[ The sin of not having fresh mackerel around the house in case he has to feed Haru specifically. What nerve. He thinks back to times in high school, afternoons spent on cooking practice that ended up in too-salty servings of miso mackerel, and it nearly makes his mouth quirk up into a smile. At least they should manage brunch.
But before he can even start brainstorming a menu to shop for, Makoto zooms over, and the sheet he'd spied gets very pointedly buried away. The other papers and books are set into obviously random stacks, orderly but not organized, only punctuated by Makoto's clear unease.
Haru steps aside and blinks slow in retaliation, standing there. He's not at the level of being able to supernaturally articulate Makoto's thoughts for him—but he's perceptive enough. He can read his best friend enough. Haru wasn't supposed to see the papers there, and he had, and now there's a few seconds spent on his part, contemplative. He steps past the obvious cover with his usual nonchalance. ]
You don't need to hide things from me.
[ Was that paper so embarrassing? Haru finds it a puzzle, a meaning there that he turns over in his head privately, but he doesn't want Makoto to feel he has to hide anything. Not from him. ]
Hide? [ His attention snaps back to Haru, a frazzled half smile on his face. The instinct to cover his ass comes in full forceāat least until he catches Haruās eyes.
He... saw it. Itās not the look in Haruās eyes that tells him, but the words as he said them. He wouldnāt say it unless he knew something, but Haruās eyes unintentionally settle guilt deep in his stomach. The smile falls. His eyes avert. His head turns and heās looking at his desk, away from Haru. Itās not the only blue paper here, it's just a single sheet among other time trials they had, but it radiates an unforgettable color in this moment. He could pull it out in a single motion and lay it bare. ]
...Sorry, [ he whispers; a soft apology meant for close company. Itās not the first time this has happened, is it? Time spent overlong thinking about Haru and what meaning he had to him. Haru saw through him then, too; and it hurt worse to say nothing than to admit himself. He can't do that to Haru, again... His cheeks burn red as he touches a corner of the paper, shoved into the binding of a book it didnāt belong in. ]
I just...
[ He hesitates. Bitterly, he smiles at the books. Haruās not the only one heās hiding from. ]
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But before he can even start brainstorming a menu to shop for, Makoto zooms over, and the sheet he'd spied gets very pointedly buried away. The other papers and books are set into obviously random stacks, orderly but not organized, only punctuated by Makoto's clear unease.
Haru steps aside and blinks slow in retaliation, standing there. He's not at the level of being able to supernaturally articulate Makoto's thoughts for him—but he's perceptive enough. He can read his best friend enough. Haru wasn't supposed to see the papers there, and he had, and now there's a few seconds spent on his part, contemplative. He steps past the obvious cover with his usual nonchalance. ]
You don't need to hide things from me.
[ Was that paper so embarrassing? Haru finds it a puzzle, a meaning there that he turns over in his head privately, but he doesn't want Makoto to feel he has to hide anything. Not from him. ]
no subject
He... saw it. Itās not the look in Haruās eyes that tells him, but the words as he said them. He wouldnāt say it unless he knew something, but Haruās eyes unintentionally settle guilt deep in his stomach. The smile falls. His eyes avert. His head turns and heās looking at his desk, away from Haru. Itās not the only blue paper here, it's just a single sheet among other time trials they had, but it radiates an unforgettable color in this moment. He could pull it out in a single motion and lay it bare. ]
...Sorry, [ he whispers; a soft apology meant for close company. Itās not the first time this has happened, is it? Time spent overlong thinking about Haru and what meaning he had to him. Haru saw through him then, too; and it hurt worse to say nothing than to admit himself. He can't do that to Haru, again... His cheeks burn red as he touches a corner of the paper, shoved into the binding of a book it didnāt belong in. ]
I just...
[ He hesitates. Bitterly, he smiles at the books. Haruās not the only one heās hiding from. ]
I donāt want us to ever change, Haru.
[ He doesn't even consider his own echo. ]