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When Rin sees him, he first thinks: I must be dreaming. Rin, a not-so-closeted proponent of all things having to do with coup de foudre, knows that it may surprise some to hear that this is the first time he has ever felt this way after laying eyes on a stranger. But in all his cheesy daydreams, this type of sensation has always manifested itself in a more romantic way than whatever the hell he’s stuck staring at right now.
Rin, who might as well have been thrown into a pool of ice water the way he had been woken up, believes he might actually really be dreaming right now—after all, it’s about three in the morning, and the guy standing beside him looks both hazily familiar and too ridiculous to be reality. Rin rubs sticky sleep away from his eyes with his fingertips—he can’t be the only one who sees this kid, right?—and curls his jacket tighter around himself, like a blanket from his sorely-missed bed.
It had been the piercing ting-ting-ting-ting of the fire alarm that brought the entire dorm building outside like this at such a godless hour. Many of Rin’s classmates are pissed, cursing the school and whining that “the fire better fucking burn the entire building down, shit,” but many are also sleepwalking zombies with no obscene opinions to harshly whisper-yell up into the black sky. Rin’s indifferent—it all can’t be helped, no use in complaining—and from what he can tell, so is the guy beside him.
Well, this guy may be indifferent, like Rin, or maybe just plain bizarro, or perhaps even some third thing that Rin can’t quite read. Because, the thing is, it’s three in the morning and the guy is dripping wet. It’s three in the morning, and he’s wearing a too-small towel around his waist, swimming jammers peeking out from under it, and he’s shirtless. And although Rin can only tell by a view of his profile coupled with an insignificant light source, he also looks familiar. Like, Rin should know his name for reasons aside from that they live in the same dorm building.
What makes it all more intriguing, or dream-like, or some unknown third thing, is that the guy doesn’t seem to realize that he’s sticking out like the sorest of thumbs—that Rin isn’t the only one giving him an up-and-down, and not even in the sexy way. This guy’s either impressively confident in his fashion choices, entirely oblivious, or—some third thing.
Rin, whose otherwise knife-sharp reflexes are dulled thanks to the violent way he had been torn out of his bed, gets busted staring; the guy turns his head, catches Rin’s gaze.
Shit, Rin thinks, because he actually has a very sweet face, after all, and shit, he thinks again, because it’s way too early to be this gay. Well, he reasons, it’s not like he’s about to fall for a half-naked sopping wet weirdo at ass o’clock in the morning. The look the guy gives Rin isn’t inquiring, isn’t aggravated; the gaze is neutral, and Rin isn’t sure if he should look away, or say something, or do something. The guy makes that decision for him—he turns forward, greets Rin again with the side of his face.
A stray breeze winds through the large crowd of undead college students standing on the sidewalk in the same instant that Rin shifts his weight onto his other foot; the light from the street lamp that he had been unknowingly blocking sheds onto the guy beside him. These otherwise unrelated occurrences lead Rin to notice two things: 1) the tops of the guys arms are dotted with goosebumps, and his shoulders actually shiver, like in a cartoon, when he’s cold, and 2) he’s really, really attractive; maybe Rin is dreaming. Maybe it's a big gay nightmare. Maybe his laughable taste in guys is actually a reality he’ll have to deal with for the rest of his life.
He hardly even realizes he’s doing it, but he is—he’s unzipping his jacket, slipping it off each shoulder, sliding each arm out from the sleeves, and holding it out for the guy to grasp. The guy notices the gesture, he even double-takes; Rin almost laughs aloud. Adorable. The guy startles, his apparently default frown deepens in confusion, his pretty eyes flit up to meet Rin’s.
“Go ahead?” Rin says, voice cracking—because, he’s real tired—and he covers it with an ahem. The guy still looks at Rin as if Rin is the one who looks like he just ran through a sprinkler. He shakes his jacket a couple of times, urging him to just take it, “Unless you want to catch pneumonia.”
