Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One single slice of chocolate fudge cake and a Caffé Latté.

He always orders the same. It’s his usual, and never have I seen him eat something else.

He’ll wander in around noon. And he’ll sit down at the table in the corner. Right there, on the chair closest to the window. And he’ll stare outside while he waits for his order to arrive.

He spends about five minutes waiting for his order, but I always try to have it done earlier while still giving him enough time to settle down at the table. He takes some time to settle down; he’ll take in the view of the beach for the first minute or so. After that he’ll pull his big bag onto his lap, taking out his laptop and a notebook, so by the time I bring him his food he can start working.

There’s always documents opened on his computer, it’s also how I picked up his name one time. One time, already a couple of weeks ago, I took a short glance at his screen while putting down his coffee and noticed the name at the bottom of the page; Makoto Tachibana.

A name that doesn’t really suit him, but at the same time it really does.

He’s got olive brown, quite shaggy hair, and his eyes are a startlingly vivid green; the type of green that would glow in the dark. He’s got a strong build, and seeing as he’s always covered in grime and dust, I think he might be a builder or something. Though I don’t see how he contains so many muscles when he eats cake at least four times a week, if not more.

He’s sitting there now, glaring at his screen intensely from behind his glasses while overtyping the notes he made in his notebook. He just ordered a minute ago, so he’s doing work quicker than usual today; maybe he’s busy doing office work, or maybe he’s a college student with an exam coming up.

I don’t know, because outside of my little bakery near the beach, I never see the mysterious guy.

He walks it at noon, walks out again exactly forty-five minutes later; if he walks out only a minute or two too late, he always look extremely stressed out, so he must have a place to be in time.

I turn away from him, he must feel awkward when I’m staring at him the entire time, but it happens automatically since I only have one regular customer. Of course, I’ve got people who buy bread each Monday or Friday, but never have I seen the same customer a couple of times each week without really having spoken to him once. I’m interested in who he is, I found that out sooner than later.

While the Espresso is dripping into the cup, I carefully steam the milk until it’s foamy, but not too foamy, because I know he always leaves the foamiest part of the milk lying at the bottom of his cup. He’s got more strange habits like that, I’ve found out during the year that he’s been coming here.

Like, he always orders the chocolate fudge, even though I make the chocolate mocha cake fresh each morning. I think he does it because I always put a tuft of whipped cream onto the chocolate fudge cake; he takes this to his advantage, because instead of paying the extra fifty yen for a rather large amount of whipped cream with his coffee, he scoops up the whipped cream that I put on top of the cake. I’ve seen him do it, carefully mixing the cream through his hot coffee to make it creamier. He seems to like it better that way, probably because it’s less bitter, yet he’s never once ordered a Café Latté with whipped cream.

I pour the milk into the cup, watching it mix with the mix with the dark coffee. And to top it off, I try to make some simple latté art on top. I’m still practicing, but it works out pretty well this time.

I put down the cup onto a wooden serving tray, which already holds the slice of cake, but that’s not all I’m giving Tachibana today. He’s earned me so much money, I’m able pay my bills mainly because he eats here almost daily. The least I can do is give him something extra, without charging him for it of course. So I reach into the cabinet and get out a little shot-glass.

I’m sure Tachibana’s over twenty already, just like me, but I’m not going to pour him a glass of liquor; instead I fill the glass to the brim with fresh whipped cream, like I would do if he would’ve paid the extra fifty cents. I also put one of my fish shaped cheese cookies on the plate beside his coffee.

After putting everything down onto the tray, I step back and admire my work. Every single day I still enjoy creating the best-looking serving trays; using the pretty porcelain and trying to make a matching artwork of it. That’s what food is after all; art and beauty.

Content with the end result, I bring the tray with the coffee and the slice of chocolate cake to Tachibana’s table. I reach his table, stand there for a brief second, before saying, “Here’s your order.”

Tachibana looks up from his work and smiles kindly. “Thank you.”

Those are the only words we ever exchange; it’s the first rule my grandma, the previous owner of this bakery, taught me. She told me never to talk to my customers more than I need to; just take their order, deliver their food, and ask them if they liked their food when you’re having them pay afterwards. They don’t like it when you pry into their business, no matter how unbearable the curiosity becomes, I shouldn’t talk more than needed.

Tachibana watches me as I put down the food. Even though it makes me nervous when people watch my movements so closely, I’m careful not to spill any of the coffee over the edge of the cup.

After I succeed, I stand upright, give Tachibana a little bow telling him to enjoy his food before walking back to the counter. As I’m making my way back to my usual spot behind the counter, I hear Tachibana clearing his throat carefully.

“Uh, sir?” he sounds unsure, but in no way shy. “I didn’t order this.”

I turn around, my heart suddenly thumping loudly inside of my chest; did he order something else than usually? He always order exactly the same. I just do it so automatically by now, I don’t even think when making his food ready.

Tachibana looks a little guilty, as if he’s the one that made the biggest mistake out of the two of us.

I want to take back the food as retake his order completely, but then he gestures at the whipped cream and the little cookie beside the cup of coffee.

“It’s a little embarrassing—“ His cheeks turn a subtle shade of pink, I can barely notice the change, and he chuckles awkwardly. “—but I actually don’t have enough to pay for the whipped cream.”

I look at him, slightly confused, before shaking my head. “I know.”

Tachibana’s cheeks now are suddenly much, much, redder. “Y-You know that I’m poor?”

“No.” I glance away and tell him that I know he didn’t order the extra whipped cream. “I put it there on purpose, I won’t charge you for it.” Now I’m the one getting a little flustered. “Enjoy your meal.”

Tachibana frowns lightly, not in an angry, but confused rather. “I really can’t, sir.” Tachibana shakes his head and tries to hand me back the whipped cream. “That would be like stealing from you.”

I don’t know where to look; to my customer, or the floor, or maybe looking outside or at the food would be better. I don’t know what I was thinking, just giving him extra, because now I feel so uncomfortable; I’m not used to interacting with my customers for real, I’m just here, to make and deliver their food and charge them for it afterwards. I’m not here to give them extras they didn’t ask for, just because I’ve practically have been stalking him for an entire year.

Even when I’m not the owner for that long, which still is unacceptable behavior for a bakery owner.

“It wouldn’t be like stealing,” I tell him, trying to sound more sure of myself than I actually am. “See it as a thank you.” I glance at Tachibana, trying my best to make sure the message reaches him. “For being my most loyal customer.”

Chapter Text

A baker’s day starts early. Half past three in the night, to be more specific.

I get up and take a quick shower, most of the mornings realizing that I want to stay under the warm water much longer than I actually can. But I have to make haste, not only because I can’t pay my bills if I shower for an hour or two every morning, but also because I have to start baking at four.

A take a five minute shower, squeeze the water out of my hair and brush my bangs down in hope they’ll stay down for the rest of the day. There have been days where I walk around with my bangs sticking in all sorts of directions, because I never have time to blow-dry them.

After that I quickly make myself breakfast, which I put in a bento-box. I can eat that once I have time, because by now I have to start jogging towards the bakery near the sea. It’s only a ten minute jog, five minutes if I hurry, so I’ll probably have a couple of minutes to eat once I get there.

I jog all the way to the bakery; have to stay in shape when I taste so much sweet and fatty things. I haven’t gotten a belly once and I don’t plan to get one ever. That’s why I make sure to jog each day.

Around four in the morning, I arrive at the bakery “A Little Bit Cheesy”; my grandmother’s old bakery. It’s just a small thing, and not well-known especially by the younger people; my customers are mainly old men and women who knew my grandmother when she was still alive.

Honestly, Tachibana, among two or three other people, is my only customer under the forty.

I don’t earn enough with this bakery, not by far, but at least it gives me a reason to keep living in my old house and in the town I know and love. Iwatobi’s where I grew up, and this bakery has become like a second home to me; if it had a second floor, I probably would’ve lived inside of the bakery.

I turn the key and go inside. The light flickers when I turn it on, it always does, because they’re pretty old lamps; this building is nowhere near adjusted to the new technology of now.

“I’m home,” I mutter as I walk to the kitchen.

I take off my coat, hanging it from the side of the rack inside of my storeroom. Before I walk back to the kitchen, I take a quick bite of my breakfast. After that I make sure to collect the flour, sugar and other ingredients I’ll certainly need while baking today’s fresh bread on the metal kitchen counter.

I close my eyes briefly and yawn, trudging over to the old-fashioned radio that’s standing in the back of the kitchen. I put on a song, one I don’t know the name of, but I just like the sound.

Time to get working.

To the beat of the music, I walk over to the kitchen counter where all my ingredients are gathered and I start the long process of making bread, cake, cookies and everything from scratch.

It’s not nothing; kneading the dough, letting them rise and baking them too and that in the three hours before I have to open the shop up. I’m fortunate that Thursdays like today aren’t that busy, which means I have to make less, so I’ll be done in time today.

I knead and fold the dough one more time before getting it ready to rest. While that in the proving oven, I get ready the baking tray with parchment paper for the croissants. I made that dough yesterday already, so that’s ready to go in already. All they need is some melted chocolate inside.

It’s how I always do it, melting the chocolate over a pan with boiling water, on the stove. It’s how grandma taught it to me; that way the chocolate doesn’t stick and clump.

I let that chocolate melt for a little while, in the meantime getting ready some other things. I’m working on mixing the dough for the chocolate fudge cake when I suddenly smell something off.

It smells fumy, acrid and when I turn around to the stove I realize that I made a huge mistake. I was so busy getting everything done in time, while I’m still only half awake, that I put the baking tray with parchment paper far too close to the stove.

Bright orange and yellow flames burn the thin paper in a matter of seconds, my croissant dough gets burned with them. But that’s not the worst; the smoke covering my kitchen in grey and flames slowly getting into the pan and the rest of the kitchen.

The sound of fire alarms, it causes my ears to ring loud.

I drop everything I’m holding, taking a deep breath as I run past the burning materials; I have to get the fire blanket, before I’m too late. On my way to the storage room, I crack open a window, letting out the smoke. And then I take the bag with a fire blanket from the shelf.

I get it out the fire blanket and use it exactly the way I was taught to. But the fire has spread too much, it doesn’t stay underneath the blanket, and for some reason the fire blanket catches on fire. A big cloud of nearly black smoke releases from the stove area, blowing hot air in my direction.

I stumble back, gasping in the hot smoke by accident.

“Shit,” I whisper, pressing with my hand against the spot where the back of my head collided with the metal of the table. It’s throbbing with pain, but fortunately not bleeding.

It hurts, and because of the smell I’m starting to get lightheaded. The ringing alarms make my ears ring, the black smoke makes my eyes blur with dried out tears and eventually I’m starting to run out of breath; I can’t think clearly, my brain is as clouded as my kitchen.

As nausea and anxiety causes my stomach to turn, I swear I’m becoming delusional because of the smoke; I hear wailing sirens, coming closer and closer, but I never called about the fire.

I stare up at my kitchen, seeing how my bakery is going up in flames; laughing at how I can only lie here and breathe in the toxic smokes. Right now, I’m useless and weak, and I can’t even safe my grandma’s dreams after she passed away. There must be something I can do?

I close my eyes, trying to remember, through the clouds in my mind where she said the fire extinguisher would be if there would ever be a big fire. My mind is a blur, blank and foggy.

When I open them again, it isn’t because I know where I can find the extinguisher, but rather because my name is being called. Loud and clear, a familiar voice sounding from above the alarm.

“Nanase!” it sounds again. “Where are you!?”

I clear my throat, it’s raw and painful when I respond, “Kitchen.” I don’t even know if he can hear me, I just know that saying that caused my last energy. I suddenly feel all numb, and my vision goes black for just a couple of seconds. Next time it goes back to normal, with flashes, I’m looking at the side of someone’s face. They’re wearing a helmet and they’re carrying me through my own kitchen.

Then with a flash sunlight hits my eyes. A burning, stinging headache shoots through my head.

I feel solid ground beneath me and not long after, I’m no longer that dizzy or out of breath.

I glance over at my bakery, it still looks completely alright from the outside, Maybe only the kitchen caught on fire. Still squeeze my eyes shut in hopes it just a bad dream.

“Were you the only one inside?” the firefighter who carried me outside asks as soon as I caught my breath again. When I nod, he releases a relieved sigh. “That’s great.”

He holds out a blanket for me, I’m almost certain it’s a shock blanket, but I’ve never seen one in real life before. I sit upright and take it from the firefighter, feeling dizzy almost right way.

“Are you hurt in any way?” he asks me when he catches me wince. “Any burns or open wounds?”

I shake my head, I’m not physically injured anyway.

“Can you breathe properly?”

I nod, now that I’m out of the smoky room, I feel like I can breathe pretty easily. But I still feel exactly where the hot air entered my mouth.

The firefighter nods, telling he’s very glad that I didn’t get hurt. At that same moment the other firefighter walks out of my kitchen. He takes off his helmet and sighs relieved. “The fire’s put out.”

“That’s a relief.” The guy who saved me out of the fire takes off his helmet as well and smiles.

A kind smile; one a know.
And those green eyes, even though all the ash and grime, I recognize their vibrant color. That can’t be anyone other than my own loyal customer; Makoto Tachibana.

“You’re probably going to have to do some restoring of the kitchen, I’m afraid,” Tachibana explains, gesturing at the small bakery behind him. “Which is a bummer; you’re going to be closed then.”

He glances at me and wipes past his face when he sees me gaping at him. “Eh, do I look that dirty?” A smudge of grey-ish ash spreads over his face, and then he chuckles all of a sudden, as if realizing something he should’ve thought of earlier. “Oh, I guess I never introduced myself, have I?”

I don’t really know what to answer to that, because in reality he never has introduced himself and if I would’ve been a normal person, and not a stalker, I wouldn’t have known who Tachibana was. But I’m not your regular baker, instead I’d recognize Tachibana everywhere even when covered is dust.

“I’m Makoto Tachibana,” Tachibana tells me with a kind smile. “I’m the guy who eats your amazing fudge cake all the time.” He scratches the back of his head. “But you probably don’t recognize me.”

I shake my head, telling him that I do. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Well, it is my job after all.” Makoto chuckles, glancing away shyly. “But you could also consider this a thank you from me to you.”

I frown, a little confused as to what he’s trying to say. “A thank you?”
“Yes. You know, for the cookie and extra cream you gave me yesterday.” The skin underneath all that dust and grime turns slightly pink in a shy, but cute way. “It made me really happy.”

Chapter Text

Everything bad comes with something good; that’s how I like to see it.

I never used to see it that way, honestly. I always thought that whenever something bad happened, that was the only thing that was going to come from it.

When I was picking up the rubble this morning, Tachibana appeared in my doorway all of sudden.

It’s not like he has a reason to be here, not at all, because the bakery’s temporarily closed and I haven’t got any of his cake for him. But he still shows up early this morning, when I’m sorting out the things that can go in the trash and cleaning the things that need to stay.

“Morning!” Tachibana says with a bright smile. “I’ve got a day off today, so is there any way I can help you out?” He finds his way towards me through the rubble.

“Uh—“ I look around me, seeing the pile of work that I still have to finish before I can finally open the bakery again. Everything’s dirty, burned or broken and I need to either clean it or buy new.

Tachibana sits down onto the floor and grabs one of those scrubby sponges I brought from home. “How about I start cleaning the tiles over there—“ He gestures to a spot that I’ve already rid of the burned trash. “—then you can decide yourself which of these things are still worth cleaning.”

I nod once and mumble, “Thank you, Tachibana.”

I feel Tachibana’s eyes glaring at my back, and I shrink back when he chuckles. “You can just call me Makoto, you know!” His voice sounds cheerful and genuine. “Let’s drop the formalities, okay?”

“Okay,” I reply without looking at him, I’m too embarrassed to do that. “You can call me Haru, too.”

Tachibana – or no, Makoto – takes a deep breath and answers, “So, Haru Nanase, huh?”

“Actually, it’s Haruka,” I tell him, but I immediately add, “But I prefer Haru.” I glance behind me quickly, catching Makoto smiling calmly before he whispers, “Then Haru it is.”

I smile a tiny little bit as well, but I don’t want him to see how glad I am that he doesn’t think of me as strange for wanting to be called by my nickname. People in high school always made fun of me because of my feminine name, but I guess someone with a name like Makoto – which is also very feminine – wouldn’t ever make fun of someone like me.

