
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/951152.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Free!
  Relationship:
      Nanase_Haruka/Tachibana_Makoto
  Character:
      Nanase_Haruka, Tachibana_Makoto
  Additional Tags:
      Friends_to_Lovers, Masturbation, Frottage, Voice_Kink, Free!_Kink_Meme
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-09-02 Completed: 2013-09-03 Chapters: 3/3 Words: 4814
****** Listen ******
by closet_fujoshi_(chaotic_souljam)
Summary
     Makoto talks; Haruka listens.
Notes
     De-anon from the kink meme. Also, if anyone I know in real life
     realises I wrote this, I think I'll just crawl under a rock and die.
     So in the event that anyone who knows me reads this, please never
     mention it to me because that would be really awkward (Note: my pseud
     is not just for show XD)
***** Chapter 1 *****
It should be here somewhere.
Haru pulls the last box from the back of the closet, scanning the contents with
a frown. There is the pack of coloured pens that his parents had bought him
after seeing the edges of his notebooks filled with rough sketches of dolphins
and mackerel and anything Haru thought was nice, really. He had never gotten
around to using them—he preferred the simplicity of a pencil drawing—but he had
appreciated the thought nonetheless. He carefully moves it and a large pack of
batteries out of the way. He nudges aside an old one-armed action figure and a
worn copy of Shonen Jump.
"Ha." Found you.
Triumph, then smug satisfaction, flits across Haru's face before he shakes it
off. Feeling victorious over having found the old cassette player he had been
looking for is kind of ridiculous and not very like him at all. He pushes the
power button to see if it needs new batteries. It doesn't, but he grabs a
couple from the box beside him anyway.
He shoves the box back into the closet and makes his way to his room, curiosity
pushing him to an almost run. He settles for a brisk walk instead.



"I'll just leave this here, okay?"
"Aa."
Makoto leaves for home, but not before one last reminder that even Haru can't
stay in the bath all night despite it being Friday and therefore there is no
real need to wake up early the next day. Haru mutters a quiet 'hai' then
submerges himself in the water.
He peers over the edge of the tub at the bag Makoto had left for him and
scowls. He knows he should be grateful that Makoto is generously letting him
mooch off his notes but Haru has zero interest in English so he feels a bit
put-out that Makoto—in his own, gently insistent way—is coercing him into
studying.
Well, they were going to be having a test soon after all. Or so Haru thinks as
he stares at his wrinkly fingers.
He climbs out of the tub with a sigh, shaking the water from his hair. As an
afterthought, he grabs the bag.
He is a bit too careless though, because he manages to spill half its contents
on the bathroom floor. Haru kneels down, gathering everything and pushing them
back into the bag haphazardly.
He picks up a casette tape. He didn't know they still made those. Haru turns
the plastic case over to see Makoto's name scrawled on the plastic in Ran's
large handwriting. Beside it is her own and scribbled in the bottom right
corner is Ren's name written in the younger boy's careful script.
"Hm."
That casette player his grandmother had given him should still be somewhere in
the house.




Haru slumps back onto his bed, earbuds in his ears plugged into the casette
player. He hits play, and a whirring sound reverberates around his room as the
tape comes to life.
"Onii-chan, is it working?"
"See that red light? That means it's recording."
"Yay!"
The twins must have found a recorder lying around in the house somewhere and
thought it would be fun to play with.
"I'm Tachibana Ran! I like watching Gatchaman and eating ham and candy and
playing with Onii-chan. I--"
"Me too! Let me join too!"
A fond smile lifts the corners of Haru's mouth. Ren and Ran are like his own
siblings; he had spent enough time at the Tachibana house that it is
practically his second home. He and Makoto had taken care of them on nights
when their parents wanted to go out on a date to 'rekindle the old spark', as
Mr. Tachibana had told them with a wink.
"You can do it later! I got it first!"
"But...but, I found it..."
Haru frowns. Ran has a strong personality compared to her twin, which often
makes Haru feel symphathetic towards Ren who is a bit too much like Makoto in
that he doesn't really stand up for himself. That's probably why he let Ren
cling to him so much; it reminds him of the way Makoto used to attach himself
to Haru back when Haru was taller than the brunet and was, by definition, the
one who could make the scary things go away. Now, even though Makoto never
really grew out of his fear of the dark and the unknown, he limits himself to
only clutching Haru's sleeve when he was afraid to the point that he could
hardly move and thus needs Haru to pull him forward.
