[ Makoto is his closest friend. And in many ways, his dearest one. A safe bastion in life's storms, and however many missteps and uncertainties he faces, he can never seem to say or do the wrong thing around Makoto. There's been stumbles, certainly. Haru's not without his difficult moments, moody as the sea. But as long as he's himself, the occasional wrinkle always seems to smooth back out, one way or another.
So despite how simple Haru's answer had been, it doesn't surprise him to hear that laugh, or to spot the contentment that bubbles through Makoto, light and buoyant. He's seen this any number of times before, across every stage of his life. And still, he watches for a moment too long; still, it's contagious, catching in him like a warmth that spreads pleasantly through his core.
It's the first time today he can put the letter out of his mind. ]
...Yeah.
[ Right, he did call him out here to practice. Swimming. He stretches out his arms briefly, like they've been sitting longer than they have, picking up the letter to stash it away safely. There's a tiny flutter of emotion he hasn't resolved, a shade tracking behind an otherwise illuminating conversation—I'd be too afraid for anything to change—but it settles for a time. He braces his hands on his knees to push himself up to his feet to head into the natatorium. He thinks of Makoto's happiness, bright as it was. Things are good. Nothing needs to change.
It doesn't fully reflect his thoughts, but he's honest as he sighs out, ]
no subject
So despite how simple Haru's answer had been, it doesn't surprise him to hear that laugh, or to spot the contentment that bubbles through Makoto, light and buoyant. He's seen this any number of times before, across every stage of his life. And still, he watches for a moment too long; still, it's contagious, catching in him like a warmth that spreads pleasantly through his core.
It's the first time today he can put the letter out of his mind. ]
...Yeah.
[ Right, he did call him out here to practice. Swimming. He stretches out his arms briefly, like they've been sitting longer than they have, picking up the letter to stash it away safely. There's a tiny flutter of emotion he hasn't resolved, a shade tracking behind an otherwise illuminating conversation—I'd be too afraid for anything to change—but it settles for a time. He braces his hands on his knees to push himself up to his feet to head into the natatorium. He thinks of Makoto's happiness, bright as it was. Things are good. Nothing needs to change.
It doesn't fully reflect his thoughts, but he's honest as he sighs out, ]
Swimming is easier than all this stuff.