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If asked, Haruka would probably have said he wasn't a jealous person. It wasn't in his personality to be possessive of things that way, nor of people. Haru wasn't the sentimental type particularly, not the way Makoto was, anyway. He took things as they came and processed them in his own time; overattachment was like fighting a rising tide: you would inevitably lose to the cyclical nature of things, the way people came and went and feelings changed, because life was as fluid and ever-changing as the ocean. You couldn't hold on to a person or a moment any more than you could the ocean.
Haru had learned this early at the death of pet goldfishes; he'd learned it again, holding Makoto's hand and seeing the terror in his eyes as he looked out at the stormy ocean; he'd learned it yet again as Rin had blown into their life and right back out, seemingly as carefree as he'd come, the spark of distant dreams in his eyes.
Life changed and people changed; you could only adapt your approach, your stroke, to the current, or drown.
*
Rin left and Rin came back. Rin was the boy they'd known grown different, familiar in little ways and strange in big ones. Haru hadn't known what to make of him appearing almost out of thin air before them at the elementary school, but he'd adjusted. They would still swim, regardless of team, and they would race against each other, and if Haru never quite knew what he was chasing, or what Rin was, at least there was a connection neither could deny. For all that had changed between them, there was comfort in some fundamental truths, such as that Haruka and Rin would always in some way swim together.
*
Makoto's presence by Haru's life was, if anything, more fundamental than even the act of swimming: he was like water itself, enveloping and cool, a calming and constant presence that anchored Haru's sense of self. While the world around him changed, and as Haru let himself adjust to that ebb and flow, Makoto was an invariable around which Haru oriented himself.
Makoto had always been there, and he always would be, until the day Haruka was rudely awakened to the fact that he might not be.
*
"It's true. I mean, I confessed to Makoto-senpai and he -- he accepted," Gou said bashfully, and Haru felt like a fish who had been yanked from the water on the end of a sharp, unwelcoming hook.
Makoto ducked his head and Haru resented the pink crawling over his cheeks, the very sun that glinted off his hair. It felt like he was drowning on land as he struggled with the idea of Makoto dating Gou, a veritable fish out of its element.
Had he even known Makoto liked Gou? He hadn't known that Gou had confessed.
It wasn't the first confession Makoto had received, but Haru had never even considered Makoto would ever accept any of them. He knew Makoto better than that -- or he'd thought he did.
Makoto was eating from the bento Gou had brought him as Nagisa made exclamations it.
Haruka said, low and quiet, "So it's true?"
Makoto paused before nodding, and Haru felt an unfamiliar distance unfurl between them.
He picked at the lunch box Makoto had brought for him, as he always did. Gou sat pressed next to Makoto, leaning into his arm, and Haru thought about how Makoto walked beside him every day to and from school, their arms occasionally brushing. Gou smiled sunnily up at Makoto and he turned towards her and smiled back, as reflexively warm as every smile he'd ever directed at Haru when he understood things Haru never had to say.
Haru discovered he had no appetite, and left the rooftop with an dark, unpleasant feeling lodged in his chest behind his ribcage -- right where a fishhook would go, he thought -- when Makoto tucked a lock of hair behind Gou's ear.
The touch was gentle because Makoto was gentle, tender, and Haru's chest throbbed at it.
*
The fishhook didn't go away, an ugly and unfamiliar pain. Haru spent a lot of time that week turning to say something to Makoto only to find him at Gou's side, too close, looking over her shoulder at her clipboard. He came to practice late, waiting for Makoto to swing by his classroom after the bell to walk together to the pool. Makoto would be there already, with Gou.
Whispers snaked their way through the school, a frenzied mix of truths and speculation in the way high school gossip tended, about Makoto and Gou dating, and Haru had to look out the window during class breaks so he wouldn't glower at the girls in his class who sighed wistfully about how Makoto-senpai was such a great boyfriend.
He's more than that, he wanted to snap. Makoto wasn't made up solely of sweet smiles and attentiveness; what did these girls know of his passion for swimming, his talent? What did they know of his fears of ghosts and darkness, of the courage he had to face the ocean to be able to swim with the rest of the team? They didn't know anything, and Gou didn't know anything.
Nobody knew Makoto the way Haruka did, except Haru hadn't known he'd even liked Gou.
Makoto had always known Haru so well, so thoroughly, to the point where he'd understood so much without Haru having to put voice to them. He had always believed, unquestioningly, that the same was true in reverse, that Haru knew Makoto better than anyone.
How unsettling it was to find this ultimate truth was, in fact, untrue.
Haru spent a lot of time that week submersed in his tub staring at his knees as water lapped gently at his shoulders. The tight feeling in his chest made it hard to breathe as he watched his fingers prune and thought about Makoto smiling at Gou and missing from Haru's side. They hadn't walked home together at all that week and Haru had felt startlingly bereft when he'd make the climb up the stairs to his house alone.