“So, Haru—“ The wideness of his smile can be heard in the way he talks, it’s really funny. “—I never thought someone as young as you could actually be the owner of this bakery.”

I frown confused, because I’m really not that young to be a baker. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Makoto takes a moment to think. “I thought, because the cake here is so amazingly delicious, it must be a more experienced baker that is the mastermind behind this.” He chuckles and tells me that’s really what he thought, with every bite of the delicious chocolate cake.

I smile lightly. “I use my grandmother’s recipes; she was the previous owner.”

“Ah, so that’s where the old-fashioned vibe comes from,” Makoto says, while starting scrubbing the floor’s tiles. “I mean, the dark wooden tables and the pale yellow walls, not something that makes me think of the age we’re in, am I right?” He pauses shortly. “Oh, and A Little Bit Cheesy, always wondered where that came from, because it’s not really something much used these days.”

I almost snort, because he’s very right; my grandmother picked out a strange name. Her restaurant hasn’t even got a Japanese name, so I had to Google it the first time I heard it. I guess Makoto did the same, because he does seem to know what’s the meaning of my bakery’s name.

“Her first cookie was a cheese cookie, like the one I gave you with your coffee a while ago,” I explain to Makoto while throwing trash onto the big pile. “It was a little bit too cheesy, or so she told me.”

Makoto chuckles, it’s a soft belly chuckle, barely hearable but yet so cheerful. “I thought it was based on people that come here being all flirty with each other. But they only used cheesy pick up lines.”

I can’t hold it in anymore, so I let out a strained laugh; I can’t help it, because that is a funny theory.

“Hey! Don’t laugh at me!” Makoto’s laughing much harder than me, actually. “I didn’t know it was based on a cookie, how should I have known that.”

“I don’t know,” I reply, trying my hardest to get my cool act back together, but failing a little; a lot.

When we’re done laughing about the not-even-that-funny joke, Makoto says, “No, but really, how did you become a baker at the age of— what, twenty?”

I turn around to Makoto, looking at him like are you serious before telling him that I’m not twenty. “I’m twenty-four,” I explain. “I finished my three-year-long study one and a half year ago.”

Makoto glares at me like I just told him that the earth is flat. His emerald green eyes are filled with disbelief when he mumbles, “Wow, how are you older than me?”

I shrug without giving him much of a reaction, but in reality I’m just shocked about it as him. I mean, somewhere deep down I always thought that Makoto was younger than me, but at the same time when I heard him talking he appears much older; he’s got more social experience than me and maybe it’s also his tall and muscular build that makes me feel like he’s the older one.

“I’m only twenty-three,” Makoto admits, sounding slightly disappointed.

“Wait,” I whisper, thinking about the fact that he seems to work as a pretty well-trained firefighter, since he actually gets to safe people from fires. “How did you become a firefighter at your age?”

Makoto focuses on scrubbing the wall again, and for the first time he’s not looking at me when I am looking in his direction. He tells me that it wasn’t easy to get into the program, at least, not before he finished his study. “I finished my study a year ago, so if I want to I would be able to work at a hospital as an ambulance nurse or as a nurse at people with special need’s home. But I decided I wanted to do the firefighter academy. I started working as a firefighter three months after I graduated.”

I nod, not really knowing how to react; am I going to tell him that I’m shocked at his bravery for doing such a dangerous job? Or am I going to call him crazy for doing a job that’s so much less likely to pay you well? How do you react to that, because I sure don’t know.

“Cool.” Is the answer I eventually settle on.

“No, really hot, actually,” Makoto says with a chuckle.

It takes me just a couple of seconds too long to get the joke. My cheeks turn all hot when I release a belly chuckle; if I would’ve gotten the joke right away, I would’ve maybe let myself laugh out loud.

“Yeah,” Makoto mutters, and after that the both of us go completely silent. So silent that I can hear him breathing while scrubbing the wall. He breathes so calmly, unlike me, who’s breathing at a pace so quick that it almost feels unnatural. But when I try to adjust to Makoto’s calm breathing, the air gets caught in my throat and I start coughing loudly.

It isn’t the first time I’ve been getting coughing fits like this; ever since the fire I’ve been having some trouble breathing, but only for short moments. I didn’t worry about it too much before, but when Makoto’s hands suddenly start rubbing my back and breathing suddenly gets even harder than it already was, I wonder if something’s really wrong with me after all.

“Are you okay?” Makoto asks me, carefully patting my back as I release the last strained cough.

I catch my breath and nod, but it’s much harder to catch my breath somehow.

“Has that been happening a lot after the fire?” Makoto asks me, as if he could read my mind just now. When I nod again, Makoto tells me he really suggests I’ll have a doctor look at it. “It’s fairly common that inhaling the smoke leaves your lungs irritated or even damaged.”

I glance at him, my heart suddenly racing in fear. “Permanently?”

Makoto shrugs. “Could be, but there’s a big chance that if you’ll let someone look at it soon, it’ll only be temporarily.” Makoto’s eyes meet mine, they look so genuinely worried when he says, “Please, promise me you’ll go see a doctor, I wouldn’t want a friend of mine to get health problems.”

My heart skips a beat, because instead of worrying about my lungs, I’m more focussed on the words that came out of Makoto’s mouth. They’re absurd and probably nowhere near true, but if they are, and Makoto really sees me as a friend of his; that would make Makoto my first friend ever.

Chapter Text

Carrying a bouquet of flowers in my hands and a lump in my throat, I decide to confess to grandma what I’ve done to her bakery. Never in the fifty years that that bakery has been standing there, only a few meters from where the beach starts, has grandma needed to do a renovation.

Now, only two years after I reopened her dream bakery, I caused the entire kitchen to burn down. I’m not at all sentimental, and I honestly rarely ever visit her, but I feel like this deserves an apology.

I clench flowers in my hand a take deep breath before walking along the paved path and into the cemetery. She’s there, in the back, with one of the smaller stones. We were never a wealthy family, with my grandmother’s only job being a mainly unknown bakery and me still going to school.

My parents have never been in the picture; my mother died while giving birth to me and father blamed me so much that he couldn’t stand being anywhere near me. He left me with his mother, which is probably for the best; she actually seemed to enjoy raising me after all.

I find the grave within no time and notice the old withered flowers. I haven’t been here in ages, but I used to come here every single day to bring her new flowers, offer her some incense and a piece of bread. But that was nine years ago, now I don’t come all the way out here to do that every day.

I sit down with my knees in the dirt and take out the old flowers. After that, I carefully put in the new ones; they’re much more vibrant, with the yellow and pink flowers she loved.

I put up the incense and after that I put my hands together.

“Hello, grandma,” I mutter, still not really knowing how people do this so often. Even when I got here every day in the past, I would never really talk to her; I’m not superstitious, so I know for a fact that she can’t hear me. “It’s been a while, I’m sorry about that. But I brought you new flowers.”

I hear footsteps behind me, they cause shivers to go down my spine; what if someone hears me talk? I must look like a crazy person right now, chatting with the stone of my dead grandmother.

Wait, no—I tell myself, closing my eyes calmly. – people do this all the time. It’s not weird.

“Actually, I came here to tell you about something else. Or rather, to apologies for it.” I bow down deeper and tell her about the stupid thing I’ve done. “I promise, I’ll rebuild it, but I’m still sorry.”

I open my eyes again and know that I’ve done what I needed to do. And somehow, I immediately regret it when I turn around and see who’s the other person that at the graveyard.

“Shit,” I whisper, ducking away when I notice Makoto kneeling down in front of one of the other stones. I hope I hid myself from him in time, I wouldn’t want him to see me in a place like this.

“Hey, Haru,” Makoto’s voice sounds, not even a second after I tried to hide myself from him.

I wince and get onto my feet; so he’s seen me after all.

“Oh, hi,” I reply when I see him. “I didn’t see you there.”

I walk over to him, since he’s standing closer to the exit than I am. And honestly, I just want to leave this place; the graveyard isn’t the place to be, at least not for me.

“How have your lungs been doing?” Makoto asks when I’m standing closer. “Any complications?”

I shake my head. “The antibiotics have been helping well.”

Makoto tells me he’s glad about that, smiling kindly as usual. But there’s some sadness in his eyes this time, some strong emotion that’s not there usually. Maybe it has something to do with the place where at, or maybe something I don’t know about has happened since three days ago.

I glance down to the gravestone, curious as to who he’s visiting here today. I didn’t know what I expected to see, but I still get startled when I see “Tachibana Family Grave” engraved onto the stone.

It can be anyone’s grave, I tell myself, praying that I didn’t disturb Makoto’s moment with close family. My hope withers away though, when Makoto catches me staring and explains, “I was visiting my parents.” When I look up at him, his expression is much darker than before. “They—well, they passed away a couple of years ago.” He glances at me and shrugs it off like it’s nothing to lose your parents; not like I’d know how it feels, but it must’ve been harder than what Makoto shows me.

I swallow thickly and tell him I’m sorry for him, but it’s like he doesn’t even hear me.

“Look at me getting al pathetic—“ Makoto chuckles and picks up his bags.

It feels like he’s ignoring his own feelings, just because I’m here, but he looks like he’s about to burst out in tears any moment now. But I’m not here to pry; if he doesn’t tell me himself, I won’t ask him if he doesn’t feel like telling me all about his past. It makes sense after all, we barely know each other.

Makoto takes a deep breath, and turns to his parents’ grave. He claps and bows, thanking them.

When he opens them again, he glances at me right away and smiles. “I got to head back.”

He starts walking in the direction of the gate, and I follow, for some reason I want to keep talking.

“The kids are probably waiting.” He chuckles. “They had to run some personal errands as well, so.”

Kids? I ask myself, wondering why he keeps going on about these kids. Would they be Makoto’s?

He looks like he could be around my age, and twenty-four is a pretty normal age to have a baby, or a toddler maybe. Still, looking at how Makoto behaves, he doesn’t seem father-like at all.

I don’t know, maybe he was one of those teen-fathers, like my father when he got me; he was seventeen when I was born, my mother one year younger, which made it even more tragic. She never once has experienced real adulthood. But then again, what’s amazing at being an adult?

“So, what were you doing there?” Makoto asks after a while, probably because he’s done walking beside me in silence, or maybe because his curiosity is just as overwhelming as mine.

I tell him about my grandma, how she took care of me all my life.

“Oh.” Makoto’s glaring down at his feet as we take a turn into a street I know all too well. “I’m sorry.”

“She passed away when I was fifteen.” I don’t say that to get him thinking about the fact that I was practically an orphan for three entire years; I say it because I want to make it clear that, after nine whole years, my grandmother’s death isn’t an extremely sensitive subject anymore.

But before I can make it clear that I’m not saying that because I want him to pity me in any way, someone calls Makoto’s name. It’s a distance female voice, a grown-up female voice; and for some reason it makes my heart sink. I don’t even want to think about the woman who made Makoto a father at such a young age, it makes me sick.

But when I turn around and see a teenage girl waving at Makoto. Green, long hair stretches down to her waist, part of it is gathered in a tiny ponytail. She looks too young to be Makoto's girlfriend and too old to be his daughter. But the two of them look too much alike him to not be related to him. 

She's pushing forward a wheelchair with a guy in it whose face looks a lot like Makoto's. Just younger, paler and skinnier. He waves too, pretty enthusiastically, as soon as Makoto turns around. "Hi, Makoto!"

"Ah, there are my siblings," Makoto tells me before waving back at the girl. "Hi, Ren and Ran!"

I release a sigh of relief; the so called kids he was talking about, are his younger siblings. I wasn't expecting that, and even if I was, I didn't expect them to be this grown up already; they both appear to be around fifteen or sixteen years old.

When the younger teenagers reach us, Makoto briefly tells them something about me. He doesn't mention that I'm the baker at his favorite place to eat cake, or that he saved me from a fire. He just tells them that I'm Haruka Nanase. "He's a friend of mine." 

The two teenagers look at me simultaneously and smile. 

"Nice to meet you, Nanase," the girl says, her voice is deeper now that's talking to me; almost more serious sounding, like she's judging me because she wants to make sure her older brother isn't hanging out with some creep. "I'm Ran Tachibana." 

She looks down at the guy in the wheelchair, who then says, "And I'm Ren Tachibana." He sounds a lot less judge, and instead rather welcoming; like his older brother.

"Nice to meet you," I reply before glancing over at Makoto.

He smiles after a while he says, "We have to head home if we want to eat lunch in time."

Before they leave, Makoto makes sure to give me his phone number, telling me that if I ever need some help restoring the kitchen I can call him. "I really enjoyed helping you clean, after all."

I feel myself nod and smile; I did too.

"Just try not to ask him for help on Monday, Thursday or Saturday," Ran makes sure to tell me.

Ren nods and explains that their big brother works hard on those days; on other days he'll have more time to help me out. Still, I don't know if I can do that, keep asking him for help, when he's already putting so much strain on his body with his own job. But I keep the phone number in my phone anyway, and not even an hour after I get home, I catch myself texting Makoto.

Not to ask him for help, or at least, that's not why I initially text him; it's rather because I really enjoy talking to him.

Chapter Text

Dirty, pale yellow; it’s never really been my kind of color, yet for years I’ve been working and even owning a bakery which’s restaurant-area have dirty, pale yellow walls. It’s time I make an end to that.

That’s why, not long past the middle of the night I send Makoto a text “I’m going to paint the walls, can you help me select the paint?”. Obviously, Makoto only replied hours later, around six in the morning, telling me that he’ll have time later today. He also said he wants to help painting.

We agree to meet up at the hardware store at half past eleven. And since that’s near lunchtime I spend my entire morning putting together two nice bento boxes; that way Makoto and I can eat lunch together after we’re done buying the paint and other materials.

I place the bento boxed into my backpack carefully, I don’t want to ruin the meal I just put hours into. After that I pull on my shoes and a coat, because damn the weather is cold today. By the time I reach the hardware store, I’m sure the food that was warm just now, is completely cold. But that doesn’t really matter, we’re going to eat it over an hour or more anyway.

“Hey!” I hear in the distance, Makoto’s voice for sure. I turn around and see Makoto happily waving, walking towards me and shouting, “You ready, Haru!?” He starts running a little, and somehow with him it looks really dorky; is this how I look when I go for a jog every morning?

“Hi,” I reply once he’s near enough to hear me. With a slight smile I add, “I’m ready.”

Makoto smiles wide and tells me he’s glad. As we start walking inside, he starts telling me all about his thinking process over the past few hours; when he apparently was bringing around the papers, I didn’t know he had two jobs. “So, I was thinking ‘what color screams Haru?’,” he says as we make our way through the almost-empty hardware store. “I’m almost 100% sure that you’re not at all an orange or yellow kind of guy, neither is red or pink a color that suits you.”

I nod, he’s completely right about that. No matter how much my grandma’s preference was yellows and pinks, I never really liked them; they remind me of those twisted, steal marshmallows I’d always have when I was a little kid too much. And let’s just say that steal marshmallows is not what you want your customers to think of when they see your bakery’s walls.

“You’ve got a cool and calm personality,” Makoto states, putting on a smart voice, like a professor.

I almost snort; cool and calm? Me? Sounds like one of the funniest jokes I’ve heard in a long while, because I may seem very peaceful and calm on the outside, but Makoto doesn’t know that I’m literally anything but calm whenever I’m around anyone. Especially when I haven’t been able to practice what I’m going to say. Especially when I’m around Makoto.

“So—“ Makoto continues. “—I came to the conclusion that cool colors suit you more. But not green, I mean, green is an amazing color – my favorite actually – but I feel like blue suits you the best.”

I nod, impressed, because for how ridiculous his whole thinking process sounds he’s gotten pretty close. Actually, my favorite color is a dark purple, but not for walls. So blue is pretty spot on.

“Let’s go with that,” I tell him, taking the turn into the isle where all the big buckets of paint are stacked. As I’m browsing for the blues, I silently add, “For three out of four walls, at least.”

“Only three?” Makoto asks, I didn’t plan on having him hear me, but alas. “What about the fourth?”

I glance up at him, slightly embarrassed about the sudden idea that hit me as soon as he said that his favorite color’s green. “Well, ocean blue and emerald green go well together.” I pause, looking into his eyes; exactly that color would suit with the ocean blue I’ve got in mind, especially when they grow a little brighter when he smiles and says, “I like that idea!”

I smile too, subtle enough that I know he won’t be able to see it thought he will feel it; or so I hope.

