Chapter Fourteen

"When I was nine years old, I had an older sister," Haruka begins.

He is no longer crying, his expression stoic as usual. "Her name was Erika." He keeps his eyes trained away from Makoto's gaze, focused on the tide. The expanse of blue water stretches out as far as they can see, at least dozens of miles off into the horizon. Makoto finds himself unable to distinguish where the ocean ends and the dusky sky begins.

Had. Was. Makoto notices his word choice. Past tense.

"She was the most important person in my life. She was so kind to everyone, no matter who they were, always spreading love and positivity. She was also the golden girl at school. As a second year in high school, she was already being recruited for top colleges around the country, being at the top of her class, the student council president, and the principal violinist in her school's orchestra. She had it all."

"And then what happened?" Makoto asks, a bad feeling seeping in his chest when he realizes he already knows the answer.

"Erika died saving me," Haruka mumbles. "I was a dumb kid who thought it would be okay to run into the street. I had no idea a car was barreling around the corner, and she pushed me out of the way. She died so I could live."

Another stake flies into Makoto's heart. Haruka has only begun, and already Makoto can't take any more. He bites his lip and stares straight ahead, afraid if he interrupted Haruka would stop his story before it was finished.

"After her death, my entire family dynamic changed," Haruka explains. "I already knew Erika was the favorite child, the glue that held our family together. Everyone changed after she died. My mother became depressed, burying herself into work through the day and drinks away her sorrows before hiding in her room at night, staring off into space for hours. My father, a powerful lawyer, has been cheating on my mom for years with his assistant, who's fifteen years younger than him. Their marriage is broken but they stay together so our family can seem normal from the outside. And as for me, they hardly notice me. On the rare occasion I do see them, they always have something to criticize me for. Somehow they still hold the expectations for me that they do for Erika, but I'm never good enough. My grades aren't as good as hers, I'm not in any clubs, and I don't have a wide circle of friends. I'm a disappointment to them, nothing but a mistake."

Haruka turns to look at Makoto in the eye. "One time my mother told me in her drunken stupor she wished Erika had been the one to live."

Makoto can pinpoint the exact moment his heart shatters, and he feels like the wind has been knocked out of his lungs. How does a young child even live with themselves knowing their parents, the two most important people in their lives, don't want them alive?

"I live off of antidepressants, manufactured joy that helps me get through each day, and that's the best I'll ever feel," He continues, his voice unwavering.

Makoto thinks of his anxiety medication, the tiny red pills that sit in the plastic container at home, the tiny red pills that control his life. He remembers how his sister put in skittles with each day's dosage so he'd have something to smile about.

"So, you know. I've never felt like I've belonged. I know what everyone thinks of me, I hear the whispers behind my back. But I can handle it. I can handle spaz, and I can deal with people calling me queer. I can even deal with people calling me loser. But the one thing I can't take is when they call me freak."

Haruka Nanase, the freak! Nagisa's voice echoes in Makoto's mind, practically haunting him. Why would you ever want to talk to him?

"Being a freak boxes me in any more than any of those other meaningless insults would," Haruka mumbles. "Being a freak means that those nights where my mother had too many glasses of wine were justified. Being a freak means that I deserve to cry myself to sleep when I hear my parents screaming at each other being their locked door at two in the morning. Being a freak meant that I am incapable of feeling any emotion."

Makoto had to blink back tears, rubbing his eyes to erase them.

"So, I shut myself out from the rest of the world. My cries for help, fits of anger, me lashing out at students and teachers, drove a wedge between me and the others. But no one could see what was happening under the surface, not even the person who I trusted most in this world, my best friend, because eventually, he left me too. I'd spent so long since then, wondering what I had done to end up like this."

A small laugh bubbles out of Haruka's throat. Makoto isn't sure what he's laughing at, and it makes him feel uneasy.

"It's hard to escape an image you've created for yourself," His voice is barely above a whisper now, and Makoto has to strain to hear, hanging on desperately to every word, staring up at the boy that's lit up by moonlight. "But it's even harder when you realize the very thing dragging you down is the same thing you can't ever change."

"Haruka, I-" Makoto starts even though he has no idea what to say. His heart is completely broken apart, bleeding for the boy who's poured his entire life out in front of him. The sting of tears refuses to subside and he swallows the forming lump in his throat.

"No," Haruka interrupts him, holding a hand out to silence him. "Just, leave it, Makoto."

