Chapter Text
"So which is home to you, Australia or Japan?"
Rin would have cringed if cringing wasn't such a defeatist response to an insipid question. Rin would have simply tch-ed, if he were in a kindlier mood. Rin would have offered a one-word reply if it would just shut Nitori up, but it's been a whole term and that boy hasn't shut his fucking trap.
"Nitori, you know how I endeavour not to disappoint you but I regret to say I do not possess supernatural powers. Not blessed with any ability to bend the space-time fabric to my will or to split my bodily matter to occupy two places at once, the idea that home is a choice between Australia and Japan is a falsehood. It may surpass belief, but I could only have lived in each place in distinct and separate periods of time, thus the only conclusion we can draw is that both Australia and Japan were home. Home now, dear Nitori, is—fuck off."
***
In all the stories Makoto has grown up with the Prince always gets the girl. He gets to make her his Princess and he does so by letting her know how much he cherishes her.
I'd climb a mountain for you. I'd sail the seas for you. I'd die and die again if that's what it takes to keep you alive. Even though I'll never stop being scared of the murky ocean if there was something on the floor you asked for I'd go all the way down and pick it up for you.
But even when the fairy tales have become too far-fetched and fanciful, there are still other stories Makoto believes in—the ones that are human and real, like the old lady that climbs into bed with her sickly husband and they breathe for the last time together that night, arms wrapped around each other, like the old man who reads a love story to his old wife every day, a love story from a notebook of their younger days.
I want to grow old with you, I want to be there when you're ninety and still make dried squid for you. I want to be the person who opens the cans of mackerel when your arms fail you, I want to check on you in the bathroom always, to see that you're still alive in the dead stale pool of water.
Every night Makoto thinks this, crawling into bed with Haruka, reaching across to that warm and curled body to pull Haruka close, to press a soft kiss on his cheek. There is the familiar rustling of sheets, and by now Haruka's learned to respond to him, to sigh a little, when he's not in such a good mood, or to nestle into Makoto, when he's in a better mood, and fold Makoto's calloused yet gentle hands into his, his quiet way of saying that there are times he does need somebody.
But Makoto needs him always, and each night Haruka still sleeps turned away from him.
***
The autumn leaves crunch underfoot as Makoto bounds up the steps to Haruka's house. He has in his hands a bowl-shaped Tupperware of onigiri he helped his mother to make, and perhaps he was a little too heavy handed with the rice spoon, and perhaps he wasn't all that sorry about that because there was too much left over after dinner and of course he has to bring the rest to Haruka.
As evening sets the house fades further into the mountainside, swallowed by the shadows of the overhanging trees. No light emanates from within, and the light from the surrounding houses seem wary of it, peeking furtively through the cracks in the fence. By this time of the year Makoto is well-prepared with a small LED torch that hangs from his key ring, which he turns on to light his path.
As always he skips the front entrance and climbs in from the back. The wind has stopped and it is unsettlingly quiet. Makoto wonders if he should begin a whistle to cut through his fear of the creeping silence. Although he has not articulated it within himself until this time, the reason why he visits Haruka so often is because it scares him that Haruka lives his days rattling around the minimally-furnished house with nothing to hold him down to earth. Makoto fears that if he does not check on Haruka often enough he will lose him to the dark, that the universe will rip a chasm into the walls and swallow Haruka out of existence. As Makoto's socked feet pad across the tatami floor he turns off his torchlight. Even knowing how to navigate the house without need for sight Makoto is the sort to have every single light on whenever possible, but he's also grown used to the fact that Haruka finds excessive light distressing and often chides him for wasting energy.
Makoto pauses in the hallway outside the bathroom, trying to listen for signs of life. If it seems like no one is at home Haruka is usually stuck in the bath, but there is typically a sliver of light peeking through the doorway and the sound of water sloshing. This time, not even the bathroom light is on, and on entering Makoto could barely make out Haruka's slumped figure in the bath.