I watch him from the corner of my eye, searching for the perfect blue. And I search for the perfect green, the one that’s just as stunning as his eyes; maybe purple isn’t my favorite color after all.

I take the bucket of Kelly green, finding out that his eyes aren’t actually the emerald I thought they were; they’re more vivid, like the bright of the Kelly green paint I choose. And Makoto walks over to me asking, “Is this the right color?” while handing me a bucket of royal blue.

I think long, not nodding the end, because even though they’re both the perfect colors for a present or, let’s say, someone’s eyes, they’re not suited for my walls. “We need more subtle colors.”

Makoto nods and immediately becomes lost in thought. “Something that doesn’t overwhelm the people. Right?” He starts searching and only a couple of minutes later he comes back with two new buckets asking me what I think of them. “They’re sea green and ocean blue, I thought they would suit the whole bakery being near the beach and all.” He glances away awkwardly. “Get what I mean?”

I nod, not once or twice, but three times; these colors are perfect and the concept behind choosing these specific colors is amazing too. “Yes, these are the ones.”

That’s the colors we go with in the end, and when we’ve laid the plastic down onto the floor and it’s almost time for us to get the colors on the wall, I can’t wait to see the yellow go for good.

“But first,” I say, putting down the last tape. “We’ll eat lunch.”

Makoto whoops of happiness. “Oh god, finally—“ He winks at me, laughing. “I’m starving here!”

I chuckle in silence before shuffling over to the fridge, where I put our bento boxes so they don’t go bad. I take both of them out and also gather two pairs of chopsticks. When I return to the restaurant area of my bakery, I find Makoto sitting cross-legged on the floor and with his back against the wall.

“Sit down here!” Makoto taps the floor right beside him, like I’ve seen people do so many times in high school; never to me, though, so I automatically catch myself looking around me if there isn’t someone else. When there isn’t, I sit down beside Makoto.

I hand him his bento box, explaining that it isn’t much, just a little thing I put together this morning.

“Whoa,” Makoto whispers as soon as he gets a look at what is inside of the bento box. “You put this together this morning? That’s a lot of food! And you managed to make it look so delicious?”

I shrug; I don’t really get what’s so special about it. It’s just some plain handmade rice balls, one boiled egg, sliced cucumber and carrot and a couple of small slices of Tamagoyaki with some simple seasoning. And a slice of mackerel for the both of us, because if there’s one thing that can’t be missing inside of a good bento-box is mackerel; or I think so at least.

“This is amazing,” Makoto repeats again, looking at me with big eyes before bringing his hands together happily saying, “Itadakimasu!”

I do the same, just more silent, before taking a small bite of the mackerel; it’s slightly under seasoned, but still amazing of taste. I hope Makoto doesn’t notice, but then again, he hasn’t been raised by my grandmother who had both a talent for cooking and baking. My palette is too well-trained.

Makoto savors his bite of Tamagoyaki, or at least I think that’s what he’s closing his eyes for, and after swallowing he turns to me. His eyes are sparkly bright and his cheeks slightly pink when he shouts, “Haru! This is unfairly delicious!” He shakes his head. “How?”

“I—“ I swallow, getting all flustered myself. “—learned to cook at a young age?”

“That’s no excuse!” Makoto says, nudging me with his elbow playfully. “I did too, and I cook for three people every day, but I can’t cook to safe my live!”

I snicker, glancing up at him. “Really?”

Makoto nods, pouting. “Sadly,” he mutters, before putting another bite of Tamagoyaki in his mouth. He savors every bite of the bento box and I’m convince we just sit there, eating for hours, before he puts down his empty bento box and the chopsticks.

“Let’s get going,” he says, while getting on his feet. He turns his face towards me slightly and smiles, before reaching out to me. His hand dangles in front of me, until I take hold of it and get pulled onto my feet; I can’t believe he’s so strong, how can someone pull a grown man up like they’re a feather.

Maybe he’s too strong, because I get yanked out of balance and fall up against Makoto’s chest. I’m lucky that I’m able to keep cheeks from turning all red, because I’m ashamed to my very core.

“Whoa, oops!” Makoto chuckles, giving me space to seek my balance again. “Sorry, I guess I overestimated your weight; you’re really light actually.”

“I sport,” I say in reply, shrugging it off like I don’t run and swim so much to lose the weight my grandmother gained because of baking and cooking so much.

“Oh, really?” Makoto asks, pulling open one of the buckets of paint. He dips his rolling pin into the paint and looks at for quite a while. “Uh, on which wall do you want the green?”

“The wall with the main entrance,” I tell him, gesturing at the wall with the window, the place where Makoto always sits; I feel like that corner should be the one where green and blue collide.

Makoto smiles and tells me he thinks that’s a great choice. He walks over to the wall and starts painting it in the beautiful sea green. While I roll up my sleeves, grab the ocean blue paint and start covering up the pale yellow on the other side of the room.

“So, you sport, huh?” Makoto changes to subject back to where we’d left off. “What kind of sport?”

I open my mouth to reply, but before I can say anything Makoto tells me he wants to guess; it’s little things like this that make it clear that Makoto’s the younger one, and more social one too.

“Hmmm, weightlifting maybe?” Makoto mumbles, but then he shakes his head. “No, volleyball!” He pauses, I can almost hear him thinking as he mindlessly paints the wall. He turns around, looks at me intensely, like wanting to read my mind, before shaking his head. “No, you’re too short for that.”

I frown at him. “I’m not that short.”

“Still,” Makoto mumbles, returning his focus back to the wall. “And if you were doing sports like that, your arms would probably be more muscular, but they’re kind of skinny, so is your chest.”

I blink twice; is he trying to insult me?

“No, you’ve got more muscular legs,” he tells me, which is, guess it, very true. “That would probably mean you do a sport like running, maybe?” He nods. “Yes, that’s my answer, you jog.”

I turn around and glare at him, he looks way too proud of himself for that to be a lucky guess; he knows he’s right, which gives away the obvious. “You just saw me jogging once, didn’t you.”

Makoto’s extremely glee expression falters, and he nods. “Yeah, I did.”

Before I can say something else, Makoto perks up again, telling me that he did get it right though.

“Half,” I tell him. “I also swim.” I pause, realizing that lately I’ve become too busy to really go out for a swim, so I quickly add, “Or rather, I used to be on a swim team in high school.”

“Wow! That sounds pretty cool!” Makoto replies. “I wish I was part of something like that.”

I shrug. It’s not like I ever used to be part of my team, really, they just saw me as that one weirdo who just showed up to practice to swim freestyle and never once swam the relay; I got kicked out of the team for that during my second year, because I refused to swim anything but freestyle.

But I don’t tell that to Makoto, because I don’t want to ruin his idea of being part of a group.

“Do you sport?” I return the question. “You seemed to know a lot about sport.”

“I’ve got no choice; I’m a firefighter,” he replies nonchalantly. “Jogging, weight lifting, pull- and pushups, stretches, things like that. You could say they are part of my daily routine.”

I nod, not that it surprises me, because you can just tell by looking at him that Makoto trains a lot; he’s muscular, he has strong but not thick build. As if he wants to rub it in that I’m not as strong as him, he teasingly says, “I can take you to the gym some time, if you want, I bet some weightlifting will do your body justice.” He’s lucky that his cheeks immediately turn pink in shame; the pink of his cheeks and the ocean blue paint that I just splattered all over him suit each other.

“Hey!” Makoto shrieks, looking at all the paint I got all over his sweat vest. “What was that good for?”

I shrug and turn by back towards him. “It’s what you get for saying I have noodle arms.”

“I didn’t—“ Makoto goes silent, and for a moment I feel like he’s going to just change the subject like you do when the previous one dies off. But then a freezing cold glob seeps down into my shirt, sending shivers down my spine.

Makoto chuckles, betraying himself for pouring paint into my shirt.

I turn around, faking an angry frown while in reality I’m having to try really hard not to burst out in laughter. Giggles get even worse to hold back when I take my painting pin and smear ocean blue paint all over his face, which obviously is soon followed by another paint attack hitting me hard.

When I look at him, through my bangs which are drenched in sea green, the both of us burst into laughter; I don’t think I’ve ever heard myself cackle out loud, but the way Makoto’s face looks when covered in smears of ocean blue paint breaks me.

Makoto chuckles one more time as he takes off his vest, using as a towel to clean his face. There are still smudges of blue on his cheeks and in his hair, but he still hands it to me.

“Here, use this, you’re covered in paint,” he says, smiling with closed eyes, teasingly.

“Thanks,” I reply, using his vest to clean my face as well. I rub is past my face, closing my eyes briefly as I get a whiff of the flowery washing-powder he uses; delicious.

When I open my eyes again, Makoto’s back turned to me, he’s painting again.

I gasp when I see something fleshy pink coming from underneath the sleeve of his T-shirt. For I moment I think he’s having some sort of allergic reaction to the paint, but then I notice that there’s more spots like that. Long pink, glazed over scars that run all the way down his left arm and shoulder.

I swallow, reaching out with my arm as if wanting to feel how fresh they are. I want to know—

I pull my hand back to my chest and shake my head; no matter how strong my curiosity gets, a normal person doesn’t stick his nose into other people’s business.

So, yet again, I stay silent.

Chapter Text

As I walk past the shelves, I find my thought stray off.

Back to painting the restaurant together with Makoto. Back to how much fun I was having with him.

But now, I can’t use the bakery’s renovation as a reason to be around Makoto. Fortunately he promised that as soon as I’m opening up again, he’ll come by and eat cake again.

And the day that the big reopening of my bakery will be, is tomorrow; that’s why I’m at the grocery store today. I have to buy all the ingredients in huge amounts again.

I glance down at my cart, realizing that this is going to cost a lot of money. Of course, most of it will be paid for me since I’m buying it for my business, but it’ll still take a big part of my savings to pay.

I take five jumbo packs of flour from the shelve and put them into my cart as well; that should be enough for a week or two, maybe three depending on how busy it’ll get after the reopening.

A sigh escapes from my mouth when I see there’s only three more ingredients I have to get.

I’m almost done shopping, it’s time I got to the end of that endless list, because spending two hours in a grocery store is bound to make you tired.

I turn around the corner, knowing that the cocoa should be somewhere around there. Then I see a head full of shaggy brownish hair sticking out above the shelves. When I get closer I hear soft mumbling in a voice that, by now, sounds really soothing and familiar to me. Which is nice to hear and makes me very happy, especially since I’ve been walking past strangers for too long.

I walk closer, in hopes to get a short glance at Makoto’s face, because I know it’s him.

It must be one of his days off, so he probably wants to get home as soon as possible. I don’t want to walk up to him and bother him when he’s doing the groceries. But when I see him standing there, reaching for the filtered coffee, I catch myself off guard; I’m heading straight for him anyway.

Makoto clumsily drops the jar with filtered coffee, he’s fortunate that it isn’t a glass jar, otherwise it would’ve shattered into a million pieces. He ducks down to pick it up, but then his eyes meet mine.

I glance away right away, and I’m very certain he did the same at the exact moment I looked away.

“Oh, uh—“ he stammers, and in the corner of my eye I see him getting on his feet. “Hi, Haru.”

“Hi,” I reply, allowing myself to look back at him; I’m always pretty uncomfortable during improvised interactions with people, whoever they are, but it’s like whenever I’m around Makoto at least ten extra awkwardness points get added. I stand there, with my palms getting all sweaty and my voice getting caught in my throat, watching Makoto cradle the instant coffee like it’s sacred.

“I swear I didn’t plan to drop that.” Makoto chuckles awkwardly. He looks up and his eyes meet mine for just a brief moment, then he looks down to the pot of coffee and says, “I need to finish my groceries first, but if you want your free to come over to my house for a cup of coffee.”

I think of the ingredients I just bought, knowing I have to drop them off at the bakery; it’s going to be a pain to carry all the way to wherever Makoto may be living, the bakery’s closer.

“Okay, I have to warn, my coffee won’t be as great as yours.”

I feel myself cower a little; he saw me hesitating. I offended him, probably.

“But please, consider it—“ Makoto’s eyes search mine and when they find them, I see genuine hope in the stunning green of his eyes. “—I’d really enjoy chatting over a cup of coffee with you.”

A smile tucks at the corners of my mouth and I realize that there’s no reason not to go; not even my groceries are a reason to decline such a great offer. “I’d like that too—“ I nod once and make sure to look into Makoto’s relieved eyes when I add, “—a lot.”

We finish shopping for our groceries together, which makes me realize how cheap Makoto actually is. The price of one slice of my cake and a cup of Latté is almost the same as the amount of money he spends on one meal. And he has to cook for three people, which is honestly is impressive.

We walk out of the store not much later, both with two heavy bags hanging from our shoulders.

“I hope they’re not too heavy,” Makoto tells me as we’re walking up a fleet of stairs. “These stairs are way too steep for carrying lots of groceries; but I promise, we’re almost at my house.”

I tell him I don’t mind. “I’m used to stairs.”

What I don’t tell him is that I climb these stairs every day, all the way to the top, because that’s where my house is. I don’t tell him, because I don’t want to freak him out, but eventually I’m the one getting freaked out, when Makoto stops at a house around the three-quarter point of the stairs.

“Here we are,” he says, sounding much cheerful as ever.

We’ve reached a house near mine.

So close that it’s almost freaky; it’s practically across from mine actually.

Makoto puts the key into the keyhole and heads inside. “Home sweet home.”

I stand outside, peeking into his hallway as he takes off his shoes. With this, too, he has strange habits; tapping off the dirt before sliding out of them without ducking even once.

Once he’s done he turns around and looks at me with a welcoming expression. “Come inside, please.” He opens the door a little further. “Make yourself at home while I get the groceries to the kitchen.” Before leaving me alone in the hallway, Makoto adds, “Do take off your shoes, though.”

I walk inside and close the door behind me. Before I take off my shoes on the tiles, I look around the entrance hall of Makoto’s humble home; it looks like a freaking mansion in here.

Okay, maybe not a mansion, but I was expecting him to live in an apartment of some sorts. This looks great, practical and far too expensive for someone like Makoto; he did say he’s poor, right?

I carefully take off my shoes and place them neatly beside Makoto’s, against the wall.

As I walk further into the hall, I’m careful to watch my step, because I know my house has steps to trip you like booby-trap all over. But here there are no steps to be found, not even under the doors, which normally have the steps that give you the nastiest falls.

“Wow,” I accidently whisper as I wander into Makoto’s livingroom and see how new this house looks comparing to mine. Most houses in Iwatobi are old-fashioned in and out. But even though this house looks a lot like mine from the outside, it looks completely renewed on the inside.

“Yeah, I know, right?” Makoto says when he sees me gazing around his livingroom. “It was a lot of work; rebuilding it after the fire and all. But I’d say it was worth it.”

“Fire?” I ask, before I remember it.

Five years ago, it was around this time and it was snowing pretty bad one evening. I remember waking up to wailing sirens and screaming and when I went to look out of my window, I got scared half to death. The house just a little further down the street was completely on fire; flames eating away the walls like they were just merely pieces of paper.

“Were you in there when—“ I mutter to no one in particular, but before I can finish my sentence, I see the memorial in the corner; the picture of a woman and a man who look an awful lot like Makoto, the headline that said that the firefighters couldn’t get here fast enough, because of black ice, and it was proven fatal for the couple that lived here.

Makoto nods. “The people that passed away that night where my parents.”

Never once have I heard anything on the news about children living here as well, as if they were kept out of the story. Here he was, the orphan that was left behind after the parents died.

My gaze moves from the memorial to Makoto; he’s not looking cheerful anymore. And neither am I.

I stare at him, maybe for a little too long, because Makoto doesn’t look too happy when he turns away and walks to the kitchen. He’s not going to tell me more, and even though I’ve got so many unanswered questions I’m not going to force him to say anything.

Instead I let him head to the kitchen, give him a moment to close his eyes and get a hold of himself. It must be a lot to swallow, I don’t know how many times he’s had to tell people about this, but to me it appears like it’s one of the first times he speaks about it. And that’s hard, I understand.

Honestly, I’m glad he left, because I need a moment to get a grip of myself as well. I don’t want to show him how this hits me hard too, how I deep down wished his life was less absurd than mine; instead it’s even worse, and I don’t know how to accept that.

