28 DAYS [MakoHaru]

thirty two

Chapter Thirty-Two

Makoto stares down at the bouquet of flowers clutched tightly in his hand, wondering if he's going over the top. Roses are supposed to be an expression of love, a classic first-date present, but what if Haruka thought roses are tacky and predictable?

His free hand flies to the hem of his button-up shirt and he straightens it, fidgeting in his spot. He can't seem to gather the courage to knock on the door.

His parents aren't home yet, Makoto reminds himself. Nothing to worry about, Makoto, it's just Haruka. Your childhood friend. Who you're just going on a date with. Even though you've already had sex twice.

Makoto's face flushes red when lewd images flash through his mind unintentionally. With a deep breath, he sits on the front step, forcing himself to calm down. He probably sits there for a good five minutes, giving himself a mental pep talk, when the door is opened. Makoto whirls around in surprise as Haruka pokes his head out the door. "Makoto?" He asks cautiously. "What are you doing just sitting there?"

"Uhhh-" Makoto cannot seem to find the words to form a cogent sentence. All abilities to make proper conversation have flown out the window, leaving him a stuttering mess. "I'm just, um, a bit nervous, I guess?" He stares down at his lap, an abashed expression on his face. "Here, um, I got these for you!" Makoto jumps to his feet, pushing the bouquet of flowers into Haruka's chest, failing to look him in the eye.

"Oh, Makoto, you didn't have to-" Haruka's lips part in genuine surprise. "I'm going to take these inside. Come in for a moment, why don't you?"

Haruka rushes into the kitchen, head ducked down - Makoto swears he sees a faint blush painted on his cheeks under the bangs falling in his face - while Makoto waits in the foyer. He smiles instinctively and looks around the house, recalling its details. There is not a thing out of place, save for a dark-blue apron carelessly thrown over one of the dining room chairs.

When Haruka returns, the shy blush has faded, and Makoto takes in his appearance. He looks like, him, which is such a stupid thing to say. He's dressed nicer than usual, a red cuffed button-up with a black button vest and dark grey skinny jeans, but the style is still very fitting to his personality. He tugs on a pair of shoes while Makoto nods towards the apron.

"Haru-chan, have you been eating properly while your parents have been gone?" He asks in a very motherly way. Which, well. Nagisa always jokes about him being the mom friend, and Makoto's never shaken off the worry he has for others. If Haruka wasn't getting the proper nutrition, Makoto wanted to know. He recalls from one of those teen mental help books that a proper diet, hydration, and exercise are key; healthy body means a healthy mind.

Haruka shrugs one shoulder half-heartedly, lacing up his high-tops as he sits on the bottom step of the stairwell. "I've been making fish and rice," He responds dully, in the same Haruka way he always does. "And I've gone to the store a couple of times. For like, milk. And other stuff."

How specific, Makoto thinks in dismay. He's still not convinced Haruka's eating as properly as he should, but he nods anyway and offers Haruka his hand to help him up. "Shall we go?"

They walk to the station, with Makoto enjoying the feeling of the cool wind blowing against his skin contradicting the warmth of Haruka's hand in his. Haruka's eyes remain on the seaside when they walk along the boardwalk, and their conversation is rather one-sided, but Makoto doesn't mind that much. He's used to talking and just having Haruka listen. That's just the way they worked.

When Haruka is no longer distracted by the beauty of the ocean, he grows increasingly impatient on the metro as they take their seats. It's not as busy as expected, being a Monday afternoon, so they get seats close to the automatic doors. He keeps pestering Makoto where they are going, but Makoto remains tight-lipped, telling him that it's a surprise. Though, he nearly caves when Haruka jokingly bats his eyelashes at him.