#So if we assume they're at a two-semester school as is very common

[thatoneluckybee]

wisdom is realizing the school bus graveyard kids are actively living through the mass hysteria of the 2016 killer clown sightings

[tachinanabananase]

Ooohh how about haru being possessive of makoto while they're hanging out with friends because kisumi is there being clingy with makoto (if you're comfortable with it)

Jealous Haru is ALWAYS my pleasure to write. Thanks for the prompt! I’m going to take the liberty of making this pre-confessions because I think it’s way cute when Haru pretends Makoto is his bf to ward off other predators. Hope you like it!

Rating: T (for brief adult topics)

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Tokyo was the last place Haru thought he would ever have to deal with this. 

In fact, one of the best benefits of moving there (aside from having Makoto’s attention entirely on him a majority of the time), was the fact that the very person he wanted as far from possible from his best friend would not be there. He hadn’t ever even taken into account that someone like Shigino Kisumi would also want to attend the same university that Makoto had chosen to go to, and which Haru had loyally chose as well. 

His worst nightmare had manifested into this reality a week into their first semester at school, when Makoto had, to Haru’s displeasure, excitedly bragged about running into on campus the very headache of a pink-haired man that Haru now saw at least twice a week. Unwillingly. It was Makoto’s idea to start having “Iwatobi Reunions” to ward away the homesickness, to which Haru had insistently reminded him that without Rei and Nagisa and with the inclusion of someone they hadn’t hung out with since middle school for christ’s sake it didn’t really count as any sort of reunion. Makoto, bless his poor, unnecessarily friendly soul, disagreed. 

And that’s how Haru ends up sitting across from his best friend at a ramen shop, glaring at the long, playful arm that belongs to Kisumi wrapped around his broad shoulders. He huffs, shrinking even further back into the booth and tightening his crossed arms over his chest as he half-listens to Kisumi tell another story about his younger brother. 

“I can’t make this up, Makoto. He seriously asked if you and I would get married!” He laughs a little too loudly for Haru’s comfort, drawing the attention of several other tables to them. “I said, ‘Hayato, what makes you say that?’ and he goes- he says, ‘So Coach and brother can teach me all the time!’” He leans into Makoto, pressing a hand into the chuckling brunet’s chest as he howls, “I couldn’t stop laughing, it was too cute.”

Makoto grins good-naturedly, but can’t quite hide his concern for Haru’s disposition as he glances in the raven’s direction. “I can’t believe he really wants me around that bad,” he shakes his head in disbelief. He looks at Haru and grins, “Maybe I’m in the right Major after all.” 

Haru hums his stubborn agreement, but only because he knows it will make Makoto feel better and not because it will validate Kisumi’s entirely un-funny story.  

Kisumi gives Haru a sly look, grinning that sneaky fox smile that he has whenever he’s up to no good, and by that he means when Kisumi’s doing anything that he knows will piss him off. “Hope you wouldn’t mind standing up at the wedding, Haru. Probably safe to say you’ll be Makoto’s best man.”

Stubbornness taking full reign, Haru can do nothing to hold back the annoyed comeback, “He can’t say yes if he’s already dating someone else!” 

Suddenly the crowded restaurant feels a lot quieter than it did a second ago, and the heaters keeping away the winter chill must have doubled their output because Haru feels hot. In the embarrassed way, specifically.

“H-haru,” Makoto half-laughs, but is giving him that raised eyebrow that reads What the heck are you talking about?

Kisumi’s brows raise in surprise as well, but his mischievous smirk remains as he coos, “Ooh, so Makoto is dating someone then? Who? You have to tell now that Haru gave it away!” He leans forward eagerly, looking between the two best friends for who will cave first. 

“Uh- I… Haru, why don’t you tell him. Since, um, you know…?” Makoto tries to lie, really tries his best but it’s beyond unconvincing. 

Kisumi’s attention is now fully on Haru, determined enough that he doesn’t notice the helpless shrug Makoto gives him along with his panicked do something! expression.  

“Makoto and I are dating,” Haru says it like it’s the most natural fact of life. Like it’s something he’s been saying for months now. Like it’s the God’s honest truth. 

Kisumi jolts out of his seat and slams his fists onto the table, rattling the dishwear on it and giggling delightedly, “I knew it! I knew it would happen the moment you two left Iwatobi!”

“Haru and- US? You- ME? Wait, WHAT-?” Makoto shrieks through gritted teeth, frantically glancing between the two other boys who are locked in a challenging staredown that suggests there’s a bit more than just the shock settling between them. Kisumi’s eyes scream his doubt as he begins to drill Haru with questions, ignoring Makoto’s confused and faint whining.

“How long?”

“A month and a half.”

“Who asked who?”

“Makoto confessed first.”

Makoto shrieks dismally again at that, his face a shade of red that almost has Haru concerned. “I did??” Kisumi continues his onslaught mercilessly though, ignoring Makoto’s embarrassment in favor of asking a question that leaves the brunet groaning with shame and slamming his forehead into the table with defeat.

“So have you done it yet?” 

Kisumi’s challenging gaze is infuriating, to say the least, but Haru knows just how to piss him off back. 

“I probably shouldn’t say, but I think you can guess why we were late to dinner tonight.”

