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“You should leave and go home. It’s freezing, and I don’t want you catching a cold,” Rin whispered into Meguru’s ear.
The awkward shuffling of feet against the rough snow comes to a stop. Meguru sighs with a lump in his throat growing. It would’ve been just like last year, if it weren’t for… everything.
They’ve been walking, but really just dragging their feet across a crunchy mix of snow and gravel without a specific destination. The two cafes that they visited earlier (or tried to, till they found out the hard way that every pompous cafe in existence decided to close down for the night) didn’t help, nor did Rin’s text about needing some peace and quiet compared to back at home (but no one goes to Meguru for peace and quiet; Meguru knows he’s not the definition of peace and quiet, not even a synonym of it. The only reason Rin came to him was probably because everyone else was busy, right? Right, yeah, of course.) and the shitty train of thoughts Meguru was waffling on about (well, till he noticed the other man’s uninterested expression — why does he always mess things up?) that fucked up the mood.
(Stupid fucking “peace and quiet.” It’s never just “peace and quiet.” Why can’t he be normal for once?)
Definitely not the hang out Meguru had in mind when thinking about seeing the man for the first time in months, but it’s not like the one in his imagination was any more realistic.
And if this was a normal day, like it would’ve been before, like it was meant to be— Meguru might’ve slowed down and noticed how thoughtful Rin’s comment was to be caring for his wellbeing. He might’ve noticed the decrescendo nearing the end of the second sentence and the hint of blush that came with it. He might’ve focused on the way he lowered himself, brushing his hand against Meguru’s temple as if examining his temperature. He might’ve listened more into the way that the warmth from his breath contrasted with the chilliness of the night, the way he leaned back afterwards, looking back at Meguru expectingly. The way that Rin’s eyes flickered to Meguru’s bangs, then to the electrifying gaze of his eyes, the partially-scarf-concealed lips, and back up. Yet, all Meguru could think about was how different this would’ve gone a few months ago.
Let’s go home, he’d say. I’d rather spend time with you alone, together, he’d say.
No, fuck this. He would never say that in a million years, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t do it anyway — sitting together with less than a couch cushion in between at the Bachiras’. A hot mug of hot chocolate with a hint of alcohol would sit snug in Meguru’s hands, curling tighter as it came closer to reach his lips. He’d then look back at the other man with half lidded eyes, lovingly, and listen to the buzzing of the illegible foreign movie in the background (well, illegible for Meguru anyway, but Rin would translate every dialogue and explain every cultural reference when asked, despite the groaning whenever Meguru opened his lips). Like last year. Exactly like last year.
But, no. That’s not what Rin wanted.
It all happened so quick. Rin had moved back into the school dorms to shorten his commute, leaving Meguru alone in the empty, awfully quiet apartments. He told him it was just for school, for convenience sake, but if waking up 30 minutes early was all it took to stay by Rin’s side forever, the choice would’ve been easy for Meguru. Guess it was for Rin as well, just not… like… nevermind.
What was once Rin’s side of the room stood blank like he was never even there in the first place. What was good was the job he did of cleaning everything up (and maybe too good, leaving nothing on the wall for Meguru’s imagination or for him to look back on.) No pencils, no decor, no half ripped up posters with sticky residue left behind that they were too tired to take down — as if Rin ever had any.
(He didn’t, despite Meguru’s comments on his minimalism and the notable existence of them in his teenage room back with his parents when Meguru visited that summer. “Overflowing tears : 溢れ出した涙のように, If it's a temporary [...] life : 一時の煌めく命ならば,” one had said. Rin never told him the song or artist it was from, even with Meguru’s prolonged begging. After he left, Meguru never bothered to look it up. He’d long forgotten the exact lyrics.)
He even took back the customized mug that they got together with their initials on it.
(A good thing, probably. Meguru knew that even having to see the mug again would tear him apart.)
Meguru hadn’t even realized the space that Rin had occupied, emotional and physical, especially considering how little belongings he had and how much of their conversations were Meguru closing the gap.
(Tortureous, Meguru had called him once. Not that Meguru minded, Meguru had always been the one out of the two to be caught up in emotions, anyway.)
