Chapter Five

"Hey! Come on, you need to wake up! Hey!"

Makoto jolts awake, his heart racing at with adrenaline. He looks around at his surroundings, seeing who was shouting at him, and why they woke him up so suddenly. Makoto realizes he is still in the seafood restaurant, slumped over the booth on the back. Once he realizes where he is, he immediately notices two strange things:

One, he is wearing a green cardigan over a striped blue shirt and khaki pants, which is strangely similar to something he distinctly remembers wearing a month ago.

Two, he is currently face-to-face with a boy he was pretty sure was supposed to be dead.

There is a reasonable explanation for all of this insanity, Makoto thinks. Clearly, he must be having a very fucked up dream, because he is staring into the cold blue eyes of Haruka Nanase, the boy who died, who is regarding him with an impatient expression.

But it is an impatient expression that is one-hundred percent alive, and it sends Makoto's head spinning.

This is all too much to process.

Haruka is standing, breathing, living in front of him, and it feels like he was just at his funeral two seconds ago.

"Uhh," Makoto stammers as he averts his eyes, running his hand through his hair self-consciously, knowing full-well Haruka is still glaring at him, an unpleasant frown on his face. "I-I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm here-"

"I don't really care," Haruka interrupts him. "But we're closed. You need to go."

"What are you doing here?" Makoto blurts out against his better judgment.

Haruka's scowl deepens. "Me?" He questions sarcastically, his hand closing into a tight fist around a towel Makoto just now notices he is holding. "I happen to work here."

"O-oh. Sorry."

"Whatever. Just get out."

Makoto is slightly taken aback by the way Haruka snaps at him so quickly. Sure, he wasn't exactly expecting a warm welcome from the boy, but he doesn't understand why it hurts so much that he seems so angry at him.

"Jeez, I was just trying to apologize. There's no need to be so rude," Makoto mutters under his breath.

The harshness of Makoto's words have an affect on Haruka that he wasn't expecting. The look that crossed his face mirrored an expression he would have if Makoto had just slapped him across the face. His eyes narrow almost challengingly.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I don't want people to be nice to me? That maybe I want to be left alone?" He hisses in response, his stance wavering slightly.

That didn't make much sense to Makoto. Perhaps he is just blessed to have grown up surrounded by caring friends and family, against all odds. Maybe Haruka doesn't know what that's like, but that doesn't mean he should shut it out so quickly.

"But why?" Makoto questions.

And it was a serious question. What had happened in Haruka's life to make him think it would just be easier to face the world on his own?

"None of your damn business, that's why."

"That's not an answer," Makoto frowns.

"Who says I have to give you a real one?"

"Me."

"Well, why do you care so damn much?"

Because I don't want you to kill yourself, that's why.

"Because... Because I'd like to get to know you better," Makoto mumbles helplessly before he can think of a better excuse. He internally cringes at his own answer, fully expecting the irritated expression that twists on Haruka's face.

"Yeah, right," Haruka brushes by him.

"No, it's true!" Makoto jumps forward to grab his wrist, pushing up his own cardigan sleeve in the process.

"Let-" Haruka looks down at where Makoto's fingers have latched onto his arm, a confused expression forming on his face. "Twenty-eight?"

"What?" Makoto's heart pounds in his chest.

"The number on your hand," Haruka is still looking down. Makoto's eyes trail down to his hand, which, sure enough, has a glowing gold 28 on it, raised above the surface of his skin like scar tissue. Makoto pulls his hand away as if he touched a hot burner, yanking down his sleeve.

When the hell had that gotten there?

"L-like I'd tell you," He mutters under his breath pathetically. "I have to go now."

"Finally," Haruka breathes an exaggerated sigh of relief. "We closed ten minutes ago. I am greatly pleased to know of your departure so I can clean up and go home."

"Wait," Makoto stops him, the words sinking in. "Closed ten minutes ago?" Makoto repeats frightfully. "What time is it?"

Looking like he's given up on getting Makoto to get out of the restaurant, Haruka bends over the booth, scrubbing the table with the towel in circles until it shines.

"Eleven-eleven," Haruka answers boredly with a glance at his watch.