"Haru..." he pleads, voice cracking. There it is, his fear that Haruka will be lost to the water, lost to the dark. Please, please, please let him not have drowned. Makoto is about to go into total meltdown. He is aching to turn on the light, to throw into sharp relief what is happening to his friend but dreads the outcome. There comes a rasping sob that shatters the silence, and Makoto heaves a sigh of relief before tensing up again. Something—someone—broke his friend.
In the dying light he takes one step forward. Haruka, he sees, is hunched over in the bath, jammers bunched up around his thigh and another hand tightly fisted around his cock and, above all, he is crying. A gasping, ragged sort of crying—desperate and anguished—with racking sobs and convulsions like a fish out of water. Makoto clenches his fists, ready to fight the monsters that seek to destroy his friend. He breathes in, steadying his breath to speak in a clear voice through the murky twilight. Then he lets his breath out, almost in a sigh, and nearly loses it altogether.
"Haru, please, let me turn on the light. I can help you if you let me. Please, Haru." Makoto falls to the floor on his knees. He is shaking but he cannot let Haruka sense it. Through his own fears he has to be strong when Haruka is not and he has to be the comfort Haruka seeks. Steadying himself with his hands on the floor, Makoto begins to crawl forward, feeling like a ghost character in a horror movie. He shakes his head and bites his lip, reaches out and finds his hand on Haruka's quivering shoulder.
"Haru, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that someone broke your heart. I'm sorry that there are people on this earth so heartless and cruel not to treasure you as you are."
There is a face that looks up at him that Makoto never wants to see again. It is the face of a friend who has lost all hope, who can no longer see anything of worth. It lasts for no more than a second, and in a blink Haruka wipes the expression off his face, drawing a blank thereafter. Tilting his face away, he leans his head back into Makoto's forearm.
"Haru, if you will let me, I promise I will always take care of you," Makoto says.
"You always have," Haruka whispers, voice dripping with resentment.
This is the night Makoto gets Haruka, but it is nothing like a dream.
***
When Rin leaves for Australia this time he brings his pillow with him. He would have brought his pillow the first time around, but his mother specifically banned it. He has been in and out of the country several times now, for exams and interviews and it's the school they least expected to get back that calls them up and says, hey, we have a place for your boy. Of all the schools, it is the one that does not take international students that takes him in. But with a piece of paper in his passport he isn't exactly international, is he? They're not going to treat him any different. I learn fast, I'll do what they do and I won't let them make fun of me. They've got my favourite colours on the crest—red and black. I'll fit in.
He'll be staying with his mother's brother and his family—Uncle Ken and Auntie Lisa and his older cousins Yoshi and Darren, who aren’t likely to play with him much because they’re too old to put up with him. Rin has a little room all to himself and while his mum and Gou are still here he lets Gou have the bed. In another two years he’ll be able to board at school but this is a choice he’ll leave to his mum—as long as he can bring his pillow with him he doesn’t care how the rest of the room is like.
When he's out at school Gou pastes some decals on the wall—a dolphin, an orca, a penguin, a starfish, a clownfish and some tendrils of seaweed. He has a rotten first day and comes back wishing to tear the silly decals with their smug grins off, but Gou is so pleased about her handiwork he can't bear to do anything except tell her he likes it.
On the weekend before they part, they go to the aquarium and Rin buys a large shark plushie, a fairly ugly monster with a gaping pink mouth and jagged felt triangles for teeth.
"Gou," he declares imperiously at the airport, pushing the shark plushie into her arms. "I thus bequeath this glorious creature into your care. If you ever feel threatened just remember that at your word he'll come and bite the head off all your enemies and leave them in a bloodied heap, and then he and his brethren shall feast on their oozing guts."
He is fairly sure that Auntie Lisa is whispering something about him to his mum, hopefully in a scandalised tone, but his mother just smiles and hugs him.
"Rinrin," she says. "Swim for me, and your father."
