Makoto is sick.



The lulling sound of ever flowing breeze enters Makoto's subconscious as the sleeping teen rolls over in his sleep. He feels cold and hot at the same time, and unfortunately, his mind is beginning to awaken.

There is a familiar scent in the air, mixed with something sweet that shouldn't be placed together. Yet, it is a pleasant aroma, and coaxes the ill brunette further into consciousness.

Bleary green eyes flutter open sleepily, and the half aware boy gazes around the room. He doesn't remember coming here at all, or climbing into his friends bed. But it would seem that he is beneath the sea blue sheets that belong to one Nanase Haruka, and…Makoto is sweating all over them.

"Ha-" He begins, but the voice that leaves his mouth is hoarse and dry. "Haru." Makoto says softer this time, just above a whisper.
Thankfully, Haruka is already half way down the hall, peering through the bedroom door in the next second, face as stoic as ever.

"You're awake." He observes blankly.

Then, just as suddenly as he appeared, his friend is gone and Makoto is alone again, feeling like death.

The sounds of rummaging, and porcelain clinking filter through the small house, before the dark haired swimmer appears once more. There are two plates in his grasp and he is clad only in his standard black and purple.

"What happened?" Makoto manages to get out, accepting the bowl thrust between the standing Haruka and himself.

"You passed out." Haru replies, moving to sit cross legged on the floor with inherent grace. They should be eating at the table, but it looks like today is an exception. "You had a fever." The raven haired teen supplies. Picking up a portion of mackerel, he takes a savouring bite (that only shows by the small glint in his eye) and looks up at Makoto with intensely blue observing orbs.

"So you brought me here?" The brunette questions, gazing down at his meal of rice and sweet corn. There is no mackerel, which is a good thing. Makoto is sure that he can't handle meat right now, and he is thankful that his friend anticipated it. "Isn't my house closer?"
Haru's head cocks almost imperceptibly as keeps on eating his fish, one bite after the other. He doesn't look down at his plate though. Instead, he continues to watch Makoto with an unreadable expression. His eyes are blank, aside from a spark of something familiar, that Makoto has learned to associate with worry, and the sick boy smiles softly.

"You didn't have to bring me all the way here." He murmurs, mixing the rice with his chop sticks. Makoto knows that Haru did it because he saw no other alternative. It is an easy mistake though. If he didn't have his siblings to worry about, then he would be here at Haru's all of the time. It is admittedly his second home.

"I know." Haruka replies, and the boy places the now empty plate at his side. His legs slide up so that they are bent at the knees, and he leans his arms across the knobbly surface, followed by his chin.

"It's crowded at your house." He reasons simply, gazing upward from his 'arm' rest.

Smiling a little brighter, Makoto takes the statement for what it really means, in Haru's language –

I wanted to look after you, alone.

There is a long pause, as Makoto eats a few mouthfuls of his meal in happy silence. He can see vivid azure from his peripheral vision, but it doesn't worry him. Haruka watches him often, and he probably does the same.

When the bowl is mostly empty and his stomach feels a lot better, the boy holds it out in front of him and in a flash Haru is standing. The bowl is whisked away, along with his own plate, as the spandex clad teen pads swiftly to the kitchen.

Sighing softly, Makoto pulls the blanket back a little and moves to rest his head on the plush pillows once more. Gazing down at himself, the sick teen realises that his clothes have been removed, leaving him in his boxer briefs.

The air from the cracked window feels nice across his bare torso and his fever seems to have broken. Still, he does not feel well at all.

"Drink." Haru orders suddenly, and Makoto realises that his eyes must have drifted closed. Sitting up a little, the unwell teen gives a nod and takes the cup, drinking a few long gulps. Breathing in pantingly, he passes the object back to his carer and watches as Haruka places it on the bedside table.

"Rest now." His friend states, moving to sit upon the floor again. He is closer to the bed now, with his chin resting against his arms upon the mattress.

"You don't have to sit on the floor Haru-chan." Makoto says, lying down again. His head feels dizzy and sleep is sounding like a very good idea.

"You will over heat." He replies, in reference to sharing the bed. It's true, Haruka is incredibly warm. He has always had an intensely heated core.

Giving Makoto one last resolute look, that says – I'm not leaving – the seemingly sour ravenette closes his eyes and does a good show at looking quite comfortable.

"Okay, but if you get uncomfortable I can move over." Makoto murmurs, allowing his own eyes to flutter closed.

"Aa." Haru agrees softly, and they both know that he won't.

Regardless, the ill teen gets comfortable, pulling the blanket up just over his midriff. He is certain that they will both be here in a couple of hours time, and as sleep starts to claim his heavy form, a warm feeling encases his chest that isn't all together unfamiliar.

Makoto's breaths even out and the breeze continues to filter in through the open window relaxingly. In no time at all, he is asleep.

Haruka doesn't move from his place beside his best friend; and although he isn't asleep, when a warm large hand reaches for his, Haru merely takes the offering, lacing their fingers together like many times before.

When Makoto wakes up, Haru will make them dinner and prepare a game of shogi. Now that his friend is clearly alright, the tightness of his chest begins to ebb away and a light slumber takes him into the darkness as well.