet, which is no surprise; the twins had left for school half an hour earlier. Makoto takes a moment to appreciate the school system's staggered class openings; teenagers definitely deserved sleeping in a little bit more in the mornings. His father had also already left, having taken the family car to work early like he loved to do. Makoto doesn't hear any commotion in the kitchen, and figures if his mother went back to sleep he wouldn't bother waking her up; she had a rough night as well.

He enters the kitchen, toweling his hair dry to diminish the terrible mixture of wet hair plus December winds, seeing it to be empty. A few dirty dishes remained stacked by the sink, and Makoto takes it upon himself to quickly scrub them clean and set them in the rack in the sink to dry. He then grabs a banana out of the fruit bowl and a tub of yogurt, eating the yogurt without a spoon and saving the banana for later.

Makoto mumbles a quiet "I'm leaving", a habit of good manners even though no one is around to hear it, and locks the door behind him.

He grabs his backpack and peels the skin off the banana, taking a small bite of the soft fruit. Approaching the same set of stone steps, he kneels down to pet the same stray kitten that likes to play with the fallen leaves. Makoto's taken the liberty of naming her Yuki, and scratches her between the ears as a greeting, making the kitten purr and nuzzle into his hand. A smile makes its way to his face automatically as he pets her soft fur, looking up the set of stone steps.

Perhaps instead of waiting here, Makoto muses, I'll go stop by his house.

He is determined to not let Haruka walk to school on his own ever again; well, at least until the end of high school. But thinking about the future only led to bittersweet sadness and regret.

People don't appreciate the beauty of the present.

He ascends the stone steps and follows the path Haruka traced for him merely hours before; he recalls the way he felt when he was surrounded by silence and moonlight as he walked him home, and it sends a rush of warmth through his body. Staring up into the nice, two story house (easily double the size of his own home), the warmth is replaced with a sudden wave of anxiety rushes through his chest. His legs shake ever-so slightly as he steps up the front porch staircase and crosses the porch. His hand, curling into a tight fist, hesitates over the cherrywood door before he sucks in a deep breath and knocks.

After a minute, he frowns. No answer.

Is anyone home? He thinks. Surely Haruka wouldn't have left already, it's still another forty-five minutes until school starts, and he's often late to homeroom...

Makoto punches the doorbell with his finger, tapping his foot expectantly, a nervous tick because he can't stand still. Still, no one comes to the door, and he sighs in disappointment.

He is too scared to knock or ring the doorbell again, not wanting to intrude or bother anyone on the chance someone is home (clearly they want no part of him), and he turns on his heel, giving up and deciding he would try again tomorrow. However, he only makes it halfway down the steps when the door clicks open, revealing a woman who is eerily familiar.

"I told you already, the accountant messed up the numbers," A woman who seems to be in her mid-forties talks into a bluetooth device. "There's a twenty-three hundred dollar budget for the condo's paint job... no... yes. Hold on, someone's at the door."

She presses a button on the device in her ear and looks at Makoto pointedly. "Can I help you?" She asks in a tone of voice that shows she doesn't have a moment of patience to spare for a stranger like him.

"Um, yes, actually, I'm-" Makoto begins, stammering like an idiot like he always does around new people, fiddling with his thumbs.

"Sorry, I'm not interested if you're selling something," She dismisses him before he even gets a chance to spit it out, about to shut the door. "No, not you," She says into her device. "Hold on another moment."

"Wait!" Makoto shouts, taking a step forward and reaching his hand out before she closes it completely. "I'm looking for Haruka. Is he home?"

"Haruka?" She is paying full attention to him now, looking slightly taken aback, like she'd forgotten the name. Considering Haruka's story from last night, he wouldn't be surprised if she had forgotten him momentarily. Or, perhaps, she was too surprised to see someone actually looking for him. "Who's asking?"

"A-a friend," Makoto answers lamely.

The woman, who Makoto recalls to be named Lucinda - he remembers her from the funeral that hasn't technically happened yet, three weeks into the future - practically scoffs at him when he calls himself a friend. "Haruka doesn't have any friends," She says matter-of-factly. "At least, not anymore, anyway."

Makoto is appalled she would speak that way about her own son so quickly, and to a stranger, no less, but shakes off the annoyed feeling and puts on a forced smile. "Would you please just tell him I-"

Haruka's mother interrupts him yet again - Makoto now knows where Haruka gets his nasty habit from - launching into her conversation on the phone. "Hey, don't hang up! We still need to discuss the budget for the floors. The clients want hardwood-" Her eyes flicker to Makoto, standing at her doorstep like a lost puppy, and she sighs in defeat, opening the door for him to pass through. "His room is up the stairs, down the hall, on the right."

