Chapter 2: So Alone

So alone,

Feels like forever.

The blanket was unnecessary. So too was the tea, and the shower he'd been forced into taking. Haru couldn't bring himself to complain, however. He found he couldn't bother. It simply took too much effort to fight against Rin's demands – always demands, because Rin didn't ask when he wanted something. He told.

Not that Rin seemed angry, or even aggressively annoyed. He hadn't since his initial outburst when Haru had first struggled into consciousness, his head throbbing and throat burning and limbs feeling even more leaden than usual. Rin's anger had quickly faded, and even through the depths of his grogginess, through the listless confusion that occasionally overcame him and was attacking with full-frontal force, Haru had seen the moment of Rin's realisation. He saw when his scowl slackened into blankness, then something close to despair, felt the tightening of Rin's fingers on his shoulder, before he spoke.

How long has it been…?

Rin knew. Rin was one of the few people who knew at all. Makoto suspected, Haru was sure, had been aware when Haru still took his pills as he should be. Haru had seen the glances he'd been spared in the instances when he'd slipped out of the room sometimes at mealtimes. He'd seen when Makoto had caught him at one point, though he didn't really care about being seen.

Makoto never asked, though. He simply accepted that Haru did what he did and took what he took for a reason. He never pushed or demanded for what wasn't freely offered. Or at least he hadn't until the previous night.

Rin was different, though. He would never simply wait, silent and expectant and perhaps a little hopeful. He would ask with bluntness and narry a hint of tact. He'd always been one to elbow his way into other people's business, to drop himself in the midst of a conversation and request an update on everything that had been spoken thus far. He asked the questions that no one else did because he seemed to lack the instinct that most people had that muted them in the face of asking personally or intrusively.

Or maybe he simply didn't care, his curiosity winning out over etiquette. That was probably it.

Rin had been the only person to ask Haru what it was that he took. They'd barely been friends at that point, and Haru only recently medicated under what the doctors called 'extreme circumstances', but Rin had noticed. He'd noticed and he'd asked, and he kept on asking with nothing but curiosity and faint disgruntlement when Haru ignored him or spared him only an irate glance in reply. He'd continued to prod until, in resignation – because what did Haru really care for who knew? – he finally told him.

Rin had been surprised. Surprised and a little confused, because at that age he hadn't quite the head for understanding the delicacy of such a situation, of what it meant. Then he'd brushed it aside as simply a fact about Haru amongst others and all but ignored it entirely. As far as Haru knew, Rin had never told anyone. He'd never said anything about it further, at least until Haru took himself off them without his parents' consent.

"Is something wrong? You're acting different to usual."

Makoto had noticed. Of course he'd noticed, because he was the sort of observant person who realised such things. But he'd never said anything. It was Rin who spoke up, blessedly in relative privacy. Like he always did, Rin disregarded proper etiquette and elbowed his way into Haru's business once more. Haru didn't want him there, never wanted anyone there, but even so…

Rin had noticed. He hadn't pushed or demanded as he had before, but he'd still suggested that something was different and there was a definite question in his words. He'd noticed that something was 'wrong'. At the end of the day, Haru knew that Rin's words, what he saw, had been one of numerous factors that had resulted in Haru begrudgingly taking himself back on his pills. A surprisingly big factor, too. He didn't like doing what others told him to, had never been inclined to do so, but for some reason Rin urged him to step up his game. It had always been like that: with his enforced friendship, with his encouragement to swim in the relay, with the rivalry they'd shared both before and since. When Rin pushed, Haru couldn't help himself. There was something just so persistent – so annoying – that urged him to act.

They'd always been like that. For some reason, Rin was just… different to other people. Or at least he was to Haru. Haru hadn't realised quite how much he valued his simple, nagging and unshakeable presence until it was gone, vanished to Australia. It was as though he'd left a Rin-shaped hole in the air alongside Haru that he couldn't un-see.

When he came back, even changed as he was, Haru couldn't help but acknowledge it all over again. He was different yet in so many ways very much the same. Of course Rin would be the one to realise. When he thought about it, Haru was almost surprised it had taken him as long to ask as it did. Rin was almost as observant as Makoto in that regard; it wouldn't have surprised Haru had he realised he'd stopped his medication the instant he had. But no, instead they'd seen less of one another since Rin's return, and more recently… they'd fought, become angry at one another, and Haru had hardly seen him for days after their poolside confrontation.

