-I should've known that this ship would be the death of me, but really, they are just too adorable to ignore. I hope you like this little one-shot and I'm actually kinda nervous, because I haven't written these two before, haha. Let me know what you think :)-

-Me Too-

Finding a decent parking space had been hard. Being in that cramped car for hours had been hard. Pushing through crowds, apologizing when he stepped on feet—that had been hard too.

But this.

The lights, the sound, the glimmering water, the anticipation in their faces, the belonging.

Walking into this was easy.

Makoto didn't know how Haru did it, but he'd talked to some people and gotten Makoto permission to be here. Well, "here" didn't mean with the hundreds of other people crowding the stands above. "Here" meant in a back hall, with the smell of chlorine and swimmers talking happily with each other as they headed out. They were going to take their places, the same way Makoto once had. At the end of a pool that seemed to stretch out forever in front of him.

Shoulder resting against a wall, he smiled fondly at the competitors milling about and the people watching them excitedly. He was happy with his path; he was going to teach people and inspire more to see the joy of swimming. But at the same time, there was a place, deep inside of him, that missed this.

"Makoto."

There was a very large part of him that missed this with him.

"Hm?" Makoto looked over his shoulder, green eyes friendly and warm, and met a sight that still had his heart skipping. Haru with goggles slung around his neck, cap in hand and with that not-quite-there smile he saved for Makoto. His hair wasn't wet yet and there wasn't that look in his eyes that said he'd been in water, but it would come after this race. Makoto ached to see it again. He had ached to see it ever since the first day, when he'd seen the boy with the black hair gazing up at him and saying he didn't want to join the swim club. Until Makoto said that he wouldn't join by himself.

Rin may have been able to drive Haru to competitive swimming, but Makoto was the one who'd gotten him in the water in the first place.

"Makoto."

Starting, Makoto realized he'd been zoning out. "Er—Sorry," he stammered. "I was just thinking." He tipped his head to the side. "It's an important race for you, isn't it?"

Haru hummed a quiet answer, gazing out into the pool.

"Are you nervous?" Makoto asked teasingly.

At that, he received a flat look: When have I ever been nervous when it comes to this?

"Yeah, you're right. You'll be fine." Lowering his eyes to his shoes, Makoto exhaled a little breath. "You're still the best in the water, Haru-chan."

There was a small scoff. "Drop the 'chan.'"

"If I haven't yet, what makes you think I will now?"

"We're older."

"That hasn't stopped me before."

Haru slanted a glare at him and Makoto laughed. "All right," he conceded, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll try to stop."

They stood side by side after that, not speaking and not needing to. Makoto had always known what Haru was thinking and Haru was the same for him. He still wasn't quite sure when it started, but it was there. When he shifted his foot to aim more toward Haru it meant I wish I could race with you today. When Haru's fingers flexed around the fabric of his cap, close to Makoto's hand, it meant, me too.

A couple of swimmers passed the two, breaking the quiet. The one with the chestnut hair waved to Haru, bright hazel eyes alive. "Good luck out there, Nanase!" The most he got was a nod in reply, but he laughed, hinting that he'd encountered Haru's silence before. Most people assumed one of two things: either Haru was overwhelmingly shy or he was socially awkward and just didn't care about what anyone said. Makoto knew it was neither. Haru wasn't silent because he didn't care. He was silent because he chose to be.

Or well, all right, there were some instances when Haru didn't give a shit about what you were saying and deemed you unworthy of a response, but that was with only select people. (Kisumi, Sousuke, sometimes Rin...)

"I think you'd better get going," Makoto remarked. He set his hand on Haru's shoulder, a brief encouragement. "Thanks again for the front-row seat. It'll be like cheering you on back in high school, during the relays."

"Yeah." Then Haru glanced up at him, and there was light in his azure eyes. "But you can't help me out of the water this time."

Makoto rubbed his neck sheepishly, a bit of a blush heating his face. "Well, I knew that. You've been racing without me there for a while now; you should be used to it."

"I am," Haru deadpanned, and Makoto sputtered an indignant, "hey!" But he was laughing, and the corner of Haru's lips turned up the slightest bit. He looked like water, every line of him, the light catching in his hair and the flex of his arms when he lifted them for a lazy stretch. Sleek, and sure, and beautiful. Makoto's heart wilted. He could drown himself in Haru.

But he'd tried so hard to hide that part of him. Friends should be there for each other and support them. Friends should not fantasize about kissing another friend up against the wall.

"I don't care if your coach wants to kick me out in two minutes; I'm cheering for you the same way I always did," he blurted, as though the words were begging to get out. Haru glanced up in faint surprise at the sudden emotion in Makoto's voice, but Makoto didn't stop. He wasn't sure what was coming over him, but there was so much he wanted to say. Since he couldn't say the words buried in deep, he said the things closest to them. "I'll cheer for Nagisa, and Rei, and everyone who couldn't be here. Because they'd want to see you, Haru, you're amazing. You've always been that way in the water and I can't wait for those people to see it too. I don't know why, but I feel like I should tell you, now, before you go out. Maybe it's because I feel guilty that I can't...be there like I always was before—"

"Makoto." Haru watched him, something unreadable in his face. Makoto hadn't noticed the way Haru had turned toward him, nor how he was beginning to ramble like a lovestruck fool.

"—and if you really want me to, I can help you out of the water, like I used to. I don't care if I get trouble, if it's want you want, I'll—"

"I love you."

