"In still moments by the sea life seems large-drawn and simple. It is there we can see into ourselves." - Rolf Edberg

Nanase Haruka steps out of his front door for the last time. He shuts it behind him, then looks up at the darkened windows. A twinge of sadness echoes in his heart as he turns away from the porch where he used to sit with his grandma, whiling the afternoons away with stories about mermaids and kappa, from the backyard where he and Makoto had pitched a tent and decided to pretend they were camping because Haruka hadn't been allowed—he's too young, his parents insisted, and he'll just be a burden—to go with the Tachibana family to the mountains. Memories, soft and faded like an old favorite shirt, brush the edges of his mind, and for once, he allows himself to remember everything. Even the ugly memories of the day he tried to wake his grandma and found her cold and still or of the week he spent alone because he had gotten into a petty fight with Makoto. He'd like to pull each memory out and examine them one by one, but that would take far, far too long so he settles for submerging them for now. He feels them sink beneath the surface with a sigh, and he silently mutters a promise to return for them one day.

Every step he takes down the street, away from his home, is punctuated by a little voice insistently calling him to 'stay, don't go'. He'd like to think it was the ocean calling him to stay, but his more pragmatic side tells him it's only his reluctance to leave the familiarity of Iwatobi—this little town by the harbor where hardly anything interesting ever happens—behind.

He doesn't hurry; there is no need to. University, Tokyo, the harsh lights and sounds of the bustling city, the overpowering stench of urban life—all that can wait. For now, he enjoys the tranquility of small-town Iwatobi on the verge of dawn. The scent of the sea permeates the air as he wanders, his bag bumping into his thigh with every other step. He adjusts the strap on his shoulder and walks on.

As he meanders along on the old dirt road he has walked with Makoto for so many years, the street lights flicker weakly in the dark. He comes to the one that has always been broken, the part of the road where Makoto clings to his sleeve, despite him having grown bigger than Haruka, whenever they had to go home late because of club practice. He slows down a bit and mumbles a quick thanks to the street light. For what, he's not sure exactly, but he supposes it doesn't really matter.

He passes the street corner where he and Makoto first met. Even as a child, he remembers thinking that Makoto, with his kind eyes and easy smile, shone so brightly that Haruka couldn't help but give a small nod when Makoto asked if they could walk to school together. Haruka likes to think that it was fate that made the two of them meet that day, that maybe a water deity answered Haruka's unvoiced call for someone who understands him despite his stoic nature and bluntly sharp words. Only someone as selfless as Makoto could put up with someone like Haruka long enough to become fluent in silence. Only Makoto—with his seemingly endless perseverance—had managed to dive into the waters of Haruka's mind and gently pull him out just enough for his head to break the surface. Just enough for him to breathe.

It was sometime during the first months of their first year in high school when cliques were still forming and people kept trying to draw Makoto into their conversations that it dawned on Haruka that the primary reason he maintains his aloof persona is so Makoto—caring, ever-patient Makoto—can't leave him alone. He simply smiles at their classmates and offers a vague answer then turns back to Haruka with a different smile—one Haruka wants to believe is reserved only for him. Sometimes, he feels guilty that he is slyly binding Makoto to him, caging him because Haruka wants to keep him to himself but imagining life without Makoto's constant presence brings up a near-panic that surges up and consumes the guilt immediately.

He knows that Makoto usually knows what he's thinking, but this thought—this possessiveness he feels for the brunet and his own utter dependence on Makoto—he keeps in the dark recesses of his mind. He's not sure how it would be received, if it would change their relationship for better or for worse, so he ignores it, along with the things he didn't know how to deal with like instant ramen and homemade chocolate from some faceless girl in his class that one Valentine's day a while back.

A muffled 'ding' brings Haruka out of his musings. The convenience store where Makoto always bought a popsicle for them to share is open, a sleepy-looking man grumbling as he hit the keys on the cash register with more force than necessary. On a whim, Haruka enters the store and makes his way to the frozen aisle. He grabs a popsicle at random. It doesn't matter; he hardly even knows what flavor Makoto usually bought so hesitating about it is pointless anyway. He pays for it amidst the complaints of the cashier about minimum wage and hellish hours.