Not until that morning when Rin had pulled him from the pool.

At least Haru assumed he'd been pulled from the pool. He couldn't remember being manhandled but if the fact that they were both dripping wet and Rin was gasping alongside him as he regained his breath was any indication, he thought his assumption was accurate. He acknowledged as much in a detached kind of way, barely lucid as it was for the throbbing in his head, the lethargy that dragged on his arms.

The numbness had faded slightly at least. Just slightly, but it was noticeable to Haru. In its wake he just felt exhausted.

Rin hadn't waited for a response to his words, which was a good thing considering Haru had barely the headspace or the inclination to reply to him. They'd simply sat in stillness and silence for a long time as Haru struggled to gain greater purchase on his consciousness. Or Rin had sat; Haru hadn't been able to push himself to sitting for quite a time.

After long minutes, a long, long time in which the sun crawled steadily into the sky with unnecessary merriment, Haru had finally managed to force himself into motion. He hadn't wanted to, would have been quite content to simply lie prone for a good while longer, but Rin hadn't moved. He hadn't released his grasp on Haru's shoulder, hadn't loosened it even slightly, and for once it was Haru that was urging them into action. He didn't think he'd ever seen Rin so still and silent for that long before. It was eerie.

Rin wordlessly climbed to his feet alongside him. It seemed to take an unnecessary amount of effort for him to unlatch his fingers from Haru's shoulder, from the other hand he wrapped around Haru's wrist. Haru watched him for a long moment when he'd managed to struggle to his own slightly wavering feet but Rin hadn't returned his stare. His face was a confusing mixture of expressions, a wavering frown that didn't seem angry, a tightening of his lips and a slight narrowing of eyes that didn't appear as objectionable as it normally did. Haru wasn't good at reading other people, was fairly appalling at detecting emotions in his friends, but he thought he gleaned a hint of worry. Worry and something else, he thought.

Haru wasn't sure he understood what that something was at all.

Now, after a staggering trip home, they were seated side-by-side on Haru's veranda. Just sitting, facing and staring listlessly towards the silent, unremarkable façade of the sidelong house. Or at least Haru stared, the cup of tea still cupped in his hands and largely untouched. It was better that than look at Rin, who still wore a shadow of that same expression yet stared intently down at his own cup where it rested just before his crossed legs. He looked to be thinking uncharacteristically deeply about something or other. That in itself was almost as unexpected as his unbroken silence. Rin wasn't one to brood silently.

Haru didn't comment on either the thoughtfulness or the silence. He barely had the presence of mind to consider it at all. For some reason, a cottony thickness seemed to have taken up residence in his head and though lessened, the familiar and hated numbness hadn't fully abated with his dip in the water. His long, long submersion that…

Haru didn't even know how long he'd been under for.

Finally, as he'd known would happen yet almost grew to suspect wouldn't happen at all, Rin broken the silence. He gave an audible swallow before speaking. "When do your parents get back?"

It wasn't the question that Haru had been expecting. He drew his gaze sidelong towards where Rin still hadn't looked his way. "Not until the summer."

It might have been his imagination, but Haru thought Rin's jaw tightened slightly at that. "Can you get them to come back earlier?"

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Haru turned his attention back to his neighbour's house. "Of course not. They come back when they come back."

"Even if you need them?"

"I don't need them," Haru said shortly. What kind of a question was that? It wasn't like Haru needed his parents around. It wasn't like he needed anyone; Makoto could take his own dreams and plans for the future away with himself and Rin could similarly learn to keep his opinions to himself. Haru wondered why, though the feeling was pronounced enough, he didn't feel quite the anger he had the previous night.

"I think you do."

At Rin's slightly harsh words, Haru drew his sidelong attention towards him once more. This time, Rin had lifted his chin and turned towards him. His expression was altered, tight in a different way yet just as indiscernible in Haru's opinion. He really never had been particularly good at reading other people.

