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Haruka was five when he first saw him.
The little boy had the loveliest shade of maroon hair, skin a much paler shade than Haruka’s, and perhaps the most obvious detail was that he’s crying, sulking in the corner and shoulders shaking. He was playing at the sandbox with his other friend, a larger boy with black hair and droopy teal eyes when it happened. Another kid had accidentally kicked the sand in his enthusiasm. Some of the sand had evidently gone into the redhead’s eyes, judging from the incessant wailing and bawling.
Haruka watched from where he’s sat at the swing, waiting for Makoto to come back with their ice-cream. So annoying, he thought, as the boy continued to cry, red eyes puffed up from tears and all that wailing.
Black-haired kid was trying his best to console his friend, but it seemed that the brat was adamant on showing his distress. Sighing loudly, Haruka stood to walk over to the weeping boy, giving a little pat on his head.
“Hey,” he said, voice calm despite the frustration at the unwanted noise. “Don’t cry. Wash your eyes with water and it’ll be okay.”
The boy let out a squeaky sob and looks up, lips trembling. “Really? You really think so?”
Haruka shrugged. “Water always works for me.”
The sobbing had stopped now, and the boy nodded, running towards the closest source of water, his friend following suit.
Makoto returned seconds later to hand him the peppermint cone before they went home, so Haruka didn’t know if it actually worked for the kid. All he knew was the warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest as he recalled the vibrant smile that he boy had flashed him.
Haruka was seven when he learned that the boy’s name is Rin. Matsuoka Rin.
It’s the start of a new schooling year, and Haruka recognized the maroon hair the instant his eyes caught him. Rin was from the adjacent class, but the amount of time he spent lounging around in Haruka’s class when they finally knew each other’s names was enough to make him practically a part of it.
“Nanase!” Rin’s cheerful voice resounded, prompting a groan from Haruka. “Let’s join the swimming club, okay? I heard from Makoto that you’re pretty good, hmm?”
“I don’t want to,” Haruka answered, turning his head away. “I only swim free.”
“You always say that, it’s getting kinda lame, you know,” Rin pouted, and Haruka was glad that the bell rang just in time. “Ah, I gotta go, but I’ll get you in the club, you’ll see!” With a final radiant grin, he dashed out of the class, leaving behind a bewildered Haruka.
A few days later, when Haruka submitted his application form to enter the swimming club, he told himself repeatedly that no, it’s not because of Rin.
But who was he lying to?
Haruka was thirteen when Rin left him with nothing but a farewell letter and a gaping hole in his heart.
They were friends, that’s what he said. But Rin wanted to chase after his dream, his wish of becoming a professional Olympic swimmer, and Haruka? He wanted none of that. They’re too different, too clashing like brazen wild fire and calm icy water, and even if Rin stayed, Haruka knew he’d get tired of listening to the same story of racing for gold, over and over.
“Haru, do you think it’s possible to swim and fall off the surface of the Earth, or something? Rin asked, when they’re lying on their backs beside the swimming pool, gazing at the endless stretch of azure sky. Everyone else had gone home, but Haruka stayed (not because he wanted to spend more time with Rin or anything, nope). “I’ve always wanted to try, you see. They said it’s impossible, ‘cause the Earth is round and stuff, but I think that there must be a place somewhere, that connects the sky and the ocean. Kinda like a magic door!”
Haruka rolled his eyes at the sheer atrocity of Rin’s idea, but he listened. To Rin’s voice, to Rin’s soft, lulling breaths. To his own maddening heartbeat.
Rin left to pursue his dreams, and a part of Haruka was glad for that, because he’s afraid that if Rin were to stay, he’d gone crazy with these feelings he simply couldn’t explain.
He hoped Rin would find the stupid door he’s been talking about and come back to take him away.
Haruka was fifteen when he’s cold and alone, waiting by the playground where he first met Rin, a withered letter crumpled in his hand.
He waited. And waited.
But Rin never came back.
Haruka was seventeen when he had almost given up completely, closing his heart to everyone and anyone. He was so close to moving on, to forgetting the smile, red eyes, cheerful laughter and everything that screamed Rin, to accepting that maybe, it was just not meant to be.
And like the world had something against him, Rin suddenly showed up.
“Haru,” Rin said, voice cold and low. “Let’s see if you can still beat me now.”
Rin’s changed. Rin was different, and Haruka was afraid.
Haruka was twenty when they had the fight, which left him trembling, speechless, terrified. He’s going to lose Rin again. And over something as stupid as a petty argument.
Rin wanted him to follow, to find his own dream. It’s never that easy. If only he could understand.
“Why are you so hesitant, Haru?” Rin had yelled at him, furious. His eyes burned with the intensity Haruka wasn’t familiar with, and to counter the fear, he had shouted back.
“You’re the one with dreams and all that crap, not me! Don’t drag me into this!”
Rin’s anger subsided, only to be replaced with a broken despair. “I understand,” he said, and walked away. Haruka wanted to chase after him, but his feet stood rooted to the ground, heavy as steel.
You don’t, Haruka’s mind screamed. You never will.
They were both twenty-one, heartbroken and jaded, when they learned to let go.
Seven years later, Haruka was twenty-eight, drinking coffee in the morning at his favourite café in Tokyo.
Sipping at the drink slowly, Haruka watched as people walk in and out of the shop. The bells twinkled ever so sweetly whenever someone passed through, and he’d been here frequent enough to know the other customers and their coffee orders (he did work at the nearby patisserie, and it’s basically the same people who visit every time).
Halfway through his coffee, when the crowd started to even out, the bells jingled again.
Haruka looked up. And froze.
“Rin,” he breathed out, hands cold and quivering.
The maroon-haired man turned towards the source of the voice, and his familiar red eyes widened. “Haru,” he whispered, stunned.
Rin looked broader, features sharper and hair a tad bit longer. But those eyes, god, those brilliant crimson eyes, Haruka could never fail to recognize them. They’re the ones he’d always missed, the ones haunting his dreams for the past few years.
“Can I… umm, sit here?” Rin asked, shyly. He’s gripping hard onto the newspaper he’s holding, avoiding Haruka’s gaze, cheeks flushing a bright pink that's threatening to reach his ears. Clearly not much had changed in the end. Haruka smiled at him, gentle and warm, something he’d learned to do with the years that went by.
“Sure.”
(Maybe one day years from now, we'll meet in a coffee shop in a far away city somewhere and we could give it another shot.)
Haruka is twenty-nine, only one year away from turning old and wrinkly, as put in Nagisa’s words, when he finds love again.
He watches fondly as Rin fumbles around with the cooking utensils, struggling with a steaming pot of beef stew on one hand and a pan of grilling mackerel on the other, getting ready for dinner in their new apartment. Admist the chaos in the kitchen, Rin catches him staring from the isle and smiles. He motions Haruka to come over and have a taste, and though Haruka is reluctant to leave the seat (it’s a secret but this particular spot is the best in his opinion, because he can see Rin clearly from here, the way his face crinkles up when he’s unhappy with something, or the way his crimson eyes light up in delight when the food is to his liking), he gets up to move closer anyway.
And as his hand brushes against Rin’s in the subtlest touch that still manages to make his heart pound uncontrollably, Haruka realizes that maybe, just maybe, he’s never lost the love after all.