***
The constellations are familiar but this is nothing like anywhere Rin has ever been. It's the Olympics—the 2016 Olympics, for real, in Rio de Janeiro, and he's at the aquatic centre and he can only hear the dull roar of the crowd. Others in the lineup for the heats have their headphones on, blaring Lil Wayne or Rimsky-Korsakov or whatever floats their boat, but he's been soaking in the atmosphere, getting used to the flat tone of the starting buzzer, the blue of this swimming pool, the smell of chlorine, all proper, proper stuff. This is what a proper crowd is like, and this is what proper swimming is like.
He zips up his jacket, shakes his muscles to loosen them, and bounces on his toes. Dad, dad, if only you could see me. I'm here and I'll make you prouder than proud. Did you ever think that you'd someday have a son who could make it to the Olympics? Did you ever think that even after your death your wife would find so much strength in her to carry on? That she would work double shifts and study at night and learn a whole new trade so she could apply for a permanent residency in a totally different country just so her son could learn swimming with the best?
Well, he's one of the best now, and he's here to show it.
"Rin!"
He spins around, turning to face the group that is filing in after their round. It's Tachibana Makoto.
"Knew I'd find you here!" Makoto calls out. "Well, I've had my turn, so best of luck to you!"
If Makoto's here, then Haruka has got to be here. The shock nearly throws Rin off balance when he steps backwards into a small puddle of water that threatens to derail his Olympic dreams in an all too final manner. What is Makoto doing here anyway? Of the lot, he's the last Rin expected to be an Olympian. Team physio, maybe.
After his race, when Rin scans through the athlete bios online, searching for the name of "NANASE, Haruka", it is nowhere to be found.
***
When Rin finally gets to taste the metal, he thinks to himself, finally, that it's all been worth it. Moving from place to place, never staying for too long, without the bother of friends who can only bog him down. Settling into a whole new country, always in terror of being identified as a FOB. The four a.m. starts and not always having Uncle Ken to drive him and riding the first bus into town with the sun chasing behind, walking past dirty gum-filled streets with peeling concert posters and the nagging fear of being hounded by a racist drunk. Boarding the creaky trams trundling down the heart of a city yet to wake. Meeting up with his coach and changing and splashing into the water, the artificial blue and chlorine that always wakes his sleep-drowned brain up.
Who's going to claim him now that he's got this piece of gold? The Japanese newspapers have allotted him some space—Matsuoka Rin, grew up in Iwatobi, started out swimming at Iwatobi, won the regionals with his friends, but when he reads about himself he gets the distinct sense he's been tainted by going abroad. He's not really one of them anymore.
And the Australian newspapers have other things to care about. For all the Asian faces you see on Swanston Street no tourist has ever thought to stop him to ask for directions and in the national team he's just a token story of how migrants work hard and assimilate and the real stars still have names like Cameron.
***
The athletes’ village is no place for a person like Makoto. Everywhere he looks he sees people engaged in some form of copulation or the other. Yes, he is painfully aware of the effects of tapering because hey, he is having first-hand experience right now but it really is no excuse to let all morals slide.
Makoto's here because he's wanted to swim ever since that night, ever since he saw Haruka break down. From that point on Haruka refused to swim anymore and it pained Makoto to see Haruka deny himself the thing he loved most in the world. From then he swore that he would swim for Haruka, and he would work as hard as he can to defeat that dark monster that lurks in his thoughts and at the bottom of pools. He will triumph over evil and swim all the way to the Olympics if only to prove a point, to prove that the water can still be good to those who approach it with a noble heart.
As is usual, the swimming events are drawing to a close even as the rest of the Olympics goes into full swing, a strangely convenient timeline seemingly designed to ensure that the swimmers are the most sexually available group of athletes. As he strolls through the athletes' village, he catches sight of the multitude of condoms piled into glass bowls like candy, constantly and earnestly replenished.
"You," someone says to him, and he spins around. "You anything like Rin Matsuoka?"
No, Makoto thinks darkly, but admonishes himself for harbouring so much resentment in a single thought.
"Ah, pity."
Pity? Makoto frowns. "Why would I be anything like Rin?"
"Didn't you guys swim together as kids? Gosh you're cute, yeah, but you're also so...innocent. Not really my thing, I must say."