"Oh, shit!" Makoto yelps, jumping to his feet. "Oh, my parents are going to kill me! Not to mention the fact they hate me going on the metro at this hour," He babbles, pulling out his phone, reading the line that makes his heart sink. Mom - 11 Missed Calls. "Oh, shit!" He repeats hysterically.

"Jesus, Makoto, would you stop pacing?"

Makoto nearly drops his phone when he hears the words Haruka barks at him. He is still reaching across the table to wash it, but his eyes are casted upward and glaring at Makoto so intensely he feels like he's going to catch on fire.

But what's even more surprising is that Haruka called him by his name.

"Wait, y-you know who I am?" Makoto stutters, gripping onto his sleek phone as to make sure he doesn't clumsily drop it on the floor. He is frozen in his spot now, stopping his panicky pacing and staring at Haruka in shock.

"Of course I do," Haruka rolls his eyes in impatience. "Makoto Tachibana. The perfect student from the perfect family. The guy that literally all the girls whisper about, the guy that gets confessed to twice a week."

"H-how do you know all that?" Makoto is astonished. Not to mention, half of what he said is wrong; he's close to failing two of his harder classes and he certainly does not come from a perfect family. With a sick mother and a father who's never around, it's safe to say they are far from perfect from the insider's eye.

And as for the other things he said, Makoto warms at the thought of girls in his class giggling behind their hands, sending not-so-secretive glances his way and leaving homemade chocolates on his desk. He has no idea why girls even pay attention to him, let alone like him, especially considering they'd all ditch him the moment they found about his anxiety and panic disorders.

"Of course you don't remember," Haruka laughs sharply, one that makes Makoto shiver, shaking his head. "I sit next to you in homeroom, you know."

"Yeah, I know that!" Makoto stiffens as he defends himself. He twiddles with his phone as his eyes cast down, avoiding Haruka's gaze. "I just, you know, didn't think you paid much attention. You always seemed, well, busy. Doodling and stuff..."

"That school is filled with idiots. There's no point in paying attention when nothing you're learning in that terrible school will help you in the real world," Haruka interrupts him again, rolling his eyes. "So what's the point?"

"That's not really looking at it positively," Makoto finds himself disagreeing. Maybe he's just annoyed Haruka's been nothing but rude to him, but it's time he fires back. "School offers a bunch of things. Friendships, clubs, the opportunity to discover what you want-"

"Free," Haruka interrupts him for the third time.

Biting the inside of his cheek to refrain from calling him out on his impolite habit, he cocks his head to the side, pondering the word. "Free?" He repeats."

"Yes," Haruka looks away, his dark hair falling into his eyes. "I want to be free."

It's a strange thing to say, something you don't hear every day. The statement makes no sense to Makoto, but judging by the way Haruka's posture is rigid and stiff, it holds a lot of meaning to him, which was enough for Makoto to not comment on it.

"Okay," Makoto eventually says. "Well, I don't want you here all night. What can I do to help?"

"I thought you were worried about being out so late?" Haruka arches an eyebrow questioningly.

"They'll understand. I don't go out much, you know. Hopefully they'll just let me off with a warning," Makoto laughs. "Now, come on. Let me help."

Makoto expects an immediate, flat-out no, so it is needless to say that he is taken aback to hear what comes out of Haruka's mouth in response.

"Fine."

Haruka shoves a giant Tupperware bin in his chest, and Makoto grabs the handles. "Go collect the rest of the plates. When you're done, load them in the dishwasher, which is in the back."

Makoto offers him a pleasant smile and nods, not noticing that Haruka forces his gaze away the moment he sees Makoto's lips turning up in a smile.

They work quietly. It is efficient, with Makoto systematically lining up the dirty plates and glasses in the tub, humming softly to himself as he works. He doesn't notice Haruka casting the occasional glance at him as he sprays and wipes down the tables, pushes in chairs, and sweeps. There is a comfortable silence about them, with the unspoken agreement to say nothing as they finish the job, and not even fifteen minutes pass before the shop is spotless.

Makoto wipes the forming beads of sweat on his forehead as he loads the rest of the dishes into the dishwasher and starts it up, filling the kitchen with a soft rumbling sound. He exits the kitchen to see Haruka sitting on the last stool at the bar, staring off into space.

