.
Beneath the Surface
promise me,
you will not spend
so much time treading water
and trying to keep your head above the waves
that you forget,
truly forget,
how much you have always loved to swim.
— tyler knott gregson —
It's 2:28 in the morning when Matsuoka Rin's phone vibrates, startling the redhead awake. Peeking through half-lidded eyes, he groggily turns over to face the source of the buzzing, deciding whether he should answer the incoming call or not. In his mind, whoever has the nerve to make small talk this early in the morning is absolutely insane (and maybe even drunk if it's Mikoshiba who's calling); they can wait until later to pester him. After quickly thinking it over, he reaches across the mattress to shut off his phone.
"Tch, damn idiot messing with my sleep," he grumbles, praying for the wave of much-needed sleep to return.
About five minutes later, his phone beeps, a notification illuminating from the screen. Rin slowly opens his eyes to the light, eyebrows knit together in apprehension. Whoever is trying to contact him is certainly adamant… and annoying. Curiosity gets the best of him, as he grabs the phone and scrolls to find the new notification. Amidst a series of Instagram and Snapchat messages, Rin strains to see the apparent text message, eyes widening as he reads the name of the sender.
"Haru? At two in the morning?" Rin wonders aloud, meanwhile unlocking his phone to see what's keeping the boy up at this hour.
Acknowledging how abnormal this situation appears, leaves Rin's stomach in knots. Not knowing what to expect leaves the redhead more concerned, his expression laced with worry as a long message appears on his screen. Quickly, he scans the text, then rereads it, his breath stopping as he reaches the last sentence.
"Fuck!"
Throwing the sheets off his body, Rin leaps out of bed. He scrambles to his desk and grabs his jacket, oblivious to the fact that he's cursing, tripping over loose clothes strewn about the floor. All that matters is he has to go now. Tugging on some loose shoes, he hurries to grasp the doorknob, then sprints down the hallway and out of the dormitory to the parking lot. At the back of his mind, he apologizes to Nitori for causing such a ruckus, hoping he didn't wake him, but it's far from the intermittent flurry of thoughts currently holding his attention.
Dialing Haru's number, he presses the phone against his ear whilst running across the road.
"The caller you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone…"
What the actual fuck, Haru?
The moment Rin spots his car, he unlocks it, lights flashing in response. They blink in the thin haze; a memory is flickering. It reminds Rin of how he had ignored Haru's call—he should have answered it when he had the chance. Once within arm's reach of the vehicle, Rin is frantic to open the door, dropping his keys twice in the process. His hands are violently shaking, his eyes seeing double. Finally, after managing to climb into the driver's seat, he dials Haru's number again, hoping the line won't drop.
"The caller you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone…"
"Haru, what the fuck are you doing? Answer the damn phone!" he screams into the speaker, voice filled with panic.
The message ends.
"Shit!" He curses, then shoves his keys into the ignition, the engine roaring to life. As the wheels peel against the pavement, emitting a string of screeches into the jarring quiet of nightfall, Rin automatically redials once more, tears now clinging to his eyes.
This time, the line goes dead. He can't even leave a message.
"Haru… why…" Rin croaks, his heart pounding.
Why didn't I answer… I had the chance to stop him…
"Haru, you idiot!"
Rin slams his hand on the steering wheel, his horn blaring. The next thing he does, though reckless while speeding, is punch in Makoto's number, praying the brunette will answer. Nobody picks up.
"Dammit, why?"
Not knowing who else to call, Rin musters enough courage to dial three terrifying, gut-wrenching digits, then presses the phone against his earlobe.
"9-9-9, what's your emergency?"
Rin gulps at the receiver's business-like tone.
It suddenly dawns on him—this is real, every single bit of it. The realization leaves Rin sick to his stomach, nausea clawing its way up his throat.
"I-I have reason to believe my friend is attempting suicide…"
Attempting suicide…
He hears the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the call, followed by a series of orders. Background noise. Static fuzz. Rin doesn't want to believe it. He just can't. Haru can't do this, he just can't.
But he is. Right now.
"P-please dispatch to Iwatobi High School… go to the pool…"
"On our way."