Shrugging the unnecessary blanket off his shoulders – it was far from cold enough to warrant it, even at only mid-morning – Haru lowered his cup to the veranda with deliberate slowness. "I don't."

"I think you do."

"Well, I don't."

"Haru –" Rin cut himself off as Haru flickered his gaze forwards once more, as though he'd effectively had a door slammed in his face. That in itself was uncharacteristic; Rin wasn't one to silence himself for anyone, even himself. Ever. When he continued, it was less demanding than his tone had been. "I think you probably need their help."

Haru did roll his eyes this time. "No I don't."

"If you're having trouble with your medication then –"

"I'm not having trouble."

Rin paused. When he continued it was in a sharp grumble. "Yeah, because you're not taking it."

Haru snapped his attention back towards him. He couldn't suppress a slight frown that Rin met with a scowl. For some reason, however, it didn't seem as fierce, not as genuine, as it usually was. "I don't want to take it anymore."

"Have you talked to someone about stopping?"

"It's not anyone else's business."

"It is if you try to kill yourself because you're not taking it," Rin blurted out.

Haru couldn't suppress a flinch, one that Rin mimicked as soon as he'd uttered his words. He winced slightly, a gesture entirely foreign for him given Rin was nothing if not confident in his own opinion and assertively forward when not. He cringed further as Haru stared at him flatly but didn't retract his words.

"I didn't try to kill myself," Haru said, enunciating deliberately. "And I'm allowed to choose to stop my medication. Whenever I'd like to."

That wasn't technically true. Or at least, it wouldn't be if anyone discovered that he'd apparently done something 'dangerous' that could be related to his temporary cessation. Haru wasn't going to tell anyone, however, and he was going to make sure that Rin didn't either. He'd stopped because he had to. Because he needed a break. Because sometimes, though it managed to stave off the numbness and the melancholy, the difficulty with enthusiasm and ability to become excited, sometimes Haru just… he needed a break.

He struggled with the fatigue and drowsiness it sometimes induced, a drowsiness that no matter how long he'd been taking his pills never seemed to abate. Haru struggled with the difficulty concentrating that sometimes gripped him, a fact made even more pronounced by the reality that he knew he wasn't a particularly attentive person in the first place. That detachedness was an entirely different kind to the numbness that was all in his own head, the numbness that arose when he stopped taking his pills.

Haru wasn't an idiot, or not in this regard at least. He knew what it was, had long ago accepted the reality of what he had. That didn't mean he would bow before it, however. Even if it did lead him to do something 'dangerous' at times.

But he hadn't been trying to kill himself. He hadn't, regardless of what Rin thought. Haru had simply taken himself into the comforting embrace of the water, and the leaden weight of his limbs dragged him down unresisting. He'd been soothed by the breathless pressure around him. It eased the aches that weren't in any way physical, and in that moment Haru simply hadn't wanted to come back up. It was peaceful, easy, to sit at the bottom of the pool, to close his eyes and hold his breath and resist the distant urge to push himself to the surface when his chest begun to burn.

Haru hadn't tried to kill himself. The suffocating part… it would have just been a rather unfortunate coincidence had it happened. He couldn't really find it within himself to care terribly much.

Haru was brought from his musings by a hand clasping onto his wrist. Blinking, he glanced down as Rin tightened his fingers in their grasp, squeezing just slightly as though he clung to a lifeline. Haru followed the length of his arm up to his face once more, to the confusing, unreadable expression Rin wore, the tightening of his jaw and the widening of his eyes in a way that was almost imploring. He didn't know why Rin had reached out to him; none of his friends with the exception of Nagisa were particularly tactile people. And yet the tightness of his fingers was almost compulsive, as though he had no intention of letting go.

"What?" Haru finally asked, as Rin simply stared at him and squeezed his wrist in a crushing hold.

For a moment, Haru thought Rin might snap a sharp, angry retort. Yet when he replied it was lowly, as imploring as his expression flickered towards Haru when not tightened with something else. "That certainly looked like what you were doing."

"Well, it wasn't."

"Oh, so you regularly spend minutes at a time sitting at the bottom of a pool?"

"And if I do?"

Rin snorted. "Don't give me that bullshit, Haru. I was the one that had to give you mouth to mouth."