Haru had never minded being alone. He had never been someone afraid of his own thoughts or his own company. Swimming alone was freeing, a comfort, and one that he cherished.
Makoto had always been waiting for him when he emerged, however, patient on the sidelines or offering a hand to pull him out.
Sitting in his tub by himself, for the first time in a long time, Haru felt lonely.
*
A lifetime later, or only about a week and a half into Makoto and Gou's...new status, Haru walked into the pool lockers after school, remembering for once that there was no need to wait for Makoto, because Makoto would have inevitably gone on ahead with Gou.
He probably stopped at her classroom now, waiting as she blushed and waved at him and her classmates giggled about her boyfriend.
Haru gritted his teeth as the fishhook in his chest wrenched.
And then he rounded the corner of the lockers and recoiled at the sight of Gou with her arms around Makoto, squeezing him tightly. He looked pink and flustered and Haru's first instinct was to rescue him, because he recognized Makoto's air of helpless discomfort. Haru still knew how to read him.
But Gou gave him another quick squeeze and then Makoto was smiling down at her and Haru backtracked.
The ugly feeling in his chest felt heavy and intense.
No, he thought. It was the most certainty he'd felt in days.
Still reeling, Haru headed straight for his locker to change, tugging at the school tie that suddenly felt too tight. His lips tightened at the corners. No, he was not okay with Makoto dating Gou. He could face the truth, that this wasn't one of those changes in life he could just adapt to. This wasn't what it was supposed to be like. Haru knew that with surety.
He needed to get back in the water; swimming would help him clear his thoughts. Maybe it would help him figure out what he should say to Makoto, and how to find the words he'd never had to look for before to explain himself.
The murmurs of their voices faded as Haru worked at the buttons of his shirt. Then he was pulled from his thoughts when Makoto materialized in front of him, and Haru stared at him, because that was Makoto's worried expression and Haru still hated the very idea of an uncomfortable, unhappy Makoto.
"Sorry I wasn't waiting for you after your class, Haru." His voice was soft too, hesitant.
Haru swallowed hard, the bitter, black taste jealousy rising in the back of his throat. "It's fine. I know how to get to the pool by myself."
"I'm still sorry. I know you were probably waiting, but I had to talk to Kou-chan. Is it all right?"
A pause. "You don't need my permission to talk to your girlfriend."
He averted his eyes, shrugged off his shirt. You certainly didn't ask my permission before you started dating her.
This was stupid. Makoto's expression was wretched, as terrible as Haru felt inside. Haru was overcome with the sudden conviction that, no, he was not okay with Makoto and Gou dating but he wasn't just going to sit around and let it happen.
"Come over for dinner," he blurted out.
Makoto flushed pink and looked shyly pleased, his visible worry fading.
"Of course, Haru-chan."
Haru didn't protest the name. "So you'll come home with me after practice?"
"Yes, of course."
Good. Haru would get at least this time with him, after a week of barely seeing him. He wasn't going to let Gou just take up all of Makoto's time. He was going to change something so he no longer had to feel like this, somehow make things right so he would no longer be a fish gasping for air on land.
Maybe he could still adapt to change; maybe he just had to be more proactive about it this time.
Haru stripped with conviction. "Hurry up," he said. "Let's go swim."
With another smile, less uncertain than before, Makoto loosened his own tie and began to change for practice.
*
They didn't talk as Haruka prepared dinner. It wasn't mackerel for a change, but chilled soba noodles topped with nori seaweed and a side of pickled vegetables. Makoto had put on the television in the background, volume low, but he seemed more absorbed in watching Haru move around the kitchen.
The walk home had almost felt as if everything were as it had been before: Makoto had chatted about classmates and schoolwork and how he wished their maths teacher weren't moving so quickly through the material. He talked about the new pop song he couldn't get out of his head because Ran-chan had taken a liking to it and demanded that they play it on repeat at home. Haru walked beside him, mostly quiet, and drank in the familiarity of having Makoto at his side again, so easily. He stared out at the ocean in the distance, sprawled beneath their hilly town, as they climbed stairs.
Makoto didn't mention Gou, for which Haru was grateful. It struck him as peculiar, but he didn't want to investigate. It was good enough to have Makoto's time and attention, his warm smile whenever Haruka interjected with a comment.
Now it was quiet between them again, quiet that stretched underneath the murmur of the television, and it wasn't nearly as comfortable.
Haru arranged the noodles into their respective bowls and glanced over his shoulder. Makoto was turned away, watching the news, his hair falling messily over his brow the way it did when he let it air dry after a session at the pool. He'd propped his chin in his hand, elbow resting on the table, and Haru's eyes traced the line of his neck, the slope of his shoulders, the gentle curve of his back.
So familiar, and warm. Those were the two things Haru associated most with Makoto. The pressure eased in his chest to think of Gou touching him, fitting against him -- Haru's stomach twisted and he turned back to the food, mouth set.