“You’re right. I just…” Meguru paused, thinking about the right way to put things. And with a pause, a pregnant one (Who’s getting all these pauses pregnant, really? Whose kid is it? What an odd phrase, honestly.) Meguru learnt that there was no “right way,” which reflected on his attempt at clearing the mood.
“I used to like you, like a crush, you know. Like, the biggest crush. Kinda. I mean… uh, I still do like you. As, um, as a friend, of course.” He inhaled sharply, taking in the chilly winter air while burying his face deeper into the thick scarf that he’d been given by the other at the earlier complaint of being cold. “You’re… nice, you take care of me, and I like spending time with you. Really.”
Fuck. That’s, that’s not what he planned to say at all, but how do you take back something like that? Meguru looked to the floor, letting his lashes weigh his eyelids down to avoid eye contact. Fuck. His bangs prickle his brow ridge under the oversized beanie, shadowing his eyes just the right amount to avoid the frosted street lights reflecting off of the snow. If this could help shake off his feelings and get them out of the way, it was worth it. It was going to be okay, hopefully.
(It’s not. Their relationship will never be the same and Rin will think he’s a weird, obsessed fag that can’t take no for an answer. And Rin's right, he probably is, because he knows that after this, he'll go home curled up quietly in his bed with sobs breaking the silence every few seconds. Rin won't text, call, or talk to him ever again, and someone from their uni will spot them and spread rumors, separating them further. It's bad enough searching up "Gay celebrities" as a kid only for nothing significant to pop up other than bad dating rumors. Maybe not as bad hearing "homo yarō" said in hushed whispers around him while he's in class. Rin will avoid him the same way he avoids others, the same habit that Meguru once thought he was exempt from. Meguru will be stuck staying up late at night thinking about what good friends they could've been. It’s not going to be okay no matter how hopeful Meguru gets.)
("I can't see you in love," someone had once said to him. "Like, in a relationship. Taken. With a partner." It was back in the Blue Lock summer camp, where he met Rin. The face of the speaker was blurred by now, but their words stayed.)
Rin’s eyes focus in for a moment, widening before returning back to neutral(, which happens to be just long enough for the other man to notice). He hums, filling in the silence that Meguru failed to fill this time.
“When did you stop?” His teal eyes flicker down Meguru’s face, unsure of where to settle.
Of course, what Meguru said was all a lie. He still liked him. He never stopped. Even when he physically left, the feelings and memories lingered through the dry text-backs, the five im busy s at Meguru’s attempts to hang out, and the burial of Rin’s number under others as their daily conversations were replaced by texts from other friends in his major.
Their experiences together shaped Meguru. It was already hard switching so quickly from the kid that was too shy and quiet to the kid that was too loud, too much — and what he really wanted was just someone who could appreciate him for every little eccentricity. Someone who listened and understood and cared, no matter how “much” he was, and for a moment, just a moment, it was so easy to pretend that Rin could’ve been that person.
(“Tepid,” Rin would say. Meguru smiles bittersweetly. Who was it that said that Rin was like a mosquito?)
Their experiences together shaped Meguru, but there was no reason to like him more than how much Rin would’ve let him. Their separation shaped Meguru too.
(Probably more than they did for Rin. He tries not to think too hard on that bit.)
“I don’t… it was gradual, I think. Maybe after you left? Or after that. Or…” Meguru trailed off, glancing back at the other to see an indecipherable expression, something new he couldn’t quite discern— a scary thought, that there were so many faces of Rin that Meguru wasn’t familiar with. He thought he knew him the best, better than anyone else in their circles. Better than Isagi, Nanase, Hiori, even Sae… but maybe not. Now that's lukewarm.
The worst thing that could happen right now was for him to weird out Rin and stop the relationship-friendship-whatever-the-fuck all together, but if there was a line between what a normal person does or doesn’t, Meguru had unknowingly played hop scotch on it more times he could count (while Rin watched, and still let him stay. Sometimes Meguru wishes that Rin was more selfish. Sometimes Meguru wishes that he himself was less selfish.)
(Hop scotch, jump rope, Eevy-Ivy-Over — whatever. Stop overstepping, he'd have to remind himself. But did it matter? Ever?)