The world froze in place. Makoto's mouth shut with a snap, then opened, then shut again. He could only stare stupidly, heat starting to spread from his cheeks to his ears. Haru's words took a moment to register and they did, they only made Makoto feel strangely numb inside. It was just—utterly unbelievable. Haruka Nanase did not love anyone. Water held that place in his heart where a person would for anyone else; Makoto had always known that. But...Haru was here, in front of him, looking straight into Makoto's eyes like he was daring him to argue it, and he'd said...he'd said...he loved...

"You..." Makoto shaped that word alone and then all words failed him. He was blushing ferociously now, hands unsure and still crossed because he didn't know what to do with them. To his utter mortification, his vision started to blur with tears. "God, I—I'm—" Sorry.

The apology never made it out of him. He felt a hand cup the back of his neck, saw Haru lifting up on his toes, and then Haru's mouth was on his. Makoto's brain short-circuited. Rigid, he stared with wide eyes at Haru—his Haru—kissing him. It was the lightest kiss he'd ever had and so tender, it made his stomach flip-flop. He wanted to lean into it, to let it open up, and maybe bury his fingers in Haru's hair to see if he could make him sigh. But in a second, he remembered where they were and he jerked back.

"N—not here, Haru," he stammered out, hardly breathing and only after a chaste kiss. Hardly a kiss at all. He trembled, because he had tears running hot trails down his cheeks and Haru's too-blue eyes so close to his. Up close, they were weighed down by dark lashes and deeper than any blue Makoto had ever seen.

"You're crying." Haru stated it like a fact, reaching up and thumbing away a tear from Makoto's cheek. His hand stayed there afterward, cradling his face, and nearly making him cry all over again.

Makoto nodded with a watery smile. "I'm just—really happy," he managed, rubbing at his face with a palm. "You said that you l—loved me, and I can't—" He broke off, inhaling shudderingly.

Haru's head tilted, as though this was obvious, but his lips quirked up. "You gave me so much and now you're here for me again," he explained calmly. "I thought I should give you something."

"Yes, but to say that..."

"I've always loved you, Makoto."

Dammit, Makoto couldn't take it when Haru's voice turned all quiet and thrumming with emotion like that. "Me too," he whimpered, turning his face and nuzzling into Haru's palm. He took the back of Haru's hand, kept it there cupping his cheek and inhaled Haru's warmth. "Me too, Haru, I l—love you."

Haru's eyes lit up—Christ—but the smile didn't widen, because he was Haru, of course. But he entranced Makoto when his reply was a simple, "so kiss me."

"Right here?" Makoto asked, shy and nervous. They were in public, after all. "Haru-chan, I'm not sure..."

"Right here." Haru stepped forward, chest grazing the green-and-white striped fabric of Makoto's T-shirt and foot landing between Makoto's sneakers. A tiny gasp left Makoto and he held his breath as Haru's fingers trailed along his jaw. "Kiss me, right here, so I can remember it even when I'm in the water."

"I..." Makoto hedged uneasily, knowing by instinct that they were running out of time. Haru had to leave. He had something important to do, after all. "I shouldn't distract you from your race."

"I want you to," Haru admitted in a whisper. His gaze dropped down to Makoto's mouth and Makoto could read him as clearly as ever: I want you to make me forget I'm even racing in the first place. It was the most tempting thing he'd heard in a long time. Makoto longed to wrap him up in his arms, kiss Haru breathless and make him into an absolute mess, right now. But Makoto was the kind of person to be polite and chaste, not some moron. He wouldn't screw this up, not even if Haru wanted him to.

"You need to go," Makoto said gently.

Haru looked at him for a long moment, then dipped his head in agreement. "Yeah," he replied, and the want Makoto heard there almost made him change his mind. But he stood still as Haru retreated his touch and turned away. He'd watch his best friend race and afterward, they could continue this. If this turned out to be real after all and not a dream he'd wake up from later.

He should've known Haru would act stubborn as hell.

Suddenly, he fisted his hands in Makoto's shirt and yanked his mouth down onto Haru's. Makoto gasped raggedly, all protests cut off. He told himself he should pull away, but his body wasn't listening to him. Haru was running his tongue along Makoto's lips and damn him, but it was the most addicting thing. Groaning helplessly, Makoto wrapped his arms around Haru's waist and reeled him in close. He parted his lips for him, tasted Haru's tongue on his and the soft little sigh Haru let himself make. Their earlier kiss had made Makoto's heart skip a few beats. This one was making his knees weak. Haru looped his arms around Makoto's neck, bringing their bodies flush together. When he bit down on Makoto's bottom lip, Makoto's fingers tightened against the lean muscle in Haru's back.

He wanted to kiss him in this hallway forever.

Haru was the one to pull back this time, lips parted and breaths slightly shaky. His fingers wandered through the short brown hair at the nape of Makoto's neck. Makoto could only watch dazedly as Haru trailed a hand down his chest to settle on his stomach, putting space between them. Their foreheads rested together as Haru murmured, "later," his fingers curling in Makoto's tee an unspoken promise.

Makoto gave a breathless laugh. Haru was late for his race, for a swimming race, and it was because of Makoto. "Okay," he mumbled. His hands moved reluctantly from Haru, sliding along his lower back and feeling him shiver the tiniest bit. "Okay."

"Wish me luck," Haru whispered, and chastely pecked Makoto's cheek before whisking away out into the lights.

Makoto twisted his hands in the hem of his shirt, face flushed and hair slightly askew across his eyes. A wide smile spread across his face before he could hold it back. Haru was going to be the death of him.