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"Yes," Makoto had said in response to the proposition, throwing caution to the wind at the very thought that Haruka had asked him to go on a trip. "Yeah Haru, let's go on a road trip in the United States after graduation! Let's save up for that and get part time jobs. That sounds great. I'll get a driver's licence, we can hire a car!"
And then, months later, cruising the desert past a board that announced 'Nevada' in an open-topped battered Cadillac that Haruka had somehow procured from a junk dealer, pondering the world's largest plastic pineapple that they had just been privileged to view: "Hey, Haru, Las Vegas is in Nevada, maybe we should go there."
And then a few hours after that: "Ooh Haru, so many lights! Look, look, Haru, it's the pyramids!"
And then, somehow, they were standing in a little white chapel with lurid red carpeting underfoot, a pool of water behind them and a weedy, greasy guy in an Elvis costume was looking at Makoto doubtfully and saying, "You sure you want to marry this guy?"
He understood the words (a big relief, even though he'd been working on his English the Americans spoke very fast and sometimes with very strange accents) but he wasn't really understanding the situation. 'Heartbreak Hotel' was blaring from a tinny-sounding plastic speaker above their head.
"...Marry?" Makoto managed finally.
They'd been walking around Vegas for two hours or so, admiring the fake landmarks and the glitz and (in Makoto's case) blushing at forward nearly naked woman eyeing them from the confines of smoky doorways and casino entrances. He'd even expended one dollar on a slot machine just to see what it would feel like. After depositing the coin and winning nothing at all he'd anxiously waited for the compunction people claimed you would have to put more money into the slot machine, but the need didn't come. Then Haruka had pulled him into this little chapel (as soon as he'd read the 'Chapel with swimming pool' sign) about thirty minutes ago, and had proceeded to negotiate with a bored looking woman at a reception desk in fairly rapid English that Makoto didn't completely follow. (As always, when Haruka put his mind to something, he was good at it, and in the last few months his English had improved at a far better pace than Makoto's own had.)
They'd signed some documents (Makoto was under the vague impression that they were there for the pool, and wasn't entirely sure why documents had to be signed to swim, but he would rather die than question and possibly insult the customs of another country,) then they'd sat around and waited. Haruka looked weirdly nervous, his foot tapping on the carpet anyhow, until they were led into a room to meet this Elvis guy. And then...
Makoto repeated the words to himself in his head. 'Are you sure you want to marry this guy?'
He turned to stare at Haruka who was gazing at him intently, unruffled on the outside. But Makoto knew Haruka. His eyes were pleading, beseeching. Haru? What was he trying to convey? What was this?
The speaker switched to 'Suspicious Minds,' in the background, but Makoto didn't notice.
Haruka's eyes were saying, 'Just go along with this, just say yes.' What. He'd planned this? 'I do love you, you know,' his left eye added in its telepathic way.
"But... we haven't even ever kissed!" Makoto wailed. "I didn't even know you liked me that way! We're only eighteen! We're not even drunk!"
Haruka was the world's leading authority on being taciturn, and not explaining himself to people, but even he seemed to realise that the situation called for him to open his mouth.
He took Makoto's hand in his own very sweaty palm (ah, he was very nervous then, Haru almost never got sweaty) and looked at him earnestly. "Makoto, when I asked you on this trip I was already planning on getting married in Vegas since we can't marry in Japan. I've wanted to marry you for years. So now..."
Oh gods. Haruka was lowering himself onto his knee, staring up at Makoto seriously. Weedy Elvis was chewing gum and looking unimpressed.
"Makoto, you are always there for me. I want to always be there for you. Will you marry me? ...Right now?"
Oh gods. It was Haruka. Haruka. Haruka who let him hide under his hoodie jacket when he was watching a scary movie; Haruka who held his wrist, sometimes his hand when it was dark and there were strange shadows; Haruka who fought for him when he didn't fight for himself; Haruka whose shade of eyes Makoto had never ever gotten tired of. Haruka who was always by his side, the comforting presence he missed even when they hadn't seen each other for a few hours. Haruka who haunted his dreams in scintillating ways. He loved Haru. He always had. And Haru wanted to marry him. Haruka was staring at him, forehead glistening, biting his lip and eyes pleading for mercy and understanding.
Oh gods.
"Fine. Okay. Yes, I'll marry you," Makoto grumbled, and Haru's eyes shimmered. "But when we move in together I want a kitten. And I still want to go to university. And you'll have to tell my parents. And we're going to have words about this after our honeymoon tonight."
Haruka stood up and kissed him, and the music changed to 'Can't Help Falling in Love,' and Makoto's heart soared. This... this was going to be fine. This was going to be great. It had always been Haru and him, him and Haru, they would always get through everything. Together.
"...I didn't say you could kiss the bride yet," said weedy Elvis, and Makoto laughed into Haruka's mouth.