Okay, so this started off as an idea for a drabble and then became 3 pages.. so yeah..

Also I didn't mean to write it in 2rd person but that's what happened so.. enjoy! :)

"Haru."

Blue eyes lift to meet your own under a shining black fringe.

The gaze is so strong it makes you blush and chuckle awkwardly, muscled arm reaching to scratch a bare shoulder-blade.

"What?" The black-haired boy asks, lowering the game controller he is holding to the bed and continuing to stare in a way that you know means his full attention is on you.

"You're wearing my T-shirt again."

Haru looked down at himself, your oversized yellow and orange t-shirt hanging limply off his slim frame, one sleeve slipping down to show pronounced collar bones and swimmers shoulders. His head raises again, one eyebrow raising imperceptibly to anyone but you, his closest friend.

You shake your head with an amused chuckle and open your wardrobe, picking out a matching t-shirt but in green and blue and slipping it onto your body, sculpted by summers of swimming and winters of working out.

You sit beside him on your bed, giving him a warm smile, to which he responds by tutting softly and turning away, one hand playing with the hem of the stolen t-shirt.

You smile softly, and pick up your own controller, resuming the game and drawing Haru's attention back to the screen, where the characters you have chosen- a dolphin for Haru and a killer whale for you- swim across the screen.

"Haru."

"Hmm?" His eyes stay locked on the screen, the animated waves the nearest thing to real water he can get at this time of year.

"You can keep it."

His eyes leave the screen, his dolphin stationary even as an ominous looking red colored shark looms from the seaweed. Your cheeks flush pink again at his surprised expression.

"I mean, you always wear it when you come over." You look away uncomfortably, his eyes seem to pierce your soul, seeing through your seemingly friendly offer to the true reason behind it.

You just love seeing him in your t-shirt. The fact it's far too big for him makes him look almost cute, though God forbid if he ever heard you say that. The thought of him taking it home to wear whenever he wants is sweet, like having a part of you around whenever he wants. A small part of you imagines him wearing it to bed, curled up against the cold winter with his nose pressed into the material, your scent helping him drift off to sleep.

"Thanks." The quiet voice breaks your thoughts, "Makoto."

Your blush reduces as he speaks and you realise that even if he has noticed your unusual behavior he's decided not to mention it. You sigh quietly in relief and turn to the game, where Haru's dolphin has been mauled by a shark, drawing a lip twitch out of the quiet boy.

"Never mind Haru, should we watch a film instead?"

There was no response, but you're used to that by now. He just drops the controller and makes himself comfortable on your bed, stealing a pillow to put behind his back and watching you expectantly.

You eventually stop feeling the disappointment in your gut when you meet him and he's wearing something other than your t-shirt, brushing it off with a smile and a cheery, "Morning, Haru-chan."

But one morning when you let yourself into his house with the usual intention of going to retrieve him from his morning bath, he isn't there. There are no dirty clothes in the laundry basket outside, no Haru sat thoughtfully in the cooling water in his swimming costume. No normality.

You furrow your eyebrows, wondering if you're late and he's set off without you, though you doubt that, because you've been following this routine for over ten years and he's always waited for you.

A quick check of your watch tells you that you're not late, and the worry in the pit of your stomach grows. You walk through the silent house with nervous feet, fingers twitching as they open every door with a quiet "excuse me."

You find yourself outside his bedroom, large wooden door standing imposingly before you, and you can't help but feel sick. If Haru isn't in here, then the only other option is that he's walked to school without you, and he's never done that. Even the thought makes you queasy. You tap the wood gently with a curled knuckle before pushing it open carefully, surprised to see the curtains are open and the room is filled with bright light. Your eyes immediately flick to the bed, where they stay even as your body freezes.

Haru lies under a thick blanket, seemingly curled into a ball with the covers wrapped around and under him like a cocoon, only his nose and eyes and a faint shock of black hair visible. You can't help but smile fondly, it's been a while since you've seen his sleeping face, and the peaceful image is one you could never get tired of. You allow yourself a couple of minutes to watch him, crouching beside his bed and resting your hands on the edge.

Then you think to yourself how grumpy he'll be if he hasn't had his morning soak, and you decide it's best to wake him now so he'll have time to grill some mackerel, a poor substitute, but good enough for the water obsessed boy.

"Haru." You say softly, one hand gently shaking the blanket where you think his shoulder is. A small groan is your only response and you laugh, not used to seeing Haru being so open with his emotions. "Haru-chan."

The use of his hated nickname is enough to make the ocean blue eyes crack open, blinking at the light before coming to rest on you, widening in surprise.

"Makoto?" He queries, eyes flitting to the alarm clock on his desk.

"Ohayo, Haru." You say with a smile, deciding your presence doesn't really need explaining. "You overslept, ne?"

"Mmm." Haru moaned, though whether this was an answer or a complaint at being awake, you weren't sure.

You move back to allow him to get out of bed, letting out a small gasp of surprise as he moves to sit on the edge of his bed and stretches his arms out with dull cracks.

He raises his eyebrow at your reaction and glances down at himself, before blushing cutely and looking away.

You laugh again and he looks back up at you, cheeks still flushed crimson above an all-too-familiar yellow and orange t-shirt. You feel warmth flood your chest as you realise he's slept in it, and from it's crumpled state, you can tell it isn't the first night either.

Haru stands up from the bed and walks to his desk chair, pulling on his uniform pants over the swimming trunks he apparently also slept in, before turning to you with his mouth open, as if to speak.

"Makoto, I..."

You turn to see the delightful image of a flustered Haru, fiddling with the hem of the t-shirt awkwardly, cheeks tinged pink and eyes turned down, hidden under his sleep-mussed fringe.

"Hai, Haru?" You ask, trying not to show how much his wearing the t-shirt means to you.

He turns away, pulling the t-shirt off and placing it carefully on his desk before sliding on his shirt and doing up the buttons. He places his tie round his neck and stands there expectantly.

You sigh in mock exasperation, but move forward to do his tie for him, as you do every morning, he seemingly having never bothered with learning. You go to move away when you notice his hand on your arm and glance up at him questioningly. His name dying on your lips as you realise how close he is to you, even with your height difference.

"It smells like you." Haru almost whispers, and you have to strain to hear, face erupting crimson and chest pounding like a drum when you do.

You have no idea what to say. No idea what to do. You try to start speaking, but the words fall mute from your lips, conversation failing you.

For the first time in both your lives, it is Haru who acts first, leaning up to place a soft kiss to the corner of your lips.

"Arigato, Makoto." He smiles, pulling back and completing his uniform with the blazer, before strolling out of the room with a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

If you didn't know better, you'd almost say he looked amused.

You stand in his empty bedroom a moment longer, hand raising to touch your lips reverently, before the smell of cooking mackerel snaps you back to reality.

You dash down the stairs into Haru's kitchen, eyes wide in delayed shock, staring at his back as he grills mackerel and makes toast, his version of a balanced diet.

His cooking is disturbed as you grab his arm, turning him round to face you and slamming your mouths together impulsively, mackerel and toast forgotten as he wraps his arms around your neck.

When you break apart you are pleased to see another delightful blush on his cheeks, though it soon disappears as he turns to see his mackerel shriveled and black, turning to you with a look.

You obey the look, as you always do, and buy him some mackerel for his dinner, smiling broadly at the slight tug of his lips as he accepts and eats it, knowing it's made him happy.

Besides, all you've ever wanted is to make him happy, and as he finds your hand under the table and interlocks your fingers, you think, for the first time, that maybe he wants to make you happy too.