Haru stared at him for a moment, blinking slowly before he spoke. "You what?"

But Rin ignored his words. "See, this is the problem, isn't it? You say you weren't, but that's what it was. Maybe you didn't mean to but you nearly drowned, Haru."

"Rin," Haru began, but Rin overrode him as though he didn't hear his words.

"You think it's your choice?" He narrowed his eyes slightly as he met Haru's gaze. "You think it's your choice to stop your meds when this shit happens if you do?" Rin shook his head. "What about the people that care about you? You stopped because you wanted to, you say, but what about Makoto? What about Nagisa and Rei –"

"Shut up," Haru said sharply, snapping his gaze away from Rin. For a moment his anger resurfaced, triggered by the echo of Makoto's words the previous night. It's because we all love you. Because we care about you. What was wrong with everyone at the moment? Where were these professions of care arising from? It had never bothered Haru before but suddenly it did. He'd never asked for that, had been quite comfortable being alone. It was certainly more convenient if people like Makoto butted into his business when they 'cared'. Was it so hard to leave him alone?

Apparently so. "No," Rin said. "I won't. Because you're acting like an idiot and you're going to hurt yourself. If I don't then you won't stop fucking up."

"That's none of your business," Haru said, though surprisingly with an abrupt lessening of his anger. It had always been that way; when Rin nagged him, his annoyance somehow dimmed. That time days before, when Haru's anger had lashed out in a shout unlike any he'd experienced in… in a long time – that had been unprecedented and unexpected. Unexpected even from his own perspective. For some reason, whenever Rin nagged Haru just couldn't feel the urge to get angry quite so easily.

"It is my business," Rin continued, tone as sharp and demanding as ever. It sounded a different kind of demanding, however, unlike his usual presumptuousness. Haru couldn't help but glance down at Rin's hand as it squeezed his wrist just a little more tightly. "It is my business because I care too."

Slowly, Haru lifted his gaze to meet Rin's stare. His sharp, fierce stare, yet strangely just as 'different' as his demanding tone had been. There was something there, something Haru hadn't detected before and he couldn't recognise. It didn't quite soften his dark-eyed stare but it wasn't quite as hard as it perhaps should have been.

Haru was the mute, and not only because Rin affixed him with such a stare. It was as much his words themselves that silenced him. Rin admitting he cared? Where had that come from? Makoto admitting as much was one thing because that was Makoto and he was without doubt the sincerest puppy-dog in the world, but Rin? Haru had never expected him to say such things. And he did it all without a flicker of embarrassment either. It was thoroughly confusing.

Swallowing once more, Rin seemed to make a deliberate effort to release Haru's wrist. The impression of his fingers remained briefly red on Haru's skin before fading. Turning away slightly, Rin drew a deep breath before abruptly rising to his feet. Haru followed his motion with a sidelong stare as he spoke. "So that's it. That's all of it."

"What do you mean?" Haru said warily.

Rin glanced down at him, pressing his lips together for a moment before replying. "I care. I actually care. And I care that you're doing stupid things because you're not getting help from your medication or whatever."

Haru frowned once more. "It's none of your business," he said again.

"Shut up," Rin replied immediately. His order wasn't quite as sharp as it perhaps should have been as he turned in place and started back inside. Haru followed his step as he left the veranda. "It is my business, actually. I'm making it my business. And since your mum and dad aren't around, you're going to put up with it."

"What?" Haru asked, but Rin ignored him and disappeared through the living room into the hallway. "Rin? What are you talking about?"

Rin didn't reply. The sound of his footsteps disappearing was the only indication he'd been there at all.

Rin determinedly refused to glance over his shoulder as he left the veranda, passing through the living room and into the hallway. He didn't pause as he took himself down that hallway and into Haru's bedroom, pointedly closing the door behind himself as he did so.

Rin didn't think himself a weak person, but as soon as the door clicked shut he sagged against it.

Fucking Haru. Damn him but he was a fucking idiot.

Rin was still shaken by what had happened. Perhaps even more so now that the adrenaline rush and sheer panic had faded into exhausted relief. Rin didn't think himself one to get shaken easily either but this…

Drowning had always been an issue for him. Always since his father had died.

