cordated: (HAZE.)
makoto "team mom" tachibana. ([personal profile] cordated) wrote in [community profile] fares2015-12-04 09:10 pm

nostalgia and other tricks of memory.

[ As of late, Makoto's been having trouble sleeping. While insomnia is an ordinary facet of his schedule as of late, given copious amounts of coursework and essay after essay bound to induce catatonia in any student worth their salt, there's more to his perpetual tiredness than he ever lends credence toward. The nights elongate for him like they leech off unorthodoxy, his perception of time passing skewed for hours upon hours of navel-gazing.

Sometimes, he even catches glimpses of what he's after. It's always diaphanous, always partially unreal, but it's only in that strange limbo between wakefulness and slumber that Makoto remembers someone he isn't entirely ready to think about, the recurring ghost at the edge of his consciousness, snapped around awareness, the failure of memory and how it never retains sentiment as it should.

It's Monday morning, again.

Seven A.M. and Makoto is sloughing off the dredges of early-bird traffic to find a parking spot. Give or take another fifteen minutes, and he's on campus, winding through the thoroughfare of absently milling students to make his first class. His breath keeps echoing somewhere in his lungs, shattered and partially discrepant, like he's running a high, high fever. Invariably, he's spent the entire morning tossing and turning, restlessness pricking holes in his exhaustion. Tiredness elapses around his yawns, rounding them out as he enters the class with a couple of the last-minute stragglers.

Even arithmetic won't let up on banalities. The instructor keeps speaking in a steady stream of nonsense like his words dwell on an exponential curve, and for the first half Makoto's preoccupied with meticulously spot-checking his textbook as if it'll lend anything in the way of understanding. The answers continue to evade his concentration, and after a while he forgoes listening to the teacher drone in lieu of making sense of the hieroglyphics passing for equations on the current assignment.

Digging a heavy fist into one eye socket, Makoto shakes his head in vain, peering down at the page. Underscored with frustration, it's largely a byproduct of flayed nerves and discomposure on the rise that he knocks his pencil off, sends it skittering with an ill-time knock of his wrist. It's a simple enough maneuver to blink awake and drowsily grasp for it along the floor, but he keeps coming up empty, inexplicably, and gazing down is just enough to freeze him in place.

It's gone.

Makoto has half a mind to rise up out of his seat, thrashing around to find the writing utensil when something sharp pokes into his side and he directs his gaze sidelong, expecting the worst.

Instead, he's confronted with an outstretched hand, the pencil slid out between the index and middle finger, cursorily offered to him. His gaze falters, then rises — up to a stranger that, for all intents and purposes, feels too familiar to dismiss.

(A memory of blue, blue eyes, bright and intent, nearly luminous —)

Alarmed, Makoto nearly collapses out of his seat with a clatter, only saving himself from topping over by hooking one foot around a table leg and pulling himself up through sheer force of will. ]

O-Oh. Thanks.

[ Confusion irradiates his voice, blotchy with disrepair as he abruptly resettles, tentatively taking the pencil in hand but not retracting his hand. The seconds tick by on a lopsided axis, but Makoto manages to work up enough internal fortitude to ask the big-ticket question beating against his skull. ]

... Have we met before?

[ Talk about clichés. He can't help but ask, either way. ]
mackerels: (stop)

[personal profile] mackerels 2015-12-11 03:25 am (UTC)(link)
[ Having a math class so early in his new morning schedule certainly isn't ideal, but it's required for the next course he wants to take, so he gets himself to class this day. Somehow.

Haru sees the pencil first. It skitters on the floor. A quick glance at it puts one of the other students in his field of view. Brown hair, neutral-colored shirt. Haru offers the pencil at a level that results in a near-injury, distracted momentarily by the gleam of light off the other young man's hair.

Have we met before? ]


[ That's his automatic reply. Haru retracts his hand, only letting his gaze linger only for a moment before looking back at his paper. They can't have met before... he thinks, anyway. Even if he seems familiar, it must be a coincidence of some kind.

But he looks at him again, despite that, accidentally catching his gaze more than once, until the class is over and he's starting to clean up his things. ]
mackerels: (boop)

[personal profile] mackerels 2015-12-21 11:53 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Haru looks up when he hears the voice again. The timbre is familiar.

The question isn't—or at least, not at first.

