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“I haven't seen your apartment yet,” Rin had said, and it wasn't the best excuse. In fact it was pretty thinly veiled—he hasn't seen Makoto’s yet either, and he's also leaving Sousuke to shack up alone in a hotel room.
But his transparency is lost on Haru, as it normally is. Rin has wondered before how many signs he can give before Haru starts to think something's up, but toeing the line is just a little too frightening when the risk of falling is real and in front of him. Not to say that Haru would be disgusted. Not to say that Haru wouldn’t understand. Not to say that Haru would hate him.
But Haru might.
Might is more than enough to keep his mouth shut.
It’s on the train ride that Rin’s mind starts down this spiral, while Haru’s blinking in and out of his exhaustion. Their clothes are still damp from floating around like idiots—they’d stayed like that for close to an hour and Rin’s regretting it now, itchy from his neck to his balls under all the wet fabric. But the truth is, even Makoto hadn’t looked that carefree in a while. Did they need it? Haru’s yell is still resting dormant in Rin’s bones.
Haru. Rin dares to look at him, and sure enough his eyes have slipped entirely shut. He bobs a little with the steady shake of the train, and Rin jumps between the idea of waking him up or waiting until they’re at the right station. His bangs touch the very tip of his nose—he could really use a haircut—and it twitches like he’s about to sneeze, but he never does.
Rin turns away again, but lets his arm rest a little heavier against Haru’s. It must be because he’s away from Haru so much more often now that his mind circles on overdrive whenever he sees him in person. He’s used to the adrenaline rush around him but by the end of high school he was so damn sure he’d kicked his stupid crush into the dirt. Not so much, as the universe would have it.
Rin’s pretty sure his problem would be solved if he could just find someone who ever came close to Haru in Australia. Well—he thinks of Natsuya, just briefly, and flushes despite himself. Natsuya is nothing like Haru, but damn if he wasn’t close to breaking that cycle. Maybe it was just because Rin had never been hit on so openly before, but there was something addictive behind the hands on his hips that made him think maybe that was all he ever wanted. Could just be that he was lonely.
He has a second to think about how pathetic that makes him feel before the screen above the doors lights up and he has to nudge Haru awake again. Haru makes a small grunt, and when his eyes crawl open he does sneeze, finally, and Rin jumps in surprise but laughs, too.
“Come on,” Haru says begrudgingly, and leads the way off the train without ever looking in Rin’s direction.
He follows Haru down a street and up a skinny set of stairs, and the apartment’s pretty nice once Haru hits the lights. Minimalist as his house always was, once his parents had up and left.
“Ever get tired of living alone?” he asks, not letting himself feel guilty for asking because he knows that Haru either doesn’t care or doesn’t let it show that he cares, and, well, you reap what you sow.
But Haru just says, “No.” Shoes left behind at the door he carries his duffel to the corner of the living room and drops it there. “Are you hungry?”
Rin yawns, but nods through it. “Fucking starving.”
There’s enough truth to the statement that he doesn’t get on Haru’s ass about the mackerel he subsequently fries up. In the time Haru takes to get it ready it’s Rin’s turn to fight sleep, stretching out on Haru's floor with his legs beneath the table. For a while the sounds of the fish frying and plates clinking around are enough to hold his consciousness, but it all turns into a lull sooner rather than later.
With one eye barely open he says, “I dunno how I’m gonna wake up early tomorrow to do this all again.”
Haru is quiet long enough that Rin’s pretty sure he’s gonna have to be obnoxious and repeat himself. But eventually comes the response. “You’ll be too excited to sleep in.”
“Is that what it looks like? That I’m excited?” Rin asks. His arms are folded behind his head so he has to peer over the folds of his sweatshirt to look at Haru properly, through the window in the kitchen.
“Aren’t you?”
“I dunno. Yeah. But like, in an anxious way. I’m nervous too.”
Haru looks over his shoulder at him. “You did really well today.”
“Thanks,” Rin says, wearing the flattery like a blanket while he grins. “So did you.”