"All done!" Makoto announces cheerfully, brushing the imaginary dust off his hands. Haruka hardly acknowledges his statement, humming a response under his breath as he slides of the rubber stool and strides towards the back door. Makoto waits, and a moment later he returns, bundled up in a navy-blue zippered coat and brandishing a key in one hand.

They exit the restaurant, met with a cold gust of January – no, December, Makoto tells himself – wind that blows harshly across their faces. Makoto watches as Haruka locks up, entranced by every movement he makes. If Makoto were to describe him in a word, it would be fluid – he is graceful and dancer-like in all that he does, his movements reminding Makoto of water.

Haruka pockets the key in his coat, and followed by his gloveless hands. Makoto blushes – unsure if it is the cold air or the way Haruka is staring so abashedly at his shoes – when he speaks.

"Thank you," He says softly, his voice incomprehensible if Makoto wasn't hanging on to every word. It is for a split second, but he finally looks Makoto in the eye. There is a reservation in his eyes, something he is holding back from the rest of the world.

"I-It's no problem!" Makoto shoos him off with an embarrassed laugh. He babbles incessantly, the only think he knows how to do when he is nervous. "R-really! W-well, I hope you get home safely, Haruka-san! Have a good evening!"

When Haruka says nothing, Makoto takes it as his cue to leave. He turns on his heel and heads down the empty, poorly-lit street, eyes casted downward as he makes his way to the metro station. His face is still burning, embarrassed by the way he can't help but ramble on whenever he gets nervous.

His mind begins to wander as the entire interaction settles in. Makoto finds himself playing Haruka and his conversation in his mind, reading into every detail. As he thought of the way he acted, he couldn't brush the thought from his mind. Haruka Nanase is alive.

It is such a relief, and he releases a breath that he feels like he has been holding for hours. He can't help the grin that spreads across his face like wildfire, threatening to make his face crack in half.

The smile only lasts a couple moments, however, when it dawns upon him that Haruka Nanase will die once again if Makoto doesn't do something.

In short, his life is in Makoto's hands.

Admittedly, Death was right. This very well could be the hardest thing Makoto will ever do.

Makoto is so lost in thought, wondering just how he is going to pull this off (considering there aren't any manuals on how to save someone's life by going back in time, at least as far as he is aware), and he can feel himself growing anxious. Clearly he did not think this through, because he has absolutely no game plan on how he's going stop Haruka from committing suicide – and avoid the possible destruction of the space-time continuum in the process – and he knows he should've thought about the very real consequences of failing this mission.

In fact, Makoto is so lost in thought he doesn't register the fact that footsteps are echoing behind him.

Alert in an instant, Makoto whirls around only to find Haruka almost directly behind him, hands shoved in his jacket, earbuds tucked in his ears.

"Haruka!" Makoto gasps, both terrified to see him there but also relieved he is not a mugger. "Goodness, you scared me!"

Haruka takes one earbud out of his ear and frowns irritably.

"What are you doing?" Makoto asks when he doesn't say anything or even move.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Haruka snaps, annoyed at the question. "I'm walking home."

Makoto feels dumb now. Obviously, he thinks, we would both be walking to the same train station. If only he weren't so lost in his own mind, he would've realized it sooner.

"You should've said something," Makoto says cheerily. "So we could walk together."

Haruka's nose wrinkles in disgust at the thought, but he doesn't verbally disagree. Instead, he brushes by Makoto and continues to walk again, causing Makoto to rush after him. When he finally is by Haruka's side, Makoto forces himself to take smaller strides to match the shorter boy's naturally smaller gait. Makoto says nothing, but there is a small smile on his face as they walk the rest of the way to the train station together. Maybe Haruka wasn't saying anything, and he refused to tear his gaze away from the uneven pavement, but at least he was by Makoto's side, and that was enough for Makoto.

Sometimes the smallest victories are the ones most worth celebrating.

- - - -

The metro ride home is eerily silent.

They sit in the seats in the same row, around the back, and as far as Makoto can tell, they are the only ones on the entire train.

