A/N: In which there is no pre-established romantic relationship, because it's fun developing these things^^ An important note though: I am a very slow, hard on myself writer, so I'm not the kind of person who can finish a multi-chaptered fic within a couple weeks, or probably even a month. I do, however, have this outlined practically step-by-step for 5 out of what will most likely span 6 chapters, so it's just a matter of turning the notes into story. But if you do want to follow this story, please be kind to me when it comes to my update speed, I can't promise anything lightning-fast, and school will be my first priority once it starts up again next week.

Also, my trusty beta-reader has too busy a school schedule to look at my stuff for a while, so I've done my best editing but I never, ever mind anyone pointing out any errors I may have overlooked! Just, like, be respectful about it, ya know?( I also usually avoid writing in past tense like the plague, but for some reason the beginning of this chapter ended up this way I hope it's not too confusing I hate writing in past tense even though it's technically Haruka in the present remembering stuff aaagghhhh)

Chapter One: Crybaby (Farewell)

They said goodbye to Rin two days ago, even though he isn't leaving until tomorrow morning.

So Rin-chan'll have time to pack, Nagisa had said, while they had been planning the party the week before, in Haruka's stuffy living room with the fan blasting on high. And so he won't cry the day before he has to leave.

The party was to be a surprise, and was to be held at Rin's house. We can't make him go home from his own goodbye party, Nagisa had reasoned, and so they had called up Kou to help them out with the logistics. She had been all too excited at the prospect, had hopped onto the next train over and barreled into the planning with a fervor that was probably hiding the same sense of sadness they all felt about the impending goodbye.

Haruka had followed the proceedings detachedly – sitting at the table with the rest of them but taking little part save for the occasional reply when asked his opinion on something. He just hadn't had much to say; the heat had made him lethargic, so he had let thoughts escape him, leaving his head humming with the whir of the fan. He hadn't missed Makoto's glances, but he had pretended to, because the quiet concern there was not something he had wanted to address.

True to Nagisa's expectations, Rin had indeed cried, and Rei had had to jump in and blow out the candles on the cake as the wax had started dripping all over the Good luck Rin-chan! Nagisa had written out in yellow icing. Makoto had magically procured a pack of tissues, Rin had blubbered about them all being assholes, and Haruka had stood a bit apart as the others crowded around, Nagisa trying to snap shots of Rin with snot dripping from his nose.

He thinks they were all happier to see those tears than they would ever admit – proof that the romantic crybaby Rin of days past had never truly gone far. Though Rin isn't nearly as standoffish now as he was when he first came back from Australia, there is still a constant wall of defense he's ready to spring up at the slightest hint of confrontation, like his pride is always at stake over the most trivial things. Some things, once they get cemented in place, never change.

For those few moments after he had walked through his front door, though, and figured out what the sudden ambush of noise had meant, the watery look on his face had made him seem so much younger. Lips pressed together and nose flared, hands clenched tight into fists as though that would stop the tears from slipping down his chin, he had been twelve years old all over again, the first to cry at their elementary school graduation.

This memory turns into another one – of a young Rin hunched on the ground by a swimming pool, tears of a different sort dripping from his face – and the affection turns sour in Haruka's chest. He sinks down lower in the tub, until the water submerges his chin. He's aware that he's sulking, and that it's childish, but Makoto isn't around to urge him out, so he sits and waits for his fingers to prune.

He tries to pretend he doesn't feel it, but the prospect of Rin leaving again worries him, just a bit. The helplessness he had felt at watching things spiral so far out of hand between them still hasn't fully left him, and he doesn't know if he'd be able to go through it a second time.

You better not stop swimming when I'm gone, Rin had told him, after the others had been corralled out the door by Makoto and Kou – who, now that Haruka thinks back on it, probably had very specific intentions in mind, leaving them alone like that.

Except Haruka hadn't known what they were hoping to accomplish. Like he and Rin had ever been good at talking, and what were they supposed to discuss now? It had grown dark, there was a train to catch, and the others wouldn't leave without him, or without saying one more goodbye to Rin at the station.

I won't, Haruka had said, because it had been easiest to follow Rin's lead and avoid saying anything important. But it hadn't felt right.

Rin had bit his lip and looked away, arms folding across his chest. The blotchy redness in his nose and cheeks had finally faded, and he was clenching his jaw like he had things he couldn't decide if he wanted to say or not. You have to be at your best when I race you, he had bit out, shoulders rising ever higher in that defensive posture of his.

You'll be back in two months.

I know that!

The agitation on Rin's face had been proof enough that Haruka had hit the nail on the head. But now he had a flustered Rin on his hands, and for once he hadn't wanted things to go the typical way – him closing off so the words would roll off of him and Rin getting more and more worked up as a result – so he had foregone thinking and pressed his hand over Rin's mouth to save himself the headache.

I won't stop swimming.

Rin had spluttered, had gone wide-eyed and speechless. Haruka had waited, no plan in mind for what was supposed to happen next. Rin had spit in his palm a little bit.