“So, coffee?” Makoto’s voice sounds from the kitchen, sounding so cheerful it chills me to my core; even though I just saw the expression of pain and hurt and terror on his face, he peeks around the corner of the kitchen smiling brightly as ever. Eyes closed and a smile plastered onto his face.

“Yes,” my mouth mutters, but my brain is preoccupied with trying to figure out how Makoto does this. And maybe even more than that, why he does it; hiding his true emotions like that.

He disappears behind the wall of the kitchen again, still smiling like nothing happened.

And I? I stand there in the middle of his livingroom, wondering why; why someone with a smile as bright and a heart as kind as Makoto’s, should live in a hell like this.

Chapter Text

His smile.

It hides so much sadness, so much of his dark past, that it almost hurts to look at. Obviously, I know he probably smiles for real from time to time, but the way he smiled yesterday has stuck with me.

As I’m standing behind the counter for the first time since weeks, I’m staring off into the distance, thinking about his fragile smile instead of paying attention to the change I have to give to my first customer after the reopening.

“Young Nanase?” the older woman’s voice intrudes my thoughts of Makoto and calls me back to reality. “Are you doing okay, boy?” Her eyes are looking at me worriedly. “You seem out of it.”

“I’m alright.” I shake my head, urging myself to pay attention as I think back to how many I’m supposed to give her back after she bought a full wheat bread and a bag of cookies. It’s one hundred yen that I eventually hand her, together with the baked goods she bought.

“It must’ve been hard on you,” she says, giving me a sympathetic nod. “With the fire and all.”

My breath gets caught in my throat when I think about the fire. At how scared I was, then how scared must’ve Makoto been when he was stuck within those burning walls. He was just a kid back then, he certainly was terrified. I can just see him standing there as his back got scorched by the flames, the upper layer of his skin disappearing together with his parents.

I swallow and fake smile, realizing that I do to it too if it means pleasing people. “I’m fine, really.”

The old woman nods and smiles. But as she walks out of the bakery, she tells me to take it slow.

As soon as she’s left the building, I let myself lean into my hands. I can feel how shaky my breath is when I sigh into the palms of my hands; there’s so much pressure on me now. With all of those questions about his past, the scar on his back and the way he smiles like nothing’s wrong, and the inability to ask them. I feel like I’m being crushed by the heaviness of his past.

I’m haunted by his voice, telling me it’s okay, or so it seems.

Until I realize that the voice I’m hearing in the distance, is actually here in reality.

I don’t notice it until I look out of the window and see the bright red fire truck standing outside of my bakery. There are no sirens or fire, but instead I can see a firefighter standing near one of the big sakura trees a few meters away from my bakery.

I head outside to see what’s going on, and when I walk out through my door, I see Makoto standing at the top of the fire truck’s ladder. He’s reaching towards one of the branches, telling a tiny white kitten that everything’s going to be okay. “Just come here, little one,” Makoto says.

I lean against the wall as I watch Makoto lift the little kitten from the huge tree. I have no clue how the kitten got in there, because it’s one of the bigger trees around, but he still got pretty high up.

Makoto carefully climbs down the ladder, cradling the tiny kitten in his arms.

I see how bright his smile is when he shows the kitten to his colleague. A smile that sends shivers down my spine, because no matter how real it looks, I have no clue when it’s genuine anymore.

My heart starts beating rapidly when my eyes suddenly meets Makoto’s and he walks in my direction, still holding the kitten against his chest like a little baby.

“I didn’t know you were watching.” He chuckles, and shows me the kitten, who’s either shaking because of fear or the cold weather of today. “Look at this little guy!”

I look at the cat, it’s tiny almost smaller than Makoto’s palm, and it’s all skin, bones and fur.

“Can I?” I ask Makoto, reaching out with my hand carefully to pet the little kitty.

“Sure, you can even hold him if you want.” Makoto very slowly hands me the kitten he saved from the tree. And he almost immediately curls up in my arms, purring as I scratch him behind the ear.

“Awww,” Makoto whispers, watching me pet the kitten. “I think he likes you.”

I smile very carefully, and shrug before handing him back to Makoto. I tell him I always take care of the stray cats around my house, so that I know what the good scratch-areas are.

I’ve always been a cat person rather than a dog person, and when I look at how Makoto handles the kitten, I feel like he’s also had more experience with cats than with dogs; he’s so careful and calm.

“Are you going to let him roam free again?” I ask Makoto when the kitten has settled against his chest again. Makoto pets the kitten, watching him close his eyes, before looking up at me and shaking his head. “Not yet, I think. We’ll bring him to the vet for a checkup and to see if he has a home. If he doesn’t, he’ll probably to the shelter to get a new home,” Makoto explains. “Why?”

I shrug.

“Are you worried about the little guy?” Makoto says in a teasingly high-pitched tone.

I shrug again and admit that I didn’t want to see a small kitten like that living on the streets.

“I agree,” Makoto says. “He’s probably only a couple of months old, and it’s freezing outside today.”

I only now notice that Makoto’s not kidding when he adds that even he is cold. I’m just standing here in my long-sleeved shirt and apron, but even though Makoto’s wearing multiple layers, his cheeks and nose are slightly red from being cold. And whenever he speaks small clouds of air can be seen.

Before we can continue our conversation, Makoto gets called over by his colleague. He tells Makoto that they’ve got an incoming message about a small fire nearby.

Makoto smiles at me apologetically and says, “Sorry, duty’s calling!” He holds the kitten tightly and jogs back to the fire truck. “See you another time, Haru!” He waves shortly before closing the door and they speed off so fast that I doubt Makoto’s even been able to fasten his seatbelt.

I wait until they’re gone, disappeared from my vision completely, and then I go back inside.

I take a deep breath, feeling how I’m still trembling a little bit; maybe I’m colder than I initially expected, but I doubt that’s the case. It’s probably because I felt like I was getting to know Makoto, and now I suddenly don’t know anymore; every smile he gives me, could just as well be him hiding his pain and suffering from the world. But at the same time, he could just actually be a happy person, no matter how dark his past may be. The thing that bothers me is that I’m not sure.

It bothers me for almost the entire day. I’m off; making mistakes when taking people’s orders and giving them back the wrong amount of change. And they all shrug it off, blaming it on the fact that I haven’t been open for a while. But in reality it’s Makoto’s smile that’s having me act so strange.

Even when I flop down onto my bed, glad to be home, his face haunts me. Smiling so bright, with his stunning eyes and dimples. why can’t I just get him out of my mind? A second is all I’m asking for!

I groan, pressing my face into my pillow. I’m so annoyed with myself for thinking of him all the time.

Yet, even if I want to get him out of mind my so badly, when my phone buzzes I immediately grab it. I know it’s Makoto, I’ve got no other people in my contacts, but I’m just so desperate all the time.

I open his message; a short video starting with the camera filming the little kitten he saved today. It’s lying on a plaid blanket and when he zooms out, I get to see the kitten lying on Makoto’s younger brother’s lap; he’s being pet by Ren and Ran, purring so loudly that even I can hear him.

Then the screen turns around and Makoto’s face appears on my screen. He looks desperate as he nervously giggles and closes his eyes briefly.

The video closes itself and the caption appears, making me chuckle.

“Oh god no… the kids love him! Now what!? I can’t take care of a kitten!!!”

Chapter Text

Makoto and I texted for a long time before I finally went to bed. I barely slept, because for some reason I got very excited when Makoto asked me to come over tomorrow.

He wants me to see the kitten now that he’s a little more lively and playful, because he doesn’t know how long the kitten will be with him. And both Makoto and his siblings have a full day off today.

And since it’s Sunday, the same goes for me. So that’s why I head over to his house around noon.

I jog down the stairs, making sure not to slip of the slippery condense that’s left from the rain tonight. And I reach Makoto’s house in just a couple of minutes; it’s really very close.

I take a deep breath, reminding myself of the rules I set for myself; no questions or words about Makoto’s parents, but do pay your respects to them at the memorial when you’re alone.

Then I ring the bell. It doesn’t last long before Makoto’s younger sister opens the door. She looks up at me and smiles, unlike last time she laid eyes upon me.

“Hey, Haru,” she says in a cheerful tone; I guess she’s gotten adjusted to the thought of her older brother being around me a lot, because she doesn’t seem so judgy anymore. “Come in!”

While I’m taking off my shoes she tells me that Makoto’s in the kitchen, getting everything ready for lunch, so he didn’t hear the doorbell. “He’s really deaf sometimes.” She chuckles.

I smile at the thought of Makoto cooking lunch, and somehow it looks really dorky in my head. He’s a man of heavy lifting work, not of cutting shapes out of carrots and rolling rice balls.

After that I follow Ran into the livingroom, where both her brothers greet me.

Ren, who’s seated on the big couch, immediately tells me “hi” as soon as I walk in. Even pausing petting the kitten to give me a small wave. But Makoto takes a little longer to register that I’m in the livingroom already; he only notices when he walks in with a tray of food.

“Oh, hi!” Makoto cheerfully says when he sees me standing in the doorway. “I didn’t hear you come in.” He smiles before gesturing at the couch. “There’s enough room, so make yourself at home.”

I watch in silence as Ran flops down beside her brother, and starts petting the kitten as well. And after Makoto’s taken a seat as well, I sit down beside him; it’s crowded on the couch, so I’m actually a little closer than Makoto than I’d be comfortable with. Causing my palms to get all sweaty.

Makoto glances at me and says, “You can just take some food whenever you feel like it.” Then he turns to his siblings, nudging Ran in the side before saying, “Same goes for you two.”

I watch Ran fill one of the plates with some of the rice and vegetables before handing it to her twin brother. After that she fills one for her own.

Makoto also gets himself some rice and things on his plate; there’s not even meat, but I guess that’s okay, since it’s just lunch and I get that Makoto and his family can’t afford meat twice a day.

The vegetables that have been cooked look overcooked, mushy even, and the rice looks undercooked. So because scooping my plate full of food, I ask Makoto, “Is it eatable?”

Makoto swallows the bite that he was eating and chuckles. “I don’t know, maybe your spoiled body won’t accept my offer of low-quality supermarket food.” Makoto takes another bite and smiles. “But we’ve been eating it for years, and I guess we’re still pretty much alive.”

I chuckle before deciding that it can’t be that bad. I don’t even think anything about making this simple meal can go terribly wrong. Worst case scenario, the carrots are too hard because they’re raw and the leafy greens are too mushy because they’re overcooked. That isn’t a dramatic thing.

As I eat, though, I find out that it’s actually the other way around; the rice is very hard, the carrots are somehow overcooked and the leafy greens are chewy and tough. But I can still feel that it was made with love, and maybe a little annoyance towards the food. Okay, make that a lot.

I finish eating after just one plate, while I’m usually quite the big eater. But Makoto doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy trying to steal the kitten from his two younger siblings, who refuse to give the little white lad to him for even a short while.

“I just want to let Haru hold him for a little,” Makoto says, trying to get the kitten to come towards him, but he’s too happy lying on Ren’s lap. Besides that, Ran is using her entire body to keep Makoto from taking away the kitten, at some point yelling, “But we know you’re going to try Haru to adopt Yuki!” Ren nods and adds, “Can’t we just keep him ourselves?”

Makoto sighs, glancing at me like help me out here before telling them that they can’t. “I adore Yuki too, but we cannot take care of a cat when we’ve barely got enough money for our own food.”

Ren cradles the kitten – who’s dubbed Yuki apparently – to his chest and stares straight at me. “Haru, please tell Makoto that you can’t take care of Yuki either.”

Makoto scoffs and tells his younger brother that isn’t going to work. “If Haru can’t adopt him, you know he’ll have to go to the shelter.” Makoto lifts his chin sternly. “Which means you can’t see him.”

It’s strange, hearing a conversation all about how you have to adopt a kitten or not without having said anything yourself. And I don’t even get the chance to speak until Makoto turns to me, puts his hands together and bows to me. “Please, Haru, help me! Adopt Yuki!”

I look from Makoto to his younger siblings, who are both sheltering the kitten as if their lives depend on it; as if as soon as this kitten leaves their arms, all their happiness will be stolen.

I thought I was the only one who wanted to keep all the stray cats, I made my grandmother crazy with that from the age that I learned to talk until the day she passed away, and she never once let me keep one of the stray cats. But since I loved them so much, I have bags of cat food standing in my shed and I feed them every single evening before I go to bed.

“Is it all about the money?” I ask Makoto, wondering if I can somehow fix their problem.

“Well, kind of—“ Makoto scratches the back of his head, before nervously adding, “But you don’t have to lend me any money, if that’s what you meant to ask! Really!”

I shake my head; little does he know that I don’t have that much money either, I just get food that could potentionally be used for baking cheaper because of my business. “I’ve got cat stuff at home.”

Makoto tilts his head, seeming slightly confused.

“You can have a bag of cat food, if you want,” I explain. “It should take him at least half a year to finish such a big bag all by himself, so if that would solve your problem I would gladly give it to you.”

Ren and Ran look at each other and back at me and Makoto with big pleading eyes. “Can we?” They say simultainously. It’s moments like this that I really notice they’re twins. “Please, Makoto!”

Makoto turns to me, asks if I really would do that for him. As soon as I nod, I see his face lighten up in happiness; he’s just as happy that they can keep Yuki as his younger siblings are.

He wraps his arms around me and whisper-screams, “Thank you! You’re amazing, Haru!”

My cheeks turn all warm, my heart races inside of my chest, even after Makoto lets go of me. He takes one glance at my face and chuckles. “Sorry, I really didn’t want to disappoint Ren and Ran.”

Ren and Ran look at their older brother with skeptical glances, both saying, “Yeah, sure.” Before returning their focus back to the kitten. Watching him kneed bread on Ren’s lap.

I smile slightly, happy that I was able to help them out.

Makoto gets up all of a sudden and says, “In that case, I might just as well make Yuki a nice little place for himself.” He gathers a blanket and what looks like a broken picnic basket before disappearing into the kitchen.

Like a light switch, the mood changes as soon as Makoto leaves the room.

Even though Ren’s just as focussed on the kitten as before, Ran isn’t. She turns around to me with a serious look on her otherwise kind-looking face and mutters, “Come with me, I want to talk to you for a second.” She gets up and walks to the hallway, clearly expecting me to follow.

I do as she asks, because she seems serious about it and we all know the rule; don’t disobey a sixteen-year-old, because they will either hate or scold you for it.

As soon as we’re on the hallway, Ran closes the door. Her expression grows softer, less stern, but still very serious. Her big green eyes are much more intense then Makoto’s and when she speaks her voice is crystal clear. “Thank you” are the words she says, but her voice says something else.

She closes her eyes briefly. “Thank you for making my brother happier.”

“What do you mean by that?” I ask Ran, because to me it seems like at least half of all that happiness is just fake smiles. The ones that shake me to my core, but she proofs me wrong.

“Of course, Makoto still has days where he’s all doom and gloom.” Ran glances at the picture hanging from the hallway’s wall. It’s got their parents and them on it, it’s clearly an old picture.

When she looks back at me, I’m convinced she’s holding back tears. But she’s just as great as keeping her act together as her older brother, instead she does it in a stern way and without the smile.

“He’s been getting better since you came into his life. You’re kind to him and pretty chill.” She smiles shortly before her expression grows more serious again, and I know that if eyes could kill I would’ve been dead now. “But don’t think I’ll let you off easy if you ever dare to hurt him, get that?”

I glare at her. I don’t know what she’s thinking, I would never hurt Makoto. How could I hurt someone with as big of a heart as Makoto?

“Look, I know that see Makoto as a friend, he thinks that way about you too,” Ran tells me, and she’s very right about that. “But keep in mind that even he might snap at some point. But even if he calls you whatever bad thing someone can think off, be careful with my older brother, okay?”

I can’t even imagine Makoto being able to snap; he’s so kindhearted and sweet and soft. But her tone and expression tells me that he sure can, and she wants to warn me, yet at the same time she wants to protect her brother from the harm I might be able to do in a moment like that.

“Because while Ren and I got off easy that evening.” Her face saddens just at mentioning the day of the fire briefly. “Makoto’s scars are mental. They lay the deepest, make him breakable—“

Makoto calls for the two of us from inside of the livingroom, clearly startling his younger sister. She swallows thickly. Our eyes are meeting when she quickly says, “Just don’t break our brother again.” Before heading back into the livingroom again.

She picks up her act as easily as Makoto, it’s almost freaky when I see her flopping down on the bench chatting with her twin brother cheerfully like she didn’t just talk to me about something very heavy. But maybe it isn’t even that what sends shivers down my spine.