Makoto decides to accept the comment as a compliment. He smiles amiably and makes excuses to leave. But he leaves scratching his head as to which country on earth is reporting his childhood as headline news. A country that has light blue in its flag, presumably, judging from that person's jacket. Light blue isn't a very common colour in flags...is it?
Winding his way to the catering hall, past the entanglements of orgiastic clusters, Makoto thinks of calling Haruka up to chat for a bit. They haven't talked in nearly a day.
The McDonald’s here never closes and the whole menu is free. It never ceases to amaze Makoto and he grabs several large servings of French fries. He draws out his phone to take a photo of his mid-afternoon snack for Haruka. In the background, he hears more chattering that distracts him.
"Rin," someone mutters, like the name was dangerous. "Did you hear what that Rin guy's been doing in the showers?"
"Thing is, do you mean 'who', though?"
Someone sniggers. "Two rowers, a cyclist, a fencer...."
"Dude, are you talking about the Australian swimmer?"
"Yeah, duh?"
Something twists in Makoto's gut. It feels like someone has grabbed both ends of his digestive system and flung it around before wringing it like a piece of laundry to dry.
Rin, the Australian swimmer.
***
The summer sun is reluctant to set, leaving the ocean still warm and like a buoyant fireball it sets the water nearly ablaze, the crashing waves like tongues of flame licking the shore. To the left of Rin, Haruka sinks his palms into the wet sand, propping himself backwards after a hard day of swimming.
Makoto has run off to chase after Nagisa, who had stolen all his clothes while he was rinsing off, leaving him nearly nude except for a flimsy towel.
To Rin's other side, Rei is perched on a rock outcropping reading a book, hovering atop an inflatable floatation device meant to look like a giraffe with its neck uncomfortably twisted into the shape of a ring. His lips are pursed and his face wrinkled in a frown.
Rin throws himself back to lie on the soft, white sand, still quaking with leftover laughter from Nagisa's elaborately intricate “surgical procedure” to extract sea urchin spines from Rei's butt after he'd accidentally sat on one.
"Isn't this great? I miss being like this." Rin nods towards the two figures tearing across the beach. "I miss running around without a care."
"You mean free," Haruka says.
"Yes, free," Rin beams back at Haruka.
After a pause, Rin tries to start up a conversation again.
"Hey Haru, you know I actually quit swimming in Australia to come back here?"
Haruka lifts his palms from the sand, draws his legs up and folds his hands across his knees. Turning his head to look away from Rin, he mumbles, "Why? Did you miss us or something?"
"No, but yeah, but no." Inwardly Rin curses himself. He sounds like a bogan.1
"But what about Samezuka? You're with them."
"Just to keep my form, just in case, you know?"
There is another pause. In the distance, by the float rental kiosk, Nagisa finally gives up from the exhaustion of being chased around by the infinitely longer-legged Makoto.
"I'll race you," Haruka says, as Makoto and Nagisa audibly draw nearer with ragged breaths and spurts of laughter.
"Sure," Rin replies. "For you. For us. For the team."
"Tomorrow, then."
***
That same night, Rin, with flecks of ocean salt still dotting his hair, receives a call from Coach McDonnell. "Hey, sorry about what happened, but you know I've got friends and they'll give you a chance. Tryouts tomorrow."
Rin doesn't say anything in reply. The smile has been wiped off his face, replaced with hard-set determination. This is it. It's time to move on. It is at this point where his life comes into focus and nothing else matters any more, not even Haruka.
It doesn't matter that when Rin was fourteen Coach McDonnell came on to him after swim practice and he gave his first blowjob ever to a man old enough to be his dad. Then there was "do you like fishing?" and then it was weekends in the Dandenong2 with a man who's trying to be a surrogate dad but also wanted to have sex with him. At the time it felt like Coach McDonnell was the only one who understood how lonely he felt. So maybe it was dumb and stupid, but it wasn't like Rin didn't know what he was getting himself into each step of the way, right? Coach McDonnell was nice and looked out for him in a squad where everyone was inches away from clawing each other's eyes out. It was not at all like those times he ran into those leering men at the swim centre, hairy and barrel-chested, men who didn't ask nicely.