They kept walking forward with Meguru trailing behind Rin. It grew quiet again. The late winter had been harsh, but the distant screaming and singing of New Year’s karaoke house parties and old christmas decorations added a sense of homeyness into the whole ordeal. Like the tension wasn’t unfortunate enough, his feet felt wobbly, digging into the chipped divots of the road. He picks at his similarly chipped nails, paired with bits of paint from when he used his hand as a pallet, folding his fingers over the stitched edge of the oversized raggedy jacket sleeve.
“Why did you stop?” Rin asked, his breath puffed out in uneven clouds. “I just didn’t realise any of that.” He shifted his weight and stared into the muted chalky skies that hovered above houses.
“Not much to realise, is there?” Meguru chuckled poignantly into the already melancholic air. “I never said anything, did I? Was I meant to?”
Rin stopped in his tracks, turning around in a singular swift motion, and stepped closer with his boots crunching softly. He inhaled. “I, No. Just that I’ve liked you for a while. Was thinking that we could’ve had something if I had just confessed…” he says easily, trailing off as he notices how Meguru’s face heated immediately (and ridiculously, even for winter weather), pointing his face down.
Meguru picked further at his nails. “You, you do? Well, I’m not… I don’t—“
Rin gave a small nod, understanding. (Maybe too understanding. Meguru always felt so vulnerable and seen when talking to the man, like he knows something that Meguru doesn’t.) “It’s okay. I don’t… want to force you.”
(What a weird thing to say. Force Meguru to what? There was nothing Rin could do to Meguru that he wouldn’t allow. If only he knew.)
“But if you don’t mind, why not? Why don’t you?” his hands reaching out from the pockets of his coat, like they were ready to pull back if Meguru moved away.
What did I do wrong in the process? as if to say. A numbing pang of pain struck Meguru’s knuckles and joints, freezing himself in space. His stomach twisted like a knot that kept pulling tighter and tighter, a spear digging deep within his intestines, reaching an arteriole that keeps gushing constant blood.
Meguru swallowed hard, his voice barely making it out, “Because I was scared. And, um, I still. Because I kinda still like you. Just a bit.”
A tinge of red appeared on Rin’s ears.
“I didn’t know if I should tell you, or if it would make things weird, or if you’d laugh, or—”
“It wouldn’t be weird, it’s weird enough dealing with you,” he said immediately, with zero bite and stepping closer. The air warmed by a degree. “Didn’t know I mattered to you like that.”
“You did,” Meguru said quickly.
Rin’s expression softened, painfully tender, before looking back at the path. Then, he reached out, slow, hesitant, as if Meguru might’ve vanished like steam (and with the current state, he might as well have) and brushed his fingers against Meguru’s. Even through Rin’s gloves, he felt the comfort rush in.
“Then…” Rin breathed out, her voice shaking slightly in the cold. “Can you like me back fully again? Starting now?”
Relief hit like a hurricane, tilting Meguru’s world, crashing into his perception of their relationship and stealing away the stash of anxiety he held so tightly to. Relief felt like being seen, like safety, like the promise that she didn’t have to carry everything by herself anymore. His brows loosened with a faint, disbelieving smile tugging and his lips. Nothing’s pressing down on him anymore, nor is there anything pressing between him and Rin.
(Was there even something between them worth acknowledging in the first place? He should've just taken the step, the risk.)
(Meguru doesn’t know why it took him so long. Took them so long. But he’s happy.)
“Of course I can.” He took Rin’s hand, sliding his fully into Rin’s, their palms fitting together, heart-to-heart, perfectly like they were meant to be.
(They were. Meguru knows it deep down. They have so much to catch up on, so much to tell each other. Maybe this is the universe’s way of allowing them to do so. A glimmer reappears in Meguru’s eyes at the thought.)
The winter wind whisked around them, tugging their coats. It didn’t feel as harsh anymore. The street stretched ahead, just as wet, gleaming, gloomy as it did before, yet Meguru’s footsteps sounded lighter as they walked side by side, hands warm in each other’s grip. (Nor was the walk as daunting. He didn't have to care to make a comfortable gap between them, comfortable as in to make Rin comfortable. He knew he wasn't the best with physical space or touch. But it was fine now, they were okay. It was okay.) Meguru smiled, genuinely this time, and leaned on Rin’s shoulder.
Unlike the uncertain atmosphere before, they had a destination this time, an unspoken plan that didn’t need any vocal communication. They were going to have a date — a date at the Bachira’s, just like last year. Just as boyfriends.