When I look at Makoto and see him standing there, I see the gloom Ran was talking about on his face. When he thinks that no one’s watching him, he looks so lonely, even when he’s in a crowd.

But as soon as he lays eyes upon me, it’s like the sun after a rainstorm; all bright colors and light.

Yet, no matter how good Makoto’s mask may be at a first glance, I see exactly what Ran means.

When I look at him now, I can see the shattered parts of his act; a broken boy trying to be perfect.

Covering up his scars with a layer of pretty gold.

Chapter Text

Apparently even people in Japan have fry days; I thought that was something typically American. But when Makoto walked into my bakery to get his usual order this afternoon, he asked me if I wanted to come over for Fry Day at their house today.

“It’s a Tachibana’s tradition,” he told me with a wide smile, a genuine one this time. “We eat fries every single Friday. So, are you also in for some fries?”

I must’ve taken too long to reply, because he reassured me it would be better than yesterday’s lunch. “Ren and Ran have been trained in the art of fetching fries from the snack bar just outside Iwatobi.”

When I heard that it wouldn’t be Makoto’s cooking, since lunch wasn’t great last Sunday, I’m sold. I can’t turn down a great offer like that; I don’t have to spend my evening alone and I get to spend a night with Makoto, which makes me very happy.

I’m pretty cheerful all day, customers even tell me that they like to see me smile for real; a thing they don’t get to see that often as I’m raised to be serious, just like grandma. But today I’m way too happy.

When I finally get to turn off the lights and swap the “open” with the “closed” one, I feel my heart jump; I get to go to Makoto’s house. I don’t think I ever ran this fast, because I reach Makoto’s house within three minutes after closing the bakery.

“Wow, you’re early,” Makoto tells me, chuckling at how out of breath I am. “Ren and Ran aren’t even back with the fries and snacks yet. Remember I said five, not half past four, you know?”

I glance up at Makoto while catching my breath; I can feel it stinging in my sides, causing my stomach to groan and my legs to go all tingly. I might’ve run too fast, but I’m not minding the aches one bit.

“Not that I mind,” Makoto continues, leaning against the wall as I take off my shoes. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight anyway.” He smiles and his cheeks turn just slightly more pink.

I stare down at the floor, pretending to focus on getting off my shoes, but in reality I’m just as easily flustered as Makoto. My cheeks still feel strangely warm as we walk to the kitchen. I’ve never been there, but it looks very clean and different from what I expected; cleaner and emptier.

“You can sit down at the table, if you want.” Makoto gestures at the table, which holds two matching chairs and one desk chair that’s clearly been pulled from someone’s bedroom. “Sorry, it’s a little crammed. We don’t have over many guests, so we usually only have to fit three people at the table.”

I sit down at the side of the table where there are two chairs, because that’s probably the best place for me to sit. There’s only one chair on the other side of the table and a lot of empty pace beside that, so that’s probably where Ren’s going to sit with his wheelchair.

I might be over thinking. But that’s because I’m trying to sit right next to where Makoto usually sits, because somehow I feel like that would make me happier than sitting beside Ren or Ran.

After I sit down, and Makoto finished setting down the porcelain, Makoto sits down exactly where I expected him to; right next to me. Causing a tiny smile to erupt on my face.

“So,” Makoto mutters, leaning with his head on his fist. “Had a fun day at work?”

I shrug. “It was just normal.”

Makoto hums, as if agreeing with the fact that it probably was a normal day for me. And probably also a normal day for him, as he’s not been at work today. Yet, I’m curious what a normal day looks like for Makoto. And for this once, I let myself ask the question, because he did.

“How was my day?” Makoto asks, glaring at me like I asked him to go skinny-dip in the ocean.

I nod. “Yeah.”

He smiles, but he almost looks sad to me. “I just delivered the paper this morning. And spend my day at home while the kids were at school.” He looks at me calmly. “Had my usual at your bakery.” He winks, causing me to smile a little. “And I had fun with Yuki.”

At that Makoto perks up all of a sudden. “Speaking about Yuki, have you seen him yet?”

I shake my head, looking around the room for a white little kitten, not seeing him anywhere.

“Damn, how much cats can grow in one week!” he says, before calling Yuki’s name. He softly clicks with his tongue until we hear footsteps coming down the stairs and a white cat walks through the doorway. It’s not the little kitten he rescued last week, and even though Yuki’s still clearly a small cat, he’s become much more mature looking. Also a little more chunky, if you’d ask me.

Makoto picks up Yuki once he’s reached the table, saying, “Look at him! He’s huge!”

I chuckle. When I try patting Yuki on the head, he immediately attacks my hands in a playful way.

“He’s got quite the attitude,” I say, pulling back my hand after being swapped at with claws.

“Do you mean—“ Makoto looks at me like wait for it. “—cattitude?”

The both of us laugh at his stupid joke, but they’re not even that funny; or at least, that’s what Yuki thinks, who worms himself out of Makoto’s arms and jumps to the floor. What makes Makoto laugh even harder is when the sound of a key turning scares the dear life out of Yuki.

“We’ve got fries!” Ren’s voice echoes through the house. He’s sounding more enthusiastic than I’ve heard him before. I always thought he’s quite the serious boy, but when Ran wheels him into the livingroom, he’s cradling the greasy fry bag like a baby with a big smile on his face.

Ran’s also smiling wide, meaning they probably look forward to fry day the entire week; Makoto’s cooking must be very bad if these greasy, unhealthy slices of potatoes are their favorite food.

“What were you laughing about?” Ran asks Makoto as she places her twin brother at the table.

“Yeah,” Ren continues. “It sounded really funny, we could hear you all the way outside.”

Makoto’s cheeks turn bright red of embarrassment. He quickly tells them it was nothing and changes the subject to digging in. “Take of your jacket, and sit down, Ran. I’m starving here.”

Ran rolls with her eyes, but takes off her coat as asked. She brings her and her brother’s coats to the hallway and comes back just a couple of seconds later. She is ready to dig in as soon as she sits down.

“Itadakimasu!” the three of them say in sync, and because I don’t want to feel awkward for not being able to say it together with them, I thank them for the food in silence.

After that the bag gets opened up and they eat away at it like shared dinner.

It feels great, being allowed to eat with my hands like this without being scolded by my grandmother. She was always stern about that; eat well, healthy and with chopsticks. Never drop your manners, especially during dinners at someone else’s home. It was like she wanted to straighten the mistakes she made while raising my father. And she did a good job making me listen for a while.

Yet, now I’m breaking all her rules during one single meal at the Tachibana’s and I love it.

“This is so delicious!” Ren says, sounding exactly like his brother when he took a bite of something I cooked for the first time. It’s moments like this that I can really see that Ren and Ran are his siblings.

“Yeah, so much better than Makoto’s cooking,” Ran says with a wink.

Makoto chuckles, but his smile falters a little when I ask them what they usually eat. I still can’t quite believe that fries are the best thing they eat in a week, no matter how delicious this is.

“Well, on Mondays we eat Sunday’s leftovers, which is rice with ready-to-eat meat,” Ran explains, to which her brother adds, “But that’s only because Makoto works late on Mondays.”

They tell me their “regular menu” for an entire week. Telling me all about the gruesome details of Makoto’s cooking; undercooked rice, doughy omelets and chewy greens. Then there’s the fact that they eat leftovers from the day before trice a week, because Makoto works on those days.

“The other days we get fast food,” Ren explains. “Or fries, like today.”

“In other words—“ The twins look at each other and in sync they say, “Our brother cannot cook.”

I turn to Makoto, glaring at him skeptically; with perked up eyebrow and all.

“What!?” Makoto squeaks. “I told you I couldn’t cook to safe my life. I wasn’t joking, okay!”

I really thought he was joking, but apparently he wasn’t. This sounds bad, life threatening even.

I close my eyes briefly and mutter, “Note to self; teach Makoto how to cook.”

The twins chuckle before pleadingly shouting, “Please do!”

Makoto seems slightly uncomfortable during the rest of the meal, but that’s probably because we made him out for an extremely bad cook; that must’ve hurt to hear, even when he knew it too.

After we’ve all stuffed ourselves with fries, Ran announces that Ren and she are going to watch a movie in their room. Not long after they disappear into the room which I previously thought was the pantry; it makes sense though, that Ren and Ran’s room is downstairs.

“That was a lot of fries,” Makoto mutters as he cleans up the paper bag and the plates we used.

I nod, just when I’m about to tell him I’m really full now but that it was delicious, Ran wanders into the room. She looks a little down, or rather shy, when she walks up to Makoto and taps him on the shoulder. She speaks softly, but I overhear her saying, “Can you help us, the lift isn’t working again.”

Makoto’s face grows gloomy for a fraction of a second, before he smiles and nods. He excuses himself and disappears into Ren and Ran’s room too.

Not much later he returns, looking a little sadder than he did before. He sighs and leans against the wall. “It has become harder,” he admits. “Living with two teens; a fierce lady like Ran—“ He shakes his head, and it hurts me to see him completely drop his happy act for the first time. “—and with Ren being wheelchair bound ever since the accident. It’s a lot.”

I swallow, having no clue what to tell him. What can I even tell him, that I’m sorry about his past? There’s nothing I can change about it, so what can I say to make him feel less bad about himself.

“You know, not being able to cook doesn’t help.” Makoto chuckles, but there’s a very sad undertone this time. “I always feel like I’m lacking something.” He swallows audibly, before taking his hands through his hair; it’s almost like putting his mask back on, because when he lowers his hand, he’s smiling again. Sounding bright and peppy when he says, “But I love them, so what does it matter.”

I can’t let it slip this time, I can see that he’s really feeling down now; like Ran said, he’s got days like that, and I feel like it’s my job to say something to cheer him up. But what?

“I-I don’t really get it,” I admit, looking into Makoto’s eyes. I want him to get the message, to make it clear that I do want to understand him. “But if you ever need any help, I’ll always be here for you.”

Chapter Text

On usual days I sleep amazingly. But that doesn’t seem to be the case today.

The way Makoto completely dropped his act freaks me out. And there’s the offer I made to him; that I would always be there for him. I made a big promise, which is scary.

I lie here in bed, staring into the darkness, wide awake; how am I going to keep myself to that promise? When will I be able to start keeping me to my word? Will Makoto even let me?

I close my eyes and groan. I wish I could just stop worrying about it and sleep, but instead my mind only starts racing ever faster after before; what if I can’t keep my promise?

I shake my head. I’ll make very sure I’ll keep myself to it, starting now.

I throw the blankets off myself and turn on my nightlight. I need to make a plan, not only because I suck at improvising, also because I just want myself to keep my promises for once.

I get out of bed and walk over to the bookshelf in room. I don’t read a lot, but the books that are on here could really help Makoto; he said he can’t cook, which makes he feel like he’s not good enough. In that case, I’m going to give him cooking lessons and lend him some of my cookbooks.

I got enough books, so I can miss them for a while; I can cook and bake almost everything by heart.

Now it’s time for Makoto to do the same, and I will help him with that.

That’s why, even though it’s far past Makoto’s usual bedtime, I text him that I’m coming over to help him cook tomorrow. After that, I grab a few of the recipe-books and lay back down in bed. I’m not tired yet. And I’m devoted to this long and tough task; ready to spend hours flipping through them if it means finding the perfect meal to teach Makoto the basics of cooking.

The next day, I show up at his house with a bag filled with cookbooks and ingredients. Makoto and I are going to cook dinner for Ren and Ran, and I’m going to make sure that they’ll see how amazing their brother actually is; his potential just still needs to be unlocked.

I ring the doorbell, to which Makoto soon replies. I texted him I would be there, but seeing the way his hair and face is still grimy and dirty from a day at work, I guess I was a little too early.

“Hi,” Makoto says, trying to wipe the grey dust off his face. “Come inside.”

I follow him into the hallway, taking off my shoes as he apologizes about still being dirty.

I shrug. “I don’t mind.” I look at the dirt on his hands, hoping he just cleaned out a dusty room instead of a fire place. “Why don’t you wash up, I’ll set everything down in the kitchen.”

Makoto nods right away and heads upstairs to wash himself and put on some other clothes.

I head to the kitchen where I place out all of the ingredients I bought for tonight’s dinner. There’s union, chicken and vegetables, eggs, rice, milk and cheese. And just like every time you cook, I brought over some salt, pepper and oil. It sounds like a lot, but I’m going to teach Makoto the basics first; starting with a good, old, simple omurice.

I just started washing my hands when Makoto enters the kitchen. He’s wearing more activity based clothing; no long sleeves and he even found an apron somewhere. I brought my apron too, so once we’re both wearing them, we can start.

“So what are we making?” Makoto asks me, seeming both curious and nervous about the ingredients displayed in front of him. When I tell him it’s omurice, he looks at me like I’ve gone mad.

“You think I can make that?” Makoto shakes his head. “No, Haru, that’s way too hard!”

I snicker and tell him it’s literally one of the easiest recipes. Okay, maybe not easier than fried rice, but everyone can learn to cook; even this doof, Makoto Tachibana.

“Let’s just start,” I tell him, grabbing the union and throwing it in the air. After I catch it I cut it in half and place one half in front of him on the cutting board. “Just chop in into pieces.”

Makoto glances at me as I take hold of the knife. It’s only now that I realize that most meals Makoto makes probably don’t require cutting with a knife; he looks like he’s never held one before.

I watch him clumsily hold the knife life a pen, trying to cut the union all crookedly.

“Come here.” I stand behind him, wrapping my hands around his to show him how he should cut an union. I slice with the sharp knife through the union, holding my slices together with the other hand. Within no time it’s not only me, but also Makoto, who’s putting pressure on the knife.

I let go of his hands and watch him continue on his own pace; slow but steady.

“There you go.” I smile lightly at Makoto.

I let him cut his union at his own pace while already getting the chicken out of the plastic cover. As soon as he’s done I explain to him that he should always cut the chicken on a different  board.

“Why’s that?” Makoto asks me, looking genuinely interesting in learning about cross-contamination.

I tell him all about it as I watch him cut the chicken on a clean cutting board. I try not to distract him too much though, because if he cuts himself in the finger while cutting chicken that would be dangerous. At least, more dangerous than it would be if it were vegetables.

But he makes it out without any casualties; let’s not jinx it though, you can really burn yourself on a stove, which might even be more painful than cutting yourself with a sharp knife.

“So, now I put this into the pan?” Makoto asks, holding up a bottle of oil. “How much?”

I shrug. “It’s to your liking, I guess.” It’s really not, but I want him to decide for himself. I won’t be able to help him cooking every single day, so I want him to find out through trial and error.

He splashes some oil into the pan, bouncing back and hiding behind me when the oil splashes everywhere. He utters a cry of fear, yet there’s also excitement in it when he asks, “Is this what’s supposed to happen?” with a very nervous chuckle.

I nod, because this is exactly what happens when you pour in the oil as carelessly as that. “If you don’t want to get hurt, though—“ I take the bottle of oil and carefully swirl it into the pan. “You can also do it like this, that way it won’t splatter as badly.”

Makoto’s glaring at me with big impressed eyes when I turn around to him.

“What?” I ask him, shrugging. “I told you, I learned to cook at a young age.”

I put in the ingredients and let Makoto take over the pan and the stirring. Once he’s confident enough about his stirring, Makoto asks, “So, how young were you when you learned to cook?”

I think back to the first time my grandmother had me help her with cooking. I think I was just four years old when I was allowed to help rinsing the vegetables, but I was older when she taught me how to cut and cook the ingredients for real.

“I think I was about eight when I made my first actual meal,” I tell Makoto.

Makoto is so impressed that he completely forgets to stir. In a worry that it’s going to burn like this, I wrap my hands around his again, reminding him to keep stirring while explaining him that my first meal was just fried rice. “With a side dish of mango, but that was my grandma’s input.”

I remember how cooking felt with her, she would wrap her hands around mine like I’m doing with Makoto’s now. It always made me very happy to be able to cook together with someone, that’s why cooking with Makoto after being on my own for so long feels great.

Makoto seems to really enjoy it too, at least, I think he does. Because during flipping the egg over the rice, like you do with omurice, Makoto’s in hysterics when it doesn’t work out right away. He shouts and laughs and almost whacks me with the wooden spoon he’s holding.