Haru just looks at him. There is a kind of disbelief when Rin says that, and immediately Rin’s smile falters. Haru turns back around.
“Hey, none of that,” Rin says, knowing that it’s the first time he’s directly acknowledging the fact that Haru lost to his face. “Come on, Haru, we both knew the competition was gonna get worse when we did this.”
The sizzling stops, and Haru says nothing while he plates the fish and rice. He comes around, sets both plates on the table, and sits. Then he says, “I did know. I’m not bothered.”
But he says it stiffly, even by Haru’s standards. Rin’s propped himself up on his elbows and he feels uncomfortable now, as if he’s somewhere he shouldn’t be. Slowly, he sits up, and warily takes hold of his chopsticks while Haru eats. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Haru says too quickly, and he must know it too because he’s avoiding looking at Rin completely.
Rin leans onto his hand, starting to nod. “Okay,” he says.
“You expected me to win,” Haru blurts, and he’s staring hard at the table now. It kind of startles Rin, like the way he did earlier—Haru must be getting better at this, or at least is trying to. Rin, on the other hand, isn’t used to Haru acting like this at all. He wonders if there’s ever going to be a time is his life that Haru isn’t catching him off guard one way or another. “You can say it.”
Rin opens his mouth, but whatever he was about to say gets stuck and he has to clear his throat and try again. “I was … I’m always rooting for you, Haru.”
Haru turns to look at him completely, and glares.
“Okay. Jesus,” Rin sighs. “I’m used to you winning. Why is that a bad thing? You think you’re letting me down or something?”
“No,” Haru says. Then he blinks. “Yes. I don’t know.”
“You’re not,” Rin says gravely. “Haru, I didn’t push for you to do this because I thought you were going to win every time. I did it because you’re good and because you deserve it. You’re used to being on top, and that’s fine. Fuck, it’s great, Haru! You just gotta get used to being down here with the rest of us, actually worrying about losing every now and again.”
Haru breathes so that his shoulders rise and fall, his eyes as full of determination as they’ve ever been. Looking at them, Rin can’t imagine why he thinks he has anything to worry about. “Earlier you said that even I feel the pressure here. Is that what you meant?”
Rin smirks. “Not so fun being the prodigy, is it?”
Haru kind of turns red, then looks away. “Sorry. You didn’t need to say any of that.”
“I brought it up,” Rin says, shrugging. “You know, we don’t get to see each other that often anymore. If you need some cathartic release I’m a pretty good punching bag.”
Haru makes a chuffing noise that Rin understands as a laugh. “Wouldn’t that just mean we’re fighting all the time?”
“Not necessarily,” Rin says. “Hey, Haru.”
“What?”
“You can talk to me about these things. I’m not gonna, like, think you’re weird or different or anything. I know you usually go to Makoto for this kind of thing, but,” he scratches at back of his neck, “you know, I’m here too.”
Haru nods. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Rin says, then smiles. “Hey, Haru.”
Haru’s eyes narrow.
“I’m not gonna go easy on you tomorrow.”
Haru snorts, but his ears are still glowing. “Alright,” he says, then promptly shoves his mouth full of rice. Taking pity on him, Rin decides to let it slide.
He misses this, the easy back-and-forth that they’ve built up over the last couple of years. Things are different from when they were kids and were probably always going to be, but the older they get the more it feels like they’re back to that golden feeling of needing each other and not knowing why. Rin thinks he mostly knows, now, but the unknown was always a driving force in being around Haru more and more and all the time. He doesn’t have that luxury anymore. He wonders if Haru feels similar.
Well, his brain unhelpfully supplies, he wonders if Haru feels the same about a lot of things.
Would it be easy to ask right now? Haru hands him both of the washed dishes and he dries them, putting them back on the shelf Haru points out to him. Would he even have to ask? Couldn’t he just say it?
He doesn’t know. It’s not like he’s ever tried before. And he also doesn’t have any examples to follow—Natsuya hadn’t said anything and it’s not like there were years of feelings behind it anyway. Rin thinks he’d probably rather die than just grab Haru out of nowhere and plant one on him. How would Haru even react to that? Has anyone ever even touched Haru like that before?
