The thick photo paper could be felt through his pocket. It couldn't stop a bullet like his vest or protect him from a blast like the helmet on his head— useless in terms of war. But to Makoto, it meant the world.

That Polaroid let him carry his love right by his side.

Makoto gently pulled the square into view. It's laminated surface was protected by another thin plastic covering. Gingerly, he held onto the corners, afraid any more pressure would bend his single most precious item more. Nothing around him was familiar, but that black hair, that warm flush on his cheeks, and blue eyes he could read like a book made it home again. A bashful smile played on Haru's lips in the photo, he never liked photo's but for once he had made an exception. He wasn't staring into the camera but beyond it, to the photographer, Makoto. The upturned corners of his lips made him easier to read in this frozen moment in time:

"I love you."

He could taste salt on his chapped lips. Sand from the beach cracked between his molars uncomfortably. Was Haru on a beach too? Was he allowed to swim? Or was he sitting on the shore, covered in gear, keeping his promise?

Before this, before everything in Japan went to shit and Europe lost it's mind, Haru made a vow.

Their boot camp was ending and the inevitable separation loomed

"Makoto." They were in their bunks, facing each other. Night had rolled in but they had a few minutes to themselves

"Yeah, Haru-chan?" Makoto had savored the word on his lips. Haru didn't complain. They etched each others voice to memory.

"I won't swim until I get to see you again."

"We don't know how long we'll be gone, Haru. You don't have to promise something like that."

"..."

"What if-" Makoto's voice choked. The words couldn't come out but it was a very real possibility. What if I don't come back?

"I still won't swim." Haru forced through gritted teeth. "Makoto... please come back. You have to come back." He realized the depths of what Haru was trying to say. It was hard to let oneself be emotional, especially in a time like this and especially for a reserved boy like Haru. But the words weren't lost in translation. Makoto heard them just right.

Makoto felt tears plunge off his face and onto his pillow. A dark puddle formed where they all landed on his sheets. Was Haru playing a similar scene in his head? An outcome where one or both of them don't make it out? When Makoto cried it was never this graceful. Sobs would wreck is body. They burned his throat and tore his face into a trembling expression. Right now he guessed he wasn't letting himself be engulfed by sadness, instead he indulged in the feeling of how increasingly lucky he was to have someone love him so much.

"I promise I'll come back, Haru." Haru escaped the warm gaze by turning his face away, embarrassed. Makoto laughed, reaching across the small gap that separated their cots. Haru's hand fit naturally into his.

"Promise?" He barely caught the whisper. Makoto chose his next words accordingly.

"Only if you promise me the same."

"Promise."

"You will swim again, Haru-chan. Just wait a little longer."