The town starts to wake; the sounds of people getting ready for another day a soothing background to his inner thoughts. Familiar steps come into view, a reminder of days gone by when he used to descend these steps almost every night to share dinner with the Tachibana family. The popsicle, still in its packaging, feels cold in his hand.

One of the steps—third from top, his mind supplies helpfully—sports faded scratchings just barely visible against the rough stone. M and H, written in Makoto's neat scrawl, and beside it is the shape of a dolphin and an orca arcing out of the water towards each other. He remembers how Makoto had laughed then as Haruka painstakingly etched on the stone with a rusty nail he had found on the ground, telling him that while Haruka was definitely a dolphin, there's no way he'd be something so massive like a killer whale. Haruka allows himself a small smile at the irony.

Feeling nostalgic, he plops down on the stairs and runs a finger across the marks he and Makoto had left there one hot, lazy summer day god-knows-how-many years ago. Back then, it had only been him and Makoto. A few steps ahead, there is Nagisa, then Rin, both etched onto the stone by the ever-sentimental Makoto. Haruka wonders if Rei's name is on one of the steps near the bottom. Nagisa, Rin, Rei. Although he enjoys swimming with them, there's nothing quite like the feeling of slicing through the water knowing that Makoto is not far behind. Faithful Makoto who always—always—follows Haruka into the water despite his fear of the ocean.

From the top of the stairs, he can see the sun coming up across the ocean, coloring the town a faint, warm orange. The sea lies placidly glittering in the morning light. The quiet beauty of this sleepy little town they call home hits him like a ton of bricks and bitter homesickness floods his senses for a moment before he reminds himself that he can always come home if he wants. The ocean will always welcome him home.

"Good morning."

He looks down on the man his little Mako-chan grew to be, the man who would follow Haruka to Tokyo even if it meant being away from his family for who knows how long. The brunet smiles at him as sunlight crept down the stairs towards Tachibana Makoto.

Just then, Haruka realizes.

Ah, so that's what it was.

His impossibly green eyes that crinkle at the corners when he grins. His slightly crooked smile that makes Haruka feel as if he was floating even though he was nowhere near water. The way he has always been there, the only constant amidst the turmoil of Rin's departure, his grandma's funeral, his parents moving away.

"Ready, Haru-chan?"

I want to swim with Makoto forever.

"Haru-chan?"

"Don't call me chan."

He takes the outstretched hand offered to him like he always does. But this time, he doesn't let go.

"Makoto."

"Hm?" he asks with a slight tilt of his head.

Haruka's expression must have given his thoughts away because Makoto smiles a different smile—one with more affection than the one Haruka is used to, one tinged with a hint of bashful happiness. He laces their fingers together, and Haruka feels that as long as Makoto walks—swims—beside him, he can go anywhere.

He offers a slightly-melted popsicle to Makoto. They split it between them, and although it's not as neat a split as they are used to, neither of them mind at all.

"Let's go, Haru."

"Aa."

Haruka stares out the train window, watching Iwatobi fade into the distance as he hurtles towards being ordinary. He's not quite there yet, won't be for another couple of years, but he figures he can take his time.

"It's sad, isn't it?"

Haruka glances at Makoto.

"Saying 'good-bye' to Iwatobi," Makoto clarifies.

Haruka takes one last look at the town where he learned to swim and be free, where he spent so many summers just floating in the ocean, where he met Makoto and his life truly began.

"It's not 'good-bye'. It's 'see you later'."

A/N: I have no idea where this came from, seriously. I just woke up with this sort-of-bittersweet feeling and an overwhelming urge to write and this came out. I haven't read High Speed! so I took some liberties with Haruka's past. I hope I managed to keep Haruka and Makoto in character.

Review, please?