Free! doesn't belong to me. Neither does High Speed!
Prompt: "I loved you like a fool." "You weren't the only one." "This was a mistake, wasn't it?" "I never said that."
(slightly modified, but the idea is there)
One thousand days
.
It's quiet.
It's quiet when Haruka arrives into his flat, when he kicks his shoes off before even closing the door and drags his feet to the kitchen while getting rid of his jacket and scarf, not bothering with switching the lights on. It's quiet as he washes a dirty glass that has spent the last week in the sink and ignores the dishes and cutlery starting to smell foul. As he rinses the glass and fills it with fresh water and wanders towards the stool, sits on it and downs its content in two gulps.
It's quiet and dark.
Haruka's index finger slides over the edge of the glass, admiring the way the droplets of water still clinging to it reflect the street lamps' glow filtering through the window. Tremulous, warm light caresses the floor, or maybe it's Haruka the one shaking upon recognising that particular shade.
It's quiet, and the only light is auburn.
It feels like a bad joke.
His phone presses against his thigh, through his jeans; reminds him of a stupid conversation, of nervous smiles and inevitable anxiety hidden in witty remarks. As if nine hundreds ninety nine days ago had been just yesterday.
As if he had never left.
It's quiet and the silence rings in Haruka's ears, loud as a never-ending screech.
Silence in the shape of his voice, in the shape of the dozens of reasons he gave to explain why they had to end what had never started. Silence that screams the hundreds of nights Haruka spent staring at his phone, waiting for something he knew never would come.
Silence that whispers his excuses for not talking to Haruka in nine hundreds ninety nine days.
He was busy. Calls were expensive. He didn't know what to say– and then, he feared what would come from his mouth if he stood in front of Haruka.
Maybe it's better he didn't call, Haruka reasons, not taking his eyes off the reddish light. Maybe it's better they were clever enough to avoid each other for as long as they could, that Rin only heard about the injury that killed Haruka's dream from Makoto. That Haruka learnt about Rin's successes thanks to the media.
But it couldn't last forever– and deep down Haruka has known it since Rin and he parted ways almost three years ago. Rin visits regularly. It's nothing short of a miracle he only ran into Haruka seven days ago.
But it's been quiet for longer than a week and it's killing Haruka.
He lets the glass on the counter, fishes his phone from his pocket. Rin hasn't changed his number. Not like Haruka has.
And he doesn't know what he wants, but he needs the silence to go away.
His thumb hovers over the call button, though, without pressing it. Nine hundreds ninety nine days and a million doubts freeze him.
And in the end, what kills the silence is the doorbell.
The suddenness of the noise makes Haruka drop his phone; he barely notices how the screen light extinguishes. He doesn't want to see anyone right now, yet when the bell rings twice, three, four times more he finds himself walking towards the door almost mechanically, swinging it open without even seeing who's on the other side.
And he finds red.
Redder than any artificial light will ever be.
Haruka's fingers tighten around the knob.
"Rin."
Rin stares at him, looks down. He's shaking; it's only then that Haruka notices the snowflakes clinging to his hair and realises how cold it's outside. He shudders, purses his lips together as he waits for Rin to speak.
"I'm… S– sorry, I wanted…" Rin swallows down. "I really wanted to see you."
.
Truth be told, Haruka isn't sure why he allows Rin into his home. Minutes pass between them, tying them both to the sofa they're sitting on. The lights are still off and it's clear Rin has no intention of chasing the silence away. It's even louder, now, because it's filled not only with everything Haruka never said, but also with all the things Rin kept to himself.
At least Rin isn't trembling anymore.
But it's so quiet, even with him there.
"You could have called," Haruka finally says, because he's dying a little every second they spend in silence. "At least once."
They have talked to each other in the last week. Only it's now when Haruka has found the resolve to actually say anything.
"Yeah."
Haruka steals a glance at him. Rin is staring at the floor, expression hidden behind red locks and darkness.
"Why didn't you?"
Rin huffs. "You know why."
Haruka intertwines his fingers together, stops biting his tongue. "I was scared," he admits. Softly, so quietly the silence swallows his voice.
Rin looks at him, but Haruka can't see his expression yet.
"You mean when you quit swimming?"
"I mean when you left." He's only realising now how the numbness that has lulled him for almost three years was only protecting him from the fear of never seeing Rin again.
But he can't say aloud how much it hurt when the only good part about being unable to swim competitively again was hoping Rin's excuses stopped being excuses; he can't bring himself to talk about the loneliness when months passed and his phone kept silent– he refuses to tell Rin how much of a burden he is to his friends, how worried he still makes Makoto.
"I was scared, too," Rin mumbles. "I… I was such a coward– I still am." Haruka looks at the empty space between them. Barely half a metre and a bottomless abyss. "There were so many things that could go wrong and I wanted to avoid them… But in the end everything went to hell– and I swear I wanted to– I wanted to swallow everything I had said after that night, but I thought you would hate me if I… Well…"
"I hated you when you didn't come," Haruka whispers, only realising when the memory echoes in the silent flat how true it is.
Rin's breath fills the silence, heavy and hitching here and there, and Haruka really hopes he isn't crying.
Because Rin doesn't have the right to.
"I'm sorry."
"Me too."
Rin uncomfortably shifts on his spot. Haruka notices he's shaking, again.
"I really loved you like a fool."
The words float in the darkness, eating the silence with serene sincerity.
Almost three years ago, that was all Haruka wanted to hear. Now it's not enough. Love wasn't enough to make Rin stay.
"You weren't the only one," he mutters. He dares look at Rin, at the tears gathering in his eyes, too proud to escape running down his cheeks.
"Coming here was a mistake, wasn't it?"
Haruka closes his eyes. He has been a mess for the last week, more than usual; almost as much as when he quit swimming. But Rin is there now, and it's still quiet but the silence is gentle for the first time in one thousand days.
"I never said that."
When Haruka looks at Rin again, there are surprise and hope mixing in his expression. Haruka's probably mirrors it.
"Then what do you mean?"
Haruka swallows down. His mouth is dry again.
"I don't know." He bits down on his lower lip. "How long are you staying, this time?"
Rin seems ashamed, but he doesn't look away. "Enough for you to make up your mind. If you want me to."
There is a nod, a request and an answer. Rin stays on the couch, Haruka walks to his bedroom. Through the window he can see the whitening streets as snow falls on the ground.
It's quiet again.
For the first time in a thousand days, Haruka doesn't fear it.
Feedback is welcome.