Work Text:
I love you, but it hurts to speak out loud,
When I’m speaking through speakers,
Talking through filters.
Tears welled in Rin’s eyes as he looked at the latest unanswered letter he had received from Haru. He knew he should’ve been replying, but he just couldn’t bring himself to sit down and write his feelings. He couldn’t get them onto paper, as if something was holding him back.
Deep down, he knew that all he wanted was to hold Haru, to have him there by his side like he used to, but he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t bring himself to admit that, but he couldn’t talk to Haru like he didn’t miss him, because Rin missed Haru with all of his being.
As his tears fell, Rin realised that he had never felt such a strong longing, and he wondered if this was what it felt like to be homesick, because he was beginning to think that maybe his home wasn’t his house, maybe it was Haru.
Rin placed his finger on the envelope, roughly tracing Haru’s handwriting on the front in attempt to feel at least slightly closer to him. Choking on his tears, Rin buried his head in his hands, attempting to block out the world.
Things used to be so much easier,
When we were so much younger.
Rin thought back to his first day at Iwatobi Elementary School, back to when he had first met Haru. He thought about how he had gone to such great lengths to be with Haru, and how confidently he had introduced himself. He wondered why he couldn’t do that now. He wondered why he couldn’t just say what he was feeling.
For the first time, Rin began to wonder if Australia had destroyed his confidence and maybe some part of him as well. He looked down at his hands and it occurred to him that, even if he flew back to Japan that very second, things between him and Haru could never be the same, because he had changed so much, and there was a good chance that Haru had too.
The way you had my heart when we were younger,
Pretty quickly disappeared.
As Rin remembered the race he had challenged Haru to in the New Year, he sobbed loudly once again. Him and Haru didn’t have the same relationship as they did in elementary school anymore, Rin realised that that had changed the moment his goggles had hit the floor after that race.
He missed it. He missed the childlike innocence that his relationship with Haru had held. He missed the feeling of almost being blind, feeling his way around the relationship, trying to press the right buttons and avoid the wrong buttons. Now, Rin felt like the right buttons didn’t exist, and he could only press the wrong buttons.
Every move he made killed some part of his relationship with Haru, and Rin almost couldn’t take it anymore.
I keep telling myself lies,
I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.
Rin found himself struggling for breath. He punched the desk and screamed, both in frustration and in pain. He was fine god damn it, why was he crying? He needed to do something; he knew he needed to do something. He needed to reply, apologise, see Haru, anything. He needed to stop choosing to block out the parts of his relationship with Haru that were slipping away. He needed to stop pretending that everything was okay.
And, in that moment, Rin saw his relationship with Haru as it truly was: hanging by a thread.
Little ray of sun,
Do you think we’re done?
Rin knew that if he didn’t do something, he would lose his relationship with Haru, and he didn’t want that, he wouldn’t be able to take that.
With shaky hands, Rin carefully opened the envelope in front of him, only just able to make out what the words said through the tears blurring his vision. Inside the envelope was tales all about what Haru and Makoto had done together. Haru was showing uncharacteristic amounts of joy that Rin could see, even through his writing. Levels of joy that Haru hadn’t shown when he was with Rin.
And then, Rin realised something: maybe he already had lost his relationship with Haru.
I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine,
But you’re no longer mine.