He’s laughing so loudly that Ran and Ran are lured out of their room earlier than expected; wanting to know since when their brother wasn’t screaming in anger while cooking and instead was laughing like a little kid at an amusement park. They also wanted to know pretty badly why the food Makoto made actually tasted good for once, which I feel is a good thing.

Sitting on the table, hearing that from his younger siblings, made Makoto really happy. At least his flustered cheeks, stammering and genuinely happy smiles makes that clear. It makes it even more clear when after dinner, when the both of us are washing the dishes, Makoto thanks me.

He doesn’t thank me for cooking with him, or helping him make a great meal. Instead he thanks me for the amazing evening, the fun we had while cooking, and that he would love to do that again anytime; which I’m completely in for, honestly.

But that isn’t what makes it clear to me that he’s thankful. It’s when the real compliment leaves his mouth, followed by a long and tight hug. “Thank you for making me realize that’s I’m not always completely useless.”

Chapter Text

His eyes, filled with tears.

His cheeks, bright red.

What should I do now? I wonder when I open the door, in the middle of the night, to see Makoto standing on my porch. He’s crying, sobbing even as he tries to explain why he’s here.

“I—Ran, she—“ His voice breaks and he tries to wipe away the tears that keep pouring. “We fought—she ran away from home.” He shakes his head, crying that he doesn’t know what to do.

“Come inside,” I tell him, because it’s pouring outside and I don’t want him to have to stand there crying and getting all wet at the same time; that’s at least some comfort I can give him. And hugging, I can do that too, once Makoto’s inside and immediately launches himself into my arms.

“W-What should I do?” he whispers into my night shirt. “W-what if she hates me? And she’ll never return back home?” He looks up at me with huge teared up eyes. “What have I done, Haru.”

I look down at him and rest my hand on the back of his head. I’ve got no clue what to tell him.

“It’s going to be okay,” I tell Makoto.

Apparently that wasn’t the right thing to say; Makoto tenses up underneath the palm of my hand. He starts crying even more when he steps away from me. He watches me with fear—

Or is it anger?

Makoto’s eyes are stern, though filled with tears, I know I would be dead if glances could murder. Last time I saw this expression was on Ran. Yet Makoto’s eyes, which are usually kind and soft, are much more intense when he’s mad about something; about what?

“You think that is going to help me?” Makoto mutters, his voice breaking at each word that leaves his mouth. He frowns, shaking his head. “Because it isn’t, Haru!”

My breath gets caught in my throat; how can he say my name with so much hatred.

Hearing him say my name with anger instead of kindness. It hurts so much. So why would he do that to me? Throwing those words at me when I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.

“You always do that!” He blinks, a tear slips down his cheek. “You never once say what matter!”

My eyes get bigger, tears blur my vision; do I really do that? Do I never say the things he wants to hear? What does he want to hear, and why can’t I just find the answer?

“Don’t you care what happened? Don’t you care about me?”

His eyes, his expression, it hurts to see. He’s in pieces, broken, his golden rim is nowhere to be found.

He shakes his head in anger, stepping towards me. “Just for once say what matters, Haru!”

What can I even say, when I don’t know what matters to him.

I stay silent.

I try to swallow away the lump in my throat, but it only gets larger with every second that passes. Even if I knew what to say, I cannot speak. I’m lost for words.

Is this the Makoto Ran was talking about?

The half of him that’s broken and shattered to the core. The version of him that isn’t kind or perfect, but rather nothing like that; he’s furious, anxious and every drip of pain can be heard in his voice.

“That’s what I thought,” Makoto mumbles. His face is red and slightly puffy when he turns his back to me. With his hand on the doorknob, he stands there, ready to leave. “I don’t know how I ever could’ve thought that someone as socially incapable as you could help me at a time like this.”

It feels like a spear through my heart.

Pain erupting from the middle of my chest, all the way throughout my body.

My breathing gets faster as I watch Makoto turn the doorknob and slide the door open. He’s ready to leave me all alone here, and something tells me that if I don’t do anything, I’ll never see him again.

But what can I do?

He must hate me.

I swallow thickly before reaching out. My hand’s trembling in fear and I’m barely strong enough to get hold of Makoto’s sleeve. “Don’t leave,” I whisper, barely loud enough to be heard. “I want to—” My voice gets caught in my throat. “I want to at least try to be there for you.”

Makoto freezes in place. He’s staring down to the ground, and I’m staring right at his back.

I swallow, still not completely sure as for what’s the right thing to say; I might’ve been raised to be well-behaved and formal, but I never once was taught what to do in a situation like this. What to do when someone’s crying, because something bad happened to them.

I’m clueless.

I can hear Makoto’s deep breathing and strained whimpers as he waits for me to say something; anything that’s not “it’ll be okay”, because we both know it might not be okay in the end.

“Come sit down with me,” I say softly. “Tell me all about what happened.”

Makoto releases a sob; one of full of pain and fear and sadness.

Before I know it, Makoto’s arms are wrapped around me, his face hiding in my shoulder.

“Thank you,” he whispers through tears; apparently this was all that he wanted to hear. All he needed me to say to calm him down a little; not completely, just a little.

I rub his back, hushing him as we wobble over to the livingroom without letting go of each other.

It’s almost funny, because I’ve been taught not to pry. Never ask questions when someone doesn’t tell the answer to you by themselves; what bullshit.

Look what it did for me. For the first time in my entire life I had a friend, and I’m lucky that I’m the one whose chest is being used as a pillow to cry into. But if I would’ve stuck to the rules I was taught throughout my entire life, I would’ve lost my only friend because of it.

We flop down onto the couch and Makoto still hasn’t looked at me ever since he turned away a couple of minutes away. He’s too busy wetting my T-shirt with his many tears.

“I’m sorry,” Makoto whispers into my shirt, sounding genuinely sorry for the words he spoke. “I went a little too far—“ He lets out a sob. “—I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

My heart skips a beat at the thought that it went on accident, because that meant I’m not the only one who messed up pretty badly. “You didn’t.” I close my eyes and take my hands through Makoto’s hair. “Everyone has moments like that.”

That doesn’t mean he didn’t hurt me, though.

We both go completely silent. We just lay there, on my couch, both of us on the brink of crying.

“So,” I whisper, breaking the unbearable silence. “What happened between Ran and you?”

Makoto looks up at me, carefully with weak and sad eyes. “I don’t know how to explain, really.”

I nod, closing my eyes briefly before telling him to take as much time as he needs; it’s not like I’ll be sleeping anymore after what just happened anyway. Plus, I want to listen to him so badly.

“Ran just got mad with me.” He closes his eyes briefly. “And it’s my fault that she ran away.”

“Why?” I’m not holding back my questions this time. “Why is it your fault?”

“She wants to know that I’m okay when I’m at work—“He swallows audibly. “—and even though I knew I was running late tonight, I didn’t tell her anything.” He shakes his head; his eyes are filling up with tears again. “I just should’ve made sure she knew—I messed up, Haru.”

He hugs me tighter again, starting to cry louder. But as he hugs me, sobbing, and I still have no clue to keep him from crying, I know who the biggest fuck-up here is; and it’s not Makoto.

Chapter Text

It’s not every day that my hands are trembling so much that I can barely knead my bread. But today is one of those days; I barely had any sleep last night, and within the hour that I was asleep, Makoto must’ve sneaked out of my house. He was lying beside me on the couch, still crying after telling me all about what happened right before he came over to my place, and when I woke up he was gone.

I haven’t seen him since.

He told me about how Ran ran away after he stayed at work for way too long. He scared the crap out of her, because she’d seen that same evening on the news that there’d been a fire just outside of Iwatobi where one of the firefighters had been badly injured. She must’ve gotten so scared at the thought that that could’ve been Makoto, that as soon as he walked through the door she snapped.

Makoto told me she had yelled at him like she’d never done before. Then she ran away from home.

Not long after that Makoto fell asleep beside me, and I soon also got knocked out when my adrenaline slowly took off. And I haven’t spotted him in the crowd since then.

Normally he’d drop in at my bakery during the day, but that seemed out of the question today. He hasn’t even walked by the window, even though I thought we were okay after tonight. Maybe I did mess up so badly that Makoto would rather not face me today, or ever again.

The thought just messed me up for the entire day. I was distracted enough to give people the wrong order, while I would normally never do something that stupid; Makoto’s messing with my mind.

Just not showing up like that isn’t like his. He always eats cake at my bakery, at the table in the corner of the restaurant, between the blue and green; he wouldn’t just not show up.

Yet, he didn’t show up throughout the entire day, leaving me wondering a lot about what he’s thinking about me now; does he really think I’m too socially incapable to be around?

Never in my life have I hated my grandmother so much for teaching me to be polite. My being anything but nosy has ruined Makoto and mine friendship, or I’m afraid it has.

I head into the back of the bakery disappointed, because it’s just a couple of minutes before closing time and Makoto still hasn’t visited; how can he do this do me, just after he yelled at me yesterday. He, of all people, should know how much it hurts to have someone run away from you after a fight.

I knock the crumbs and flour off my hands before taking off my apron.

That was today then, and I haven’t seen Makoto once. I think to myself just as the sound of my bell echoes through the entire bakery. My heart skips a beat and I catch myself running towards the counter, knowing that there aren’t many people who would still wander into the shop this late. I only know one person with a day-and-night-schedule as wack to walk in to get cake or bread at eight in the evening; that’s Makoto for you.

Yet it isn’t him standing in the middle of my shop when I arrive at the counter.

It’s two teenagers, one a girl with green hair and the other a boy in a wheelchair; Ren and Ran. What are they doing here? Are they here to tell me that Makoto hates me so much he can’t even face me to tell me himself that he won’t be seeing me anymore.

“Haru,” Ran snaps at me, sounding much angrier than her expression shows me. “Get your lazy ass over here, okay? We need your help as soon as possible; it has to do with Makoto.”

It sounds urgent, seriously messed up; has he gotten himself hurt? Was it me who drove him to it?

Ren must notice my shocked reaction, because he immediately adds, “Don’t mind Ran, she just wants to tell you that it’s Makoto’s birthday and we still haven’t decorated for when he gets back home later tonight.” He smiles apologetically, tilting his head lightly. “Could please help us out?”

I release a sigh of relief.

Makoto’s birthday, huh? Why didn’t I know about that, I wonder.

“He’s not home on his birthday?” I ask them, more curious as to where he is than about what has to happen before he will turn back home; has he even come home last night or hasn’t Ran seen him since their fight yesterday. Why did she even fight with him during the night of his birthday?

Ran smiles and tells me that they kind of had to push Makoto out of the door.

Ren chuckles and nods. “He got home very early, so he slept almost the entire morning. Right now he’s on a trip past the hairdresser and after that he’ll do some small grocery shopping as usual.”

“So—“ Ran’s eyes are intense when they meet mine. “—get a move on, slowpoke! We have to at least try to get the home decorated before he gets home.”

I nod obediently and power walk to the back of bakery to get one last thing. I put a complete fudge cake into a box. I would’ve made a fresh one that would still be warm when eaten if Makoto would’ve let me know that it’s is birthday. Now all I’ve got is one that’s left after a not-so-busy day.

“Okay, I’m ready,” I say once I come back to the restaurant area of the bakery.

Ren and Ran both nod and we speed back to their home; they’re lucky that I can jog pretty well, and that Ran has strong arms from always pushing Ren around, because otherwise we wouldn’t have made it home in time.

Believe it or not, but only a couple of minutes after we get home, Makoto arrives as well; we barely have had enough time to blow up balloons and hang some decoration from the wall.

“I’m home!” Makoto’s voice happily echoes through the house.

I hear Ren and Ran welcoming him, while I stay in the kitchen to put the last candle onto the chocolate fudge cake. It’s a surprise that I’m here, so it doesn’t matter if I enter the room a little late.

“Wow, you decorated the room!” Makoto sounds genuinely surprised, as if he almost forgot that it’s his birthday himself. “It’s wonderful, you’re amazing guys!”

When I hear a silence for a long time, and then Ren and Ran start singing happy birthday totally off-key. I take the plate with the cake in my hands; it’s the best time to make my big entrance, I think. In hopes that Makoto still wants to see me at least.

I’m being lit up by the candle, and when I enter the livingroom, I join their song awkwardly. I don’t think Makoto even hears me at first, but as I come closer I can see his shoulders suddenly tensing up. And when he turns around and his eyes meet mine, he almost immediately tears up again.

“Haru,” he whispers, walking in my direction. “You’re here—“ He swallow audibly. “—for me?”

I nod once and smile. “Happy birthday, Makoto.”

He smiles through his tears, and I know they’re happy tears even when he sadly apologizes again for whatever went wrong between the two of us yesterday. “I-I didn’t think you’d even want to see me again after how I acted towards you,” he admits, his cheeks turning redder. “I’m sorry.”

I shake my head, telling him that I obviously wanted to see him again. Then I turn my direction to the cake, swallowing thickly; what am I even doing here if I’m only making Makoto cry.

“It’s for you,” I say, gesturing to the cake. I hold it out in front of me, closer to him. “Make a wish.”

Makoto looks down at the cake and, as a single tear drops down his face, he blows out the candle.

For a second everything goes dark, I didn’t think about the lights being off, but Ren and Ran must’ve done that while I walked in with the cake. I was too focussed on the candle to notice how dark it was.

But as the darkness surrounds Makoto and me, I feel anxious and alone.

Until I suddenly feel something reassuring me that I’m not alone. I close my eyes, savor the feeling of lips upon mine, knowing it won’t last that long; and I’m right, within a heartbeat it’s gone again.

But his lips are still close, I can feel them tickling mine as Makoto whispers, “My wish came true.”

Chapter Text

After that kiss, everything about the friendship between Makoto and me changed.

For a day or two, it felt like we were just friends, who—well, kissed. But it soon turned into more; it became the kind of relationship where I’d bring bentoboxes to Makoto when he’s at work. The kind of relationship where we hold hands in the open and kiss when we’re alone.

That’s the kind of relationship we have.

We’re not friends anymore, we’re something closer. Something better.

But also something that makes me into a different person. Obviously, I’m still getting used to the whole having to ask Makoto about things before he tells them to me, and I’m still pretty socially awkward. What has changed is that I find myself getting strangely jealous for the weirdest things.

I feel myself get all anxious, my heartbeat rises and my palms get sweaty, like I’ll be losing Makoto any moment now; maybe it’ll be to a fire, maybe because one of his colleagues steals him away from me. I don’t know why he would do that, I know he wouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean the thought doesn’t haunt me every single night when I’m not beside him.

That same anxiety hits me when Makoto drops in and sits down in my restaurant like he usually does. That’s not what causes me to get fearful, it’s rather that his order is off; he orders two pieces of chocolate fudge cake. Two!?

Yes, two… but for who is that second order?

Is he just extremely hungry today? Or is someone with him to share that second piece of cake with. At first I think it must be for Ren and Ran, but wouldn’t order three slices if that’s the case?

I feel my heart racing in my chest I let the knife slide through the thick crumbly cake. I wonder about the lucky guy or girl who was brought here by Makoto, and how unlucky they will be if I see them near my boyfriend; why would Makoto cheat on me like that.

I put down the knife, and take a deep breath; urging myself to calm down before bringing the cake over to Makoto’s table. He might still be alone right now, but he hasn’t put his bag on the chair beside him like he normally does; clearly keeping it free for someone who hasn’t arrived yet.

I put them on the tray and start walking.

My knees are nodding, hands trembling, as I arrive at his table with two slices of cake and a Café Latté. Makoto smiles at me right before I put them down; there’s something mysterious about it.

“Here’s the order,” I mutter, trying to fake a smile as well. “Two slices of cake and one Café Latté.”

Makoto watches me closely as I put them down. As soon as I’ve put everything down and hug the empty tray to my chest, Makoto looks up at me with apologetic eyes. His cheeks are red when he says, “I’m sorry.” He glances at the two pieces of cake and his coffee.

My breath falters; so it wasn’t just a feeling? He’s really sorry about cheating on me, even though we’ve only been together for a week? Is that how fast Makoto gets bored of me?

I shake my head, feeling my cheeks get warmer as I shakily ask, “A-About what?”

Makoto chuckles, almost sounding sad for some reason. “I still don’t know what your favorite coffee is—“ He scratches the back of his head and smiles apologetically. “Sorry, I couldn’t order you a drink.”

My heart skips a beat, my cheeks get redder with every second that passes; how could I be so stupid to think that Makoto’s cheating on me? He’s not the type of person to do that.