So Rin didn't say anything when some other boy had complained, an Andrej Krkic or someone, and filed a report about Coach McDonnell. They suspended Coach McDonnell's license and instead of swim practice Rin got pulled aside into a room with child psychologists. With their years of practice in the art of professional concern, they bombarded him with personal questions designed to get him talking, wearing sympathetic faces and those clinically-furrowed brows.
He didn't say anything because that other boy had already said it and he didn't say anything because he wanted Coach McDonnell to feel like he owes him something in return.
And that night, it pays off. Nothing else matters.
***
"Please have some self-respect, will you, Rin?"
Makoto bursts into Rin's room while Rin is midway through chatting with Gou on Line, slouched on his bed. The laptop is angled away from the door so Gou can't see who it is but recognition registers on her face. Rin slams the laptop into sleep mode.
"What the fuck are you doing in my room, Tachibana?" Rin snaps his posture straight and glares at Makoto, almost petulantly. He hopes that the use of the last name will piss Makoto off.
"Rin. You want to know what I've been hearing about you? Everywhere? Everywhere in this village somehow I keep hearing about you, that you're doing some disgraceful act or the other and it’s like you really have no respect for yourself?" Makoto's voice is even but he has one arm folded across nervously, clutching the elbow on the other side.
"I'm not here to be lectured by you, Tachibana." Rin waves a hand dismissively. "I don't see why it's something you'd get worked up about. Aren't you supposed to never get angry."
"Stop it!" Makoto grabs the offending hand but lets it go as soon as he feels Rin pulling back. "I mean it, do you know how selfish you've been? To Haru? To us? To me?"
"Look. Some of us have to fight for ourselves. Not all of us have a Tachibana Makoto to rely on, and if you think you've got what it takes to fight for two then I'll leave that to you."
Determination sets into Makoto's face. He pushes on with his point: "Do you know what you've done to Haru? He won't swim anymore. He can't. And it's all because of you. It's all because you left us again for Australia again. We're not your playthings, you know! Don't just throw us away when you're bored of us!"
"Just because Haru can't stop being obsessed with me doesn't mean you have to follow suit," Rin deadpanned.
On the tiny desk nearby Rin's phone begins to ring, rattling noisily on the table. It's Gou. At this interruption, Makoto startles and straightens up and, smoothing out his clothes, apologises for causing a mess.
Disgruntled, Rin tells him it's fine, the lie slipping transparently through his teeth. He tells Makoto he'll resume chatting with Gou and that Makoto should say hi to her. He rejects the phone call but opens up his laptop.
Makoto leans over Rin until he is captured in the camera frame and tries to muster a cheery wave as best he can, the smile pushing his cheeks up until his eyes are nearly closed.
"It's so nice," Gou says in return, "to see both of you being friendly to each other. To think I was so worried all this time."
Rin smiles, toothy and unwholesome like a shark. He winds an arm behind Makoto and pulls him down by his waist onto the bed. Makoto obliges, but shifts and rearranges his legs until he's seated primly and no part of his body is touching Rin except for where Rin still has his hand rested on his back.
"Well, since it seems like we're all on good terms once more," Gou continues, "we'd all like to say that we've been having a great time on the outside!" She turns her iPad to show them her immediate surroundings.
Gou's at a cafe by Ipanema beach, and in the distance Nagisa and Rei are waving. Gou turns the iPad on their mother, who's sipping a mug of hot tea across the table. Rin is surprised to find that the rest of the Iwatobi gang is here, although, with a glance at Makoto it seems obvious in hindsight.
"We're staying together in the same apartment!" Rin's mother tells him, with a kindly face and excitable tone. "I thought it was overpriced at first but the amazing view is worth it."
Oh, Rin thinks to himself. Did mum pay for all that? He can't help but feel slightly betrayed by the fact that his mum is footing the bill for this group of people who aren't really his friends anymore.