Once the call ends, Rin clutches the phone in his hand, the device trembling against the cusp of his ear. The word "suicide" feels like tar on his lips, coating his tongue with something heavy, weighing every part of his body down. It's as if the words haven't even left his lips in the first place, a mixture of something foreign and dangerous; it burns him. Angrily tossing his phone into the passenger seat, Rin attempts to regain his composure, knowing the last thing he needs is to lose his head at a moment like this.
I'm coming for you… don't you dare do this… it's not too late…
[it's late]
Rin gasps as the haunting text resurfaces, his body paralyzed with anxiety as the memory creeps into his head.
[sorry, i guess you were sleeping and didn't get to answer. i'm at the pool right now… makoto thinks i'm home but i just had to come… it's been too long]
The redhead grits his teeth; why did he have to say what he did at prefecturals?
"Haru. I win. This means I'll never swim with you again. Never."
[i miss the water… i haven't been swimming since our race… i just want to sink and never come up for air… it's free down there]
Don't do this… if you want to me to swim with you again, I'll do it… I'll do anything… just keep your head above the water…
[rin…]
Haru…
[i'm sorry]
I don't want a fucking apology, I want you to stay—
—I can't lose you.
Rin is screaming, his fingers curling around the wheel as tears begin to blur his vision—he can't see the road in front of him. His foot jams on the gas, the car shooting forward along the highway. Under the streetlamps, the acceleration leaves white streaks passing by his windows, the yellow dashes along the tarmac melding into one. Rin can't see anything, anything but Haru: the boy with inky waves for hair and blue eyes deeper than any ocean the redhead has ever seen. He releases a shaky breath, chasing after the illusion. His heart stutters at the thought of falling behind, being unable to keep up with Haru. Rin's slender fingers grope his chest, clenching his cotton shirt just above the place his heart is breaking in half.
The speedometer is approaching ninety miles per hour and everything within the car is thrumming with an energy Rin is not familiar with: the aroma of salty tears assaulting his nose, his knuckles bone-white as the blood leaves his hands, his heart pounding beneath his skin, as if it is beating for two people and not just one.
He wants to keep racing. He wants to sprint beside Haru again. Just not like this, not competing against time, not when Haru is calling it quits and refuses to keep swimming, not when the podium looms over them wherein only one can come in first place. He refuses to leave the pool without Haru at his side.
"I'm coming for you, Haru…"
—
Iwatobi High School is silent, save for the rustling of trees and the static humming of the nearby lamp posts. The peaceful atmosphere, wherein the campus appears to be lifeless, is shattered as Rin's car revs in the distance, the wheels shrieking in defiance as the redhead slams on the breaks right in front of the entrance. Without parking, he throws open the door and runs.
"Haru!" Rin shouts, hoping his voice will carry across the wide space and reach his friend.
Nobody responds. Rin keeps running. His legs, arms, lungs are screaming for oxygen, his vision beginning to blur around the edges. But he doesn't stop. He will never stop. Not until Haru is safe in his arms, away from the water.
"Where the fuck is the pool?" he growls, frustrated and terrified that he won't make it in time.
He might already be too late.
No… don't think like that… that damn fish can hold his breath for a long time…
In the wake of this rationale, however, common sense surfaces. Nobody can hold their breath for an hour.
Not even Nanase Haruka.
"Shit…" Rin gasps. His body is aching with both exhaustion and panic. Despite the apparent tiredness, his legs keep moving, weaving him between the buildings, the offices, the club rooms—relief washes over him as the smell of chlorine tinges the air, the sound of lapping water growing nearer.
The moment Rin reaches the pool deck, he doesn't hesitate, fingers gripping the hem of his shirt, tugging the oversized garment off and over his head. Tossing it aside, his eyes target the glistening water, and he is once again running, feet slick against the tiles.
"Haru, you can't do this!"
Nobody replies. He is completely alone.
At the bottom…
Throwing his arms into a streamline, Rin launches into the cold water. The temperature is beyond freezing, the cold biting at his kicking feet. He doesn't stop swimming. He can't stop. Not with Haru lost beneath the surface, unable to breathe.