Haru didn't understand it. It was utterly ridiculous to think that he didn't but he truly didn't seem to understand. He hadn't been trying to kill himself? Like hell. What else could it possibly be? He'd jumped into the pool himself and it wasn't like he'd hit his head and knocked himself out in the process. The thought terrified Rin, and more because he couldn't fathom how anyone could was the urge, the inclination, to do so.

It was only because he knew Haru, understood at least a little the situation that he was in, that he didn't hate him for what he'd done. That he didn't hate him for possibly thinking to do such a thing.

Rin had known for years that Haru had a problem. It wasn't so much a problem anymore because his parents had ensured it wasn't, except for when Haru stepped away from the support that had been erected for him. Rin had seen that before too, years ago when the boy he'd only so recently become friends with, a boy who was largely withdrawn, detached and stoically introverted, became… different. He'd changed, and Rin couldn't help but notice.

He'd asked. Of course he'd asked, because Haru would never be the sort of person to offer an explanation without request. Even so, it was surprising when Haru had told him. Just as surprising, if not more, than when Rin asked what those pills were that he took in the first place.

Haru had stopped. He'd stopped taking them all those years ago and it had changed him, made him different. Detached became listless, sombre even. It had lasted until an abrupt shift, and even at the age of twelve Rin had put two and two together and deduced that, where he had stopped and changed, restarting his medication again had shifted him back on track to what Rin had taken to be Haru's 'normal'.

Then Rin had left.

Haru had been Rin's definition of normal when he'd returned, if a sightly older version of it. At least he had been until recently, Rin realised in retrospect. How hadn't he noticed? Or more specifically, how hadn't he realised the underlying reason for Haru's behaviour? He was being objectionable, which wasn't anything particularly unusual, except that he was also even more introverted, more distant and morosely detached. Rin put it down to his swimming, and he was sure in many ways it was. Swimming had always been as much of a problem for Haru as it was a solution. Rin knew this because he found himself in exactly the same position.

Only… Rin didn't think swimming was the only problem. Not now at least. Not anymore. He suddenly regretted that he'd gotten angry after the race a few days ago, that he'd demanded that Haru pull his act together. He might not understand what it was like on a personal level to fight against what he'd read as being a 'constant and unending battle' but he should have guessed. Perhaps he should have known.

Rin wasn't deluded enough to think he should have realised right away. He didn't spend nearly as much time with his old friends as he did his schoolmates, with Sousuke and Ai and Momo, with all the rest of the swim team. He hardly saw Nagisa and Makoto anymore, Rei only for their spontaneous practices and Haru because… because they always just seemed to bump into one another.

But he should have noticed eventually. Rin should have noticed and done something.

The responsibility shouldn't be left with him, he knew. Rin should call Haru's parents, tell them about what had, in Haru's opinion, not-nearly-happened. He should perhaps even tell Makoto, because Makoto wasn't the sort of person who would demand an answer and, being one of the few who could offer support, he should know.

But Haru wouldn't like that. He'd hate it even. He was as insistently stubborn about his independence as he was with everything else, and though Rin knew he had to and most certainly would tell someone at least in the vaguest of terms, it might not be straight away. In Rin's mind that left only one solution.

He'd have to bring Haru to Australia with him.

The thought had been buzzing on the edge of Rin's consciousness, niggling at him until he acknowledged it. When he did, it was as though there was no other choice. Rin didn't even think about an alternative, didn't consider the prospect of Haru's refusal to be an issue. Haru could be stubborn, annoyingly so sometimes – or most of the time – but so could Rin. And in this instance, Rin wasn't going to let him out of his sight to leave a window for another such opportunity to occur.

Setting about Haru's room and disregarding the presumptuousness and invasion of privacy, Rin tugged a modest travel pack from his cupboard and set to stuffing it with essentials. He barely paid a mind to what he was doing but to note he was including everything necessary, distracted by his thoughts.

He'd take Haru with him. He would and Haru wouldn't have a thing to say about it. Rin would make sure of it, that even if he did object he was coming along, because the thought of leaving on schedule after what had just happened, just leaving without making the proper precautions…

It scared him. It scared him as he'd been so repeatedly scared already that morning.