Rin doesn’t want to follow that line of thought at all. Okay, he’s a jealous person, but not a possessive one. And Haru isn’t his to be possessive of anyway.
“You can shower first,” Haru says, pulling Rin halfway back into the present moment. The other half of him continues to think about how nice Haru’s bored expression would look cradled in his hands.
“Thanks,” Rin says, feeling like he’s grated his voice over some hot coals. “... Haru.”
Haru has begun to walk out of the kitchen, but now he looks back. “What?”
What indeed. Rin doesn’t panic, but he feels the air swell and heat up as he lets the silence hang there, searching for anything to say at this point that doesn’t make Haru think something’s wrong. “Nothing,” he blurts though, which is exactly something he should not have said. “Sorry. Nothing.”
Haru looks at him carefully, up and down in a way that Rin hasn’t seen him do before. “I feel the same as you,” he says.
Rin’s heart leaps into his throat, which is already constricting beyond comfortable air supply. It’s a miracle he finds the room to say, “What?”
“You can … talk to me. I’m not as good at understanding things. Not like you or Makoto. But it goes both ways. The last time we didn’t talk about things we stopped being friends for three years.”
“Oh,” Rin says, swallowing. “Okay. Cool.”
Haru looks at him expectantly. “So talk.”
Rin releases a startled laugh. “You can’t just force me to.” He’s definitely not going to confess his stupid years-old crush to Haru while cornered like an injured bird. He isn’t that pathetic. “Maybe you’ve got me beat at this, Haru.”
“I’m not forcing you. You wanted to say something. I’m telling you that you can.”
Rin searches his face. And he thinks, no, he’s not going to confess his stupid years-old crush. But maybe … maybe he could confess something else. “Okay …”
Haru keeps looking at him. And his expression has shifted now—he’s not so determined anymore, because there’s a frailness to it that Rin’s only seen a handful of times in the years he’s known Haru. Like he’s balancing a lot on this. Like he’s hoping Rin will trust him with something like he’s had to trust Rin with feeling inferior.
Dammit. Rin turns away. “If you laugh I’ll never forgive you.” He’s mostly joking. Mostly.
“I don’t know what it is,” Haru says flatly, shifting from foot to foot. “I won’t laugh.”
“I really don’t even know what I was going to say, but if you’re pushing, I might as well tell you,” Rin mutters.
“... Is it bad?”
“No,” Rin says. I hope you don’t think so. “I just don’t talk about it. But if you want to hear it ... I’m trying to be braver, I guess. More confident?”
Haru makes a face, like that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “You’re too confident most of the time.”
“First of all, you’re an asshole,” Rin says, sans any attempt to keep looking at Haruka while he does it, just training his eyes on the ceiling. “Second of all, you don’t even know what I’m talking about.”
“You haven’t told me what you’re talking about.”
Rin sighs, digging his fingers into the pockets of his jeans. “I’m trying my best.”
“Okay.”
Haru has started to come closer, so Rin leans back against the counter, waits for Haru to come shoulder-to-shoulder with him. It’s more awkward than it usually is, because the equation is generally Rin coming to Haru for contact; this time it’s Rin’s who’s uncomfortable, and it must be obvious. It doesn’t help that it makes Haru visibly uncomfortable in turn.
But Rin knows the discomfort isn’t going to go away no matter how long he waits. So he drops his gaze back down, stares at the large dark window across the living room, and says, “Haru, I’m pretty sure I’m gay.”
He lets the announcement sink into the silence. Haru doesn’t jump away, which Rin wasn’t expecting anyway but is still a good sign. There is, though, some surprise in his voice when he says, “Oh.”
Rin nods once, quickly. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” Haruka says. “Is that it?”
“Kind of,” Rin says, slowly. “Yeah. I mean, I’m not pretty sure. I know. I’ve known for a while now.”
Haru nods. Rin isn’t looking at him, but he can feel Haru looking at him , a burning that settles on the line of his jaw. “Thank you for telling me.”
