28 DAYS [MakoHaru]

forty one → 01/01

Chapter Forty-One: January 1st

Haruka's parents stayed true to their word; by the time morning sun shed light on the old villa, they had left without a trace.

Things almost felt like normal as the family buzzes with excitement for the plans for the day: on their last day in France, they had decided to drive up north for a skiing day trip. It took a gallant effort to load everyone into the car, but after a solid hour of pulling on snow boots and mittens, packing skiing gear into the trunks, and squeezing everyone into a single minivan.

In fact, Makoto actually thinks things are looking up. The car ride is uncomfortable, but he makes it fun by playing travel bingo with Suzuka and sharing headphones with Haruka, who, of course, takes a nap the entire way. Makoto tries to ignore the way his face automatically breaks out in a gummy smile when Haruka's head falls on his shoulder.

The skiing trip is fun too. Although he's never been skiing, and admittedly, someone as clumsy as him should not be allowed on skis, but he has a blast anyway.

His favorite part is the ski lift, where they scoop him up and he scales up the mountain, higher, higher, until the horizon is in view and all he can see for miles and miles is jagged, snow-capped mountains.

It's a completely different world from the flat-topped seabeds of Iwatobi, and as he reaches the summit, Makoto is reminded of how large the world is, and in turn, how little he knows of it. How much he wants to explore more of it. How badly he wishes he could savor this image forever.

He starts reflexively rubbing the number 2 on his wrist, and reality sets in. As he traces the harsh red painted onto his skin, it reminds him he simply can't afford luxuries like forever.

It's around when this cold truth sets in, when he hops off the ski lift and shreds down the snow mountain, when he feels things going downhill (in more ways than one).

The air whips around his face, no longer caressing and breezy, but slashing across his face like blades. His eyes squint to see ahead of him, make out something in the world of white, as he picks up speed. The only sounds in his ears are the whistling wind and his skis slicing through the snow. His heart races, anxiety boiling in his veins, and all he can do is clench his teeth and pray he won't topple over.

By the time he slows down at the base, he's sweating under his layers of jackets. Wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead, he looks around him. A few more people reach the bottom, exhilarated expressions on their flushed faces. He catches sight of Asuka, zigzagging down the slope, her hair fluttering behind her in braids.

"Whew!" She shouts, using her ski poles to thrust herself in Makoto's direction. "Wasn't that a rush?"

Makoto grins. "It's terrifying," He admits, scratching the back of his neck hesitantly.

"You get used to it," Asuka promises him. She seems to be in a better mood than last night, which eases Makoto's worrying slightly. "Come on, let's go again!"

She tugs on his elbow, dragging them towards the ski lift again. On the way up, Makoto watches Haruka slide down the slope. His scarf is tucked around his mouth, but by the way his eyes crinkle with joy, Makoto can tell he's smiling.

Asuka notices him staring, and she elbows him teasingly. "You love him," She teases, a childish grin on her face.

Makoto's glad it's below zero outside, because the cold disguises the blush that forms on his face. Instinctively, he wants to deny it, but he releases a shaky laugh. "Yeah," He admits, and it's like a weight is being lifted off his chest. "I do."