"Now, now, no fighting."
Makoto's gentle voice is calming even when filtered through the earbuds. Haru
closes his eyes, listening to Ren and Ran alternating between arguing and
talking about what they like to do and Makoto chiming in with a comment or two.
Their banter lulls Haru to drowsiness so when it peters out, he doesn't bother
with pulling out the earbuds. He curls up on his side, clutching the now-silent
player in his left hand.
A soft click signals when the tape flips to side B.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
"Hey."
Makoto's voice sounds shy and hesitant, reminiscent of their childhood when
Makoto would try to hide behind Haru whenever he was scared or nervous. Makoto
must have recorded this on a whim or perhaps nostalgia for the days when he
used to record their conversation even if it was just mostly him talking. For
posterity, he had proudly announced, although Haru privately thinks that it was
more to do with the novelty of having a recorder than actually preserving
something for their future selves.
"I wonder if you can hear my heartbeat. It's beating so fast, I wouldn't be
surprised if you can."
The long pause after that is punctuated by Haru's own erratic pulse. It feels
intimate, listening to Makoto like this. Lying on his bed, he can almost
imagine Makoto beside him, whispering in his ear. That thought brings heat
pooling low in his abdomen. He probably shouldn't be listening to this; this
would be considered a breach of privacy, wouldn't it?
Haru's thumb hovers over the power button. Curiosity and respect for the
brunet's privacy war within Haru.
"As I thought, I---no, it's nothing."
Haru mutters a quick 'sorry' to Makoto. He would be up all night thinking about
the tape if he stopped now.
A long sigh that Haru could have sworn was his name floats into his ears. It
must have been his imagination, but hearing Makoto like that, so close, so
needy, stokes the slow burn in his groin to a crackling fire.
Haru's breath shortens to shallow pants. The room begins to feel stiflingly hot
so he pulls his shirt over his head and throws it carelessly onto the floor,
leaving him in only his jammer. Haru briefly contemplates taking that off too
but decides against it. The earbuds had been ripped from his ears when he
stripped his shirt off, so he hurriedly pushes them back in place before he
misses anything.
"It's raining. Can you hear it?"
He can. It is faint, but he can just barely pick out the steady plip-plop of
raindrops on the roof. Haru listens for a few more minutes, savoring the
harmony of Makoto's soft breathing and the sound of the rain.
His dick hardens as thoughts of water and Makoto swirl around in his head. An
image of Makoto in bed as rain splashed against his window solidifies in his
mind. Haru lets out a low groan, trying to will his erection down because
having an erection while thinking about your best friend is highly
inappropriate, even for Haru who normally doesn't care about propriety. It was
a little late for that though, because no amount of willpower can erase the
fact that listening to Makoto's voice had turned Haru on, something that not
even the gravure magazines Nagisa had given him as a joke could do.
"Can I tell you a secret?"
The vulnerability in Makoto's voice sends another wave of arousal crashing into
Haru. He moans softly, palming the growing bulge in his jammer. Makoto doesn't
have to know about this anyway so it should be fine. Really. He pushes the
niggling guilt at using his best friend like this to the back of his mind where
it would stay until he is ready to confront it.
Makoto's breathing becomes shaky. Haru can tell that he is nervous; he can
almost see Makoto biting his lip like he does when he wants to say something
but can't. Even so, Haru's lust-addled brain insists on latching on to his
voice as the trigger for all the blood to rush down south. It's ridiculous, and
Haru would have laughed at himself if not for the painfully hard problem in his
jammer.
He flips over on all fours, rutting into the bed as he continues to listen to
Makoto. The rhythmic friction is delicious, and for a few moments it is enough.
Until he hears Makoto exhale tremulously. There is something about a flustered
Makoto—he would be trying to hide that adorable little blush that really
shouldn't look that cute but it just does because it's Makoto—that makes Haru
lose what tenuous hold he had on himself.