But then it occurs to him that they're Gou's friends now, and that's probably why their mother is doing this. The thought stings with barely repressed jealousy.
***
When the conversation is over, Makoto turns to Rin with a sad face like a kicked puppy dog, and asks if he's seen how Haruka looks in that video.
"I couldn't bloody see him, he was far as!"3
The comment seems to fly right past Makoto's head. Makoto's face gets even more downcast—now a kicked puppy dog who has just lost his mummy. The sight of it annoys Rin and like a shark that has smelled prey he wants to take a bite.
"What was the point of you bursting angrily into my room? Are you trying to blame your relationship problems on me? I can't help that you've been inadequate."
Makoto's face contorts into a stunned expression. He sits on his hands to stop them from clenching, but his tensed knuckles knead into his thigh. "Rin! Don't go around saying irresponsible things like that. You've hurt Haru so much and you won't even admit it?"
"Why? Does it hurt you too? Your psychological co-dependency is showing, Makoto. That's not healthy for you."
The criticism of his personality seems to slide right off Makoto. Tears brim in his eyes and yet he does not look away out of shame. "He won't love me. He likes me and puts up with me and yes, he practically depends on me now but he'll never fully love me until you're out of the way."
"I wouldn't get so hung up on me, Makoto. I'm not that important."
"You don't understand, Rin. All that I've ever done for him is to help him survive, but he only ever truly comes alive when you're around."
"Are you asking me to be part of a threesome, Makoto? That's a bit too naughty coming from you, don't you think?"
At this, Makoto falls into Rin's shoulder in sobs. "I can't...I can't do the work of two. I can't do it alone."
It occurs to Rin that Makoto's uncomfortably close and soaking his t-shirt wet with his tears. If he cries any more he'll soon flood the village. Maybe then they'll hold the swimming events here instead. They still have the team relays to go. He places an arm around Makoto's shoulder.
Makoto's sobs are increasingly violent and racking and the sight of it is triggering thoughts in Rin, thoughts from a time he doesn't want to revisit. Haruka is metaphorically at brink of death. Makoto has done all he can, in the face of all his worst fears coming true. And Rin? Rin's just standing uselessly by the side, frozen, always frozen, blood running cold and looking on from a distance.
"Alright, alright," Rin says stiffly, wondering if he should put his hand comfortingly in Makoto's chlorine-tinged hair. "I'll go speak to him, or something." It's not like he knows what to say—he's not Makoto.
In truth he doesn't believe Haruka's that hung up about anything, ever, and he'll probably just tell him to be nicer to Makoto and stuff so he doesn't have to boyfriend his boyfriend for him. That bastard.
***
Makoto lets Rin know that he’ll be out shopping with the rest, leaving him to turn up at the doorstep of the apartment with only Haruka around. Wisely he hands Rin a set of keys because Haruka will never answer the door.
The apartment is a short walk away from Ipanema beach and from the balcony a person can catch a glimpse of the ocean above the canopy of palm trees and glittering party lights below. A couple of mountains overlook the western end of the beach. The shape of the mountains bounded by the gently waning bay almost reminds Rin of home, though perhaps on a much larger scale.
Through the door, Rei's playlist of ceaseless bossa nova tootles away despite his absence. Gou tells him that Rei formed this playlist after researching the most appropriate songs to listen to while in Brazil, particularly lazing by Ipanema beach, and that Nagisa has been trying furiously to get his very own samba playlist in between somewhere. In all seriousness, Rin wouldn't bat an eyelash if the two of them have signed up for next year's Carnival and are now seeking costume fittings.
Rin catches sight of Haruka turning around on hearing the door unlock, but also sees Haruka hurriedly turn back on spotting him. The apartment is stunningly well-appointed, not that it should surprise Rin but his mum can be so indulgent sometimes. The living room opens into the breezy balcony, where Haruka is sitting.
"So you beat Japan in the team medley relay." Haruka looks like he's talking to a ghost outside the balcony, such is his lack of eye contact.