And it fully hits Rin that he’s done it; just once, but he’s done it. He’s said it out loud and to someone else, and the world is still there beneath his feet. He breathes. “Just for the record, you’re the only person I’ve said that to.”
Haru shifts around against the counter. “What about Sousuke?”
“Hasn’t really come up,” Rin says, with a chuff of forced laughter. “I know he’d be fine with it. I just have to figure out how to say it.” He looks at Haru, finally, and sees the question in Haru’s eyes so plainly he rolls his own. “You’re weirder than he is. I could tell you I’m a serial killer and you’d say, ‘Okay, Rin. When can we swim?’”
“I don’t think this is weird.”
Rin pauses. Haru looks so sincere. “Me neither,” he says, quietly. “I’m serious, you know. No one knows. I mean, my mom probably has a feeling, because she always knows what’s going on with me before I do, and Gou always asks me weird questions that makes me think she’s known for a while but I’ve never really—”
“Rin,” Haruka interrupts gently. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Rin drops his shoulders from where they’ve been tensing, and the creases between his eyebrows smooth out. “Thanks.”
Maybe the sincerity Rin can’t help but convey becomes too much; whatever it is, finally, Haru looks away. “How long have you known?” he asks.
“Always, I think. Definitely before I found out it was, you know. A thing.”
“And you’ve never told anyone?”
“Nah. I either thought it wasn’t important, wasn’t their business, or … I don’t know. I don’t think anyone I know would really have a problem with it, but it’s like. What if , you know?”
Haru makes a face. It looks like he’s concentrating very hard on something. “I don’t get how you can just know.”
That surprises Rin a bit, and he’s not sure if he’s meant to be offended or not. “It’s not really that complicated. Same as how you’d know you’re straight.”
Haru looks at him.
Rin looks back. Then he understands. Then he thinks Haru understands that he understands, because Haru’s eyes fall away. “Oh. Shit. Got it.”
Haru closes his eyes. “Does it matter?”
“Not unless you want it to,” Rin says slowly, after a few moments of silence. Inwardly, his heart is beating a mile a minute. He hopes Haru can’t hear it, because it’s pounding in his own ears. “Uh, so you. Don’t know?”
“Not really,” Haru says, and wow, they’re actually talking about this. Rin’s mind tries to backtrack. How did they get here? He decides quickly that it doesn’t matter. “I don’t think I care.”
Rin nods along. “Don’t care, as in …”
Haru starts to looks even more uncomfortable than before. Rin is about to tell him he doesn’t have to elaborate if he doesn’t want to, but then Haru says, “A girl on the team kissed me.”
Rin’s thought process grinds to a halt. “Whoa. What?”
Haru looks at him. “She tried to, anyway. It was at a party. I left after. I don’t even think she remembers doing it.”
“Uh. Wow. And?”
“And I don’t know. No one’s ever tried to do that before. With me.” His brow furrows. “I don’t know how I feel about it.”
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you willingly went to a party,” Rin says candidly. Haru snorts. “She tried to kiss you? You’re more charming than you let on, Nanase.”
“Stop,” Haru says, his cheeks turning a satisfying shade of red. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“Are you attracted to her?” Rin asks, as non-awkwardly as he can manage.
“Sure. A little bit.”
Rin searches his eyes. “Are you attracted to guys?”
Haru visibly swallows. He looks back at Rin. “I think I could be.”
Rin feels a little giddy, a little anxious, a little like he should be taking this a lot more seriously than he currently is. “You don’t have to know all of these things right away, Haru. But, I mean, you sound like you’ve got somewhere to start. Maybe you’re bi.”
“Maybe,” Haru says, slowly, clearly turning the idea over in his head. “But you knew before.”
Rin shrugs. “Everyone’s different. Or so I hear, I dunno. Even though I knew already though, it helped having someone come onto me. Clears things up.”
Haru blinks owlishly. “You’ve—”
Rin takes a second to understand, before his entire face starts to burn. “No. No, I mean—I’m not completely in the dark about, uh. That kind of thing. But if you mean … I haven’t had sex.”