He slips a hand beneath himself, pushing past the waistband of his jammer to
grip his cock firmly. The sigh that escapes his lips is embarassingly loud, so
he muffles his mouth with his free hand. Haru isn't used to being vocal, so
even when he was alone like this he still feels like he had to keep quiet. It
is irrational paranoia stemming from the fact that oh god, he can still hear
Makoto breathing in his ear that had him believing that Makoto might hear him
feverishly mumbling his name as his hand moves up and down his throbbing dick.
He thumbs the tip of his cock, groaning as waves of pleasure threaten to short-
circuit his brain.
"Truth is, I've loved you for a long time now, but I just couldn't say it."
Haru's eyes fly open. Jealousy, hot and uncomfortable, momentarily stills his
hand's movement. A confession? To whom?
"You're the one I really love. I want to make you mine, but that's probably
impossible."
The raw pain in Makoto's voice tears into Haru, but at the same time, he feels
relieved because he doesn't want Makoto to leave, doesn't want to lose him to
anyone. It is greedy of him to want to keep Makoto to himself, but Haru can't
help it. He had never been as good as Makoto at being selfless.
The tightness of the jammer restricts Haru's motions so he eases it down until
it bunches up around his knees. Haru raises his hips and smothers a needy cry
against his pillow when the movement makes the head of his cock drag against
the bedsheets. His dick leaves a wet trail of pre-cum on the cotton, but Haru
ignores it. No time to worry about laundry right now.
His hand resumes its prior actions, speeding up as he feels himself nearing the
edge. His pulse pounds in his ears, a whispered mantra of Makoto, Makoto,
Makoto falling from his lips in short gasps. He imagines Makoto beside him,
imagines that it is Makoto's large hands working to bring him to completion.
"Why did things turn out like this? But I guess this way is fine too. The
position of childhood friend is more than enough for me."
Haru presses his face further into the pillow, toes curling against the sheets
from the overwhelming pleasure. He pushes three fingers into his mouth,
imagining it is Makoto's cock. It is strange that it is only at this moment--
amidst thoughts of his best and oldest friend interspersed with heady images of
Makoto writhing under him--that Haru realises the depth of his feelings for
Makoto. Looking back on it, it should have been obvious, but Haru had been too
close to it to see it for what it is.
"I want to hold you, kiss you everyday."
Makoto's voice had turned uncharacteristically low and rough with emotion. Haru
slides his tongue around the fingers in his mouth and sucks, no longer mindful
of the sounds he was making. His hand pumps his erection desperately, eyes
squeezed tightly shut as a wanton moan slips from his lips.
"I like you, Haru."
Haru comes with a shudder, hot, sticky cum spilling over his fingers and
staining the dark cotton sheets. Wide-eyed shock followed by a growing sense of
elation that was tempered by contentment and the sort of boneless exhaustion
after orgasm makes him collapse onto the bed with a muffled 'oof'.
He can't wait to see Makoto tomorrow.
Chapter End Notes
     If anyone is interested, here's the link to the track that inspired
     this whole thing: http://issaizanightofdesire.tumblr.com/post/
     58519083089/casually-leaves-this-for-makoto-mako-x-haru
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The tatami mat under him is uncomfortably slick with sweat, the summer heat
roiling within the bright, sun-lit living room. The TV provides muted
background noise, flickering every so often as if trying to catch the eyes of
the room's only occupant who is currently sprawled out on the floor with a
frown. The shirt he had been planning on wearing lies crumpled and forgotten in
the far corner of the room.
The wooden tatami slats dig into his naked back, but Haru can't muster the
energy to sit up. He glances at the upside-down—at least it is upside-down from
his position—clock and squints.
Almost 10 o'clock. He's late.
Makoto should be here by now. It is an unspoken tradition that Makoto always
comes over around this time on Saturdays to make sure Haru doesn't stay in his
tub for too long. Once, when Makoto couldn't come because Ren was in bed with a
fever, Haru had fallen asleep in the bath and gotten a fever of his own. Makoto
had nursed him back to health—which was nice, Haru had thought, because even
Haru has his moments when he just wants someone to pamper him.
Still, Makoto always either called or texted whenever he couldn't go over to
Haru's. Of course, he could just be late and it's not like they ever set a time
for when he would come over so it is technically impossible for Makoto to be
late because you can't be late for something that isn't even officially a
thing. To be sure anyway, Haru glances at the phone beside him.
No new messages.
Smug little bastard. Haru flicks the phone screen in irritation.
