Chapter Thirty-Nine

After spending five minutes in close proximity with Lucinda Nanase, Makoto learns she is the most intimidating, no-nonsense woman he's ever met .

And furthermore, she's the complete opposite from how he remembered her at Haruka's funeral, which, theoretically, would be a week from today if he didn't have anything to say about it.

But Makoto chooses not to think about that.

It hurts too much.

Everything about her screams overbearing; from the minute Haruka steps in the door she scolds him about not taking off his boots outside, making a huge mess of sand in the foyer, and then proceeding to complain that she and her husband had to get their own taxi to the house, as if that was somehow his fault.

Speaking of, her husband isn't that much better. They're both clearly exhausted from being stranded in airports and traveling for days on end, but whereas she blows off steam by chewing out Haruka for the littlest of things, his father collapses in an oversized chair and watches the chaos unfold for a few minutes before he's snoring.

"Lucinda, give the boy some space, why don't you," Mr. Amakata says cautiously, clearly afraid of the ticking time bomb that is his younger sister. "Take a seat, have some tea, let the kids go have fun."

She huffs out a sigh, as if it's such a huge inconvenience to sit down and relax. She doesn't say anything else, but sits down with Mr. Amakata and his wife anyway. Makoto notices her demeanor instantly changes, as if someone flipped a switch on her. Suddenly, she's smiling easily and melting into their conversation.

For a moment, she looks happy.

Makoto's seen too many fake smiles to not be deceived.

He feels Haruka's hand graze his arm, a silent beckoning to follow him. They walk up the stairwell quietly, not saying a word until they shut the bedroom door behind them.

"I'm sorry," Are the first words out of Haruka's mouth, and they take Makoto by surprise. He enters the room and sits on the bed, frowning.

"For what?"

"My mom," Haruka explains. "She's always like that. Nagging, overbearing, always treating me like a fuck-up. Sorry you have to experience it."

"If anything, I should be apologizing to you for having to bear it for seventeen years," Makoto says, crossing the room and taking a seat next to him. "You aren't a fuck-up, you know."

Haruka looks unconvinced, his brow furrowing.

"You aren't, Haru," Makoto repeats, louder. "And as much as I'd like to tell you that you can change her behaviour, you can't. Because that's just the way she's wired."

"Yeah, because treating your kid like utter shit because you blame them for your favorite child's death is totally excusable," Haruka grits his teeth.

"That's not what I mean," Makoto says slowly. "I mean her general attitude about never being satisfied. That's on her. You're doing your best, and that's all anyone can ask of you, right?"

"I guess," Haruka flops on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He doesn't sound convinced, however, and keeps worrying his lower lip like he does when he's thinking.

Makoto follows suit, flopping down on the bed and pulling on Haruka's arm so he turns on his side. Makoto kisses him softly, a tender kiss that shows he's here and he cares, and he hopes the message goes through.

"I'm so messed up," Haruka laughs as he breaks off the kiss. "Here I am, kissing the guy that makes me so happy, and yet all I can think of is how sad my mom makes me when she makes me feel like a disappointment."

"It's okay to be sad, Haru," Makoto's hand moves up so his thumb can stroke Haruka's cheek. He wipes away a tear, and Haruka closes his eyes, his eyelashes wet with tears. "Own that sadness."

"I'm so tired of being sad," Haruka whispers. "I want to feel like this all the time."

"Have you considered asking your aunt if you can move in?" Makoto asks suddenly, not sure where the question comes from. He supposes it's always been in the back of his mind. "I mean, you're already there all of the time anyways. You already have a room there, right?"

"I sleep on Asuka's top bunk, but it would do for another half year before I go off to university," Haruka muses. "But I don't know. I just figured it would be impossible. I just assumed my parents would say no."

"Perhaps you could convince your aunt and uncle and they could get on your side," Makoto suggests. "Maybe I'm overstepping here, but I think you'd be better off with them. They've been so much more of a family to you."

"No, you're right," Haruka nods. "When my parents aren't gone for days on end working, all they do is yell at me and punish me for no good reason. They'd be glad to have me gone. It would be a relief for them."

Makoto can't help but frown at Haruka's words, but he wonders how much of them actually hold the truth. He supposes he'll never know for sure, but if it's a step closer to Haruka getting better, he'd fully support it.

It's the least he can do now, after all, considering in just four short days, everything will be out of his control.

Makoto presses another kiss to his forehead, watches as Haruka's eyes flutter shut again, and practically melts at the unconscious smile that curls on his mouth.

