If Haru closes his eyes, he can pretend that everything is still the same. The tiles lining the walls will be familiar; the tub of water enveloping him won't feel too large. But Haru doesn't like to think that way—that nothing has changed—even if he hears footsteps and grumblings from down the hallway. He likes to keep his eyes open now and believe that change is something that happens, good or bad, and it's the reactions to changes that can ultimately determine their outcome. Yes, Haru thinks, lids fluttering shut, change is something that will always happen, but sometimes it's nice when things stay the same.

"Haru!" Makoto calls, opening the bathroom door to see Haru soaking in the tub. He shakes his head, knowing Haru can't see him. "Some things will never change about you, Haru-chan," Makoto smiles, walking forward and reaching his hand out.

Haru opens his eyes and gives Makoto the 'drop the chan' look, but takes Makoto's hand and carefully steps out of the tub. "How long until our first classes today?" Haru asks, grabbing a towel and throwing it over his head as he walks out the bathroom.

Makoto sighs, rolling up his sleeve to unstop the tub, thinking it would just be easier to do this if he didn't wear so much flannel all the time, but he couldn't resist buying all he could for college after Haru helped him pick some out. His watch reads 7:43 which means—

"Haru!" Makoto yells, racing out of the bathroom and down the short hallway into the kitchen. "We have seventeen minutes until our class! We need to leave right now if we are even going to attempt to—"

"Is it 9:43 already?" Haru inquires over his shoulder, tying the apron around his back and heading to the stove.

Makoto pauses, letting his backpack drop to the floor before landing heavily in a chair. "It's Tuesday, isn't it?" He monotones, placing his head on the table and sighing deeply.

"Mhm," Haru replies, opening the fridge to retrieve some of the mackerel they'd purchased this weekend. At first it was difficult to find a fresh seller in Tokyo, but after wandering around a few weeks, it was becoming easier to navigate and find things around the city. As Haru begins frying the fish, Makoto sits back up in the chair.

"I keep forgetting we don't have class at eight every morning. Sorry Haru-chan."

Haru shrugs, watching his food closely, and gets the kettle out for some tea. Which type today? He really enjoyed the chai he'd gotten from the small stall next to the fish market, but the oolong he'd brought from back home has always been a favorite. Maybe some green tea today for Makoto though, to help boost his mind and get him thinking on the right track. Yeah, green tea with some—

"How did you remember?"

Haru looks over his shoulder to see a perplexed Makoto twiddling with his thumbs at the table. He softly smiles, holding up his left hand where the smudged, but still legible, ink covers most of the skin. "I made sure to write it down so we wouldn't forget again and be too early." Haru turns back to his food and examines his hand, eyes tracing where the ink ran off in the water and smudged against the towel. "I just grabbed a random pen last night that didn't fare well in the tub today." He finishes, turning off the stove and getting out plates and cups.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Makoto stands up to take the dishes from Haru to set the table, picking out the silverware himself. He then hurries to his backpack and ruffles around in it before pulling out something triumphantly. "For you, Haru-chan!" He beams, taking the kettle and green tea from Haru and handing him a pen instead.

Puzzled, Haru takes the pen and uncaps it, sitting down at the table with Makoto. The tip is soft like a marker, but small and pointed like a ballpoint or fine point pen.

"It's water resistant," Makoto answers Haru's unvoiced questions after they both say a quick thanks for the food. "I found it while picking up some last minute supplies for my art history class. I figure it'd work better than those pens that smear all over your clothes the moment you decide to hop into a body of water." He smiles, pouring a cup of tea for himself and Haru, "It can eventually wear off, but rubbing alcohol helps speed up the process! At least that's what the store owner said," Makoto laughs, setting down the kettle.

The pen rests heavy in Haru's hands, a simple gift for sure, but a well thought out one, Haru thinks. "Thank you, Makoto," Haru finally replies, seeing Makoto visibly relax after accepting his gift, "you must have thought a lot about this." He tucks the pen behind his right ear, a habit he's slipped into lately. Mainly because it keeps a pen close at hand, nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that Makoto once told him it was 'cute.' That has no legal standing in this predicament in any way.

Makoto shrugs, a slight blush growing across his cheeks and nose. "I just wanted Haru-chan to keep his thoughts where he can find them." Makoto takes a sip of his tea, looking anywhere but at Haru.

Warmth flows through Haru as he quickly grabs the pen and uncaps it, the words spilling onto his arm so we won't forget to record them later.