A slender hand rises, falters, and then finally, slowly, takes the jacket from Rin’s hand. Rin finds himself smirking, amused at the wordless exchange.
He looks more eccentric, which apparently is possible, with Rin’s jacket, zipped all the way up to his chin, added to the equation. That tiny towel around his hips, that pokerfaced pout tugging his mouth downward—Rin wonders if it’s normal to feel so endeared by someone he has never met. At least, they've never met properly. Rin knows it for sure: he has seen that face somewhere other than the dorm lounges.
He grins over at him, hoping his flirtatious smile isn't as predatory as Sousuke always says it is. The guy blinks in response, dipping his head so his chin gets caught under Rin’s jacket—not exactly a successful reaction. Rin grimaces, throws a hand behind his head, maybe tones it down a bit.
“So, uh,” he starts, “Were you, uh, taking a shower when the alarm went off?”
He doesn't ask about the bathing suit, or the unreasonable time; doesn't want to attack the guy with questions, especially since small talk doesn’t seem to be either of their strong points. The guy regards him again, his expression so unreadable that Rin helplessly tries to decipher it, looks him straight in the eyes as he talks. Intense. Or, you know, a byproduct of being wide-awake at three o’clock in the freaking morning.
“I was bathing,” the guy answers simply, looks back to the ground, does that cute thing where his chin tucks under the collar of Rin’s jacket.
“Bathing?” Rin says, probably too loudly, given the irritated way the guy flinches, “In a bathtub?” In this dorm building, that only has about four communal bathrooms with grimy shower stalls? At this hour?
“Yes,” he hisses back, and his pout is an actual, disapproving frown now, not just a neutral resting face, and Rin thinks for the third time, shit, “My dorm has a bath. I requested the room specifically.”
Rin raises an eyebrow, but the guy isn’t looking at him anymore, looks instead somewhere out in the distance. Rin’s suddenly afraid he lost an opportunity—whatever the opportunity might have been, he’s not sure, but he decides to try again; “Have we met before?”
Thankfully, the guy doesn’t seem like the type to instantly recognize a total line when he hears one, so Rin just barely refrains from slapping his palm against his forehead and galloping right into whatever fire set off the alarm. But the guy truly does look familiar, now that Rin has grown more alert and is positive that he’s not something sculpted by his overactive subconscious. He scans Rin with those wide eyes, as if trying to recall a memory, hopefully unaware of Rin’s cycle of mental struggle.
“You’re Matsuoka Rin, aren’t you,” he says, tilting his head a fraction, and Rin feels himself go so red that he’s glad they’re standing in relative darkness. He feels sheepish, and oddly flattered, that this guy actually knows him, and he scratches the back of his head out of habit.
“Uh, yeah,” Rin laughs, puts on a cocky smirk, “Heard of me?"
Which, is the worst thing he’s ever said in his entire life thus far, because he’s not a celebrity or anything—not yet—but thankfully, once again this guy doesn’t seem fazed by Rin’s catastrophic attempts at flirtation; he just nods.
“You’re on the swim team. I see you a lot during the free swim hours at the pool,” the guy explains, monotone—and that’s it, Rin's mind floods with memories of seeing this pretty face in the pool locker room more than once.
“Ah, what a coincidence,” Rin laughs, itching the back of his head again, “That’s how I recognize you.”
The guy actually seems taken aback by what Rin just said, his eyebrows drawn downward, curious, as he glances at Rin—finally, an intelligible emotion—before looking away again. Rin can’t tell if he’s shy, or uninterested in further conversation/being hit on, or some third thing that Rin still cannot fully grasp. Before Rin can run through every simulation wherein this conversation might end humiliatingly and disastrously, the guy pulls him out of it.