Fuck, Rin thinks, when he realises the damn medal is still in his pocket. He can't blame himself for wanting to take it everywhere, no?
"I hope you've finally achieved everything you wanted."
Haruka's tone is pissing him off. Rin folds his arms and goes on the defensive.
"Well, yes, in fact I have. I finally figured out that my dad swam freestyle for the team and I've done the exact same thing, only in the Olympics. I also have a medal to show for all the hard work. Nice, huh?"
Haruka doesn't bother to reply. He turns his head and lets it fall slightly to the side, eyes fixed blankly on the horizon.
Rin shoves his hand into his pocket, and feels the hard cool edge of the medal. Swiping a thumb over the flat surface he can feel the ridges of the embossed design. "Congratulations to me," he says, because he'll never squeeze any celebration out of Haruka.
"In the end, doesn't matter who you do it with as long as you do it, right?"
Fucking asshole, Rin thinks. Go ahead and make all the cryptic statements you want, I'll just twist the knife in deeper.
"Nope, in the end it wasn't about anyone, or any team. Just finding myself, and my dad." The conversation feels like they're trading blows.
"You selfish bastard," Haruka mutters, face still turned away.
There is a stab of joy through Rin's heart. God, finally, god, he's cracking. Is this what it's like? To finally feel like you have all the power.
They don't say anything else for a long time. The music in the background whinnies on, weak and weaselly, the saxophone stretches thin and deflating. At last, Rin decides it's time to get up and leave, so, as his parting words, he says to Haruka—
"You should tell Makoto you love him every now and then, you know? He's really suffered for you."
He gets up and pats Haruka on the shoulder, partly to be patronising and partly to put an end to things but when his hand is on Haruka's shoulder he realises that Haruka has been crying. Fucking hell, this is the second time in two days he's had someone burst into tears on him.
He lets his hand stay on Haruka's shoulder and he gently squeezes it. He wants to be angry at Haruka but he can't, not anymore, now that he's won. All winners are expected to be gracious, and only winners can afford the privilege.
"You're right. I was such a selfish fucking asshole. I was a heartless bastard and you didn't deserve any of the shit you took from me."
Haruka's still sniffling under his curtain of hair, hunched over and everything. So that's how he cries, Rin thinks to himself, all satisfaction evaporating.
It is only yesterday that he saw Makoto cry, with unending tears and unyielding desperation, shaken to the core and rasping like his heart was a furball he had to cough out. Today, he sees Haruka cry, in a quiet sob under quiet night with quiet stars. Makoto is right. There is nothing Haruka has ever done to deserve this hurt. Guilt seeps like water into the crevices of his jagged-stone heart. How does Rin cry? Rin cannot cry, not when he has paid all his dues, in the saltwater of tears and sweat that left him cracked and bone dry like a parched desert floor, hoping for the alchemy that would transform all that pain into gold.
At this moment, thinking of how they're bounded by the sea before them and Corcovado behind them, Rin understands that Haruka's is a story of horribly squandered talent, and he knows now, beyond a doubt, that if they were to swim tomorrow Haruka will still beat him. Haruka will always beat him, but as time wears on it’s borne less and less meaning for him and more and more meaning for Haruka because Rin is always so hungry he has more to look for beyond a race, and Haruka has nothing but that—beating him in a race when they were not yet thirteen.
"I'm sorry," Rin says, relenting at last, swinging another arm around Haruka to enfold him, leaning forward into him, resting his chin on the crown of Haruka's head. "I'm sorry you wasted your life on me." The realisation drops like a weight to his chest. His breath catches and the air seems to have left his lungs.
It feels like he's going under. Rin wonders if the lights ever go off at the foot of the Redeemer. He wonders if there’ll ever be redemption for someone like him, the boy who turned the lights off on Nanase Haruka. Alchemy's a bullshit science anyway and the gold medal hangs heavy in his pocket. It starts to feel like a burden he wants to hurl into the sea. He sees now that nothing good lies beyond the medal, which took from him his home and his friends and his innocence. He wonders if there is any chance of them starting over, when the first race the first time he was back from Australia ruined him and the race that did not happen because he ran off to Australia ruined Haruka. He realises, a bit too late now, that he’s clinging on to Haruka a bit too tightly, and Haruka's clinging weakly back at him, clawing pitifully at his sleeve, and you know, if they were underwater, people clinging onto other people like that, they’d be sinking right now. At this point it looks as though the underwater thing that Makoto feared has swallowed them all.