Rin paused with his hand caught on a jacket and struggled to swallow the dryness he'd been fighting in his mouth for what must have been hours now. His fingers curled in the material and had it been any lesser quality it might have ripped.

Rin had been scared, so scared, and even more than he would readily admit to himself. It had taken the incessant battering of that fear in his mind for him to realise just what had been so terrifying, and surprisingly it hadn't been that it reminded him off his father. Or at least not primarily. It was the thought that if Rin hadn't been there, if Haru had – if he'd drowned…

The very thought churned Rin's stomach, and in a far fiercer way than he'd anticipated. Rin cared for his friends, even if he wouldn't so readily admit it aloud as he'd just blurted out to Haru moments before. He knew he would be horrified and wracked with grief if something happened to any one of them, both old and new friends. But when he thought about Haru, about Haru drowning…

Rin squeezed his eyes closed, fingers clenching even more tightly into the jacket clasped in his hand. Even the thought was sickening, the mental image of Haru lying limp and bedraggled before him the stuff of nightmares. Rin knew he cared but not that much. Not that much, because the thought of Haru drowning, of not swimming with him, of not sharing a word or a joke that was so minutely responded to as to be almost unperceivable – it physically hurt to contemplate.

Rin didn't think himself a weak person, but he was very definitely unhinged at such a thought.

As he had countless times in the past hour, Rin forcibly thrust the thought aside. It hadn't happened. He had to tell himself that it hadn't happened, remind himself of the fact that Haru was sitting outside on the veranda wrapped in a blanket that Rin had insisted he muffle himself in as much to pin him down and disable movement as for warmth and recovery. With a deep breath, he continued with his packing.

After the clothes, Rin made only a brief stop to the bathroom to scavenge the rest of the essentials. As he stuffed a toothbrush with little regard atop the rest of Haru's clothes, he paused before the faucet, frowning at the cupboard. It wasn't really his place to push it, truly wasn't anyone's place to make such a decision but Haru's except that…

Rin cared. He cared and he'd be damned if another situation like today repeated itself. Crouching before the cupboard, he flipped through the bottles and half-empty boxes stacked with variable degrees of tidiness until he spun a stout bottle with a recognisible name on the front. Rin didn't consider himself an expert on the leading SSRI brands currently on the market, but he was familiar with them. He'd made himself familiar after he'd learned five years ago that one of his best friends had need of them.

Haru was in exactly the same spot he'd been when Rin left him minutes before, still wrapped with the blanket twisted around his waist and his tea apparently forgotten on the veranda before him. He had the ability of embodying immobility down to an art. Rin had never really understood how he could remain so still and silent for so long as it was a skill that had always eluded him, but somehow Haru managed.

He was staring at the neighbour's house with an expression that suggested he didn't really see it, but Rin was relieved to notice his gaze flickered sideways towards him as he stepped up to Haru's side. There wasn't that blank listlessness that had surfaced when he'd awoken moments after Rin had dragged him from the water, the listlessness that would likely haunt him for years to come. Rin was glad for that at least.

"Here," he said, and by way of explanation dropped the travel pack onto the ground at Haru's side.

Haru didn't move but to shift his gaze down towards it. He blinked for a moment before glancing back up at Rin. "What?"

Such a predictable reply, Rin thought with a mental shake of his head. How he manages to put so much meaning into a monotonous monosyllable I'll never understand. Dropping into a crouch, Rin prodded the pack with a finger. "We're going on a holiday."

Another moment, another pause for nothing but a flat stare, before Haru repeated his unimpressed, "What?"

"I'm going to Australia for a couple of days in our week off," Rin said. He propped his elbows onto his knees, adopting a nonchalant pose that was more than a little forced. "And you're going to come with me."

"No I'm not," Haru said with more promptness than he had to any of Rin's statements earlier that morning.

"Yes you are."

"I'm not going to Australia."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not, Rin."

"Actually you are, because I'm not leaving you here by yourself and I'm going." Rin raised an expectant eyebrow as Haru regarded him flatly in return. "You're not staying here alone right after you tried to drown yourself."

Even speaking the words as casually and blasé as he could Rin felt his throat constrict convulsively. Don't think about that, don't think about it, he chanted to himself as Haru regarded him with the faintest narrowing of his eyes. "I told you, I didn't try to drown myself."

