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In the end, it takes Sousuke more than thirty minutes to get there. Rin is waiting for him, leaning against the steel railing that demarcates the pedestrian from the main thoroughfare. His hair is sad, floppy thing, plastered to his forehead. His hands are crossed in front of his body, as if to protect himself from the chill.
"What happened to you?" Sousuke asks.
Rin looks at him with an uneven smile tugging his lips and, not for the first time, Sousuke's taken by how vibrant his eyes look, even when it's evident that he's dead tired.
"Nice to see you, too," Rin says.
Sousuke bits back the impulse to touch Rin's hair, to brush it back and reveal his forehead and the small pockmark scar that he's kissed numerous times on nights when the slip-slide of skin on skin makes that one small act seem innocent.
"You're going to get sick," Sousuke says, instead.
"My app didn't say it was going to rain when I went out this morning."
Sousuke makes a face. Rin looks as if he hasn't got a decent night of sleep in a while, but Sousuke refrains from saying anything more. He’s not his childhood friend’s keeper. Not really. Half the time Sousuke doesn’t even know what he’s doing with Rin.
"Come on, don't look at me like that," Rin says, his fingers slipping into the strap of Sousuke's laptop bag. He slings it on his own shoulder. "The rain's stopped. Let's get going." He walks a few steps ahead, and then turning around when Sousuke fails to follow. "What?"
What are we doing exactly? What are we?
There are a dozen of unfinished drafts saved on Sousuke's phone. Things that he can't say out loud. He ignores the ache in his chest and shrugs. "Nothing. You promised to take me out for lunch the last time I saw you. Guess that's out today?"
"Don't be a baby. I have leftover curry in my fridge. I know you love reheated curry. It tastes better overnight."
"Sure," says Sousuke.
He follows Rin home.