No, instead he got me a slice of cake too. He explains that, because he knows that on a calm day like today I’ve got nothing to do for most of the day, he wanted to spend his favorite time of the day with me. “But I didn’t know what drink to get you, so I—I guess I’m bad at being a good boyfriend?”

I smile, jokily slapping him with the tray on his head before muttering, “I hate surprises, you know.”

Makoto chuckles and his cheeks go bright red. I feel like he now also know that he scared the living hell out of me by doing this; I actually thought he was cheating on me, while in reality he just wanted to make a sweet gesture. That’s not the kind of surprises I like.

Yet, now that I know what’s going on for real, I think of it as pretty sweet. And it’s not terrible that Makoto’s not been able to guess my favorite type of coffee; little does he know we share the same favorite. I actually make that one so delicious, because I know exactly what’s good about Café Latté.

“I’ll be back in a second,” I tell Makoto, because he’s right about me needing something to drink too. I return to the table with a cup of Café Latté a little later, and Makoto smiles.

“So, you like the same?” Makoto asks me once I’ve taken a seat on the chair that’s usually reserved for his bag. He smiles after I nod and tells me that he’s happy to know that.

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to eat together?” I ask him, because I didn’t have the slightest of clue about his plans. If he’d shown up a little later than usually, I would’ve already eaten.

“I wanted to surprise you.” He smiles. “Obviously you don’t get surprised enough in your life.”

I shrug, maybe he’s right. Maybe the fact that I hated this surprise is because I’m not used to it.

“Anyway,” Makoto continues. “How’s your day so far? Lots of customers?”

I look at him with one perked up eyebrow. “What do you think?”

Makoto snorts when he looks around the bakery; it’s very much empty. “Has it been like this the entire day?” He sounds a little worried even.

I nod once; I only had four customers today, which were regulars who came to buy their usual bread. Meaning I won’t earn too much money today.

“Really?” Makoto looks a little sad before he lightens up a little. He searching for his purse and hands me little bit of money. He takes my hand and presses the money into it firmly. “Here, take this.”

I don’t really charge Makoto for food anymore, because I know that he needs his money more than anything. I can’t take this, not when I purposely stopped making him pay.

I lower my hand, without the money in it. “You need it more than me.”

Makoto shrugs. “I don’t care, Haru.” He tries to hand me the money again, failing. “You’ve got a home too, and a life, I can’t expect accept not earning enough.”

I swallow thickly, somewhere deep down I know he’s right. But instead of going in on it, I shrug it off.

“Just do me a favor instead,” I say, faking a tiny smile.

“What?” Makoto asks, tilting his head curiously.

“Promise you’ll keep eating cake here; it’s the thing that has always made this job fun. Seeing you here so often,” I tell him. “And promise you will never expect me to charge you for it, Makoto.”

Makoto’s cheeks get a little pinker. And for a moment I feel like he’s not going to have peace with that last part; he wants to pay, I know that, but I just won’t let him.

“Promise?”

Makoto takes a bite of his slice of cake, hesitant until he swallows.

“Okay,” Makoto tells me with a grin. “But only if you promise me something too.”

I lean on my fist and shrug. “Depends on what it is.”

He smiles wide, in a way that makes his dimples appear. “That you never ever—“

“Never?” I repeat silently. “Ever?”

“—tweak this amazing recipe!” Makoto says, taking another bite of his cake. “Because, I don’t know, but I don’t think I could still love you if you didn’t make my favorite cake anymore.” He winks.

I chuckle softly and stick out my hand. “Okay, I promise.”

Makoto takes my hand is his and shakes it, making his promise; he also promises to not let go.

Chapter Text

The obnoxious ringing of a phone wakes me up way too early in the morning. The sun is barely shining through the blinds when I open my eyes. For a second I feel a little odd; trying to remember what I’m doing in Makoto’s room, instead of in my own bed.

Then it all comes back to me. That I couldn’t sleep last night, because somehow being apart from Makoto makes me feel strange lately. It feels like something will happen to him if I’m not there right beside him; like he’ll disappear if he’s nothing within an arm’s reach.

So when I couldn’t sleep last night, because he wasn’t beside me, I head over to his house. We must’ve spent the night together, since the other half of the bed isn’t made. Clearly it’s been slept on by someone. There’s no one lying beside me anymore, even though it’s only nine in the morning.

I hear Makoto’s voice talking to someone in the hallway. I know that the other person’s on the other side of the phone, because I can’t hear them talking. I do hear that Makoto sounds very tense.

“What do you mean?” he whispers into the phone. “I-I—okay, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I hear him silently sobbing from the bathroom. About a minute later he walks back into his bedroom, wearing his firefighter’s uniform even though today’s a day off for him. He doesn’t look happy; his eyes are puffy and red and he looks like he’s on the brink of crying when his eyes meet mine.

“W-what’s going on?” I ask him, pushing myself upright as he starts tearing up again.

“They want me to go—“ He swallows audibly, not making eye contact with me at all. “There’s a huge fire at the elementary school nearby; there are kids and teachers stuck inside and they don’t have enough people there to manage the fire.” He blinks, a tear slips down his cheek. “They need me.”

I shoot out of bed, grabbing Makoto’s sleeve tightly; I cannot let him go.

I can see in his eyes that he knows this is going to be a dangerous mission, one that might not allow him to come back home unharmed. We both know that very well.

“Don’t,” I tell him, shaking my head anxiously. “I can’t le—It’s your day off.” It’s a witty excuse, I know that too, but I cannot lose him to a fire. I cannot let him risk his life this way, when he’s got two kids to take care about and a boyfriend who loves him with all his heart.

“Haru—“ Makoto’s eyes meet mine. They’re sad, filled with tears, but also determined. “There are kids in there, imagine their parents’ hurt when they’re told that their kid got badly injured or, even worse, died because I refused to work of my day off.” He looks at the picture of his own family, the one that’s neatly placed of his bedside table. “I know that pain, and I don’t want to send dozens of families down that same path—“ He shakes his head. “I just can’t.”

I’m not strong enough to keep hold of his sleeve, and when he pulls away, it feels like he tears a part of me away. I feel empty, even when Makoto kisses me on the forehead and whispers, “I love you.”

He backs away, tears dripping from his eyelashes down onto my lap. He holds my hand a little longer, telling me to make sure that Ran and Ren go to school this afternoon, even when he’s away for the day. Then his hand squeezes mine, uncertain and hesitant, when he says, “I’ll be home in time for lunch.” And I know it’s a promise he might not be able to keep.

He left, closing the door behind him at exactly nine past nine; and I haven’t heard of him since.

Obviously, Ren and Ran refused to go to school, and instead spend the entire morning glued to the news on the radio, television and their phone. And the same goes for me; checking every informative source that could tell me more about the situation. In hopes there’s news about Makoto.

It’s already half past twelve when the first actual news report shows up.

“Here, I got something,” Ren mutters, staring down at his phone, reading as he talks. “It’s from three seconds ago; Fire at Iwatobi Elementary School managed after three hours.”

“Show me,” Ran says, snatching the phone from her brother and scrolling though the news item.

My breathing is quick and shallow, my voice trembling as I ask them what it says.

“A fire coming from an unknown source trapped half of the school’s classes inside this morning at 8:45. The school day had barely started—blah blah,”Ran reads out loud. “I just want to know if my brother’s okay? Damn it!” She scrolls through the article furiously. “Here; Most of the elementary scholars and their teachers made it out unharmed. The injured kids were taken to the hospital right after and will probably make a good recovery—“

“Doesn’t it say anything about the firefighters who were at the scene?” Ren asks when Ran disappointedly returns his phone. “Maybe all the way at the end?”

It’s clear they’ve dealt with these kinds of news articles more than once; they eventually manage to find one or two sentences that briefly mention something about the firefighters’ condition.

“Let’s see,” Ren mutters, reading before explaining what it says. “Apparently there were ten firefighters at the scene, two of which got injured during the fire. There are no deaths reported.”

Ren looks up at us and tells us that it doesn’t say anything else; there’s no information available about the condition of the injured firefighters.

Who are the injured firefighters? How badly were they hurt, was it just a small burn or rather half a building that squished them? And most importantly, was Makoto among them?

I feel myself breathing faster, and even though I keep telling myself that Makoto’s okay, I have no clue whether he is. He would give his body and soul to saving kids if it meant being able to let go of the guilt; he blames himself for the death of his parents, for what happened to Ren too, and he feels like he can make up for it this way. New flash; there’s no need to, they still love him.

I let my head rest in my heads, rubbing my eyes as I try to get a grip on my emotions; we don’t know anything yet, maybe he’s one of the eight firefighters who made it out of the fire unharmed.

We sit there in silence, only talking when new information about the fire leaks. But even after two hours of anxious searching, we haven’t found any news about Makoto yet.

The doorbell rings, echoing though the utterly silent living room.

“Is that?” Ren asks, and his sister jumps onto her feet and runs to the door. I can hear it open, and obviously I want to see whether Makoto’s the one who just rang the bell, but I don’t want to exclude Ren. So I take his wheelchair off the brakes and help him to the hallway as well.

My breath falters when I see who’s standing in the doorway. It’s not Makoto, but a redhead wearing a police uniform. He looks worried, and I can see that he doesn’t quite know what to say when he sees the teenager that just opened the door. “Uh— I’m here with some news about Makoto Tachibana,” he stammers, hesitantly glancing down at Ran. “Are your paren—“

“No,” I mutter, stepping past Ran and Ren. “They’re not. We’re all the family Makoto has.”

The officer looks up at me, and his expression tenses up when I ask him what he’s doing here? What news does he have on Makoto? I have to know, even when I’m not blood-related family of him.

“I’m sorry.” The officer takes off his hat and closes his eyes briefly. “I’m sorry I have to inform you that Makoto was brought into the ICU earlier this afternoon.”

My heart starts beating happily.

The world seems to turn and twist and fade away.

I can barely hear the officer as he explains what happened; all I can hear is when he says that neither he nor the nurses can ensure us Makoto will pull through.

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, but we can’t ensure you he’s going to pull through.” The officer’s words echo through my mind as I get into the front seat of the police’s car. Ren and Ran are sitting in the back, in tears after just hearing what happened to their brother.

He was one of the two injured firefighters. Makoto was the one hurt the most, trying to save a group of nine-year-olds. They brought him to the hospital right away, but that doesn’t mean he’s not in a critical state; according to the officer he was “actively dying” when he arrived.

His words shake me to my core, because even though Makoto’s always been someone who’d risk his own life to safe someone else. I didn’t think he would actually do it.

I see the hospital appearing in the distance, and not much later, we’re following the officer through the automatic doors. I’ve been at hospitals more than once during my life, especially during the last year that my grandma was still alive, but never has it looked so grim inside.

I try to breathe calmly, but when I glance at Ren and Ran I see that they’re just as stressed out as me.

“Okay,” the officer says, coming to a halt when we reach the closed doors of the ICU. “Give me a second, I’ll discuss with the nurses how many of you can go see him now.” He starts walking, we see him walk down the hallway and into a room. After that he disappears for what seems like an eternity.

Ren tucks at my T-shirt and when I look at him I see that he’s close to crying. “I’m scared.”

Ran’s hand reaches out to her twin brother’s shoulder, and I notice how badly it’s trembling. She squeezes his shoulder and nods. “Me too, Ren.” A tear slips down her cheek. “Me too.”

I lay my hand on top of hers in silence and, when the two kids are looking at me, I whisper, “Makoto’s going to be alright.” It’s a lie, I don’t know anything. “He’ll return home any moment now, and then your life will continue as it was.” I squeeze Ran’s hand and Ren’s shoulder, reassuringly.

The officer walks out of the room again and waves us towards him. When we reach him, he says that they can’t let anyone inside right now. “He’s too weak.” He gestures at the window behind him. “But I do think it’s best if you at least get to see him now—“ He swallows audibly. “—just in case.”

He steps away, telling us he’ll leave us alone for now. Not long after we take place behind the window, the light blue curtains get drawn and we’re allowed to look into the room where Makoto lays. It’s a strange sight; abnormal, grim and not real-looking at all.

Makoto’s lying there, lying underneath a thin blue blanket.

His arms are above the blankets, but there’s not a millimeter of skin to be seen, his fingers all the way up to his head are covered by bandages. The only thing that isn’t wrapped in the white, sterile fabric is his mouth, through which a thick tube enters his windpipe.

I hear Ren and Ran gasping simultaneously beside me. And maybe I was gasping along with them, I don’t know, it feels more like I’m having an out of body experience; this is all so surreal.

This can’t be Makoto, right? All that we’re told is that he’s inside of this room, injured, but there’s no indication that this patient, this mummy-like figure, is my boyfriend and their brother.

That’s when I lay eyes upon the sign at the end of the patient’s bed; it says, Makoto Tachibana, there in big letter. Black on white, it’s him.

I shake my head in pain.

I swallow thickly, trying to look for reasons not to believe that it’s him. I just want him to walk through the door later today, not knowing he’s lying here fighting to take shallow breaths.

When I look at Makoto’s siblings, I’m not surprised to see that Ren has folded his hands in front of his mouth. He’s crying thick tears as his eyes take in every detail about his older, wounded, brother.

Ran though, doesn’t look sad at all; she looks furious, like she could explode any moment now.

Her hands are balled into fists and her eyes are spouting fire as she glares at her brother’s unconscious body. She’s breathing quickly, shallow breaths, and when her tears finally breakthrough she immediately turns away from the scene.

She stands with her back to us, facing the door we just came in through. She makes fists, her knuckles are turning yellow-white when she mutters, “You idiot.” She stomps away from us, and right before she heads out of the ICU through the door, she adds, “Risking your life when you’ve got people that need you—“ She pushes through the door. “—You don’t deserve my pity.”

I take one more glance at Makoto, knowing that if he was standing here in my shoes, he’d follow Ran down the hall. He’d follow her all the way back home by foot if he had to.

“Let’s go,” I tell Ren, placing my hands around the handles of his wheelchair.

I want to tell him that the more we stand there and watch Makoto, the more it’ll hurt, but instead I stay silent throughout the entire walk back home. So does Ren, and Ran, who we catch up to halfway.

As soon as we walk into their home, Ran retreats to her bedroom. The door may slam shut with a loud bang and a lot of anger, but I can hear her sobbing through the walls as soon as she’s alone.

Ren’s crying more silently and I don’t notice that he’s shedding tears until I see them dripping down onto his lap. His voice breaks when he whispers, “I didn’t think he’d do it, you know?”

I let my hand rest on Ren’s shoulder, telling him I’m sorry.

“I don’t blame you,” Ren says, looking up at me with two bloodshot brown eyes. “It’s no one’s fault.”

I shrug, because maybe I could’ve stopped Makoto from going. I knew he would risk his life in the blink of an eye; Makoto’s ever been afraid to die, I knew that, and I still let him leave.

A tear drops down Ren’s face. “I’m angry too.” Ren doesn’t even look remotely sad, rather scared half to death by the sight he just saw. “At Makoto for risking his life so often, I mean.”

I nod, somewhere deep down, I’m just as furious at Makoto for being this foolish. But at the same time, I saw the expression on Makoto’s face when he heard there were kids in danger. He didn’t want them to get injured, because he has to indulge the pain of taking care of Ren all day, every day.

Not that I blame Ren, but I get where Makoto’s feelings of self-sacrifice are coming from.

“I might not fight with him about it all the time,” Ren continues, clearly referring to his fiercer twin sister. “But that doesn’t mean I agree with the job he chose, or the fact that we don’t know if he’ll be home the day after work or lying somewhere fighting for his life like now.”

I understand that, Ren and Ran probably haven’t had a single day that they didn’t worry about their older brother; he literally has one of the more dangerous jobs in the world. He works with fire, the same thing that Ren and Ran lost both their parents to. The thing that broke him first.

“He was healing.” Ren’s voice gets louder at first, but at falters in a high-pitched sob. “He was finally healing to the point that I didn’t think he’d throw himself into a fire to have a heroic death, if he ever got the change.” Ren shakes his head and looks at me. “I thought you had healed him completely.”

I swallow thickly; even though I don’t know how Makoto was before we met, I felt like he was getting better too. Acting happier around me, like Ran had told me that one day.

He wasn’t as broken anymore. Right?

“It’s my fault for being so foolish—“ Ren starts crying more and louder.