“The water accepts you when you swim, that’s why I remember you,” he says, serene, strangely passionate in his own monotonous way. Rin pauses, waits for an explanation. While he doesn’t receive one, at least not a verbal one, he does receive a faint smile, lowered eyelids, a glance directed at him and—whoa. Whoa, whoa—is Rin being flirted with in some unorthodox way? Or, is this guy just painfully oblivious to what Rin thinks is happening right now? Or is it some third thing? Here, Rin realizes that this guy’s essence is probably made up entirely of that untouchable third thing. He suddenly feels like he might not ever understand; it’ll always be just ahead, out of reach. It’s so unbearably enticing. Rin’s palms start sweating, his smile grows unreservedly giddy; he leans forward to catch the guy’s eyes again.
“You’ve watched me swim?” he asks, and he means to sound flirty but it comes out so earnest, and maybe just a bit touched. Rin watches as the guy’s lips pinch in a bit tighter, his eyebrows furrow almost undetectably; he’s embarrassed? Rin clears his throat, starts again once more.
“So, swim? I mean—do you swim competitively?” Rin asks, and that can’t be the best he’s got—of course he doesn’t swim competitively, there’s only one school swim team and Rin’s on it, not him.
“I used to,” the guy answers, halting Rin’s inward stream of everlasting self-doubt, “in high school.”
The urge to learn this guy’s entire life story strikes Rin like a match against sand paper; he doesn’t ask, though, because he likes to think he’s not completely inept.
“Oh?” he says, hoping for an elaboration.
“I only swam freestyle,” he says, “Same as now.”
“I swim free, too,” Rin says, not a breath away from his response, his confidence invigorated, fists clenching; talking about swim—that’s something he can do, brainless, “But butterfly’s my specialty.”
“I know,” the guy says, and Rin helplessly chuckles, rubbing his neck. Right.
“Y’know,” Rin starts, too much built-up momentum behind him to pull any brakes, “We could swim together some time.”
Rin doesn't know when during their five-minute conversation he decided it would be his goal to make that cool face do something other than pout and glower, but he delights at seeing this guy fluster at Rin's offer.
"I only swim free," he mumbles, narrowing his eyes at Rin. It almost sounds like a question, the way he says it.
"Okay," Rin says, cheerful, hopeful, and he leans in closer again, hands clasped behind his back coyly, to catch a better glimpse of the guy’s cute, icy face. "So, we can race freestyle!"
The guy doesn’t necessarily seem opposed to the suggestion, but he does seem vaguely bewildered, overwhelmed; like why does Rin think he can just walk up to him and challenge him? Flirt with him? Either way, Rin cocks his hip, lowers his eyelashes, and sends him an easy grin. The guy watches blankly as Rin lays it on thick; Rin wishes he could mindread.
"Don't worry," Rin teases after a prolonged lack of answer, "I'll go easy on you."
"You won't have to," the guy shoots back instantly, looking just as confused but a whole lot less smitten than Rin at his own sudden flare of emotion. He's all fired up now. But when he realizes that he essentially just agreed to Rin's challenge (date?), he looks as sheepish as a stoic cutie possibly can. Rin throws his head back in overjoyed laughter.
“Look at you,” Rin teases, ruffling his feathers even more, and gets a glare in return; it feels like grade-school flirting, but refreshing rather than regressive. At that thought, and for a fraction of a moment, the glare worries Rin; he would never want to flirt where it wasn’t reciprocated or welcomed—maybe he’s been coming on a hair too strong? The guy speaks up before Rin can open his mouth to stutter out a profuse apology.
"I'll be at the pool tomorrow at 3," he says, reassuring Rin, his eyes bright. A streetlight is reflected in them, of course, but from where Rin stands, they’re glowing from something shining within. It’s quite the sight, especially because those eyes are on Rin, and Rin alone. Suddenly feeling cocky, he tosses his hands behind his head, subtly elongates his torso and accentuates his biceps just to see if the guy will look—he does, of course, but Rin can’t tell if he’s unimpressed, or really good at masking attraction, or some third thing—
"Can I have everyone’s attention, please,” booms a sudden voice from what must be a megaphone. Rin perks up, instinctively trying to see the source of the loud words over the crowd of sleepy, salty college students, “It was a false alarm, folks; head back to your rooms and get some sleep.”