Haru says, “Me neither,” like it’s some big revelation. Rin can’t help the short laugh.
“I kind of figured,” he says, then leans up in a certain way that pulls Haru’s arm away from his. He’d kind of forgot they’d been touching, and the sudden absence of the warmth is sobering. He stands a little straighter, musters up some bravery, and says, for the millionth time, “Hey, Haru.”
Haru looks up.
“I had a huge crush on you when we were kids,” he admits, feeling like his tongue is swollen. Haru looks properly surprised now, and it helps to see that they’re both blushing deeply. “That helped. You know.”
Haru turns away. “I didn’t know that.”
Rin manages to laugh. “Guess I should be grateful for that.”
“I really didn’t.”
“Yeah, I thought so,” Rin says, following Haruka’s blunt tone. “You’re sort of oblivious. To everything.”
Haru’s eyes find his again, lock them into place. “Not everything,” he says.
Rin feels his blood run cold, then burn hot again in the next second. His clothes are mostly dry by now but he still feels an itch all over, gathering in his fingers, his knees, his mouth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Haru keeps looking at him. Then he looks, very pointedly, at Rin’s mouth. If there is a message to be delivered here—and Rin's pretty sure there is one, pretty sure his hopefulness and romanticism wouldn't take this much of a leap if Haru wasn't actually offering him something whole—Rin gets it, and it pins his heart to the floor so that he has to move without it, his chest hollow and fluttery.
“Haru,” he says, daring to take another step closer.
He wonders if this is what knowing was always supposed to feel like. Haru spreads his knees to make room for Rin, then reaches out and catches the hem of his shirt.
Rin comes as close as he can, but still the doubt is there. Haru is looking at him so deeply. He whispers, "If I'm ... reading this wrong, or—"
“I want you to,” Haru says gently, as raw as he was beneath that barren tree, beneath the shadows, beneath Rin then and beneath him again now. He’s still leaning back against the counter, and he doesn’t move even when Rin takes a hold on his hips, feels that his clothes are mostly dry too, and warm, like his skin is where Rin’s thumbs slip beneath his sweatshirt. When Rin kisses him, carefully, he finds his mouth is softer than it looks.
Rin pulls back as quickly as he had leaned in, nervous now in an absurd way he wasn’t before. Haru is looking at him like he’d never closed his eyes, and maybe he hadn’t. His hands are on Rin’s wrists.
“I don’t know if that helped,” Haru admits softly, but his hands remain. His thumbs are pressed to the veins running up the middle of Rin’s wrists.
Rin is aware of the fact that his knees are still in a tangle with Haru’s, that if he shifted his weight forward just a little, their chests would be touching. Among it all, he still manages to nod. “It didn’t have to, Haru.”
He releases Haru gently, feeling like he’s just been given something very precious. The moment feels that way, too, as he leans back and Haru leans up, standing straight.
“Thanks,” Haru says, and that sends Rin into embarrassment all over again.
“I’m gonna go shower,” he says, not sure what to feel and certainly not sure what to show. Haru doesn’t stop him on his way to the bathroom.
It might be a mistake, because alone under the hot spray Rin has room to think about it all. Haru’s bathroom is small, not cramped, but small enough that he can hear his every breath bounce off the walls and come back to him, ringing in his ears as clearly as his pulse. So he’s kissed Haru now, okay. So he’s confessed half a lifetime of feelings to him, okay. So he’s kind of also been rejected.
He’s probably going to have to work through that one for a while. And maybe not now, when he’s got to pretend everything’s okay for at least 12 hours and a freestyle race. Maybe tomorrow he can shack up with Sousuke after all. It’s been a good long while since he’s cried to his best friend over something hopeless and nonsensical.
Rin’s in the midst of wondering which part of fate it is that has it out for him when there’s a knock on the door. He’s sort of right next to it so he jumps a little; then he says, somewhat confused, “I didn’t lock it.”
Haru comes right in, making a point not to look at Rin. Another nail in the coffin; years of sharing locker rooms have erased all modesty from either of them. Rin’s about to turn away, too, but Haru leans back against the door, tips his head forward—then slams it back with an audible crack.
