You'll Always Find The Light

Perfect.

Enough time for a really long bath and frankly, he needed on. Swapping his pjs for his jammers, Haru made his way to the bathroom for a thought provoking bath. He'd gone to bed that night thinking about what Aomine had said, but sleep had claimed him before he had come to any helpful conclusion. When the water was warm enough, Haru sunk into its depths till it was just below his nose. He closed his eyes and basked in the unique sense of tranquility he only ever experienced in the water, turning last night's conversation over in his head.

***

Aomine woke with a groan, lifting his head from where it was face planted in his pillow. He dragged a hand roughly over his face in an attempt to smooth out the lines he knew his pillow had left on his face. He rolled over and grabbed his alarm clock with more force than necessary, shutting off its incessant ringing. He glanced at the time. 10am. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. One on hand, yes he felt great that he got to sleep in the mid-late morning. On the other hand, despite sleeping in so late, he still felt like shit.

Not like you don't know why.

Aomine slapped his cheeks, verbally shushing that thought. He didn't need his own traitorous mind to remind him exactly why he'd been tossing and turning for hours after Haru had left his room. Those thoughts were dangerous territory that didn't need to be acknowledged. The baller rolled out of bed and dragged himself to the bathroom, glancing into the empty room Haru had been occupying. But any thoughts of the man slipping out before he woke easily vanished when sounds of Haru pottering around in the kitchen reached his ears. At least he hoped it was Haru. He wasn't up to dealing with the unlikely event of strangers in his house so early in the morning.

***

Aomine ruffled his hair with a dry towel as he made his way to the kitchen, distantly thinking about the second towel on the towel rail that was still damp. He draped his towel over his shoulders to stop any stray water droplets from his hair getting on his shirt as he wandered into the living room. "Haru you here-?" He breathed in deeply. "... Is that fucking mackeral?"

"Yep." Came the murmured affirmation from the kitchen.

Aomine blinked, dumbfounded. "Where the fuck did you get that?" He blurted out when his brain decided to restart as he headed for the kitchen. "I'm pretty sure I didn't have any."

"You didn't. I borrowed your bike and popped down to the store."

"Wha-?"

"Keys are on the table."

Sure enough his keys, including the one that unlocked his bike, were sitting on the kitchen island. Aomine barked out a disbelieving laugh. "Bro, what the fuck?" He plucked the keys off the counter and looked up, finally laying eyes on Haru for the first time that morning. And the man almost certainly choked on his tongue at the sight. "BRO what the fuck!?"

Haru glanced over from where he was standing, an elegant eyebrow arched. "Um, pls don't die?"

Aomine slammed a fist into his chest, trying to get his lungs to cooperate again as he turned his back on the man. He heard the sound of the spatula being rested against the pan alongside the sounds of Haru turning around.

"Daiki what the fuck? Are you okay?"

I shouldn't have told him to use my first name. Aomine thought with no small amount of frustration as he rubbed his chest. Considering how he had spent his night, he was not prepared, in any damn conceivable way possible, for the sight of Haru, with somehow still damp hair, standing barefoot in his kitchen with nothing but his jammers and a fucking apron on. "Um, yes- no- wait I,"

Haru sighed and Aomine was acutely aware of Haru standing on the other side of the breakfast bar. "Well which is it?"

"Haru, what the fuck are you wearing?" He could imagine the eyebrow being raised again at his back.

"My swimsuit...?"

"Why?" Aomine found it in himself to turn around to face the man. He came face to face with the gaudy apron his mother insisted on keeping tied tightly to Haru's slim, yet very muscular, figure. Aomine made sure his gaze was fixed on the man's face and didn't drift to his bare shoulders, even though he had spent the night having a shirtless conversation with the man.

Haru blinked lazily at him, eyebrow arching further upwards. "I also wear my jammers when I have a bath."

"Did you wear it the store??"

Haru shrugged. "Yeah. So? I did wear my sweatshirt." He quickly added.

"But why aren't you wearing it now?"

"Jesus, what is with you this morning?"

"What?"

"Why are you interrogating my outfit choices?" An edge of annoyance had hardened the man's voice.

"I'm not I'm just-"

Haru looked at him expectantly.

"I'm just curious, I swear."

Haru's expression showed he clearly didn't believe him but he let it slide. "I didn't want to get oil on it."

"Okay... And the apron and the jammers?"

"Didn't wanna get oil on it." Haru said as if it was the most obvious thing on the planet.

Aomine sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "Okay, yeah, whatever." He propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his palms. "I take it this is a normal occurrence for you?"

Haru nodded and turned back to the stove and Aomine had to look away, inspecting the wallpaper his parents had chosen. "You know, Makoto was also weird about this but not as weird as you're being."

"I just," Sue him. Aomine was a teenage boy with a healthy sexual interest and appetite. Yeah he hadn't felt like this when he first saw Haru swimming, but considering Haru hadn't been against any casual touches between and was staying in his house for the foreseeable future, his mind couldn't help but wander, seeing that man in a low rise, skin tight swimsuit. He dropped his face into his palms. This man was going to be the death of him.

