Chapter Twenty-Six: December 17th

One week earlier

The moment Makoto enters Sousuke's wild house party, he knows agreeing to this was a huge mistake.

His chest tightens in apprehension as they pass through the French-style front doors, immediately welcomed by a cacophony of sights: people he doesn't recognize dancing, illegally drinking, empty plastic cups and beer bottles sitting everywhere, all the lights dimmed. The music is so loud, Makoto feels like his head is going to burst.

After a moment, he realizes Nagisa has already disappeared somewhere and he's lost Rei along the way, so he decides to play it safe until Haruka gets arrives and locates the snack table. The kitchen counter is covered with bottles of all kinds of liquor, and Makoto quickly rushes by it to get to the fold-out table, which is stacked high with chips, candy, cookies, and other preservative-filled goodies.

Makoto grabs a red velvet cupcake, deciding to sit outside where it was at least a bit quieter. He makes his way to the back of the house, eventually locating a sliding glass door, which leads to an extravagant stone patio and a glistening pool. A bunch of people have already gathered around the pool, laughing and chatting amiably.

He finds a spot on a bench by the garden and eats the cupcake quietly, watching the chaos in the backyard unfold. He notices a guy and a girl talking rather loudly and the next thing he knows, he hears a high-pitched squeal of surprise and a large splash, followed by a scream of some guy's name. Looking up, he sees a teenage girl in the middle of the pool, completely drenched and mascara running down her face.

The impending weight of social anxiety falls on his shoulders and he fumbles with his cell phone, deciding to send Haruka a text. I'm here. In the backyard, he says, pocketing the device immediately.

About half an hour passes and Makoto's mood quickly deteriorates when he realizes he has no text from Haruka - believe him, he checked eight times - and hasn't seen him at all. Eventually he heaves himself off of the bench and trudges back into the house.

Only one thought is on his mind as he makes his way towards the kitchen and towards that counter filled with miscellaneous alcoholic beverages: I don't want to remember any of this, he thinks as he fills a cup and drowns his sorrows in the putrid taste of vodka.

Nagisa finds him several drinks later, wallowing in alcohol and sadness. "Mako-chan, why so glum?" He pouts, a soda in hand.

"Haruka hasn't responded to my text," Makoto practically blubbers. "He ditched me, because he doesn't like meeee."

"Aw, that's not true," Nagisa pats him on the shoulder, though it ends up landing in the middle of his back, considering how short the blonde is. "Come on, I know something that will cheer you up."

"Wha-"

"Let's go!" Nagisa cheers excitedly with a bubbly giggle, grabbing his hand and pulling him through the house, earning a shout of surprise and two stumbling drunk teenagers trying to find their way through the maze of the mansion.

- - - -

Makoto doesn't know how he got all the way across the house - he certainly cannot remember walking - but the next thing he knows, he's standing on a coffee table next to Nagisa, belting the words to an English song.

At the moment, Makoto is so drunk he can barely speak Japanese, let alone a language he's hardly conversational in.

They're in a den-like room, where karaoke has been set up for partygoers. The flat-screen TV is connected to YouTube, and there are kids on the giant L-shaped couch watching the two as they, admittedly, humiliate themselves. Luckily, they are all too drunk to care.

Halfway through the song, Makoto feels hot and started to take off his shirt, when Nagisa starts cackling and a couple girls start screaming.

"Mako-chan, no!" He laughs, grabbing the hem of his shirt and yanking it back down. Makoto starts to complain about it being so hot and Nagisa pulls him off the coffee table, muttering something about never giving him alcohol again.

After more party games - he quickly realizes truth or dare, poker, and beer pong are not his forte - his head is pounding and wants to find some quiet. Nagisa's ditched him again anyway, so he decides to go upstairs and look for an empty bedroom to sit for a while.

All of the bedrooms are locked and occupied except one. The door was cracked open slightly, and when Makoto pushes it to pass through the doorway, he sees an unmistakably familiar figure standing on the balcony, casually sipping from a can of carbonated water.