In his mind, he still saw clearly the way Gou had been hugging Makoto earlier, so much smaller than him, tiny and delicate in comparison. It felt wrong.
It felt wrong, not because there was anything the matter with Gou but because Makoto belonged at Haru's side and Haru belonged at Makoto's side, equally. He had never pictured anyone else in that space; he had never imagined differently, or even begun to consider that there would ever be anyone else beside him as he went through life chasing Rin, or anyone else at Makoto's side as he braved his fears. It had always been Makoto and Haruka, together, since as far back as Haru could remember, just as Haru had always loved the water and it embraced him in return.
Haru brought the bowls over to the table, then went back and brought the pickled vegetables.
"Thank you, Haru," Makoto said with a smile as he accepted the pair of chopsticks Haru thrust at him.
"You're welcome." Haru sat down to the right of Makoto rather than across the table, as he usually did, so he could press their knees together. He glanced at Makoto, who didn't react, and so Haru kept still. The contact soothed the itch burning him up from inside.
They slurped their noodles in relative silence. The pressure in Haru's chest began to ease; it helped that every time Haru bumped his elbow against Makoto, unsubtle, Makoto would look up at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. Their knees stayed pressed together and Haru thought about change and inevitability and how Makoto was different. He let his free hand drift downward until it rested lightly on Makoto's thigh.
For a moment Makoto froze, eyes widening. Haru held his gaze, steady, until the tension seemed to ebb out of Makoto.
It felt good to be touching him, like he was anchor holding Makoto close, to keep him drifting away.
They were nearly finished with dinner when Makoto looked up at him and said, softly, "I'm not dating Kou-chan."
Haru chewed his noodles methodically, hiding the way his heart lurched. "What do you mean?" he asked after he swallowed his bite. He was glad that his voice came out as steady and unaffected as usual.
"We're not really dating. She asked me to pretend to be her boyfriend."
Haru processed that.
Makoto bit his lip, waiting.
"What's the difference," he asked finally, because he needed to make sure, "if you do all the things you would do anyway?"
Makoto looked stricken. "Th-the feelings, of course. Haru--"
It was enough. There were still things, Haru was satisfied to discover, that he could understand about Makoto without having to wait for words.
The tabletop was smooth and cool beneath his palms as he leaned over and kissed Makoto, cutting him off.
Makoto's mouth parted under his, startled, and Haru pressed closer. His heart thundered in his ears, but the fierce emotion coursing through him was a happier one than he'd felt in the past ten days, heady anticipation instead of ugly jealousy. If Makoto said that he wasn't dating Gou for real, then Haru knew what that meant.
A small sound escaped between them and then Makoto was pushing him back, eyes wild. Haru wanted to kiss him again and make that expression disappear.
"Haru," he said, voice soft and shocked.
Haru set down his chopsticks and held Makoto's gaze. He wondered if maybe Makoto did need the words, for a change. But it took two heartbeats, three, before Makoto's entire body seemed to soften and that was all Haru needed before he grabbed at Makoto's school tie and tugged him over to kiss again. Their mouths slid against each other, hot and wet, and it made Haru dizzy. Makoto's hands came to rest on Haru's hips, light and almost hesitant, and Haru made an impatient noise and shifted until he was straddling Makoto's lap entirely.
Makoto broke away again but this time to gasp for air as Haru pressed his hips downward, rocking steadily. His mouth was swollen and red and he was flushed all the way down his throat to his loosened collar and tie. A hot curl of satisfaction unfurled low in Haru's belly, and it unhitched the hook from his chest all at once. This was what Makoto ought to look like: under Haru, with him, like he belonged entirely to Haru and could never see anyone else with those wide, dark eyes.
Haru ducked his head and smiled, and hid it against the curve of Makoto's jaw. His fingers were still tangled in Makoto's tie and his thighs stretched over Makoto's.
"I don't like Kou-chan that way," Makoto said into his hair.
"I know," Haru said.
Makoto lifted one hand to cradle Haru's face and lean their foreheads together. "I like you, Haru," he whispered.
Happiness crashed over him like a wave and Haru let it pull him under. Life was all about change, after all, and adapting to the pull of the current rather than fighting it. And it was a relief to find that some fundamental things were still true, as true as the welcome of the water: Haru would never have to fight this thing between him and Makoto. It would always be as natural as breathing.
"I know," he said again. "Makoto."
Makoto kissed him first this time and Haru sank into him gladly.
*
Makoto didn't remain Gou's so-called boyfriend for long. He didn't need a term for what he was to Haru, afterwards, or Haru to him, because in most ways nothing had changed.
However, it turned out Haruka could be, on occasion, a jealous person and a possessive one. It turned out there were times when he would swim against the tide if it meant that at the end he could close an exhausted hand around Makoto's and drag them both to the surface where they could clamber wearily out onto a sandy, deserted beach or, surrendering to the current, swim even further, together.