Makoto gave me a special pen today.

And thanks to Makoto, he wouldn't have to hurry to find a notebook to record this momentous occasion in. He could savor this knowledge long after normal ink would run and disappear from his skin.

Haru glances up to see Makoto reading the characters on his arm, mouth trying to form the syllables into words, but having difficulty from reading them upside down across the table. Haru scoots his chair over, moving from the spot across Makoto to the one next to him on the small, four sided table.

"Here," Haru brings his arm up to show Makoto the words he'd just finishing inscribing, sliding the special pen back behind his ear. "I wrote down something I didn't want to forget," he mumbles, feeling his own face begin to grow warm.

Makoto briefly runs his fingers over the characters, letting the feeling sink in. Haru's smooth, soft skin with Makoto's name on it made him feel… Proud? Is that the feeling rising in the back of his throat, twisting in the confines of his stomach, fluttering around his ribcage and chest?

"You're one of a kind, Haru-chan." Is all Makoto can get out, letting go of Haru's arm. He takes a bite of the breakfast gone cold, lukewarm mackerel sliding down easily. He feels Haru's eyes on him for a moment, before Haru himself digs into the meal, Makoto knowing he is enjoying the mackerel despite its cold, room temperate.

Haru almost tells him to drop the chan, but Makoto's gift is ringing softly by his ear. Something about today is different though, Haru decides. The realities of two dreams emerging doesn't seem like an impossibility, like it did before wandering the streets of Sydney and even owning up to one. What was that other dream? Haru stares at the fish in front of him, demanding it answer his question. There was another one, Haru remembered that, but he forgot to write it down, instead thinking of all the ways Makoto would be mad at him upon returning.

A laugh almost spills out at that thought now, Haru thinks, side-eying the man next to him. He's wearing the red flannel shirt Haru had picked out while they were shopping for new clothes, the sleeve on one arm rolled up reminding Haru that he forgot to unstop the tub before stepping out. The sight of the uneven sleeves makes Haru's heart beat a little faster, and he's regretting not putting on a shirt before cooking today. He's sure this weird heart anomaly can clearly been see through his muscle tissue and bone marrow, thumping all the way across the table. Haru wills the beating back to normal and takes another bite of breakfast, chewing slowly.

"You were wrong," Haru says after a moment, mackerel not even halfway finished.

"Hmm?" Makoto inquires, mouth full of fish.

"You suggested important moments would only occur with the knowledge we could be interrupted at any time, but we aren't in public Mako—"

Haru's phone begins to loudly ring from its place on the table, forgotten by both. Makoto opens his mouth and Haru hisses a "Don't," before snatching up the overlooked cell and wrenching it open.

"Hello Nagisa." Haru deadpans, watching Makoto struggle to keep from giggling by sipping on some tea.

"Haru-chan! I wanted your opinion on something, do you have a minute?" Nagisa's cheerful voice makes Haru miss his kouhai, but he was kind of interrupting something significant, and Makoto was about to explode from holding all that laughter in.

"Nagisa, shouldn't you be in school by now?" Haru sighed, eyeing the clock on the stove.

"Oh, I didn't realize how late I was running! Thanks Haru, I'll call you about swimming techniques later!" The line cut and Haru snapped his phone shut, placing it carefully on the table.

"Now the real question arises," Makoto intonated, expression clear and fierce. "Was this an important moment only because of the interruption? Or does this mean—"

"Shut up and eat your breakfast Makoto, you're ruining everything." Haru groaned, scooting his own plate forward to plant his chin against the table, hands rubbing at his temples.

Makoto laughs, rubbing Haru's shoulder with one hand. "Every day is a special moment with you, Haru-chan." He claims, hand coming to ruffle the shorter man's perpetually damp hair.

"You've been talking to Rin too much," Haru mutters, turning his head to stick his tongue out at Makoto.

"Rude, Haru-chan!" Makoto scoffs, going back to his cold breakfast.

The black haired man smiles, something that he can't stop doing lately, as he watches Makoto eat the breakfast of a lunatic. Haru knows it's not normal to eat mackerel for almost every meal, but he's accepted the life of being labeled as different. Makoto on the other hand could have easily said no, asked Haru to make something else, or just flat out refused to ever touch mackerel again. But here he is, diligently eating away at the meal of a madman.

Haru grabs the pen from his ear and prints on his palm in small characters:

Makoto eats my mackerel every day.