The sound of the stove clicking off reached his ears a few minutes later, followed by the sound of Haru walking over again. "Hey Daiki," He began and, if Aomine hadn't spent so long talking to the man recently, he wouldn't have clocked the man as sounding cautious.

He flinched when something touched his hair but when he didn't move, Haru's fingers continued until they were carding through the baller's hair.

"If me wearing this makes you really uncomfortable, I will change," There was something in his voice that Aomine couldn't place, but he didn't like it.

"No no, it's okay. I just wasn't prepared for uh," He murmured, lifting his head and up at Haru. He pointedly and briefly glanced down. "That."

Haru raised an amused eyebrow. "Well consent is sexy and if you don't consent to seeing me in my swimsuit, I'll change." He said seriously as he withdrew his hand.

Aomine caught the man's wrist across the counter to stop him from turning away. "I'm serious. It's okay, just, give a guy some forewarning sometime," He chuckled weakly.

Haru offered a slight smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Okay. Well I'm done cooking anyway so I'm going to get changed anyway."

"Okay."

Haru glanced down at his wrist and Aomine let go, with more reluctance than he expected from himself.

"Sorry. About all that." He murmured.

Haru's lips quirked upwards as he pulled the apron off over his head and hung it up again. "Really, it's alright. I forget that some of the things I do while living alone aren't exactly everyone's... cup of tea when I end up sharing a space with them again."

Aomine said nothing as Haru left and he stayed put for a long moment, deep in thought. Eventually he pushed himself away from the counter top and went to set the dining table after noting Haru made food for two.

***

Haru tugged his joggers over his jammers, equally deep in thought. He felt... embarrassed. Aomine's reaction had been nothing short of extreme but... His fingertips ghosted over where Aomine's thumb had brushed his hip bone.

Haru had never been one for relationships beyond the intimately platonic ones his friends semi-forcibly wrapped him in. But being with Aomine like this, with a man who understood his struggles and was willing to offer help without any judgement. He turned away from the memories of disappointment in Makoto's eyes. Aomine was a man who was willing to challenge his biases without the risk of throwing hands. Haru flinched away at the memory of the fights he had with Rin.

The swimmer had never been interested in anything remotely beyond platonic relationships but lately he'd been feeling so... strung out. Isolated. Was it desperation that was causing him to find solace in Aomine's company?

He tugged his shirt all the way down and grabbed his sweatshirt. He stared down at the Iwatobi rockhopper penguin crudely stitched onto the cuff. What is this feeling? Haru sat heavily on the edge of the bed in the guest room. Was he scared of his friends? He frowned slightly. No, that wasn't quite right. Was he angry? No. He shook his head. It wasn't that either. Haru dragged a hand over his face and into his hair.

What was he feeling?

Haru had never been one for emotions or introspection and now he was regretting it. He knew he was feeling something but he didn't know what. He sighed, tugging on his sweatshirt. That wasn't entirely true either. He knew how he felt about his friends - he was upset, hurt, and vulnerable. What he didn't know was how he felt about Aomine.

The swimmer bit his lip harshly. And here he was going in fucking emotional circles again. Did he want the man as a social companion? A shoulder to lean on or an ear to listen? Did he want something more? Haru let out a shuddering breath. Why were feelings so hard?

He dragged himself off the bed and wandered back to the living room. "Daiki?"

"In here!"

Haru made his way into the dining room and found Aomine scrolling through his phone at the dining table, the mackerel he made sitting ready to be eaten. He paused in the doorway, prompting Aomine to look up.

"Hey," He began cautiously as he stood, walking over to the man. "Are you okay?"

Haru didn't look up to meet his gaze. The baller was so careful with him and normally it would've annoyed Haru. He wasn't made of fucking glass. But no matter how long he thought about it, he couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed. Because unlike his friends, even though he was feeling so raw and open, so turbulent, Aomine only ever looked at him with concern, never pity.

He reached out and grasped Aomine's larger hand in his own. He turned it over, running his fingers over his palm and fingertips. It wasn't larger than Makoto's but it was stronger, more calloused. He avoided Aomine's unblinking gaze that he knew hadn't shifted from his face as he lifted the man's hand. He pressed the palm to his cheek, resting his head against it. It was warmer than Rin's hands.

Aomine swallowed audibly. "Haru, what are you...?"

Haru drew a deep breath through his nose as he laced their fingers together, finally looking up at the man. He didn't want a romantic relationship, Haru knew that much. But... his skin warmed at the memory of Aomine's hand on his hip. He knew he wanted something more. Did he wanted it from Aomine? "Daiki... I-"

Both jumped at a loud banging on the front door, followed by yelling that had Aomine watching Haru's already pale skin get even paler. "Haru, what-?"

"HARUKA NANASE!"

The swimmer let out a shaky breath, his finger's clutching Aomine's hand in a white knuckle death grip, as he stared in the direction of the front door. ".... Rin."