Haru takes Makoto’s silence as his sign of surrender, his face thoroughly buried in his hands and the only visible skin of his neck terribly flushed. Kisumi sits back finally, apparently showing his surrender as well, and shrugs nonchalantly, “Huh. Well I’ll be damned.”

Haru just smirks the tiniest of smirks in reply. Check mate. 

“Well, sorry for separating the lovely couple,” Kisumi gestures towards the empty seat besides Haru. “Hopefully I didn’t break up any thrilling games of footsie.”

“Don’t worry,” Haru shrugs back, “we’ve been doing it this whole time anyway. Easier when you’re across from each other.”

Makoto shows his despair with a weak kick under the table to Haru’s shin, which Haru catches with his own feet and locks him in place.

“Haarruuuu,” Makoto moans through his hands, shaking his head in dismay. “Y-you didn’t have to go that far.”

Haru assumes Makoto means that regarding his lie, but insists flatly, “He asked.”

“TMI is a thing. Am I the only one who thinks that?” He sighs, finally lifting his head from hiding. His cheeks are still a pretty shade of pink, enough that Haru takes pride in being the reason why they look that way. 

“No worries, Mako-chan,” Kisumi grins reassuringly, then gives Haru a much less soft look, “I would have found out eventually. I just wish you all had told me sooner! I wouldn’t have interrupted so many of your dates then.”

Haru interjects, “It is pretty rude.”

“Hey, be nice,” Makoto barks in that Mom way that doesn’t actually hurt anyone’s feelings. 

“Sorry, honey,” the name slides off Haru’s tongue easier than he expects. He intended for it just to annoy Kisumi, but he actually enjoys the way it makes his fake boyfriend stammer and glance away, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt to hide his flustered reaction. 

“I-it’s okay,” he concedes, and Haru has a feeling that means he has Makoto on his side with this lie now. 

The strawberry blonde annoyance seems to drop the subject after that, apparently satisfied enough with the investigation, and continues to talk about nothing in the kind of way that makes Haru wonder if he just likes hearing the sound of his own voice. After a few minutes and now close to finishing their meals, Haru notices Makoto still looks slightly rattled and has the sense to feel a little guilty about it. He really did put him in an awkward situation, mostly due to Haru’s own selfish fantasies, so he tries to think of a way to make it up to him. That idea’s thrown away though as Haru notices the way Makoto’s fingers anxiously tap on the table before him, even though it looks like he’s fully listening to the guy next to him, and gets a better one instead. One that will also drive Kisumi up a wall too. 

The brunet makes no move away when Haru’s fingers dance against his for only a moment before sliding into his palm. In fact, he takes it rather gracefully when he clasps Haru’s smaller hand as if this was a common occurrence. The only thing that gives him away is the side glance that he shoots Haru a second later, his furrowed brow not angry, but certainly intrigued by something. Kisumi, on the other hand, stutters noticeably in his sentence and glares at the interlocked hands for only a moment before continuing on, his smile a little less pleasant now. 

The rest of dinner goes by without any comparable disturbances, and before Haru realizes it (he sort of lost track of time once he realized he and Makoto were actually playing footsie under the table) Kisumi is excusing himself, thanking them for having him at dinner. 

“You guys have to promise not to bail on me all the time now that you’re dating,” he teases, and Makoto actually laughs while Haru just stares. Unamused. 

“We’ll always make time for you, Kisumi! It’s nice to see a familiar face every now and then,” Makoto’s grin is almost as warm as his thumb that brushes over the top of Haru’s hand soothingly. 

“Ah, I think you have a pretty familiar one with you already,” this time, the sentiment sounds more genuine as Kisumi nods to their connected hands. Makoto looks down with a faint smile on his lips, then glances up at Haru with a gaze that stops the raven’s heart momentarily. 

“Yeah, I do,” he agrees, but his eyes stay on Haru’s the whole time. 

Kisumi leaves with a final goodbye after that, and Haru suddenly realizes that if he doesn’t move his hand away soon, he’s going to look pretty suspicious and Makoto’s going to have even more questions about his stunt then. He starts to slide his hand away as inconspicuously as he can, eyes locked on the empty ramen bowl in front of him to avoid any more gut-churning looks from his friend, but the hand around his only tightens and holds his in place steadily. 

His head shoots up, unable to stop the hopeful glint in his own eyes as he meets Makoto’s. The brunet smiles at him, warm and bright and perfect as usual, but the feeling it gives Haru in the pit of his stomach is something new, and something that he hopes to feel more often. 

“It’s kind of nice like this, isn’t it?” Makoto says softly, his other hand joining the ones already on the table, cradling Haru’s gently as if it’ll break in his grasp. “I… think I could get used to this. If we have to pretend, you know,” he shrugs noncommittally, but Haru can read his tone better than anyone else. 

He can only hear Makoto above the pounding of his own heart in his ears, but that doesn’t stop him at all. Nothing could stop him at this point, not even a sneaky, pink-haired intruder. 

“Yeah, it is nice,” Haru murmurs only for Makoto to hear, and squeezes his hand just a little tighter into his friend’s.

He’d have to remember to grudgingly thank Kisumi for this later.