"Never thought I'd see the day, shy little Makoto Tachibana at a high school party," Haruka teases when he joins him on the balcony, pushing open the sliding glass door to slip outside. He can hear the faint sounds of music and laughter from two stories below them.

"Why are you out here?" Makoto asks in a voice that sounded more desperate than he intended. "I've been looking for you all night. I thought you ditched me."

"I showed up a bit late. There isn't any service out in the woods here," Haruka gestures to the forest not even a hundred yards away from the backyard overlooked by the balcony. "So I couldn't call. And, shockingly, parties aren't really my forte."

"As expected of you," Makoto grins, moving to stand next to him, leaning against the wall. He swears he hears Nagisa's shrill laughter somewhere in the near distance, but he ignores it, focusing solely on the boy in front of him.

Something seems to have clicked in Haruka's mind, because he's looking at him differently now. "Well, you sure have changed, you know," He comments. The wind is blowing through his hair, and Makoto immediately feels a chill. The winds in December always pick up at night, when the tide comes in. "I remember back when we were childhood friends, you were always so quiet and shy. I'm pretty sure you used to be shorter than me, too."

"And you haven't changed a bit, Haru-chan," Makoto gives him a lopsided smile.

Haruka looks surprised to hear him call him by his nickname, and admittedly, Makoto is a bit surprised himself.

But it feels right, he thinks, that childish nickname. Everything about this feels so natural, like he's never known nothing unlike it and now that it's back for good, he can't imagine a life without it.

"How'd you remember now, after all this time?" Haruka leans against the railing. His expression is unwavering and nonchalant, but there is something in his voice that is strained, something that tells Makoto he's thrown him off his guard.

"I think a part of me always knew," Makoto admits. "I was just trying to piece it all together."

"Maybe the fact that you're drunk also helps," Haruka jokes, but he looks worried, like when the alcohol-induced dizziness fades, so will the memories.

"I'm not drunk," Makoto protests, his words interrupted by a hiccup.

"Yeah, right," Haruka scoffs, but he's amused. "You've always been a terrible liar, you know."

"Well, here's the truth," Makoto breathes. "When I knew you were coming, I was worried i'd never be able to figure out what I wasn't remembering, so I had a couple drinks... Alright, maybe more than a couple. I thought that maybe if I drank enough, it would become clear to me... Or at the very least, I'd gain the courage to say something to you," He explains with a broken laugh.

"And why on earth would you need the courage to talk to your best friend from elementary school?" He taunts.

"Hey, that's not it," Makoto looks away, knowing Haruka's still staring at his profile. "It's just..." He struggles to find the right words to say. Perhaps this is his one chance, and Haruka will be back to his usual stubbornly stoic self in the morning, and he doesn't want to screw it up, not now, not after all these years. "It's just a lot to take in, that's all."

"Well, better late than never, I suppose." Haruka smiles timidly, almost nonexistent, but it's there. He steps closer and leans on the railing, resting his arms across them, his back to Makoto now. There is about five feet of space between him and Makoto, and yet Makoto feels electricity crackling between them. "I was beginning to think you'd never figure it out."

"Did you not want me to?"

"It was kind of fun to watch," Haruka throws a wink over his shoulder.

"Hey!" Makoto interjects with a frown, stomping towards the edge of the balcony. I was worried sick! You have no idea how much sleep I've lost because I've been up all night thinking of what yo-"

Maybe it is how harshly the wind is blowing, or maybe it's because Makoto's drunk too many drinks that night, but either way he feels himself lose control of his body. His legs suddenly decide to stop working and the worst possible time and he stumbles towards the balcony railing, screaming until Haruka catches him.

"Jeez, Makoto, just how much did you drink?" Haruka nags, pulling him back.