Rin really jumps this time, thoroughly lost for words. He watches, confused and wide-eyed, as Haru sighs, then opens his eyes up to look at Rin.
Then he says, “Can I stay?”
It takes Rin a second to understand, through the fog in his head. But there is an anxious expectation in Haru’s eyes that wouldn’t let Rin misunderstand him even if he wanted to.
Feeling entirely naked, but of a different sort, Rin nods.
Haru’s chest sinks into the door. Then he takes his shirt off.
Rin sort of wants to help Haru out of the rest of his clothes when he reaches for them, but he’s terrified that any move he makes will take Haru out of whatever spell this is, so he just stays put. Haru makes the task quick and painless anyway, and then he’s naked, and then he’s naked next to Rin, who is also naked. Rin steps back, making room for him to fit under the water, but Haru pulls him back in, no doubt feeling Rin’s heartbeat now, aching in the whole of him, hidden behind his teeth when Haru kisses him.
He reaches for Haru’s hips again because that’s familiar now, in a bizarre sort of way. But he learns that it’s easier just to let his hands do what they will while he’s focusing on kissing Haru properly, now that he has the chance to keep him here.
He cares even less now how they got here or where this will lead. The gentle pressure of Haru’s body is enough to keep him satisfied for a lifetime. But Haru shows no sign of stopping; his lips press gently to Rin’s and his hands clutch onto his hair so sweetly. Rin feels that his chest is ready to burst.
Haru pauses gently when Rin coaxes his mouth open, something he tries to cover up by kissing Rin back, letting their tongues slide together with short resistance. But as it were, Rin catches it anyway.
“Sorry,” he says, pulling back enough to say the words against his mouth. “Was that new?”
“... I liked it,” Haru says, and Rin feels his eyes open against his own—he pulls back to not look at Haru cross-eyed, and sees that the anxiety is in full bloom behind Haru’s eyes.
“Haru,” he says, letting his hands come up from where they’ve landed on his shoulders to touch his face. Water floods through the back of Haru’s hair, over Rin’s fingers. “It’s okay.”
Haru touches his mouth, a pressure that's nice enough that Rin would trade it for Haru’s own mouth and nothing else. “Sorry.”
Rin hushes him, then presses his mouth wetly to Haru’s jaw. Haru exhales noisily, his hands pressing to Rin’s front and slipping downward. His digs his nails in just enough for a jolt to fire up Rin’s spine; then Haru drags them down, too, traces the lines of his abs. When Rin kisses down the column of his throat, he moans openly.
“Jesus,” Rin says, “am I dreaming?”
“Rin,” Haru says, and pulls him back up to kiss him again.
“Feels like I'm dreaming,” Rin murmurs.
Haru mm-hmms into Rin’s open mouth, hips bumping into Rin’s, and wow, they are both so naked. Rin can't help but marvel at the simpler things at play, like how short and soft the hair at the base of Haru’s neck is, or how calloused his fingers are, dipping into Rin’s navel. If it is a dream, he's okay with it, just for how real it feels.
He feels Haru’s thumb slip over one of his hip bones, shivers, lets his hands drop to squeeze Haru’s shoulders. Haru makes another noise against his mouth, and Rin is helplessly infatuated, dizzy with want.
His knee slips between both of Haru’s, not entirely on accident; Haru pulls away from him to draw in a breath through his teeth and clutches Rin’s waist, drags himself forward so Rin’s thigh presses hotly between his legs. He's hard, and Rin feels like he's been set on fire.
He rests his hand on Haru’s thigh. “Can I—”
“Yeah.”
Rin takes him, then, in just a loose grip, and Haru buries his face in Rin’s neck before he releases a strangled moan. Rin is careful and slow, hypnotized by the pace Haru sets with his hips and following it. “God almighty.”
Haru just lifts an arm to wrap around Rin’s shoulders. He's breathing heavier, and his mouth is slicker than the spray of water against Rin’s neck.