The angry mob starts shuffling forward to the dorm building; Rin’s feet stay firmly planted as if rooted through cracks in the concrete sidewalk.
“So, I guess I’ll—,” he starts, turning back to the guy beside him—to find he’s no longer there. Only a few steps ahead, he’s making his way back inside like the rest of their peers.
"Wait!" Rin calls out to him, not trying to sound desperate or anything, but. The guy instantly pauses, cocks his head, turns it so Rin can see his face head-on. They're blue, his eyes—Rin can see them crystal clear, now.
"What's your name?" Rin asks. Other students may bump into him, walk between them, chatter mindlessly around them, sprout wings and tails and fly off into the clouds—for all Rin cares, they were never even there to begin with. The guy’s expression softens, he even smiles a bit, and Rin thinks, that's my favorite one so far.
"Haru," he says, turning around a bit more toward Rin, almost like he wants to walk back to where he stands. Someone shoulders into Rin, jostles him; he doesn’t even notice. Haru—HARU!!!—opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, then decisively speaks again, "Thanks for the jacket, Rin."
He quickly turns around, then, and continues to speed toward the dorms. Rin doesn't exactly mind watching him walk away—okay, no, he still looks absurd with his swimsuit-towel-sandals-jacket combo, but Rin finds it lovely. That's his jacket. Haru eventually disappears seamlessly into the crowd.
"See you tomorrow, Haru," he says, to no one, and it’s probably embarrassing, but that's fine—it's like a scene from a romantic comedy. Rin guesses, with a dreamy smile, that his entire life is probably like a big queer romantic comedy at this point. A large hand claps down on Rin's shoulder, drags him through every cloud until he hits earth; Sousuke steps up beside him, shaking him in a friendly way.
"Probably the most pathetic pick-up I have ever seen," he comments, mournful.
"He's perfect," Rin sighs, and then his eyes bug because he actually said that out loud, yikes, thank god Sousuke hadn't heard it. Rin coughs into his fist, "Uh, shut the fuck up? It went exactly as planned. I lent him my jacket. We're on a first name basis."
Sousuke actually laughs, and Rin joins him; both laughing for two very different reasons. Rin might float away right now.
“I just think it’s hilarious that for such an athlete you seriously have no game,” says the so-called ‘best friend’ peanut gallery, but the smile on Rin’s face won’t fade away after just a couple of jibes. He’s pretty sure he’ll be smiling through his sleep, and he’ll wake up smiling—even if it’s just to spite his fun-sucking friend.
“Oh Sousuke, sweet simple Sousuke,"—Sousuke's eyes roll so hard he feels it in his knees, Rin is blissfully oblivious—"I just so happened to score a date tomorrow with Haru; maybe someday even you will understand the intricacies of lo—like, you know, uh," he sighs, ignores Sousuke as he stifles a snort, “freestyle swimming."
"Save that for the new friend you made, smooth talker," he teases, urging Rin forward; they might actually make it back inside the building before the sun rises. Rin, out of the corner of his eyes, sees Sousuke leaning over to scan his face, assessing him suspiciously as they walk.
“You’re still grinning like a fool,” he concludes with a disbelieving bark of laughter; Rin just beams even brighter, stretching his arms over his head, gazing past his fingertips and to the scarcely-visible yet perfectly-aligned stars, “I can’t tell if you’re actually serious, or hopelessly sleep-deprived.”
Rin mulls over what Sousuke said, but can only bring himself to think about which jammers he should wear to the pool tomorrow; about the strangest early-morning outfit he has ever seen coupled with his very own jacket; about a boy with a typically girly name, just like him; about what else they might have in common. About glowing blue eyes and a heated expression. “Some third thing.”