After a tense moment, Rin's eyebrows had furrowed together, and he had covered Haruka's hand with his own, pulling it away from his face and holding it there, in the air between them. Nothing important had been addressed, but Rin had cast his eyes down and away, deflated. Okay, he had said quietly, as though something important had just been settled.

Haruka releases a long sigh, dips his chin so that the water rises above his mouth. He can still feel Rin's hand squeezing his, just for that short moment before he had let go and passed out the door to catch up with the others. Haruka sighs again, blowing bubbles, and ducks beneath the water. Reemerges, flicks his head back and listens to the water splatter against the wall behind him.

The fact that he's so worried is what bothers him the most. Does he really trust Rin so little? Does so much of himself depend upon who Rin is, how Rin might or might not change when he's gone? That thought digs at him, leaves an uncomfortable niggling in his arms, his legs, his gut. He tries to ignore it.

Sometime later, once his fingers and toes have long gone wrinkly, the doorbell rings. Once, then twice, then three-four-five in rapid succession. He turns his head toward the bathroom door. The only person he can imagine coming over this late is Makoto, but Makoto knows he can just come in through the back, so he never rings the bell that frantically.

Then he hears the sound of his name being called, the familiar demanding tone – annoyance and arrogance and a hint of urgency, all rolled into one jagged sound. The water goes splashing against the tiles as he stands up. He foregoes toweling off, leaves a trail of puddles behind him as he pads down the hall, to the door, yanks it open.

"Rin–"

Rin crosses the threshold and collides with him with enough force to knock a cough from his lungs. He stumbles backwards, and Rin stumbles with him. They almost fall over, but Rin steadies them both – arms finding their way around Haruka and pulling him close, clinging fast. And then they are still.

Night air comes in through the doorway, tinged with summer but cool on Haruka's wet skin. He's warm though, where Rin is pressed against him. Rin is pressed against him. Why?

When Rin speaks, the words are muffled in the crook of Haruka's neck.

"Don't laugh."

Haruka's mind is uncharacteristically blank. He can smell Rin's hair, feel Rin's body, had just felt Rin's mouth moving against his skin. The best he can manage is "I'm not."

"Don't say I'm stupid."

"I won't."

Rin's fingertips dig hard into his shoulders. His nose presses into Haruka's neck. "Why are you all wet?"

"I was taking a bath."

Rin lets out a ragged chuckle. "In your fucking swimsuit." Then he makes a squeaky sound, and Haruka thinks he might feel something warm and wet drip onto his neck. "Sorry," Rin whispers.

In his shock, Haruka becomes conscious of his arms hanging uselessly at his sides. He brings them up slowly, tentatively rests his hands on Rin's back. He knows it was the right thing to do when the arms around him tighten.

He can't stop thinking that Rin's clothes must be getting wet, that there must be something else he can do that doesn't involve standing dumbfounded and incompetent and dripping onto the floor. But Rin breaks into stifled sobs, and he seems to want nothing more than to be able to hold on to Haruka as his body starts to tremble and he loses control over the volume of his voice. And so Haruka forgets about Rin's clothes, focuses only on the feeling of holding Rin and of being held, and of how okay those feelings are for him.

They sit on Haruka's bed in Haruka's clothes, backs against the wall, munching from a bag of chips set between them. The silence has stretched long, but it hasn't been heavy. Still, Haruka's questions are getting too numerous to keep to himself.

"Your flight," he says, surprised for a moment by how loud his voice sounds. He looks over at Rin, who continues to stare despondently down at the mattress. "It's early, isn't it?"

Rin pulls his hand from the bag, pops a chip into his mouth. Chews slowly, loudly. "Yeah," he says, after he swallows. He tips his head back, rests it against the wall. "Is it stupid that I don't really want to go?"

Haruka isn't sure that Rin is actually looking for an answer, but he wonders the same thing. "Why not?"

Rin doesn't respond. He has his face twisted up in that severe way of his – sharp brows, sharp frown, eyes focused intently at the ceiling.

Why are you here? Haruka wants to ask. Did you visit anyone else? Why did you come to see me? "It'll only be two months," he says.

Rin tilts his head to look at him, musters a small smile. "You keep saying that." Then his smile grows, takes a teasing lilt. "Maybe you're trying to convince yourself. If you're gonna miss me, you should just say it."

Haruka gives him a blank stare that is well-practiced. He can feel it in his chest, though, has been moping over it all day, probably longer if he'll admit it to himself – there is no question that he's going to miss Rin.

Rin is loud and obnoxious and tactless and oftentimes when he's around, Haruka wishes that he wasn't. But he's their Rin. He is a part of the group; he is necessary. They've already experienced being without him once, and for Haruka it had been like missing a limb whose function he couldn't quite pinpoint, other than it was somehow necessary, and that seeing it detached was discomforting to nearly unbearable levels.