It stung even to hear the denial. "Really? Because that wasn't what it looked like to me." Fuck but it was so hard to appear offhanded. It was a physical struggle on Rin's part.

Haru shucked his blanket further down his waist in apparent annoyance. "I didn't. I wasn't. I don't want to drown myself. I'm not – I'm not –"

"Not suicidal?" Rin supplied. He fought a wince for how blunt he sounded even to himself but Haru didn't flinch. If anything he seemed only more annoyed rather than shocked or horrified by the suggestion. "Really? Because I don't know about you but I have no idea what people that refuse to come up for air when they're very competent swimmers would be doing otherwise."

"I'm not suicidal," Haru snapped again. There was real irritation in his voice this time, even bordering on angry. Rin nodded to himself. Good. At least anger was better than listlessness. Rin hated Haru's listlessness. "That wasn't what it was."

"What was it, then?" Rin said. He didn't realise until he'd said the words that his own tone was just as sharp as Haru's was. He hadn't even realised his anger had flared up; that in itself wasn't particularly unusual for him, but even so. "Please, enlighten me."

"I just –" Haru bit himself off and switched his attention back towards the neighbours house. Rin doubted he registered it anymore than he had before. A long moment of silence passed before he continued in a mutter of mumbled indignation. "I just didn't want to come up. It's… it's nicer under the water. Quieter and – and better. I just didn't want to come back up."

Rin fought back the shudder that threatened to quake his spine. I just didn't want to come back up. Rin could understand that. He could understand wanting to spend every possible moment he could in the water. But he certainly didn't push himself to suffocation, refusing to resurface because it felt 'better'. The scariest part was that Haru truly sounded as though he thought his explanation an acceptable excuse for his actions.

Forcing himself to plough through the sudden unease that bordered on fear once more, Rin nodded sharply. "Yeah, well, you see my problem, then."

"I'm sure I don't," Haru said without even doing him the courtesy of glancing in his direction.

"I can't leave you alone and certainly not in any vicinity of a water source."

"I'm not a two-year-old, Rin," Haru muttered, and though annoyance still touched his tone his anger had faded. Rin wondered how he managed to do that; even with the resurgence of his fear, his own anger still bubbled just below the surface, prepared to spring to attention at the slightest prodding.

"No, you're not," Rin said. "You're much worse because you're a seventeen year old who doesn't realise the dangers that a two-year-old is usually threatened by and learning to avoid. That's much, much worse."

Haru actually scowled at him for that. It was barely more than a pursing of his lips, a narrowing of his eyes, but it was about as much of a scowl as he ever gave. Rin felt almost satisfied for inducing it. He continued when no reply was evidenced in coming. "So this is the only solution. You're coming with me."

"No I'm not," Haru said, resorting back to his previous stubborn and unyielding resistance.

"Yes you are," Rin said, rising from his crouch and drawing his phone from his pocket. He thanked whatever forethought had urged him to throw his jacket off before diving into the pool earlier that morning as he turned from the veranda back inside once more. "I'm going to tell Makoto you wanted to come with me, so then you'll have to come."

"Wanted?" Haru said, and the shuffled of blankets told Rin he was actually turning indignantly to follow him, though his tone suggested he felt nothing but bored irritation. "What part of this is 'wanting'?"

"Alright, then, agreed to come," Rin corrected. He spared Haru a glance over his shoulder as he tapped out a quick message to Makoto that he really should have sent the moment he was sure Haru was alright. He couldn't help but smile at the persisting scowl on Haru's face. It was true that on anyone else it would hardly even be considered a scowl at all, but for Haru it was practically murderous. "Just accept it and pipe down. You'll have more fun if you do."

Rin turned away from Haru to the sound of his muttered, "So annoying," and though it amused him he felt his smile die. Fear. Fear was the pervading emotion that morning, fear and realisation as Rin was hit with the epiphany that still rocked him a little incredulously. He didn't care if Haru thought he was annoying, if he got angry with him, if he objected to his presumptuousness. Rin didn't care about that at all. So long as he could still swim with him, still remain at his side, still stay with him – so long as he had that he didn't really care about anything else.