"You should leave," Haruka says abruptly, shaking his head as if to shake off what went on before. "It's getting late."
Rin lets go of Haruka. He slips his hands into his pockets, only to have his right palm press into that cursed medal.
***
Stepping out of the apartment block, Rin walks along the Avenida Vieira Souto. The beachfront is much quieter at this time of the night but still brightly lit. Small pockets of activity dot the beach in the distance. The air is cool, almost chilly—it's actually winter in the Southern Hemisphere. Looking up in the sky Rin can spot the familiar Southern Cross, and looking out into the rocky bay, bounded by tree-covered mountains, there's a sense of the childhood he lost.
He decides now that he should head to the beach and fling his medal into the sea. It's by no means the only medal he's got but it's the one for the medley relay, his last event of the Games. And it's the medley relay medal he wants out of his sight most of all—the rest he can give to his mum for all her hard work funding his ridiculously expensive dream.
He trudges towards the shore, sneakers filling up with sand. The wind is stronger out at sea and he zips his jacket all the way up. When the waves begin to nip at his toes he takes it out of his pocket.
"Rin!" There is the sound of someone jogging up to him from behind.
Even without turning around, Rin knows it's Makoto. It doesn't sound like his mum and sister are close by.
"Where are my mum and Gou?"
"Buying ice cream at the convenience store," Makoto huffs, hauling a large number of shopping bags bulging with souvenirs, a little out of breath. "Chilly night, isn't it? But they insist on their regular dose."
Rin turns around to look at Makoto. On seeing him, Makoto flashes a silly smile in response to the idea of having ice-cream in the cold, eyes shimmering with gentle humour.
"Why are you holding your medal?" Makoto asks.
"I'm throwing it into the sea," Rin states plainly. No need to hide the fact if he's going to see the plan through to completion. He half-expects Makoto to put on that worried, concerned face and pester him about why, and then try in all his good-naturedness to talk him out of it. It is not the response he gets.
"For your dad?" Makoto says, and it strikes Rin that Makoto just gave him the perfect answer. Yes, he could do it for his dad. It's a much better option than throwing it away out of despair.
"That's sweet," Makoto says.
With all his strength Rin hurls the medal into the sea. There is a faint plop in the distance, and he hopes that the current brings it out before the early morning beach scavengers pick it up and literally strike gold.
"Say," Makoto begins, shifting his weight from side to side. "How did it go?"
"What?" Rin says, feigning ignorance, although he knows plain well Makoto means his meeting with Haruka. He doesn't know what response Makoto wants from him. Did he clear the house in the hopes Rin would resolve that sexual tension with Haruka so that everyone else can move on with their lives? The whole idea was preposterous to begin with.
"He's not going to change," Rin says, to put an end to the speculation in Makoto's mind. What kind of idiot boyfriend willingly sets his partner up for sex with another man with the aim of improving an already imbalanced relationship? What unholy levels of self-sacrifice does a person like Makoto put himself through each day?
Rin punches a fist lightly into Makoto's arm. "Have you no self-respect?" He meant for it to be an accusation but the words leave his mouth garbled and soft. He needs to get going now, before his mother and sister realise he's on the beach with Makoto and thwart his escape. He opens his fist into an affectionate grab. "I'll see you then," he says gruffly.
He turns to walk away, but Makoto has held on to his hand, strong fingers curling into his palm. Under his wind-swept fringe his shining green eyes are brimming with innocence and hope. It seems grossly unfair to Rin that the Harukas of the world get to end up with the Makotos of the world. What’s left for people like himself? Haruka doesn't deserve a guy like this, damn him.
"Stay the night," Makoto says.