[It’s difficult to keep track of time whenever they’re together, and Rin finds it strange he’s only discovering this here and now, while he’s sweating in the sheets, the mattress, the room he shares with his own childhood best friend. The best friend who doesn’t look at him and remember. The best friend who can’t find reason to be embarrassed for all the places and ways he touches Rin’s skin. The best friend who won’t stop staring right through him and likely forgetting time exists all the same. It’s true. Whenever he’s with Sousuke, it seems reality always bends to their liking. He forgets to check how fast they’re going or how far along they’ve come. Everything, every moment, every word, every memory... they meld together into a singular, precious experience. Maybe that’s why he’s always been so eager to charge forward with Sousuke at his side, so very excited and unafraid of the unknown. Because when they’re together, nothing else could ever matter. When they’re together, he feels... free.
Even here. Even now. Doing something so adult and wild and completely out of their comfort zone.
He isn’t afraid; far from it. After all, he’ll trust no one else around his body like his own shinki. But inexperience brings nerves, of course, and with them so many sudden and probably very stupid thoughts. What does he look like? What does he sound like? Is he crying too much, is he moving too little? Is he letting himself be too carried away? Rin with all his romantic ideologies can’t help but wonder if he’s over exaggerating every little thing. Isn’t that what pushed Sousuke away in the first place? Getting too close, too buddy-buddy... If he moves too fast, he might risk Sousuke falling behind.
And Sousuke’s freedom always matters as much, if not more than, his own.
I’ll let you do what you want, however you want. If it makes you happy, if it makes you free... then disobey me. And take what you want.
There’s nothing but white once Sousuke finally follows through, leaving Rin arched, drenched, and struggling for air. Thighs tremble from exertion, sweat dribbling down the backs of his knees, and he can’t be sure how long it takes before he regains control over his anything below the waist. He guesses it just... happens. One by one, muscle by muscle. Each one relaxes around his bones until ultimately he’s left limp and heaving in a damp nest of sheets and tangled limbs, both legs still in the air but slumping back towards his chest under their own weight. Can’t taste blood. Must’ve managed to keep himself from biting down on his wrist too hard. Can’t feel any frayed ends in between his fingers. Didn’t tug enough to rip the bed apart. Lips on his shin— Wait. Since when did they stop moving?
He still has his head turned when the blood starts flowing back towards his brain, but soon enough Rin rolls it forward with a weak push. Maroon bangs, damp and disheveled, just barely cover those sex-glazed eyes struggling to find focus in the dark.]
You stopped... You didn’t—
[Realization comes slowly but surely, then in a matter of seconds Rin has the sheets balled up into his hands again, this time yanked up high enough to cover the lower half of his face. If he could wrap the rest of his body up along with it he would in a heartbeat. Because Sousuke’s staring and he isn’t moving and— Shit, what was he thinking!?]
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Even here. Even now. Doing something so adult and wild and completely out of their comfort zone.
He isn’t afraid; far from it. After all, he’ll trust no one else around his body like his own shinki. But inexperience brings nerves, of course, and with them so many sudden and probably very stupid thoughts. What does he look like? What does he sound like? Is he crying too much, is he moving too little? Is he letting himself be too carried away? Rin with all his romantic ideologies can’t help but wonder if he’s over exaggerating every little thing. Isn’t that what pushed Sousuke away in the first place? Getting too close, too buddy-buddy... If he moves too fast, he might risk Sousuke falling behind.
And Sousuke’s freedom always matters as much, if not more than, his own.
I’ll let you do what you want, however you want. If it makes you happy, if it makes you free... then disobey me. And take what you want.
There’s nothing but white once Sousuke finally follows through, leaving Rin arched, drenched, and struggling for air. Thighs tremble from exertion, sweat dribbling down the backs of his knees, and he can’t be sure how long it takes before he regains control over his anything below the waist. He guesses it just... happens. One by one, muscle by muscle. Each one relaxes around his bones until ultimately he’s left limp and heaving in a damp nest of sheets and tangled limbs, both legs still in the air but slumping back towards his chest under their own weight. Can’t taste blood. Must’ve managed to keep himself from biting down on his wrist too hard. Can’t feel any frayed ends in between his fingers. Didn’t tug enough to rip the bed apart. Lips on his shin— Wait. Since when did they stop moving?
He still has his head turned when the blood starts flowing back towards his brain, but soon enough Rin rolls it forward with a weak push. Maroon bangs, damp and disheveled, just barely cover those sex-glazed eyes struggling to find focus in the dark.]
You stopped... You didn’t—
[Realization comes slowly but surely, then in a matter of seconds Rin has the sheets balled up into his hands again, this time yanked up high enough to cover the lower half of his face. If he could wrap the rest of his body up along with it he would in a heartbeat. Because Sousuke’s staring and he isn’t moving and— Shit, what was he thinking!?]
Sorry, I— I didn’t mean...! I should’ve...
[I didn’t focus enough on you.]