“Haru,” Rin says, into Haru’s hair, for no other reason than that he likes the way it sounds, bouncing of the walls of the bathroom. “You'd tell me if you wanted me to stop, right?”
Haru shivers and pulls back, lets Rin lean him back against the wall. His eyes are molten. “I want you,” he says.
I love you, Rin thinks. Then he drops to his knees.
Haru says nothing, not even when Rin is spreading his hands across Haru’s thighs and using his mouth on him, and definitely not when Rin’s jaw starts to ache. But he tangles his fingers in Rin’s hair, strokes the back of his neck and down between his shoulder blades, draw his hips in tight circles. And he makes short, desperate noises that he tries to muffle by holding his breath, and in turn his chest heaves more.
Rin doesn’t know if there’s such a thing as getting the hang of this, but his ego is effectively stroked each time Haru pulls a little harder, or one of his legs hitches up on a reflex. At one point Rin gets brave, pulls back and then sinks back down at far as he can and Haru fucking yanks on his hair, a strangled mess of Rin’s name punctuating the jerk his hips give, and fuck, it’s worth the amount of swallowing Rin has to do to get rid of that particular soreness.
“You can keep pulling harder,” Rin has to pull off to say, mouth against one of Haru’s inner thighs. He doesn’t shave here, or much of anywhere, it seems. Rin’s kind of pissed off he can still swim like a bullet with it all.
Haru has to clear his throat a couple times, and hey, that’s pretty nice for the ego, too. “You like it?”
“Yeah.”
Haru isn’t looking at him, is just blinking at the opposite wall—Rin makes the mistake of looking, and fuck , Haru’s staring straight into the fucking mirror.
He has to press his face into Haru’s stomach and process that for a moment. “You like that?” he asks pointedly, and Haru frowns.
“Just—” he says, voice wavering; pleasure makes it deeper. “Just don’t—s-st—”
Rin had no plans to, and Haru’s plea fades fast into another moan when Rin goes down again. He does pull harder now, and his blunt nails dig crescent moons into the meat of Rin’s shoulders—it’s hot as hell, frankly. And Rin can think that now, guiltlessly. That alone makes his head spin more than even the task at hand.
“Rin,” Haru whines when Rin presses his thighs a little wider that what’s probably comfortable for him to stand on, but he’s been sort of halfway sitting on Rin’s shoulders anyway and from here—from here Rin can stroke up his stomach, feel the muscle shift while he breathes, or brush over a spot behind Haru’s balls that makes him jerk breathlessly into Rin’s mouth. “ Rin. ”
Rin just swallows him down, victorious when Haruka wrenches a hand away from him to cry out into his forearm; in the end he really can’t take as much of Haru in as he’d like to but it’s all enough, because with one more creative twist of his hand between Haru’s legs Haru gasps and comes.
Maybe five percent of it actually ends up in Rin’s mouth—the rest is left to swirl down the drain or gets caught on his face. He works to wipe it away as best he can while he stands, and his knees are definitely going to have a few bruises to show for his efforts. It’s fine though; he barely gets to his feet before Haru kisses him again, still breathless, but ferocious and determined, his hand going straight between Rin’s thighs.
“Haru—oh fuck,” Rin murmurs, trapped against his mouth, hands slipping against the wall. “Hang on, shit—the water’s gonna get cold, babe—”
Haru shudders, decidedly not from the drop in temperature, and reaches with his free hand to crank the knob up as high as it’ll go. The water goes burning hot again but shit, it wouldn't matter, Rin would stand naked in the Arctic tundra if Haru would jerk him off like this—unhurried but steady, and is this how Haru gets himself off when he’s alone?
Rin pretty much never lets those kinds of images enter his mind but now they flood in, and he moans into Haru’s mouth, clutching at his back, scratching his fingers down the length of his spine. Haru moans too, because he’s a walking hazard, because he exists to be the bane of Rin’s sanity, and because he’s Haru and he’s so weird, and so hot Rin can hardly stand it. And Rin's been so hard for so long that Haru really only has to keep it steady for a minute before Rin's orgasm lights his entire body up, from the inside out.