Lunch. It's harmless, isn't it? ]

I can pay for my own lunch. [ But he stands, after putting his things away into his bag, and tilts his head at the door. Lead on, stranger. ]
mackerels: ((water))

[personal profile] mackerels 2016-01-20 05:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ Haru picks up his backpack, slinging the one strap over his shoulder and across his chest. He walks by the stranger's side, but it's familiar. ]

You invited me. Haven't you thought of a place?

[ ...this, too, is familiar. Haru doesn't say it to be rude, but because it's true, and because he knows the brown-haired boy will fluster a little—and that's cute. ]
mackerels: (fuck all y'all)

[personal profile] mackerels 2016-01-23 12:56 am (UTC)(link)
[ Nope, no mercy from Haru. He goes with Makoto, feet only pausing slightly when he asks. ]

[ It's just lunch, isn't it? Haru gives him a long look, waiting for him to take the lead. ]
mackerels: ((water))

[personal profile] mackerels 2016-02-04 02:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ Haru wonders if he should have expected this. But it isn't like there are many other close locations to eat near campus, so his only reaction is a slightly pursing of his lips that disappears after they're in line. ]


[ Because doughnuts aren't proper lunch fare (even if Haru's only idea of proper lunch fare is mackerel). ]
mackerels: ((OCEANS))

[personal profile] mackerels 2016-02-12 03:31 am (UTC)(link)
Water's fine.

[ Haru looks sideways out the window, ignoring the hubbub in the crowded cafe and mostly Makoto, by extension. It's hard to ignore his presence, though—and yet Haru doesn't mind that so much. ]

Why did you want to see me? [ Outside of class, that is. ]
mackerels: (fuck all y'all)

[personal profile] mackerels 2016-02-13 05:04 pm (UTC)(link)
[ "Haru." Even though that's what most people call him (or Nanase-kun), it sounds weird coming from this guy, somehow. He's thinking about it, and waits slightly too long before replying. ]

It was lunchtime.

[ Hmm. Haru moves slightly forward in line before looking back up at Makoto. ]

What kind of person?
mackerels: (that has to be photoshopped)

[personal profile] mackerels 2016-02-21 12:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Haru, undeterred by the comment, looks aside before simply remarking, ] You're pretty forward.

[ Asking him out to lunch and all. Haru gets to the front of the line and orders his bagel. ]
mackerels: (how rude)

[personal profile] mackerels 2016-02-25 03:15 am (UTC)(link)

[ There really aren't any tables open, except for those four-seaters occupied by one person, their laptop, and a spread of papers. Haru would rather be outdoors, even if the sun is a little too bright. He starts leading the way to the door. At least he holds the door open for Makoto. ]
mackerels: (boop)

[personal profile] mackerels 2016-02-27 05:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ Haru nods and sits down at it with his food. They don't have many other options, after all!

Once they're settled he goes about spreading cream cheese on his bagel. Conversation seems secondary to the needs of lunch, at the moment. ...and most times, with Haru. He focuses on his food with singular intensity. ]
mackerels: (think of the dolphins)

[personal profile] mackerels 2016-03-03 09:03 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Nup. Not when Haru could block off the trouble that he feels will come with admitting he feels something weird about Makoto, too. He nibbles on the bagel, looking up when Makoto asks. ]


[ It's a hobby for Haru now. But swimming puts him closer to water, and that's his entire desire. ]

Do you swim? [ The question slides out, almost immediately. ]
mackerels: (fuck all y'all)

[personal profile] mackerels 2016-03-05 04:56 am (UTC)(link)

[ "Haru" again. He takes another bite of his bagel and chews, but this time is looking at Makoto with a considering expression. So... improvement? ]


[ For some reason, it's what comes to mind when he looks at Makoto. He has no explanation for it, but it doesn't matter if he's wrong. —and yet, he does think it's true. ]
mackerels: ((water))

[personal profile] mackerels 2016-03-11 11:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Haru's surprise is a little less obvious, and perhaps less in the first place. Makoto's presence is becoming more familiar the longer they spend together. ]

Yeah. [ How did Makoto know? How did he know, for that matter? ] You seemed like you swam backstroke.

[ Haru takes a long moment to look at his classmate. With other people he'd never thought much about them, but as he looks at Makoto he has faint ideas of his life that he couldn't possibly know. ]

...I don't know how I knew. What about you?

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