Opening his eyes underwater, he inwardly curses at himself for not wearing any goggles. His vision is blurred; he can barely differentiate between the T-shapes running the length of the pool and the remaining turquoise tiles. Panic threatens to overcome the redhead, as the various shadows dispersed throughout the water begin to deceive him, looking disturbingly like his friend.
And then, just at the far end of the pool, twelve meters down, Rin notices a slight movement creep along the bottom.
Haru…
As fast as possible, Rin's legs propel him to the surface. Once his lungs are full of air, he drives his arms into the water. Fear has begun to swallow his last remaining hope and prayer; the movement seen just a few moments ago did not look promising.
"I want you to show me that sight again."
Then keep breathing…
"I've forgotten what it was that I saw."
Rin swims swiftly to the other end before taking a nosedive. Once again, the distorting shadows overwhelm him, but right beneath him, he finds what—who he's looking for. With his arm outstretched, his fingers brush against the slick, cold skin of a sinking Nanase Haruka. So cold in fact, that at his touch, Rin quickly withdraws his hand. Terror seizes his chest, suffocating him; he's been down here for a while. As this realization occurs, however, he notices the flutter of Haru's eyelashes, followed by a brief body spasm.
He's still alive…
Barely…
But alive…
The thought alone is more than Rin can ever ask for, and before he can hesitate any longer, he wraps his arms around Haru's torso and attempts to lead him to the surface. Only, the boy won't—can't budge. For a moment, Rin has the strongest urge to slap Haru, wanting to wake him up from whatever daze he's fallen victim to. But as this thought occurs to him, another spasm attacks Haru's body, the boy's oxygen supply running lower and lower. His blue eyes flash open, horror echoing in his azure-colored orbs; Rin observes the regret surfacing and creating an epic tsunami behind his irises.
He doesn't want this…
So why isn't he swimming away… to freedom?
And then, a glint of metal catches his eye. Underneath the luminous moon, Rin's gaze falls upon a pair of weights tied to his feet, keeping the freestyler pinned to the bottom of the pool. A wave of fear washes over Rin and he quickly swivels his head to look at Haru, red meeting blue, fear meeting regret.
Please, save me is all Rin sees embroidered on his friend's face, the boy's wide eyes half-begging, half-screaming to be untied from the weights. Haru convulses again, his mouth gaping like a fish, trying to breathe. Only, he's swallowing more water—he's drowning.
Without another minute wasted, Rin's hands latch onto the ropes binding Haru's feet, fingers working meticulously to undo the ridiculous amount of knots Haru had looped himself. Despite focusing on the rope, in his peripheral vision, he senses Haru's spasms slowing, his body no longer wracking with tremors.
Not good… not good…
Haru…
Rin curses at the knots refusing to budge.
Keep fighting…
Haru's body stops moving.
Keep… breathing…
Rin's fingers manage to untangle the last knot, the ropes coming loose.
Please…
He secures Haru's torso under his arm and pulls his limp body to the surface.
Don't die…
Haru's eyes are dim, even under the incandescent moon. Rin has never seen the boy's orbs so blue, so deep and so dark. Save for the hair rippling out in waves, Haru is motionless.
Grunting, Rin uses his free arm to pull himself and the unmoving boy to the water's edge. His fingers clasp over the ridge of the pool deck, then hurriedly uses every ounce of strength remaining in his arms to heave the boy over, mindful of his head against the tile. With a sickening, heavy thud from the limp body, Rin too clambers out of the water and kneels beside his friend. He isn't moving; he looks lifeless.
"Fuck," Rin growls before craning his neck over the boy's mouth, adjusting Haru's already slack jaw to open his airway. Pressing two fingers against his neck, he hopes—no, prays to feel a pulse. The redhead's panic doubles when the artery doesn't give way, when everything is still beneath the skin.
No… you have to breathe, Haru. You have to breathe!