But Rin also has dreams. Has solid, fleshed-out goals he's reaching for, and to even wish for a moment that he would set those aside for the sake of Haruka's ill-placed anxiety… Haruka has never really thought of himself as selfish, until recently. Childish would be an even better word.

"Let me stay here tonight."

Haruka blinks, refocuses on Rin, whose expression has lost most of its humor. "But you have to –"

"Leave early, yeah, I will," Rin says, waving a hand dismissively. To solidify his point, he crawls around Haruka, flops down onto his stomach on the bed. "You won't even hear me get up. Unless you're seriously gonna make me go home this late."

Haruka sighs, though in all honesty he's glad that Rin has made his decision so easy. "Fine."

He tosses the chip bag onto his desk, gets to his feet and crosses the room, turns off the light. The moon is nearing full, though, shines right through his window and makes everything in his room take on a silvery edge, bright and visible as he crosses back to the bed.

Rin has rolled aside for him, has his head pillowed on his arm. The severe, pensive look is back on his face, and Haruka hesitates for a moment before climbing onto the mattress. He crosses his legs, looks down at Rin.

"You want to go. It…" He lets out a breath. "It won't be Australia."

Rin avoids his eyes. But his frown lessens, just a bit. "Yeah, I know."

Haruka nods, because that's enough. He settles down onto his side, and Rin's eyes are suddenly on him, watching.

Being close to Rin is nothing out of the ordinary, but being close in this way is. The space between them is minimal – two hand's breadths, maybe. Rin's eyes aren't the deep cranberry color they usually are in this light – they're just dark splashed with silver. But just as intent, as they hold Haruka's gaze.

Haruka's not sure how this proximity makes him feel – not uncomfortable, but maybe a bit wary. He's slept in Makoto's bed more times than he can count, has even had Nagisa fall asleep slouched against him in the train a few times. Neither had left him with the strange undercurrent of feeling he has now – like he's discovered something valuable, something meant to be kept close and quiet, but that is also very fragile. He notices, in a vague sort of way, that he can't remember any other time he's seen Rin so still for so long. If he wanted to, he could really take a look at him – at Rin's forehead, his nose, his mouth, his chin, his cheek; at each unique jut and dip and slope that makes Rin's face his own and no one else's.

"Why'd you come to see me?" he hears himself asking, before he's even aware of the thought passing through his brain.

Rin's expression tightens. He looks a little pissed off, and a little embarrassed. "Are you serious?"

Haruka blinks. He's pretty sure he had sounded serious enough.

"Because I'm gonna miss you, you stupid idiot," Rin says. His eyes narrow. "What? Don't look so fucking surprised, jeez."

Haruka doesn't know what he had expected to hear, but Rin's blatant honestly leaves a touch of warmth spreading through his chest. He can almost feel the beginnings of a smile trying to take to his lips. "You should sleep."

Rin's eyebrows disappear into his hair for a moment, then he huffs out a sardonic laugh. "Yeah, okay, you're welcome."

"Thanks. You should sleep."

"S'too hot."

"You should still sleep."

Rin makes an exasperated sound and rolls over, leaving Haruka with a view of his back. "Fine, god, shut up."

Haruka finally allows himself that smile.

He closes his eyes, but he isn't tired. He doesn't know how long he lies staring at the backs of his eyelids, wondering if Rin has fallen asleep yet, if he will really wake up later to find that Rin has already left.

When sleep finally starts to tug at him, his head is full of sluggish thoughts of the ocean and airplanes, and it's only very faintly that he hears Rin stir. The bed creaks and dips slightly, and then something brushes against his cheek. But the next second it's gone, might have been a breeze through the window, or his sleep-drugged imagination. Something bumps against his knees, though, and stays there. His eyelids are too heavy to open, his conscious thoughts slipping into nothingness, the bits of half-dreams taking over.

Rin's knees are solid.

Rin is still there.

When he wakes up, his first thought is that he is alone. The blanket – the part he isn't lying on top of – has been pulled up around him, and he opens his eyes to confirm his suspicions.

It's the dusky dark before sunrise and Rin is gone. Haruka starts to push the blanket off, but his hand bumps against something lost in the folds, and he curls his fingers around what feels like a thick piece of string. He brings the object close to his face, stares at it blearily for a moment before noticing that a small part of it catches what faint strains of light are available.

Rin's necklace – the one with the black leather cord and the shark tooth strung through it. Haruka wonders how it had fallen off, and if it's too late to try to give it back.

He pushes himself up, glances out the window. The sky is more grey than black, the stars are disappearing. From there, his gaze skims over his desk. His clothes – the ones Rin had changed into – are folded on top. He wonders how long ago Rin left, and how he could have possibly been so quiet.

His eyes sting from fatigue; it's obvious that he hadn't slept for very long. Two months, he thinks to himself as he lies back down. Longer, if he's going to be honest. Ten weeks, Rin had said.

He pulls the blanket over himself, nestles back into the warmth. Holds onto Rin's necklace, and feels sleep coming quickly this time.

Two months, he thinks, running his thumb over the tooth. Two months.