If he weren't recovering from a near-fall off of a two story building, he would've teased Haruka about becoming the nagging friend now. He feels his heart erratically pounding against his ribcage, but instead of it coming from his near-fall, it is because he's realized Haruka isn't letting go. His arms are wrapped tightly around Makoto's torso to steady him. "Be careful," He says in a low voice. "You almost fell."

Makoto has half a mind to check the expression that's paired with that soft voice, but his mind isn't working properly because Haruka's still hugging him and he can't help but think about how well they fit together. Before he can say anything or even move, however, Haruka pulls away and slowly lowers himself to the ground, resting his back on the concrete ledge. His head falls into his arms and he brings his legs close to his body, retracting to be as small as possible.

Makoto, after a moment of standing there, stunned, kneels down and joins him. "Sorry," He whispers, embarrassed and apologetic. He also pulls his legs close, afraid to lose Haruka's warmth to the freezing December winds.

The concrete is so cold. The world is so cold...

"It's okay," Haruka shakes his head, his hair falling in his eyes so Makoto can't read his expression, can't tell what he's thinking, and that bothers him. "You were always afraid of heights."

"How do you remember that?" Makoto whispers in surprise.

Haruka lifts his head from his arms a bit, resting on one side so he can give Makoto a small smile. "Ever since that day I fell into the river on the way home from school, you told me you never wanted to cross that bridge again."

"Ah, yeah, now I remember! You just wanted to admire the water!" Makoto laughs, recalling the memory. "Wow, I totally forgot about that."

"Then, every day after that, you wouldn't let me cross that bridge without holding my hand."

"How embarrassing. I was so skittish back then, wasn't I?"

"If you think about it, that bridge was only a few feet up," Haruka remarks fondly. "I didn't even get hurt, just got my clothes wet. You just had dumb fears as a child. You couldn't swim in the ocean, sleep without a nightlight, and even the class pet snake freaked you out."

"And yet," Makoto says without thinking, "I remember being scared of losing you the most."

He immediately regrets opening his mouth, silently cursing the alcohol for making his brain all fuzzy and rendering him from thinking properly. Why did I say that, he thinks, feeling his face flush as he looks at his shoes.

"See, just another example of what I'm talking about. Dumb fears," Haruka sighs, turning away.

"Why is that dumb?" Makoto exclaims, his fingers curling into fists.

"Because you ended up leaving me anyway," Haruka tells him quietly, burying his head in his arms again. "So what good did it do being afraid of the inevitable?"

Makoto feels his breath catch in his throat as he recalls the memories that have been locked away in his head for years, traumatic memories that he must've psychologically repressed.

When he was in his first year of middle school, Haruka Nanase was his best and only friend. Haruka's parents were often gone or working to care for him. After his sister died, Haruka was often alone. Makoto remembers Haruka saying that he liked being alone, but being alone always scared Makoto.

He remembers his mother getting sicker by the day because of his father's smoking addiction, eventually developing lung cancer and a heart condition that put her in the hospital. Her chronic conditioned meant thousands of dollars' worth of hospital bills, and eventually they didn't have enough money to pay for their house. His father packed up their things, put most in a storage facility, and moved them into a cramped, four-room apartment across town, closer to the hospital. Makoto had never felt so alone when he sat in his closet-sized bedroom, staring at the ceiling and wondering if his mother would live another day, or his father would get over his addiction, or if his best friend would ever forget him.

Every day for eighteen months, Makoto would come home from his new school and visit his mother in the hospital. He'd do his homework by her bedside, telling her about middle school and trying to ignore the way she sounded weaker and coughed more every day. When he'd go home, he'd get in fights with his dad, whether it was about his sloppiness around the apartment, his smoking addiction, or the fact he never seemed to visit his wife anymore. After eighteen months of hell, Makoto received the news his mother was well enough to come home and a year later, they had saved up enough money from disability checks and his dad's new job as police chief to move back into their old neighborhood, needing more space with twins on the way.