"But-"

"Tell anyone and you're dead, Tachibana," Haruka snaps, wiping his tears way angrily. "This conversation never happened."

Makoto simply nods, afraid to say anything that could ruin everything.

"Thank you for telling me," He says, and he means it. As sad as the story is, there is something special about the trust they must share. In his own sick way, Makoto feels special for knowing something about Haruka that no one else does. "Come on," He decides, kicking off his shoes. He hoists himself up from the bench into a standing position and offers his hand to Haruka. "Enough sadness for one night. Let's go for a walk."

Makoto has no expectation for Haruka to actually accept his hand out in an offer, and he is taken aback when Haruka raises his head and grabs his hand, squeezing it tightly when they connect. Makoto tries to ignore the way his entire body feels like it is filled with static electricity and pulls him off the bench, and they make their way down the boardwalk, back to the beach.

They walk along the shoreline, where the sand is wet and clumpy from where the ocean periodically washes over it. The tide moves in long, fluid movements, kissing the golden sand, and the first couple times the cold water sends a chill through Makoto's body.

He finds himself admiring the ocean. He's always had a strange fascination with it, never knowing if he loved it or feared it. He understands its beauty, and he understands its power, the dangers it can create. The moonlight has twisted itself into the glassy waves, creating an ethereal effect that has Makoto mesmerized.

"The ocean is beautiful, isn't it?" Haruka says after some minutes of silence.

"It is," Makoto breathes out. Not as beautiful as you, his mind thinks before he can register what he's thinking.

"People don't often notice the beauty of water," Haruka explains quietly. "They are often too busy, always living in the past or dreaming of the future, to appreciate the world in front of them."

"But the ocean is also scary," Makoto disagrees. "It is overpowering and can kill you with one wrong move. Doesn't it terrify you to think you could be sucked into the endless sea and have no hope of resurfacing?"

"That's just like life, though," Haruka says.

"What do you mean?"

"Imagine it. We're all at the beach. We're blindfolded, walking towards the water. We don't even know where we're going, we just know we're getting deeper, deeper until you're going to drown. And then, there is something, or someone, who pulls you out of the water for even the briefest of moments. It's like the breath of fresh air you desperately need after drowning for so long. Whatever that thing for you is, it's your relief in life. It brings you to your happy place."

"What's your happy place, Haruka?" Makoto asks him, not sure if he is overstepping his boundaries.

"Sitting in water, going under and feeling your entire body engulfed in water and allowing yourself to feel weightless. Sound gets blocked out, my eyes close, and I feel nothing."

"Sounds nice."

"Mmmm," Haruka agrees with a low hum. "What about you?"

"I don't know, actually," Makoto says honestly, kicking a stone in the sand. "I... I don't really know what I am passionate about. My life has just been studying and caring for my family... I've never really taken the time to think about myself."

Haruka is silent, watching Makoto curiously out of the corner of his eye. "Perhaps I was wrong about you, Makoto Tachibana," He says under his breath, softly enough to show Makoto isn't meant to hear it, but he does. He suddenly stops, tossing his sneakers to the side and rolls up his pants.

"What are you doing?" Makoto inquires.

Haruka doesn't respond, and he doesn't need to, because Makoto has already caught on. He too discards his shoes and socks into the sand. After cuffing his jeans so they won't get wet, he looks up expectantly at Haruka.

"Come on," He says with an expression that is so close to a smile, offering his hand out. "Let's go face that fear of yours."

Makoto cannot believe what he is hearing. Haruka looks at his outstretched hand, then up at Makoto impatiently, as if to demand, What are you waiting for?

Makoto isn't sure if there is anything to wait for. The present is as good as he's going to get, so he's going to make the most of it. And so, he takes Haruka's hand, and Haruka pulls him towards the rolling tide, taking off into a run.

Makoto feels his entire chest swell and soar like an eagle as he sprints behind Haruka, allowing himself to relish in the freedom, even if it's for a fleeting moment. A laugh bubbles and escapes out of his throat as they plunge into the water. The freezing waters shock him back into reality, and he screeches in surprise.

"Agh!" He shouts with a laugh, everything below his shins completely immersed in the prickly feeling of being in cold water. "It's so cold!"

Haruka, who is still holding his hand, laughs amusedly at him. The waves crash over their legs, sending droplets of water against more of Makoto's exposed skin. "It's not that bad, you wimp," He teases, sticking his tongue out.