This is what Haruka was talking about earlier, Makoto thinks. The little things like his smile are what I'm going to miss the most.

If only he just had more time to appreciate them all before they're gone.

- - - -

Dinner was, in a word, difficult.

Makoto took the liberty of sitting next to Haruka so he wouldn't have to sit next to his parents, and Asuka chose to sit on Makoto's other side, which created a two-person barrier between parent and son, which Makoto figured would be enough.

It wasn't.

Dinner was filled with conversation, half in French, half in Japanese, of all kinds of topics: the events of the day, the Nanase's traveling and being stuck in Korea due to the snowstorm, their day trip to Paris tomorrow, and of course, the inevitable.

"So, Tachibana-kun, what are your plans for next year?" Mr. Nanase asks after swallowing a bite of cooked salmon.

Makoto feels his face heat up when he realizes nine pairs of eyes are trained on him expectantly. He sets his fork down and spits out the first lie that comes to his mind. He's lucky; he's lied so much recently, it feels like second nature by now.

"I'm looking at colleges mainly around the Iwatobi area. I'd like to go into physical therapy and training, mainly for athletes," He explains calmly. Mr. Nanase nods, and Makoto takes that nod as one of approval. Not like his blessing matters, anyway.

"Any reason why, Tachibana?" His wife asks.

"Yes, ma'am," Makoto says slowly. "When I was younger, I was on the swim team for quite a few years, and I loved it. One day, one of my old coaches recruited me to help teach some of the younger athletes. Of course that didn't start my love for helping out others, but it was reconnecting with an old teammate who was going through recovery for a messed up shoulder that I realized I wanted to make sure people were safe doing something they love."

So maybe it isn't a total lie. Everything in his story was true; Makoto had actually considered this career choice for the future, and that friend just so happened to be Rei, who he met again in high-school.

However, by now, there wasn't much of a future waiting for him. Not without Haruka, anyway. So what was the point of wasting his time on meaningless things like hope?

"Why did you quit if you loved it so much, then?"

Makoto swallows the forming lump in his throat. "My mom got cancer."

Makoto keeps his eyes focused on Haruka's mother, whose icy-blue eyes are so focused on him he wouldn't be surprised if laser beams start shooting out of them. He just wants this conversation to end. Too many people staring, too much pity.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," She says, the surprise on her face only lasting a split second. "How is she now?"

"Not better," Makoto says harshly, standing to his feet. "Can I be excused, please?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, taking his half-eaten plate of food and dumping the remains in the trash can, setting the plate in the sink, and rushing upstairs before anyone could protest.

"Now look what you did," He hears Haruka hiss at his mother.

"How is this my fault?" She retorts hysterically. "You should've warned me beforehand! I would've been more sensitive if you had given the thought of telling me instead of-!"

Makoto can't hear another word after he slams the door shut and hides under his covers. He's comforted by the darkness, relaxing a little bit when his head hits the pillow. It's only in this moment when he realizes tired he realizes he is.

And yet, at the same time, he's too afraid to sleep, because every moment asleep is another moment wasted, lost to Chaos and everything he's worked so damn hard for.

He thinks of calling his mom, but he knows it's the middle of the night in Japan right now and doesn't want to bother her with his problems when she has enough to worry about already.

He lies there, thinking, for who knows how long. It feels like hours, but when he gives up and gets out of bed, the clock on the bedside table indicates he's only been lying down for forty-five minutes or so.

With dinner being done, everyone had spread out to their corners of the household, left to their own devices. The only one left in the kitchen is Haruka, scrubbing away at the dishes.

"So, are you always stuck with kitchen clean up duty, or do you just love cleaning ten sets of silverware each night?" Makoto teases, but the mood isn't there for the joke to stick.

"I'm stuck on dish duty tonight," Haruka explains coolly as he uses the spray nozzle to shoot off the food remains into the sink drain. "Mother decided that I needed to pay for my 'little stunt' today."

"What did you do?" Makoto cocks his head to the side curiously.

"Apparently by us going to the beach alone, I left two young girls unprotected in the city to find their way home. It's not like this town is super tiny and they were a five-minute walk away from home," He complains, huffing in exasperation. "God, Asuka is nearly sixteen too. You'd think she'd have a little faith in us by now."

Makoto isn't sure what to say, he just stands there awkwardly for a second before picking up a towel and taking the plate out of Haruka's hands, beginning to dry it.

"Thanks."