When Makoto refocused on present-day reality, he notices Haruka is watching him, looking almost worried, and he has to look twice to make sure. It's like Haruka can read his thoughts effortlessly; he recalls being able to do that for Haruka when they were younger, and now he never knows what he's thinking.

It frustrates him, how so much time has passed without him even stopping to think or breathe.

The lonely feeling festering and infecting his mind makes him wonder how Haruka's felt all this time. Is this how I've made him feel? He wonders, swallowing the forming lump in his throat. Like he isn't worth remembering?

"I don't know why I could never remember," Makoto admits eventually. It's the truth, and he can't deny it. "But God," He whispers breathlessly, "I'm glad I did."

"Mmmm," Haruka's head falls against Makoto's shoulder, and he closes his eyes. "Me too." He whispers. Makoto feels him shivering, and his lips are turning a faint shade of blue.

"Come on, you're freezing. Let's get you inside," Makoto says in a quiet voice that's solely reserved for Haruka. He grabs his hand and pulls him up into a standing position. "We should be getting back to the party anyways." He stands up so quickly, a dizzy spell washed over him and the world is spinning once again. Makoto's eyes squeeze shut for a moment to keep from clumsily toppling over again. Haruka steadies him, holding onto his arms, and Makoto gets the opportunity to drink in every detail of Haruka's face while he nervously checks him out.

It must have been an infinite number of times that Makoto's looked into Haruka's eyes, and yet every time he sees something new, each time he's astounded by their beauty, by his beauty. Haruka stares at him in fear, biting slightly on his lower lip, grabbing his arms like he's running out of time.

"Haru, are you-"

"You're not going to disappear from me again, are you?" Haruka blurts out suddenly, his hands clenching tightly, as if he doesn't want Makoto to escape again. He's looking at Makoto in that way that makes his stomach twist in knots and makes his mouth run dry.

"Never," Makoto promises automatically.

Promises are worse than lies, Haruka's voice reminds him from that night on the beach, the night Haruka poured his heart and soul on him.

There is a sad smile on Makoto's face, and his hand - the one with the glistening number 17 underneath his sleeve - comes up to graze Haruka's cheek, so lightly he's barely touching him. He feels his smooth skin, how cool to the touch he is.

"Did you want to forget?" Haruka demands, wide-eyed and expectant for an answer he doesn't look like he's prepared for.

And prepared he wasn't; Makoto responds by pressing his lips to Haruka's, taking what feels like the only chance he has.

Suddenly, the world doesn't feel so cold anymore.

Makoto can't lie and say he's never thought of kissing Haruka before, but he never thought it would be like this - he always expected Haruka to be shy and gentle, moving solely in fluid movements and drawing out the moment to make it precious. Instead Haruka's hands slide around his waist and pull him closer in a desperate attempt to remove any distance between them, fingers eventually dipping under his flannel, which isn't doing a very good job of keeping him warm. Haruka kisses him like he's running out of time, and Makoto supposes in a way, he is.

Admist the kisses and the touching and the heat, he can't help but wonder if Haruka has enough time for him. If there were sixty-one seconds in a minute, twenty-five hours in a day, three-hundred-sixty-six days in a year, would he still have time for him?

They press their foreheads together, gasping for breath. As if to answer his unspoken question, the worry that can't help but manifest in the back of his mind, Haruka keeps kissing him, short, peppered kisses like he can't stop, moving his way down Makoto's neck. Makoto gasps in surprise when his lips trail along the sensitive skin of his collarbone, and his fingers tighten around Haruka's lips.

"On second thought, maybe we should go somewhere a bit more quiet," Makoto suggests boldly, pure adrenaline driving his thoughts.

Haruka's whispers burn something sweet into his skin. "I thought you'd never ask."

- - - -

A/N: Just a quick clarification in case you're confused - this chapter is detailing what happened at the party the first weekend, before they woke up from their one night stand. the memory has now come back to Makoto, as well as his connection with Haruka. Next chapter will be back to present day. Thanks for reading!!! Don't forget to vote and comment if you enjoyed :)