Knowing what he has to do, Rin gathers his bearings and leans closer, lips frantically shoved against Haru's. His lips are freezing and have lost their pink saturation, blue tingeing the flesh. Desperate, Rin summons the air within his lungs and breathes it into Haru, trembling when all he sees is the mechanical, unnatural rise and fall of Haru's chest, mimicking that of a balloon being inflated then deflated. He provides another rescue breath, trying in vain to breathe life back into a boy who needed revival, who cannot possibly be gone yet.
This isn't happening… this isn't happening… you're not dead… you're not dead… come on, Haru… breathe already, dammit!
Rin clasps his hands together, palms face down against Haru's stark, white chest, then presses down… hard. Hard enough to break his ribs. Hard enough to kickstart his pulse. Hard enough to touch Haru's heart. The body beneath him only jolts to Rin's own accord, then once again falls slack against the ground. Unmoving. Still. Rin presses down again, only to yield the same result.
"Haru! You can't be dead, come on, breathe!"
He keeps pressing down, his hands trembling but never ceasing their movements. Again and again he pounds into Haru, his open palms slowly curling into fists, his frustration getting the best of him.
Haru isn't moving. Haru won't open his eyes. Haru isn't breathing. He has to… he just has to.
"Haru!" Rin cries, his vision blurry but remaining on Haru's dim, blue eyes.
There's so much blue… blue, blue, and more blue. His fingers… his toes… his eyes… his lips…
The rhythm of the chest compressions steadily increases, in sync with the stream of tears flowing down Rin's face. Once he hits thirty presses, he reorients himself to lean over Haru's face, fingers fumbling to rest against Haru's neck. Nothing. Unmoving. Still.
This isn't happening…
He rotates Haru's jaw, bending his neck backward to check his airway. Nothing. Still nothing.
You have to breathe…
He gazes into Haru's eyes, caressing his cheek.
Please…
"Fuck, if I'm not giving up on you," Rin shrieks, kneeling over Haru's torso once more, resting his palms against his firm chest, "then you can't give up on me!"
He forces his hands down, pushing farther down than before. Rin grits his teeth as he hears the appalling crack of Haru's bones but bears with the sound, compressing his chest once more. Over and over again. Haru's body like putty beneath his fingers. Rin screaming into the night. The moon shining over the two, one paler than the other. Everything is spinning—the school, the water, the sky. Everything except Haru: who lays silent, unaware of the enormous shift in Rin's world, Haru's pain transferred to his friend.
It's been minutes since the first rescue breath; yet, Rin is relentless. He doesn't stop. He can't stop.
He doesn't notice the dip in the temperature, from the slight chill to unbearable cold. He doesn't notice the clarity of the moon that seems to grow larger, closer to the duo. He doesn't notice the blaring sound of a siren, the flashing red and blue lights that draw nearer to the pool. He barely registers the soft but adamant grip of the medic by his side, pulling Rin off and away from his friend. The scene becomes too dizzying, too noisy, too busy for Rin to process, and sooner or later, he can't hear anything, lost to the mute sounds and blurry sights of the people rushing past him. His ears start to ring, his body won't stop shaking, his heart rate is rising, but he can't feel any of it. For all he can feel is the sickening churn in his stomach, his eyes unwavering and trained entirely on the unmoving body of Nanase Haruka.
—
4:26 in the morning—Rin empties his stomach bile on the side of the highway for the third time tonight. Feeling weak in the knees, his calloused hands grip the guardrail for support. Everything inside of him hurts, aches—there's no denying it—but everything feels numb at the same time. How is it even possible… to simply feel everything yet absolutely nothing at once; it is unbearable. Another bout of vomit claws up his throat, burning him before painting the pavement a sickly, green. He can't do this. He simply cannot do this anymore.
Though unbalanced, Rin makes his way back to his car, collapsing against the door before sliding down to sit. He can barely see, his eyes seeing double. All he can discern from the large forest residing before him, the top-heavy moon carved into the sky above him, and the endless stretch of road beneath him, is Haru.
For there is nothing else for him to see. For there is nothing else for him to think about, except Haru.
"I know how fun it is to swim with friends… how good it feels to swim in a relay together... you were the one who taught me that, Rin."
Then why did you do this?
"I understand now… I found the answer… why it is I swim… who I'm swimming for."