I kneel down beside him and he immediately leaps into my arms. Holding me tightly as he cries into my shirt, just like his brother does when he’s hurt. And all I can do is sit there, too numb to cry.

“I just thought—“ Ren sniffles into the fabric of my T-shirt. “I thought Makoto finally had find something, someone, to live for.”

Chapter Text

Days go by slow without Makoto.

Obviously we all missed the sound of his voice, his bright smile and his presence in general over the past couple of weeks, or two entire months even.

Every day was like a rollercoaster of emotions; one moment we’re laughing about a joke someone made to lighten the mood, and the next second we’d realize Makoto’s not there with us now.

He’s been fighting a battle.

One that seemed to last for forever, but ended this morning.

I almost got a heart attack when the nurse that kept me updated on Makoto’s state over the past couple of months, suddenly send me a video. It didn’t have a caption, and for the first couple of seconds I had no clue what was going on in the video.

That’s when I saw him, Makoto, still wrapped in sterile bandages like he was last time I saw him. But something was different, I noticed right away that there was no tube entering his throat. He was also propped upright with a pillow supporting him. He was clearly not in an as critical state anymore.

So I watched the video closely with my heart beating in my throat.

“Hi, Tachibana,” the male nurse’s voice sounded from behind the camera. “I’m making a video for your family, they’re eagerly awaiting news about how you are doing today, sir.”

The camera wiggled a little when the nurse shifted towards Makoto. “So, how are you doing?”

He zoomed in on Makoto’s bandaged hand, which slowly formed a shaking thumbs-up.

I remember how my heart skipped a beat and I immediately told Ren and Ran the news; their brother had woken up from a coma. It must’ve been a miracle, because we’ve been told day in, day out that he probably wouldn’t be waking up anymore.

That was five hours ago.

When I woke up this morning, I didn’t think we’d be heading to the hospital today. Okay, maybe I did, but I didn’t expect it to be because Makoto had woken up and that we would be heading there because they will be removing his bandages today. But that’s exactly why we’re here.

I walk beside Ran as she wheels Ren through the hallways and towards the normal unit; not the ICU anymore, which makes me so happy.

“Are you excited to see him?” Ran suddenly asks, when we’ve almost reached Makoto’s room.

I shrug, and Ren does too, only he’s got more to say than that. “I’m a little nervous,” Ren admits, before looking up at his sister. “Please, don’t fight with him right away, okay?”

Ran promises she won’t today, but she’ll probably beat Makoto’s ass tomorrow for giving her such a heart attack; I can hear in her voice, though, that she’s just as happy to see him as we are.

We reach Makoto’s room, where the nurses and Makoto are waiting for our arrival. As soon as we go inside through the slide door, we get greeted by the two nurses who’ve been taking care of Makoto.

One of them introduces himself as Nagisa Hazuki; he’s the nurse who’s been keeping us updated on Makoto’s condition while Makoto was comatose. The other nurse – who introduces himself as Rei Ryuugazaki – is a lanky, dark-haired man who looks more like a mad scientist and less like a nurse, yet he’s the one who’s been keeping a close eye on Makoto as well.

I introduce myself as well, along with the kids. But that’s not why I’m here, so my attention is very directed to the bed that’s behind the curtain. We can’t see Makoto from here, but he’s behind there.

“Now,” Ryuugazaki says. “We don’t want you to get scared, so we’ll give you a small warning before we’ll take off the bandages in a short while.” He explains that Makoto’s face got pretty burned by the fire and suffered from burns all over his body. Even though it looks much better than it did two months ago, Makoto will still look different from the Makoto we used to know before.

“Also, he’s actually able to hear and understand you,” Hazuki tells us. “He’s 100% conscious and fortunately there’s no brain damage detected, but he’s still a little slow because of the painkillers.”

In other words, Makoto’s going to take a little longer to reply each time we talk to him. Maybe it’ll even be hard for him to speak at first; that’s not what I care about. I just want to see my boyfriend, and the same goes for Ren and Ran who’re dying to see their older brother now.

After that Nagisa opens up the curtains, revealing Makoto sitting upright in his bed.

He’s still wrapped top to toe in bandages, and even though he’s clearly not able to see us well through the bandages, he waves when we tell him “hi”.

“Y-You’re okay, right?” Ran asks, her voice breaking as she finally gets to, very carefully, hold her brother’s hand. Ren’s also crying, but again, in complete silence.

And me? I stand a little further, giving them some time with Makoto; it’s their brother, the person who’s been taking care of them for a very long time now. It’s not up to me to be the first to have their reunion with him. I can wait, and watch from a distance.

Ren and Ran sit there and hold his hand for a couple of minutes, and Makoto very silently tells them that he’s okay. That he missed them. And then he suddenly asks if I’m there too, even through the crackly and emotionless-sounding voice, I can hear anxiety as he talks.

“I’m here,” I reassure him, kneeling down beside his bed.

Makoto’s bandaged hand searches mine, and when he’s got hold of it, he whispers, “I can’t wait to see you.” He sounds genuine, he really wants to see us again. “All of you.”

Taking that as a cue, Hazuki and Ryuugazaki suggest they take off the bandages; Makoto gets to see us, see how he looks himself, and he’ll probably be able to move more freely as they them off for a little while. They explain that he’ll need bandages for a couple more days, but a little while without them will be even better for the wounds; that way they can dry out and heal faster.

“I’d like that,” Makoto answers, in reply to Hazuki’s suggestion.

They carefully unwind the bandages, revealing Makoto’s damaged skin. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but when I see how he’s looking underneath the layers of bandage, I’m shocked.

His hands are just red, with a blister here and there, but they don’t look remotely as bad as Makoto’s face. Or rather, half of his face; it’s swollen, red and there’s burnt, bright red and pale white scarring eating away at his cheeks, scalp and lips. He looks nothing like the Makoto I met some time ago.

Instead of a full head of shaggy olive brown hair, he’s got ragged scars with small tufts of hair on the entire left side of his scalp. And the swollen half of his face also is badly disfigured.

Makoto gets handed a mirror, which he shakily holds up; when his eyes tear up, I realize that he hasn’t seen himself either since the accident. He shakes his head and shrinks in terror and pain as salty tears seep into his healing wounds.

Makoto’s lips are shaking when he asks himself who could love a monster like him; the way he ended up is exactly how he’s been on the inside for years. “How!?“ His voice squeaks painfully.

“Makoto,” Ren’s voice breaks the silence. Ran seems to know exactly what her brother’s about the say, because they tell it to Makoto at exactly the same time. “We still love you, you know that right?”

Tears well up in his eyes, and I’m convinced he smiles at his siblings, through his tears. But yet, he doesn’t stop asking himself the question. He’s not looking at his siblings, though, when he asks the question again. “How can you still be here? By my side after so long?”

He swallows, looking straight at me with his intense green eyes. “How can you love someone who risks his life over and over again, not caring about himself or the people around him. And now—I’m not even worthy of having you by my side.” A tear drops down his face. “How, Haru?”

I swallow, he’s talking to me; he thinks I cannot love him, because he got hurt in a work-related accident? He thought I’d leave him, even though I love him? He didn’t think I would stick with him if he lost the physical attractiveness, while I always have been attracted to his kindhearted personality?

“What’s so good about me?” Makoto shouts, his voice is barely letting him. “That you stayed.”

I look into Makoto’s eyes. And even now that he’s crying furiously, I can see the bright kindness is his eyes. “I love you, Makoto.” My voice is soft, barely hearable, but intense all the same. “I love you because you’re kind and sweet, and dorky. You can get mad, but you’re never trying to hurt anyone.” I smile sadly. “You’re so caring that it sometimes makes you very foolish, but I know you do it because you want everyone to lead the happiest possible life, even if that makes yours harder.”

Makoto looks into my eyes, tears streaming over his scarred cheeks as I list all the things that make him such a loving person; someone who’s worth all the pain and heartache I’ve gone through over the past couple of months.

“I don’t give a fuck about your looks or your flaws,” I tell him, very carefully wiping away one of the tears that creeps down his cheek so sadly. “Because I love you, Makoto; through good and bad.”

Chapter Text

Half a year later.

One single slice of chocolate fudge cake and a Café Latté.

He always orders the same. It’s his usual, and never have I seen him eat something else at my bakery.

That hasn’t changed, and I think it probably never will.

He still loves to keep it cheap, even when he doesn’t actually have to pay for the extra whipped cream anymore; he still uses a spoon to mix the cake’s cream through his Café Latté. A little quirk about the kindhearted, so called, house-brother I fell madly in love with.

That doesn’t mean nothing has changed about Makoto.

Everything is different now, everything from the way he looks to the way he is deep down.

After he got out of the hospital, Makoto decided to quit his job as firefighter. He didn’t belong there, and obviously the fact that Ren, Ran and I begged him to stop risking his life helped a lot as well.

I couldn’t leave Makoto without income, so I offered him a job; it wasn’t one that would pay very well, but it was promised to be a fun little job at a kind of cheesy bakery near the sea.

At first, Makoto declined, saying that he would scare away the customers with his “disfigured” face. But after he’d spend one day as a trainee at my bakery, he’d already start loving it there.

Obviously, not everyone is pleased when seeing Makoto; he’s been called scary, ugly and a disgrace more than once. But Ren, Ran and I keep telling him to not let it get him down. He might not have a face that everyone can love, or hands that are capable of making that beautiful Latté art I always make, but we all know that he’s got a personality that’s unlikely to be not liked.

And I? I’m still very much in love with Makoto, even when he may not look like the so-called norm, and he still cannot cook after a year of knowing me. He still puts up an act sometimes, and there are days when he’s a self-hating emotional-wrack, I won’t lie about that.

But I don’t think I would love him if he actually would be the perfect boy he presented himself as; you can’t enjoy life’s ups without the downs after all. So his flaws don’t change my life.

I’m thinking of making him more than just my boyfriend in the future, even.

“You’re being a space cadet again.” Makoto taps me on the shoulder, startling me a little; that’s another thing that hasn’t changed, because I still tend to space out a little when I’m baking or preparing food. I’m still not used to the thought of Makoto being here the entire time.

“Sorry,” I mutter, wiping the coffee I accidently spilt on my apron.

I turn around to see Makoto standing closer than I’d expected. He looks great in the sea-green of our new aprons; making his eyes even more bright, clearly making them his most prominent feature.

“No, I’m sorry.” He smiles, when he sees how much he actually startled me by being so close. “But I feel like you really should be getting used to me being here, Haru.” He winks.

I roll my eyes at him and swat him with the towel that hangs over my shoulder. “Shoo—“ I say, waving annoyed with my free hand. “There’s customers waiting for their coffee.”

Makoto makes himself even broader than he already is, blocking the entire passage way. “I want a hug first!” He grins, wide and bright, a genuine smile that shows true happiness and makes his dimple on the right side appear; a smile he’s been having more lately.

I sigh and wrap my free arm around his waist. He holds me against him tightly, so tight I almost spill the coffee. My voice is muffled by his apron when I teasingly mutter, “You’re being annoying again.”

He kisses me, probably to shut me up.

After that he allows me to pass him, to give our most loyal customers their favorite coffee.

Two cups of Café Latté arrive at the table in the corner, where the green wall collides with the blue one. I put down the tray, carefully adding the two mugs to the two that’d already been placed on the table. “Here’s your order,” I say, with a glance at the two teenagers who I call my own family by now.

“It’s about time,” Ren says with a wink. And his sister leans back in her chair, shouting to her older brother who’s still slicing cake in the back. “Are you coming slowpoke! Our coffee’s getting cold!”

I chuckle; they’re lucky we’re closed this late in the evening and they’re practically our only customers, because otherwise I’d have to throw them out for being loud.

Makoto pops his head around the corner, smiling wide. “Yeah, yeah! I’m coming.”

He walks up to the table, balancing two trays on his arm, each of the trays holding two plates with one single slice of chocolate fudge cake. Two for Makoto and me, and two for Ren and Ran.

He puts them down carefully, trembling as usual; it’s something people, especially we, have gotten used to. Whenever Makoto serves something that isn’t solid, it’ll spill. He just shakes, which is one of his little quirks, something that I think is cute and funny. I like it, especially because he doesn’t hate himself for it; he once spilt an entire coffee because of it, and he couldn’t stop laughing.

Makoto’s not as easily saddened anymore, and he’s starting to accept himself and his flaws, I think.

“There you go,” Makoto says after he’s put down the two trays.

Then he sits down onto the chair, his usual seat, right beside me. He almost immediately wraps his hand around mine, glancing at me with his vivid green eyes, smiling with dimple and all.

“Jeez,” Ran whispers to Ren, clearly not even trying to be subtle about it. “When are those two getting married.” They both chuckle, and so do we.

“No, but for real,” Ran says. “When?”

Makoto and I glance at each other, both just as confused; we’ve only known each other one year and before that we were complete strangers. There’s no way they think that way.

“Yeah,” Ren continues. “Like, everything’s done; Haru’s practically moved in, you two work together and are very clingy and cheesy all the time.” He shrugs, closing his eyes briefly. “Basically all there’s left to do is Haru agreeing to take your last name, Makoto.”

“What!?” Makoto squeaks, his grip around my hand tightening anxiously.

I’m confused too. “Why his last name? Why not mine?”

Ran makes a humming sound, pretending to think before snorting. “Heh, Makoto Nanase—“

“Yeah, that sounds a little strange,” Ren agrees with his twin sister. “Don’t you think?”

I gasp, shaking my head before I mutter, “No, because Haruka Tachibana sounds much better.”

“It does!” Ren and Ran shout simultaneously.

I sigh, glancing at Makoto who just shrugs. It looks like he’s agreeing with his siblings.

“I give up,” I mumble, dropping the conversation all together.

Makoto isn’t done with the subject, though; he finds it important to make sure that his siblings know there’s no such thing as a marriage coming up anytime soon. “It’s winter, which isn’t marriage weather,” Makoto tells them sternly, meaning it’ll last at least half a year longer.

“That’s your excuse?” Ran asks, perking one eyebrow up at her older brother. “You’re hopeless.”

I snort; Makoto’s very much hopeless, that may even be his biggest flaw.

He nudges me in the side furiously. “You have no right to laugh, Nanase!”

I shrug and let out another soft snicker.

“So, love birds,” Ren says in a more serious voice, folding his arms over each other like a real businessman. “As for why we’re gathered here at today’s utterly important meeting.”

Ran follows his example, lifting her chin in the air proudly before laying a blueprint on the table; it’s amazing really, how much work has been put into it.

“It’s not the definite version,” Ran admits. “But we’re thinking it could be possible to fit an entire household above this little bakery of yours.”

It’s something we’ve been thinking about for quite a while now. To extent the bakery so we can live here as a family; it’s closer to Ren and Ran’s school and for us it’s closer to work. So for the past month Ran has spent her free time researching things about the building-laws in this area. And at the same time Ren was working on blue-prints that we could show the architects to give them an idea of what we mean when we talk about “a house attached to the bakery”.

“Above?” Makoto asks, glancing at Ren. “You know you—“

“Can’t walk?” Ren finishes Makoto’s sentence. “I’m well aware, thank you.” He closes his eyes briefly before he proudly explains, “That’s why we’ve been looking into the costs of getting a stairlift.”

“It should be affordable,” Ran adds. “The house above the bakery will be too small for Ren’s bigger wheelchair anyway, so we’d just put that one in the hallway downstairs for when we go to school.”

“Yep.” Ren nods. “And I’ll use a smaller one upstairs.”

I shrug agreeing, glancing at Makoto to see if he thinks it’s a good idea as well. He’s smiling, so I think he does, even though he eventually says, “We shall see, okay?”

Ren and Ran smile lightly and nod. “We thought you’d say that, yeah.”

I wrap my hand around Makoto’s again, holding him tightly. I don’t really care how we will make this happen, and if; a house above or beside the bakery, I mean. Because honestly, I could live all the way in Tokyo or even in America, if that meant I’d be beside him.

I take a bite of my chocolate fudge cake, he does too. We look at each other with blushing cheeks, because—it might sound a little bit cheesy—but we know that this chocolate fudge cake is where it all once started. Our story, our friendship turning into something much better.

And now, our story will continue in a completely different manner; a new house, living life as a family, maybe marriage or adopted children. Who knows?

I just know that a slice of chocolate cake, that’s us, starting a life together.

The End

yeah, I know, it’s all a little bit cheesy ;)