"No problem," Makoto nods, drying the plate and setting it in the pile of clean dishes. Haruka starts to scrub at a plastic dish with mac and cheese stains - Suzuka's dinner - while Makoto crosses the kitchen to turn on the speaker system in the corner.

The speaker starts to play a pop song. Perfect to dance to.

"If you start to dance, I'm breaking up with you," Haruka mutters.

"Didn't realize we were together," Makoto teases him.

"Figured you wouldn't object," Haruka teases back, turning around and leaning his back against the kitchen counter and grinning. He holds up a hand. "Five seconds to object," He begins to count down, putting down each finger. "Five, four..."

Makoto strides forward and grabs his arm. In one swift moment, his hands are in Haruka's and he's yanked away from the sink.

"Makoto, don't you dare-"

The vocals start in English, set to a piano and drum beat. It's soft and fluttery, something that he'd expect fifteen-year-old girls to listen to too loudly in their bedrooms alone.

Haruka's looking at him like he's crazy, as if Makoto listens to bubblegum pop all the time. Which he does, but Haruka doesn't need to know that.

"Put it in harmony, let the words ring, carry your thoughts in the song we sing--"

And then the song's lyrics turn into French, and Haruka's face colors. Makoto hums along, not knowing what the words are, but he doesn't need understanding to feel. Haruka quickly realizes that Makoto did not care about dancing like a teenage girl. He grips onto Haruka's soapy hands anyway, pulling him to the center of the kitchen.

Haruka stiffens, trying his best to stand as still as possible. No way in hell would he be caught dancing. Not with the possibility of his parents walking in at any moment. No, it's not worth the risk.

Except, watching the way Makoto move can only be described as surreal. Whether he realizes it or not, Makoto knows exactly what he should be doing, his movements fluid. He moves so casually, so effortlessly, so unique to him alone, and yet Haruka is completely entranced.

And Makoto loves it.

"You can dance?" Haruka blurts out loudly, his tone making it sound like an accusation and a compliment at the same time. It was times like this when Haruka felt like banging his head against a wall because Makoto kept surprising him when he least expects it.

Makoto squeezes his hands. "You seem surprised, Haru, didn't think I had it in me?" He teases, smirking.

"No, that's not it, I just- do people know this? Nagisa and Rei, do they know?"

Makoto shrugs and spins Haruka around when he drops his guard, the beat speeding up.

"Nah."

And as the beat moves faster, so do they. It is completely dorky, moving about in this ridiculous way to a cheesy pop song that he doesn't even understand the lyrics to, but it makes him forget about the weights crushing his heart, and for a moment, he feel like he can breathe freely.

"Come on, Haruka, loosen up," Makoto pulls him closer, sliding one arm around his waist. He's guiding him now, in a waltz-like stance that's probably not even right, but how the hell would Haruka know, considering he's never taken a dance class in his life.

Makoto hadn't either. He knew nothing about dancing. He just knew how to move - how to let go.

When Haruka starts moving his feet more, Makoto grins, knowing he's worn him down.

"Je te donne toutes mes différences--"

This is awful.

"Tous ces défauts qui sont autant de chance--"

Haruka wants to take his hands away.

"On sera jamais des standards--"

He wants to run, like he always has.

"Je te donne ce que j'ai, ce que je vaux--"

But maybe not yet.

"Je te donne, donne, donne, tout ce que je suis."

Haruka feels himself relax, loosen up. Makoto grins, spinning him around again. Haruka keeps his head down, following Makoto closely and trying his best not to mess up.

"Keep your head up," Makoto says. Haruka looks up, biting his lip. "Okay, here," Makoto grins. "I'll teach you. Try to keep up."

- - - -

Asuka had just wanted a glass of water.

Well, that's what she told herself when she walked downstairs quietly that night, following the sound of music playing softly through the speakers. However, when she headed down the dark hallway, the sight in the kitchen was too good to interrupt.

Asuka wasn't one to snoop, but she did she consider herself the sneaky one of the family. She felt a pang of guilt intruding on an intimate moment between the two, but was that about to stop her from watching on the sidelines? No, probably not.

The smile on Haruka's face made it too good to leave.

Asuka's seen only a couple smiles like this in her lifetime. She would know, their families are very close, and Asuka considers Haruka more of a brother than a cousin, anyway. She's watched him go through everything, from teasing him through the awkward middle school stage, listening to him as he came out of the closet when no one else would, to being a shoulder to cry on when his sister passed away.