How could you do this to me?
"Rin, come. It's my turn to show you a sight you've never seen before."
Why, Haru… why?
"I won't get to swim with Rin again?"
"Dammit!"
Haru. Fish boy. Nanase Haruka.
Nanase Haruka: the boy the medics had pronounced dead at 3:32 this morning, just under an hour ago.
I did this to him… I did… it's my fault… all my fault…
If only I hadn't said what I did after our last race…
Because swimming was all Haru had. And Rin had taken it away from him by winning, then resolutely shoving his victory back in his face. To top it off, he'd had the audacity to cut all ties with the blue-haired boy, to say that they would never ever swim together again. He should have known better; Rin should have known better.
For if he had, none of this would have happened. Rin would have woken up for morning practice, gone to the academy, consider going to lunch with Gou, then head to the pool for another session. Everything would have been the same, and Haru would still be alive.
His heart would still be beating, thundering like a storm on the brink of the horizon. His hands would still be warm, would still be swift and powerful through the water. His eyes would be bright and mesmerizing and deep—captivating Rin with a sight he'd never seen before. It would have been, could have been, beautiful.
But no, he had to say what he had back at prefecturals. He had to resent Haru for being better at swimming, better at basically everything else. He had to hate him, had to beat him, and all for what? His pride? His ego? His best friend's life?
Rin had known what his words would do to Haru; yet, he allowed them to slip past his lips regardless of the implications and consequences that would follow.
How could he have been so selfish? And so damn blind?
All your fault… all your fault… all your fault…
To hear the resolute deafness of Haru's heart, to feel a nonexistent pulse—Rin can't stand it. Just a few years ago, he'd felt that heartbeat against him, arms embraced around one another in celebration of their relay victory. Haru had been so warm and happy and just alive. But to feel absolutely nothing beneath that same thick skin of his, for Rin's fingers to be unable to find the organ, unnerved by the lack of the powerful pulse that had pushed their team to the touchpad all those years ago—it is enough to leave Rin wracking with sobs, his knees tucked into his chest as the exasperating roars of anguish rip out into the hollow night.
To never see those breathtaking blue eyes again, to remember them only as dim spectacles of oceans anyone—swimmer or not—would drown in, is beyond painful. To think, that once, they were bright and they were shining and they were full of wonder and pure love for the water that lay before Haru. Yes, of course, there were tidal waves swimming behind his irises; there were sorrows that dwelled at depths nobody but the freestyler could scarcely imagine; there were storms and hurricanes and tsunamis in the boy's eyes, but they were never enough to conquer his resolute admiration and dire need for the water that crashed and pulled and swirled just beyond his fingertips. Nothing, and honestly, nothing could overcome that. Except for the water itself. And upon that winter day, wherein Rin had fallen to Haru, pitifully crying on the pool deck after their race, the redhead had found Haru staring, those blue orbs wide and raging and breaking. For he had hurt Rin; thus, he had come to hate the water; and in turn, brought the hatred upon himself and probably—most likely—vowed to never hurt Rin again. That was always the one thing Rin had absolutely hated, yet loved about Haru: his eyes had held more concern for his friends than anything else, and as a result, he'd always put them first.
Even over himself.
Rin cups a hand over his mouth to stifle a whimper, his body violently shaking as the memories resurface. At the touch of his lips, however, he recalls how blue Haru's had been, how deathly blue and purple and cold and dead they had become after staying under the surface for so long.
I should have known better…
"Fuck… Haru, I'm sorry," Rin wheezes, his fingers trembling against his lips.
He should have known. He really should have known. He had known. Fuck, he really had known.
For just a few months ago, when everything was sound and nobody was dead and the world seemed fine, right before prefecturals, Rin had paid Haru a visit. The redhead hadn't called nor had he given Haru any warning of his random and somewhat awkward appearance. To say Haru was shocked upon answering the door and finding Matsuoka Rin standing on his porch, would have been an understatement. Nonetheless, the freestyler had let him inside, graciously took his coat and offered him some freshly, grilled mackerel. Rin had snickered; typical Haru.