Makoto wishes he could think of something to say to Haruka, but every time he looks over, he chickens out. Haruka spends the train ride staring out the window, watching the underground tunnels zoom past at a hundred miles an hour. The headphones stay lodged in his ears, and Makoto can't help but wonder what he's listening to.

Studying Haruka carefully, he tries to determine what type of music Haruka would like. At first, his mind jumps to loud, angsty music, the kind that pounds at your ears and tears at your soul. But for some reason, as he thinks of it more, Haruka doesn't seem like the type to blast screaming emo music through his headphones.

Almost like he is reading Makoto's mind, Haruka reaches for one of his earbuds and pulls it out, handing it to him wordlessly. Makoto doesn't bother to hide his surprise, and he looks at Haruka to say something, but Haruka has shut his eyes and is leaning against the window.

Makoto takes the earbud graciously and pops it in his ear, immediately welcomed by the peaceful melody of a piano.

Oh.

Well, this is surprising.

Makoto feels himself swallowed by the melody, trailing along as the notes extend, soaring like an eagle. For once, he has no words, no thoughts as he follows along with the music, allowing it to pass through his mind and swell like a supple rosebud.

Ironically enough, they get off on the same stop. They walk the whole way home in silence, still sharing the headphones. Makoto is entranced by every music piece, which ranges from violin to guitar to flute, and the air between them has ceased somewhat.

"Who knew we lived so close to each other?" He offers in an attempt to make conversation, his voice strained to sound cheerful. Haruka mutters something in response, something Makoto doesn't catch. They continue to walk down the beach, with Haruka's eyes drifting longingly toward the water, which is lit up with the soft glow of the full moon.

It is strange to find out just how close they live to each other; weirdly enough, nearly on the same street. Makoto doesn't know how he hadn't noticed Haruka walking home this way before.

They stop at the bottom of the staircase that leads to the shrine when Makoto stops walking.

"Well, this is my stop," He says awkwardly, jutting his thumb behind him to his house on the right.

Haruka's eyes cast upward to the steps, presumably where he lived.

"So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" Makoto asks awkwardly as he nervously shifts the weight between his feet.

"God, I hope not," Haruka mutters, although Makoto has a feeling he wasn't supposed to hear that. His jaw falls slack in shock, but he shakes the words off and forces a smile.

No way is he backing down this easily.

"Say, want to walk to school together in the morning?" Makoto offers before he can think twice about what he's saying. Once he realizes he spoke his thoughts out loud, he flushes abashedly and digs his toe into the ground. "You know, since we live so close together and all-"

Haruka looks up, and they meet eyes. Makoto all but squeaks in surprise and shakes his hands in front of him. "I-I mean, only if you want to! It was just a suggestion, by all means, turn me down-"

"Makoto."

"Yeah?" Makoto shrills, his posture stiffening.

"Seriously. Why are you being so kind to me?"

"O-oh! Well, doesn't everyone deserve kindness, Haruka-san?" Makoto answers, and for once, Haruka is silent not because he chooses not to say anything, but because he doesn't know how to respond. "Plus, aren't we friends now?"

"No," Haruka fires back immediately, sounding angry. "We're not friends."

"But we'll get there eventually!" Makoto argues, satisfied.

"It's going to take a lot more than cheerful smiles and you calling us friends than it actually happening," Haruka retorts, and Makoto hates to admit that he has a point. This would take a lot of effort, and it wasn't going to be easy. But Makoto was willing to try.

"What's it going to take, then?" He asks curiously.

"Just go home," Haruka sighs. "You were supposed to be home a long time ago, anyway."

Makoto's eyes waver towards his house, which still has all the lights on. He is immediately reminded of his current situation, and dread sinks in his chest. "Agh! My parents are going to kill me for being out so late! I better get going! See you tomorrow, bright and early, Haruka-san!"

Makoto takes off in a run towards his front porch, taking one last look over his shoulder just before he heads in the front door.

Haruka is still standing there, hands clenched tightly at his sides. He is staring off into space, frozen in time, with tears in his eyes.

It may just be the distance between them, but Makoto swears he sees the faintest of smiles turn on Haruka's mouth before it disappears and he shakes his head, heading up the stairs and disappearing into the night.

- - - -

A/N: Guys I saw Rogue One today and it was sooooo gooooood :D