Though she could never fill the void that Erika gave to her younger brother, she's the next best thing. She'd like to say she knows her cousin like the back of her hand, and with that, she knows when he really smiles. She knows the difference between a forced smile and a genuine one, and what makes him truly happy.

She hasn't seen him smile like that since Erika was alive.

"Haru, quit stepping on my feet," Makoto complains, but there is a smile underneath his words, an amused laugh he's trying to hold back.

"Shut up, I'm trying," Haruka grumbles, clutching onto Makoto's shoulders as they try to pick up the pace. "This would be easier if you let me lead."

"Oh no, I'm enjoying every part of this," Makoto shakes his head. "Come on, Haru, you're thinking too much. Just feel the music."

The song ends and switches to a new one, a slower, more melodic pop song that sends a chill of nostalgia through Asuka's heart. Images flash in her mind, memories of Erika, Haruka and her dancing in her bedroom, the song blasting through her speakers, dancing and jumping around like the world was going to end. Erika loved to dance, play her music as loud as she could, let loose and be free. Asuka wonders if Haruka remembers the words, let alone the significance.

The singer's voice is syrupy as she croons out the words that send a pang through Asuka's heart. She scoots closer, moving dangerously closer to the edge of the shadow to get a better look. She's lucky the two boys are too preoccupied to notice her presence.

"Des heures entrelacées, on n'en aura jamais assez..."

Asuka watches as Haruka unconsciously swallows. His cheeks color a bright shade of vermillion, and Asuka would've thought he looked sunburnt if it wasn't winter in France and she didn't know any better.

Oh, A knowing smirk makes its way to her lips. So he does remember.

Asuka knew how important Erika was to Haruka. The images of countless nights of Haruka finally letting his walls break down and crying in her arms will forever be seared into her mind.

When Haruka starts mouthing the lyrics unconsciously, Makoto's face breaks out into a smile.

"That's it," Makoto encourages him. "Maybe you just needed the right song."

"Tu sais rien, tu sais tout, il n'y aura jamais de nous, mais si tu oses..."

This is too good, Asuka grins, watching the scene unfold. She expects Haruka to retort with a sarcastic comment, but he's unusually silent. With one look at Makoto, he's flushed too, the grin on his face dropping to a soft smile.

"This is so difficult," Haruka complains after a moment. Makoto turns him around, allows him to spin out. He pauses, elongating his arm, his only line of balance being his grip on Makoto's hand.

"You're getting the hang of it," Makoto promises, and Haruka spirals back into his arms. He moves a little too quickly due to his increasing frustration, throws himself off-balance, flies right into Makoto's chest. Without even blinking, Makoto catches him, holding their bodies close.

"I can't believe this is happening," Haruka says, and for a few more beats of the song, they simply sway, two people becoming one living, breathing body. "Is this really happening?"

"It is, Haru-chan," Makoto's gaze wanders over the curve of Haruka's lower lip, trailing up slowly up to his crystalline eyes. When their gazes lock, Asuka expects one of them to look away out of embarrassment.

They don't. They wouldn't dare.

"Drop the chan," Haruka remembers to say after a moment, looking dazed.

The gooey-eyed look Makoto's giving him sends a pang of jealousy through Asuka's heart. Amidst it all, she couldn't help but wish she was in Haruka's place, cradled in Makoto's arms. She couldn't deny her growing crush on the sweet brunette - everything about him was perfect in her eyes, from his emerald eyes to his kindness to everyone - but she knew she wasn't the only one that felt that way towards Makoto Tachibana.

"Il n'est jamais trop tard, car il n'y a rien de pire que de ne rien sentir..."

But watching Haruka like this, biting his lip nervously, looking so ludicrously happy she knows she would never dare take that away from him. She wasn't that selfish. Rejection isn't so bad if it means her cousin gets the happiness he deserved for so long.

That doesn't stop it from hurting, though.

"Il n'est jamais trop tard, pour se laisser une trace dans la mémoire, dans la mémoire..."

Their gazes are locked now; she knows what's coming, and she doesn't think her heart can handle to watch. Asuka forces herself to look away right before their lips meet, not really thirsty anymore. She tries to stand up, but her legs are shaky from squatting for so long, and she loses her balance.

"What was that?" She hears Haruka ask from the kitchen. The music turns off after that, and she hears pacing footsteps in the kitchen. Asuka bites back a squeal of surprise, bolting down the hallway towards the staircase.

There are tears in her eyes, but she's grinning all the way up the stairs.

A/N: last bit inspired by my favorite scene from the klance fic dirty laundry lol :') poor asuka i love her so mu c h ,,,,