Makoto gets the idea to scoop some water out and splash Haruka in response to his teasing comment. Haruka all but squeals "Makoto!" in surprise, not having expected him to be daring enough to splash him.

"It's not that bad," Makoto teases back in a horrible attempt to imitate the shorter boy's voice, an unstoppable grin growing on his face.

Haruka bites his lip in contempt, giving Makoto a deadpan look before lashing his arm out into the waves in one fluid motion, sending a wave of frigid water Makoto's way. Makoto reels away from the wave, laughing. "Hey!" He splashes back. Haruka avoids it narrowly, practically toppling over as he sloshes through the water to get away. "Get back here!" Makoto shouts, chasing after him.

They amuse themselves for several minutes longer, splashing and laughing and nearly falling in a couple of times. It isn't long before their clothes are dotted with cold seawater and their hair is dripping wet. Makoto notices Haruka is shivering and his lips are the faintest shade of blue and he suddenly calls a truce.

The playful smile on Haruka's lips falters, his arms falling to his sides. "What's wrong?"

"You're freezing," Makoto points out, and Haruka touches his lips hesitantly.

"O-oh," He says with the slightest of stutters, realizing how cold he is. "Y-you're right."

"Come on, let me walk you home," Makoto offers, and they leave the ocean begrudgingly, the high that came from running in the waves disappearing. Makoto stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets in an attempt to warm them up and keep them from shaking.

They quickly put on their shoes and begin their walk home, feet dragging through the sand and kicking up small clouds of dust. Makoto notices out of the corner of his eye that Haruka is shivering, but he walks confidently, arms by his sides, not wanting to admit he is cold.

Makoto smiles tenderly before shrugging off his jacket and draping it over Haruka's shoulders. Haruka seems surprised by the kind gesture, pulling the jacket tighter around himself.

"Won't you be cold?" He mutters under his breath, his tone of voice practically whispering a heartfelt thank you. Makoto doesn't think enough people pay attention to Haruka to know when he is in need, let alone care, and he plans to change that.

"I'll be alright," Makoto promises him.

They head home, walking along the boardwalk in silence. Makoto finds himself casting longing looks at Haruka's hand, which is hanging limply by his side, thinking about what it would be like to hold it again. He's taken Haruka's hand many times before, but each time has been urgent and demanding, trying to take him somewhere, but here, they have absolutely nowhere to go, and taking his hand would be like holding the entire world.

So lost in his own thoughts, Makoto hardly realizes time had passed, before he knows it, they've reached the stone steps. Instead of turning right and heading on the east path home, Makoto continues up the steps with Haruka to walk him home.

Haruka silently guides him up the stairs and they head left, passing a few homes before they walk down the driveway that leads to Haruka's home. No cars are parked in the driveway, no lights are on, and no noise comes from the house. He admires the house, it is a beautiful home, a two-story house made of brick and wood with creamy white shutters and a slanted roof. Potted plants of pink and azaleas frame the brown front door.

"Here," Haruka begins to take off the jacket but Makoto stops him before he can shrug it off.

"No, keep it," Makoto says. "It looks good on you."

"Really?" Haruka lifts up his hands to inspect the sleeves inquisitively, frowning at how they are a size too large, baggy around his thin arms.

"Yeah," Makoto says honestly with a shrug. "You look cute."

Makoto swears that Haruka's cheeks turn the slightest bit pink before he turns his head away and heads up the steps, so he cannot get a good look. Makoto stands on the bottom step, watching Haruka approach the front porch, his hand on the brass doorknob when Makoto stops him.

"Wait!" He shouts. Haruka freezes, but does not turn around. "Want to walk to school together tomorrow?"

The reply comes after several torturous seconds, and he nods, almost incomprehensible in the dark. "See you tomorrow, Makoto," Haruka mutters. He twists the doorknob and disappears into the dark house, leaving Makoto alone.

Makoto stares blankly at the house, a strange feeling creeping up on him. The house seems familiar somehow, but he cannot quite explain it. There is so much to Haruka he has learned tonight, and yet he still feels like Haruka is an unsolved mystery to him. He shakes off the odd thought and heads back home, numb to the cold that pricks tauntingly at his skin.

When he gets home, his house is silent. He barely remembers to change into a warm set of pajamas and climbs into bed, pulling his covers over his face and burying his head into his pillow, falling asleep immediately for the first time in ages.

- - - -

A/N: Guess who spent the whole weekend planning for college applications (kms) and studying for her giant science test that ended up being pushed to Wednesday :) :) :)