And without so much as a goodbye, she storms back into the kitchen, talking rapidly on her bluetooth device. Makoto hears some arguing about remodeling the kitchen with tile, and he feels a bit stunned. Well, she doesn't seem depressed at all, is his first thought. But then again, people are quite good at hiding their inner selves, sometimes even from themselves. Makoto knows the feeling a little too well.

Feeling completely out of place, Makoto creeps through the home, a bit put-off by how empty it feels. He passes through the giant living room; is furnished nicely, exactly how one would expect a well-off family would decorate their home. It is like a show home, with minimalist furniture in a black and white theme, with a couple silver accents in the decorations and the occasional potted plant decorating the corners . It is perfectly clean, like no one ever uses the space. So much for calling it a living room, Makoto thinks glumly.

Makoto finally finds the staircase and rushes up the stairs, following Mrs. Nanase's instructions, slowly moving down the hall as to not disturb anyone. He looks into the first door on the right; even though the door is already open, he lightly raps his knuckles on the door. When he receives no response, he pushes the door open some more and peers into the bedroom.

It is plain and dreary, with nothing much that personalizes it. A large bed sits in the middle of the room, unmade with a comforter (striped with cerulean and navy blue), a desk is pushed against the far wall with various art supplies in a shelving unit on top, a bookshelf holds books in a perfectly organized fashion, and a dark blue beanbag is by the window. The room is kept perfectly tidy, just like the rest of the house. This must be Haruka's room, Makoto thinks, but where is he?

The sound of sloshing water alerts him that Haruka may be somewhere else. He perks up at the noise, backing out of the bedroom (he quickly pushes away the uneasy feeling that he's intruding) and moving further down the hall. He's walking until he realizes he's already passed the bathroom, which is open, giving Makoto a perfect view of a figure in a bathtub.

Before he can look away, too embarrassed to stare, Makoto can't help but notice Haruka resting his head on his arms on the side of the bath tub. His eyes are shut, the corners of his lips turning slightly blue, and there is a grimace on his face. The faucet drips a metronome's beat with it's quiet water droplets, the only sound filling the quiet bathroom.

Makoto's brain decides to jump into full-blown panic mode before he can think reasonably about the situation. Though, he can't exactly help it. He's been constantly on edge about suicide for the past week, so sue him if he's terrified Haruka may have killed himself early from hypothermia in a bathtub or something.

He gasps, rushing into the bathroom and scrambling to Haruka's side. "Haruka? Hey!" Makoto says loudly. "Oh my God! Haruka!" He kneels by his side, grabbing his hand. It's so cold...

Haruka raises his head up slowly, looking groggy. "Wha-?" He mumbles incoherently, his voice thick with sleep. Makoto would've found it incredibly hot if he weren't two steps away from having an anxiety attack. "Wha- Makoto?" He snaps up, completely woken up from his groggy daze. "What are you doing in my house?"

"I-I-I was just coming to walk with you, and your mom sent me up here, b-but... y-you were asleep in the bath!" Makoto stammers, still holding onto Haruka's hand tightly.

"Hmm? I was just, relaxing..." Haruka says, looking nonplussed at his actions.

"Y-you could've died! From hypothermia! Or you could've slipped under the water and drowned!" Makoto babbles worriedly, reaching for the faucet to turn it off. "Why is the bath water so cold?"

"I dunno," Haruka mutters. "I just like it."

"You're crazy!" Makoto nags him. "Come on, get out of here before you freeze!" He lets go of Haruka's hand and rushes to the towel rack on the wall, grabbing a fluffy towel and tucking it under his arm. He leans over the bath, where Haruka has curled up into a ball again, tilting his head back on the tile. His eyes have shut again, trickles of water trailing down his bangs, down the curve of his nose, and alongside his jawline before disappearing into the pool of water. Haruka opens his eyes, having sensed Makoto looming over him, hand outstretched and a determined look on his face.

A small sigh, nearly incoherent, escapes his lips and he lifts his arm out of the water, allowing the water to trail off his skin and splash into the bathtub in a cacophony of sounds. Makoto ignores the way he rolls his eyes as he takes Makoto's hand, allowing him to pull him out of the bath. Haruka lingers there for a moment, and Makoto finds himself unable to look anywhere but his eyes, finding his gaze trailing down.

Makoto only now just realizes Haruka is not naked (thank God), but rather wearing a pair of swim trunks, and he raises an eyebrow in suspicion. He refuses to stare at Haruka's admittedly sculpted body any longer that is socially acceptable, forcing himself to look away. He shoves the towel into Haruka's chest, quickly letting go of his hand and taking a step back.

"Sorry for intruding," He whispers, feeling embarrassed.

"Little late for that, isn't it?" Haruka teases him, and when Makoto blushes, looking sheepish, he grins. "Hey. I'm just messing with you. Thanks for caring."