He huffs, lifting sweaty bangs off his forehead with a grimace. He got out of
the bath earlier than usual because he wanted to be there to open the door when
Makoto came, had even thought to pull on a pair of shorts over his usual
jammer, and Makoto chooses today to be late. This is not what Haru had imagined
would happen today.
He wallows in self-pity, a pout subconsciously curving his mouth downward. He
throws an arm over his face and wonders if Makoto is ever going to come.
"Haru-chan?"
Haru peeks up at Makoto standing in the doorway. He had been too busy silently
grumbling about everything—stupid weather, annoying, overly enthusiastic woman
on the TV, he really should turn it off but the remote control is too far out
of reach—that he hadn't heard Makoto knock. Although, he probably hadn't
knocked all that loudly; Makoto has a habit of just letting himself into Haru's
house.
"You're late."
"Sorry, I slept in," Makoto says with a shrug as he steps into the room. "I was
kind of expecting you to still be in the tub, to be honest. Is anything wrong,
Haru?"
"Not really."
Haru pulls himself up to a sitting position, Makoto taking his silent
invitation to come sit beside him. The taller boy fidgets, obviously trying to
work up the courage to say something. Haru lets him take his time; that had
always been the way he was with Makoto. He would wait, and Makoto would tell
him when he was ready.
Makoto takes a deep breath. It reminds Haru of last night's events, and he
ducks his head just a bit to hide the flush on his cheeks. Regardless of his
increasingly inappropriate thoughts, that is Haru's cue so he turns towards
Makoto expectantly, hoping Makoto doesn't take notice of his unusually red
face.
He shouldn't have worried. Makoto is too engrossed in nervously picking at a
loose sliver on the tatami mat to look up at Haru. Rather, Makoto is too
nervous to look Haru in the face, and Haru irrationally thinks that Makoto did
somehow find out about last night.
"This might sound weird, Haru, but was there something in the bag I left here
yesterday?"
At Haru's raised eyebrow, Makoto hurriedly explains. "I mean, aside from the
notes. Something like, um, a tape, or—?"
Ah.
"Did you mean this?" Haru interrupts Makoto's impending rambling, pulling the
cassette tape from his pocket and letting it dangle between his thumb and
forefinger. His heartbeat speeds up in anticipation; he had been worrying about
how to broach the topic with Makoto so this turn of events is more than
welcome.
"U-uh, yeah, that's it," Makoto laughs nervously, lightly trembling hands
reaching for it. "You didn't listen to it or anything, right?"
"I did." A blush creeps its way on Haru's face. He turns his face away, trying
desperately to keep his rapidly-disintegrating composure intact. "Until the
end."
Oh, I listened to it, all right.
Haru surreptitiously presses his thighs together as the memory of jerking off
to his best friend's voice blooms unbidden in his thoughts. He watches Makoto
through half-lidded eyes, waiting for his reaction.
Haru didn't know humans are capable of blushing that brightly; he is actually a
bit worried that Makoto might pass out from overheating. Makoto covers his face
with both hands, hunching over as if he wanted to disappear.
"I-I'm sorry."
Haru cocks his head in confusion.
"Why?"
Makoto jumps at Haru's bluntness. Haru's expression softens at this, wordlessly
reassuring him with a fleeting touch on his arm. Makoto just hugs his knees to
his chest, pointedly staring at anything but Haru. The tape lies between them,
deceptively innocent in its clear, plastic case.
"Because you probably think it's disgusting, right? A guy liking another guy,
it's not exactly normal, is it?"
"Why should I care about that?" Haru asks, genuinely bemused. He never even
thought about it like that; Makoto is Makoto, and that has always been how Haru
has looked at him.
"Because—!" Makoto starts. "I don't know," he continues in a broken whisper. "I
didn't want you to find out like this. I wanted to stay by your side forever,
I—"
"So stay." Haru moves closer and rests his cheek against Makoto's shoulder. He
isn't really very good at talking about his feelings, so this is all he could
think to do.
Stay.
Makoto finally meets his gaze. Makoto had told him before that his eyes
communicate a lot more than his words do. It must have been true, because one
look and the clouds lift away from Makoto's own green eyes and Haru almost
turns shyly away from the warm affection in Makoto's smile. But he resolutely
stares back, wanting Makoto to see his thoughts.
I like you too, Makoto.