He politely declined Haru's offer and plopped himself down on the couch, ravaging his strangled hair with his hands. He'd come to see Haru for one purpose, and one purpose only: to settle things. To ensure that when they raced at prefecturals, Haru wouldn't back down to the challenge. Only, when he found himself sitting inside the Nanase household, worn photographs of the freestyler matted to the walls, the distinct smell of mackerel ebbing and flowing from the kitchen, the house empty of anyone but Haru himself, Rin discovered that this would be harder than he thought. To be so brutally honest, to be so demanding in a place wherein the two boys had grown up, under the same roof that had kept them dry, that kept them warm—it would be hard to treat Haru as a mere opponent, as a rival, rather than a childhood friend.
Eventually, when Haru rounded the corner of the den, Rin quickly peeked at him through the hands covering his face, then proceeded to stand with a stance so square and so firm, you'd think the boys were on the teetering edge of brawling. But they weren't, and that's what dissipated the words of seething, bubbling, hot fury in Rin's throat. This was Haru: his best friend.
"Rin, why are you here?"
"I-I don't really know anymore."
"Then I have something to tell you."
And they were kissing. Haru's lips were on Rin's, and the world around the redhead had faded. All he could focus on was the feeling of Haru's hands on his hips, how his thumbs dug into his waistband, how their bodies were so achingly close but not close enough, and how every friction-induced movement between them was so tantalizingly slow. And above all, Rin was shocked—to say the least—and was stuck between whether it was okay to kiss the freestyler back, whether this whole situation was right or wrong. Not that it had mattered anyways, for Haru simply kissed him harder, hoisting the redhead's legs around his waist and led them both to his bedroom. By the time Rin mustered enough strength to push the boy away, however, he was toppling onto a mattress, then pinned to the bed with a brute force never before seen coming from the blue-eyed boy. Everything about Haru in that moment had been so new and different and honestly, so damn beautiful. The way his eyes darkened with lust, the way his body kept rolling against Rin's, the way his lips left the redhead's skin on fire, raging fire.
"You are so important to me, Rin. I've wanted to tell you for a long time."
"Haru, I—"
"Please let me touch you."
Rin almost said no, his subconscious aware that this was wrong. That whoever was hovering above him, playing with the drawstrings of his sweats, was most definitely not the Haru that Rin knew. That the words that flew past Haru's lips—those pink, lush, and incredibly soft lips—did not belong to the timid, stoic boy that Rin had grown up with. However, he couldn't deny the sudden longing to be touched, the aching and primal need to be embraced by Haru. To be doused in gasoline and lit with a match. To be mixed together—red and blue—and make purple. To dive in and feel everything Haru had to offer, to simply feel something other than rivalry or resentment or hatred or camaraderie or competition. No, Rin wanted to feel this.
And he had, their bodies close, sweat beading on their skin, rippling off their muscles and shining like diamonds. Their breath had been oh so warm and fanned across each other's lips, the males devouring one another in a need to taste each other, to lick the salt, the sugar coating their mouths. And most of all, with Rin's hand secured around Haru's trim waist, urging the freestyler to thrust deeper, to pound harder, eventually they reached their unraveling, but neither had bothered to untangle themselves from one another—the proximity between the couple was welcomed.
"Rin, I want to be with you… always."
But of course, upon the blaring, morning jazz of the next day, the haze that had clouded Rin's mind quickly dispersed, the redhead waking in a sputtering panic. What had he done? What in the hell had they done? And before he could properly string a series of thoughts together, unable to fathom the deed that couldn't be undone, Rin shrugged on his pants, threw on his shirt, and braved the front entrance, making his grand escape before Haru could awaken. And just a few days later, upon the arrival of prefecturals, he had said those god-forsaken words:
"Haru. I win. This means I'll never swim with you again. Never."
Thinking back on it, everything makes sense. Everything fits into place—
—Rin had broken Haru's heart.
And now, it is too late to apologize, to make good on his word, to fix his mistakes. It's too late to do anything; Haru is gone.
"I'm so, so sorry, Haru…"
Please forgive me… I've found you after all this time...
"Rin. I've found it, too."