Haru's reaching for his face with both hands when he's done, letting Rin pant ungracefully into his mouth. The steam is making it harder to breathe now but Haru kisses him anyway, taking no pity on his poor lungs—or on his poor heart. But Rin supposes that's another matter entirely.
"God," Rin says, holding Haru by the shoulders. "God."
Haru leans his forehead heavily against Rin's, eyes fluttering shut. He hums, and it's almost lost beneath the sound of water hitting the floor.
"Are you about to fall asleep on me?"
"No," Haru says, but he doesn't open his eyes. Rin traces up his neck and touches his cheeks, poking him over and over until he cracks an eye open.
"Good," Rin replies, and kisses the bow of his lip. Then he tips Haru's head to the side, just a bit, and kisses the side of his neck. Haru gives a quiet moan. "I have to actually finish showering."
"So do I," Haru retorts. "You can ... stop ... whenever."
It's probably a good idea, because he's close to leaving a mark that would definitely bruise for the invitational tomorrow. He pulls back, looking fully at Haru, letting everything sink fully into his skin. "Was that enough help?"
Haru stares at him blankly, but it's probably meant to be some sort of a glare. "That isn't why ..." he turns his eyes away. "No."
Rin waits, but Haru doesn't elaborate. "Okay."
"Had you done that before?"
Rin releases a surprised sound. "Not exactly."
Haru stares over his shoulder, at some unknown point of the wall. Rin hopes it isn't the mirror again. But he doesn't get the chance to figure out if he even wants to ask, because in the next second Haru's turning away from him in favor of a bottle of soap.
They face away from each other while they wash themselves, and Rin has no idea how to feel about that. It's almost like he's back to that rejected feeling, except that doesn't make any sense because he literally had the object of his affection's dick in his mouth all of ten minutes ago. And he gets it if this was a one-time thing. He's okay with that. He's not okay with the silent treatment, though; and he's not even sure if it's on purpose.
By the time he's got a towel around his waist Haru's turning the water off and following suit; and Rin makes a show of leaving, of sitting in his boxers on Haru's bed to wait for him to finish because he's at least earned that with all of the revelations he's made tonight. And Haru, for his part, doesn't even seem surprised to see Rin sitting there. If anything, he looks relieved that Rin hasn't packed his bags and taken off.
He turns off the overhead light, so that only his desk lamp is on. The dim light turns his shadow black as he paints it over the bed, and across Rin's lap when he sits.
He says, "I can make breakfast in the morning."
"Cool," Rin says, and sort of wants to die.
The bed dips where Haru shifts around on it. "Rin," he says, and gives Rin a moment to look at him. He leans over, kisses Rin softly on the mouth, then settles down beside him.
Rin stays sitting up, a little stunned. Haru reaches for his hand, takes it and pulls it to his chest. "Haru ..." he says, as Haru spreads his fingers and softly strokes each one. "Maybe we should talk about ... that. This."
He squeezes Haru's hands a little, as if Haru would need any help with clarification. "Maybe," he says. "I'm tired."
Rin blinks, dreary himself. "It's fine if that was the only time that needed to happen."
Haru looks up at him, stoic as usual. "I missed you," he says, ignoring Rin's sentiment altogether.
Rin's chest tightens up all the same. "You too," he says, and it's the truth. Being away from Haru is sort of like missing an organ. "But, Haru."
"You can stay here until you go back to Australia," Haru says, bringing Rin's hand to his face, pressing his palm to his mouth. Rin can feel his lips moving when he speaks again. "If you want."
Just like that Rin is drawn to him, to the pressure of his mouth, and his knee when he reaches out with it to press against Rin's thigh. Haru presses into his palm with his fingers, then draws Rin's thumb into his mouth and gently bites down, stirring Rin's mind into a muddled mess.
"Is this you flirting?" he asks, brokenly, feeling driven mad. And of course Haru has no answer for him but to draw him down by his shoulder, to hitch a leg up over his hip when he's horizontal enough for it to be comfortable, and hell, Rin's pretty sure sanity's overrated anyway.