There was a time when Haru would have pulled back from a situation like this,
but not now. Not now, when he just realised that he and Makoto had been idiots
not to see what they had right here between them.
"Makoto."
"Mm?"
"I'm sorry I listened to the tape without your permission."
Makoto smiles again, bashfully hooking his pinky into Haru's. "It all turned
out okay, didn't it? So, it's fine. Don't worry about it." Love glows openly on
Makoto's face, lingering in the corners of his smile and hiding in the soft
green of his eyes.
"A-and," Haru swallows audibly. He didn't want to have to admit this, but he
feels he owes it to Makoto who had practically bared everything—figuratively,
of course—for Haru to see. "I jerked off while listening to your voice. Sorry."
Makoto's eyes widen comically. "Oh! Well," he stammers, looking as if he is
hyperventilating. "Um, okay."
Haru stares down at their linked hands, belatedly wondering if he should have
kept that little tidbit to himself after all. But he didn't, so no use crying
over spilt milk. It had been said, it's out there, and he would just have to
deal with it.
He sneaks a look at Makoto and finds him staring intently at Haru's crotch with
bright, curious eyes. Haru coughs, sure that his own face must be starting to
closely resemble a tomato by now.
Makoto, realising he had been caught, just giggles nervously. Neither of them
know where to look, eyes darting all over the room in a desperate attempt to
break the awkwardness. The cries of the cicadas outside stretch out in the
tense silence, the mundaneness of the sound a stark contrast to the unusual
situation they found themselves in.
The hot, summer air is so heavy with tension that Haru feels like he is
drowning in it. He is hyper-aware of Makoto just a few inches away from him,
his mouth suddenly dry as his gaze sweeps down the brunet's form.
Haru follows a tiny droplet of sweat as it rolls down Makoto's jaw, down past
his collarbone, disappearing into his shirt. The shirt that is currently
plastered to his body, outlining defined muscles that Haru was itching to
touch. His ears strain to catch the sound of Makoto's breathing; the way it
hitches whenever their gazes accidentally meet is deliciously hot.
Indecisiveness has never been one of Haru's traits. He may take a while to come
to a decision, but once he has, he takes action. Beating around the bush
accomplishes nothing but frustration.
Haru grips Makoto's chin lightly, turning the other's face towards him. He
returns Makoto's surprised gaze with a calm that comes from the sudden clarity
that this is Makoto—ever-present, constant Makoto—so he has no real reason to
be apprehensive. Makoto has seen him at his most vulnerable, just as he himself
had been there when Makoto buried his goldfish and cried for hours as he
clutched Haru's hand.
He traces the familiar shape of Makoto's lips with his thumb then presses his
slightly chapped lips against Makoto's soft, trembling mouth. He waits for a
few heartbeats, giving Makoto a chance to pull away if he wanted to.
Makoto sighs against his lips and cups his cheeks lightly.
It isn't perfect; neither of them had any experience with kissing so their
teeth clack together and their noses occasionally bump against each other and
Makoto almost bites down on Haru's tongue in surprise when he slips it past the
brunet's lips. But because it is Makoto, Haru soldiers on until it feels almost
natural to be lip-locked with his best friend while the TV hums infomercials
about vacuum cleaners in the background.
They part, a thin string of saliva connecting their lips. Makoto looks
irresistible as he pants, eyes darkened with want.
"Haru-chan," he groans, reaching for Haru.
"Drop the -chan."
Haru meets him halfway, wrapping his arms around Makoto's neck and angling his
head so he could kiss Makoto better. He climbs into Makoto's lap, straddling
him and forcing the brunet to plant an arm behind him to keep them upright. A
large hand slides up the length of Haru's spine, trailing liquid heat on his
skin. He presses closer, reveling in the feel of Makoto's firm body against his
chest.
Haru feels light-headed and dizzy as their kisses, which had started out
innocently enough, become urgent and heated, both eager to explore each other.
Makoto keeps a firm grip on Haru's nape, long fingers playfully tugging at
short, dark hair. The sharp mint taste of Makoto's toothpaste is on his tongue,
and Haru thinks that he would forever associate toothpaste with the memory of
his first kiss.
Haru becomes aware of a throbbing in his groin akin to what he had felt last
night; now, however, he doesn't have to imagine what Makoto would feel like. He
is right here with him, ready and willing.