Makoto stares at him hopefully, a surprised smile growing on his face. "O-oh, it's no problem rea-" He tries to say, but Haruka is already stepping out of the bath. He runs the towel through his hair and body and tosses it on the counter before heading out of the bathroom. Makoto stands in the bathroom, frozen in his spot, dumbfounded as to what happened.

Did Haruka just... smile at him?

It only took a week, but he finally got out a smile out of Haruka Nanase, but damn, did it feel rewarding. A warm feeling spreads through his chest as he grins, practically skipping out of the bathroom. Haruka's bedroom door is shut, and Makoto isn't going to make the same mistake twice, because this time he may not be saved by a pair of swim trunks as a buffer. The image of Haruka's smile permanently ingrains itself into Makoto's brain, and he has a feeling he won't get that mental picture out of his mind anytime soon.

Haruka emerges from his bedroom, dressed in his school attire, save for the fact his tie is undone around his neck. He makes his way down the hallway, Makoto hot on his heels, and they quietly head down the stairs. Makoto bites his lip, not sure if he should make conversation or stay quiet. He figures the latter is the safer option and ceases the awkwardness by taking another look around the home.

The most off-putting thing, Makoto comes to realize, is that there are no photographs displayed in the house. His own home is decorated with pictures of friends and family; there is a large collage of them on the wall in their den, and picture frames top nearly every surface, from end tables to the refrigerator to the shelf above the fireplace. But in Haruka's house, their home decoration consists of simple, modern pieces. The thought saddens Makoto; it feels like a ghost town, not a single memory captured.

Haruka goes around the corner, reappearing with his backpack slung over his shoulder, and is headed for the front door when Makoto asks him if he is going to get any breakfast. "I'm not hungry," Comes Haruka's stubborn reply as he leaves the house, and Makoto huffs, grabbing an apple out of the family's fruit bowl and running after him.

They head through the neighborhood, pass the old fishing shrine, and down the old stone steps. Makoto smiles fondly at Yuki, who is curled up on one of the steps, taking a nap, and they head towards the boardwalk to walk towards the metro station.

Walking alongside the beach, Makoto's eyes flicker to the bench by the shore, the same bench they'd been sitting at less than twelve hours ago, pouring their hearts out to each other. Makoto bites his lip and forces himself to stare forward, clutching onto his backpack strap a little tighter.

The apple in his hand is practically burning into his skin, and he holds it out to Haruka. "You need to eat something," He reminds him, sounding like his mom when he's cramming for a test for hours on end. "I wouldn't want you to faint at school because you're hungry."

Haruka looks discouraged, but he takes the apple out of Makoto's hands. "...Thanks," He says finally, crunching into the apple. Makoto offers him a tight-lipped smile and looks forward again.

Headed down the steps to the underground, they enter the train station and board the metro, which on time, thank God –  Makoto thought the bathtub shenanigans would make them late. The train compartment is completely crowded, and both teenagers have to stand, holding onto the loops that hang from the ceiling for stability. However, Makoto is not paying attention to do this, having been too focused on typing a text message to Rei on his cell phone. The train doors shut and it lurches forward at top speed. From not holding on to the hand rings, he loses his balance and flies forward clumsily, right into Haruka.

"Woah," Haruka says, his reaction speed fast enough to catch the boy. His arms curl around Makoto's hips, stopping him from falling on the gross train floor. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah," Makoto says, blushing. Haruka is still holding onto him, his fingers lingering on his skin for just a little bit too long . "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"Don't mention it," His eyes widening slightly, Haruka lets go of Makoto quickly when he comes to terms of the position they're currently in, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring off into the distance, watching the world pass by on the train.

His face still burning, Makoto can't stop staring at Haruka out of the corner of his eye. He that Haruka is still wearing his jacket from last night, and he feels his face flush darker. He decides not to comment on it, however, because there is something endearing about seeing Haruka bundled up in his jacket, even if it is too big on him.

Ah, man, He thinks to himself, wishing he could just pull himself together. Why am I being like this?

His emotions are a jumbled mess, a ball of twine knotted together so tightly he can't figure out what's in the core. All he knows is after hearing Haruka's life story, he hasn't been able to shake off this feeling, a stronger connection that lies between them. Now, he just wants to be with Haruka all the time. He wants to see him smile more often. He wants to be the one who makes Haruka smile.

I'm just protective over him, Makoto tries to convince himself. He needs someone by his side, and Death chose me to be that person. I'm just doing what's been asked of me.

And yet, he knows the reasoning he tells himself is a lie, but he isn't quite ready to admit the real reason to himself, because saving Haruka Nanase is only half the battle. When the real danger is gone, there will be greater things to be afraid of.

His heart, for example, might be one of them.

- - - -

A/N: guYS IM GOING ON A DATE IN 30 MINUTES I GOTTA GET READY BUT I WAS WRITING INSTEAD AAAHHHH