Free! doesn't belong to me. Neither does High Speed!

Prompt: Things you said at the kitchen table.


won't you wander back to me

.

The first time Haruka visits Rin in Australia, they both learn a valuable lesson: letting Haruka alone in a party is a very bad idea.

Rin has yet to find out which one of his teammates has come up with the bright idea of telling Haruka there is no water for him to drink, and then given him alcohol instead of the pineapple juice his friend is still convinced he's had more than a few glasses of.

"I'm not drunk," Haruka protests. "But pineapple in Australia tastes awful."

Rin groans, letting go of his forearm for a second as he opens the door of his apartment. He steps aside as Haruka stumbles inside, dragging his feet until he reaches the kitchen table. Miraculously he manages to sit on a chair without falling to the floor and leans his cheek on the cool surface.

"I don't feel well," he mumbles.

"Better don't drink anything they offer you again," Rin advises, closing the door behind him and hanging the key on the hook. "They're cool guys, but… a bit extreme with their jokes."

Haruka huffs, closes his eyes.

So far Haruka has tripped over his own foot twice in each street on their way home, denied being drunk four times (I don't even like alcohol) and changed his mind about wanting to sleep seven times. But now he finally seems to be ready to go to bed; Rin is almost willing to sleep with him if he keeps quiet for the rest of the night.

Instead he walks towards the table too, not even thinking about switching the light on as he sits on a chair next to Haruka.

Under the moonlight filtering through the window his friend looks paler than usual and somehow younger, with his dark hair tousled, locks stuck to his sweaty temples; only his cheeks give some colour to his expression. His black eyelashes project long shadows under his eyes, and his lips are strangely red and swollen. He looks at Rin, his eyes all pupil with a blue ring that is barely there.

"But I said I wanted juice," he complains, almost pouting.

Rin sighs, tentatively placing a hand on Haruka's shoulder. Maybe his friend hasn't lied; he has left the 'tipsy' stage behind a while ago, but he doesn't look as bad as some of Rin's Australian friends did before they left the party. Haruka frowns at the touch, but doesn't make any move to shake it off.

"And they wanted some laughs." Rin's thumb draws circles on the bare juncture between Haruka's shoulder and neck. "Let's go to sleep. Maybe you're lucky and won't have a hangover tomorrow."

It takes almost a whole minute for Haruka to speak again. Maybe he's tired, maybe he's just looking for the right words. When he finds them, he doesn't use them the way Rin expected him to, though:

"I want you to come back home," he whispers; his voice echoes in the silent apartment. "With me."

Something about the way he doesn't look away clenches Rin's heart.

"I'll come back," he eventually replies, the hand on Haruka's shoulder tensing up.

"But not now." Haruka closes his eyes again. Rin swallows down, cheeks as red as his hair.

"L–– Let's go to bed," he stutters, grabbing Haruka's wrists to pull him up. It's late, he's tired and he doesn't want Haruka to say anything he might regret in the morning; for a second he's scared even of touching Haruka to help him get to the bedroom. Doesn't it count as taking advantage? Haruka isn't in full possession of his faculties right now and Rin doesn't want to be that kind of person.

But then Haruka's wrists break free from Rin's grip easily, and his friend leans on his shoulder, hot breath brushing Rin's ear as he speaks:

"I miss you. But it's okay, because you're alright here."

Haruka draws back; looks at Rin intently, as if waiting for something. Rin exhales slowly through his nose. Screw it, if Haruka wants sincerity he'll have it, alcohol clouding his judgement or not.

"I miss you too," he replies quietly.

It might be Rin's imagination, but Haruka's cheeks look redder in the dim light. However, he is sure his friend's tiny, almost shy smile is real.

"Time to sleep," he tries a third time, and now it doesn't feel like he's running away.


Tittle from the song Little Wanderer by Death Cab For Cutie.