He pushes the brunet down a bit too quickly, Makoto uttering a soft 'ouch' when
his head thumps against the wooden floor. Haru offers a silent apology that is
quickly accepted with an understanding smile.
Haru leans down, choosing this time to kiss along Makoto's throat. The
vibrations of Makoto's answering moan tingle along Haru's torso, going straight
to his dick. Makoto's hands grip Haru's shoulders tightly, breath fanning
across Haru's bare, sweat-slicked skin. Makoto arches his back, baring his neck
for Haru. Haru nips at his collarbone, drawing a surprised yelp from the
brunet.
He swivels his hips, trying to relieve the pressure of the growing erection in
his shorts. At Makoto's strangled cry, he realises he is in the perfect
position to grind down into Makoto. The urge to do so is mouthwateringly
irresistible, but he isn't sure if Makoto is ready for that.
Haru gives an experimental push, just barely letting their clothed erections
touch. He watches Makoto's reaction closely.
"Is this okay?"
Makoto turns his face to the side, a small nod and a furious blush answering
Haru's question. A rare smile spreads across Haru's face.
He begins moving in earnest, thrusting against Makoto. Harsh pants fill the
sun-soaked room, and Haru thinks that Makoto squirming beneath him, his mouth
falling open as he whispers Haru's name reverently over and over again in that
low voice that drives Haru insane with desire, is the most erotic sight he had
ever laid eyes on. Each thrust of his hips squeezes a moan from Makoto, each
moan louder than the last. Haru kisses him again, teasing Makoto's tongue with
his own.
The need to feel Makoto's bare skin becomes overwhelming, so Haru pushes the
hem of Makoto's shirt up and splays his fingers on his toned abdomen. He rubs
circles across the newly-revealed expanse of skin as he coaxes the shy Makoto
into opening his mouth wider, into parting his legs a little bit more so Haru
could have more room to work with as he fucks Makoto against the floor.
He would have wanted to get rid of the shirt altogether, but judging from the
way Makoto's hips are desperately bucking up into him and the rapidly
tightening coiling heat in his own groin, they are both too close to bother
with something like that.
Haru releases Makoto's lips with a wet pop then leans back, hands planted
behind him, gripping Makoto's outstretched legs for leverage as he moves
frantically against Makoto, seeking to push them both over the edge. Makoto's
fingers dig into Haru's hips, low, keening noises flowing past kiss-swollen
lips.
Makoto's body tenses beneath him. Haru stares down at him from beneath dark
lashes, wanting to brand this image of Makoto breathless with lust into his
mind.
"Haru, I'm—"
The sight of Makoto's face as he comes combined with the little sobbing
whimpers of pleasure that wrack his large frame triggers Haru's own orgasm. He
rides it out, grinding against Makoto until the aftershocks wear off.
Haru flops down onto Makoto, sated and happy. He feels Makoto press a chaste
kiss against his temple, hears the murmured thank you, Haru before it is
swallowed up by the peaceful silence. Haru closes his eyes, the rush of
affection he felt for the boy who had been with him for so long almost
frightening him with its intensity. He welcomes it though, letting it wash over
him the way water does when he swims.
He rests his head against Makoto's heart.
I can hear it now, Makoto.
"Haru, you can't sleep here," Makoto laughs.
"Watch me," Haru replies with a pout, resolutely squeezing his eyes closed. He
didn't want to let go of Makoto just yet.
With a long-suffering sigh, Makoto arranges his and Haru's limbs so they lie
more comfortably—as comfortably as the hard wooden floor would allow, that is.
The humid heat is just a hint shy of unbearable, and the sweat and cum on their
skin and clothes is more than a little sticky and uncomfortable, but Makoto's
chest is against his back, his breath tickling the back of his neck and Haru
thinks that surely this is what happiness feels like. The sound of the whirring
fan across the room, the subdued murmur of the TV, the steadiness of the arms
wrapped around his waist, and the whisper of I love you against his ear
envelops Haru like the ocean and welcomes him home.
He nudges Makoto with an elbow, an idea forming in his mind. Makoto stares back
at him with a sleepy gaze.
"Come take a bath with me?"
Chapter End Notes
     Sorry for the fail ending T_T. I couldn't think of a good one...
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
