The rain has been coming down steadily for a while, but only in the past few minutes has the wind come harder, picking up the raindrops and dashing them rhythmically against the windows. When the evening sky illuminates with lightning, Rin looks up from his books. By the time he's sliding the glass door of the balcony, the thunder cracks through the air around him. He didn't think to count the seconds, but figures the center of the storm is only a few miles off.
Another bright, jagged streak shoots earthwards, lighting up the sky again. As Rin looks up into the dark, he wants to reach out to take the hand beside his on the railing, but of course he's alone on the balcony.
Another flash, another deep reverberating crack: and everything goes dark. Rin's fingers slide over the cold, slick surface of the railing as the curl around it hard; he leans out over the railing, feeling it cut across his hips. His neck arches with the upturn of his face and he squints through the rain, strains to see through the darkness, but there is no movement other than the continuous fall of rain, and nothing now illuminates.
It takes a moment for Rin to realize the rumbling hadn't been thunder but lightning striking, probably hitting a transformer. There's no one here to laugh at him so he does it himself, aloud, catching a few raindrops on his tongue.
"Everything's out for six blocks," he calls as he steps back through the sliding door and shuts it behind him. He shivers as warmth washes over him. His shirt is plastered down in front and along his arms, and he can feel the wet crease across his jeans where he'd hoisted himself up on the railing. The flashlight is in his room anyhow, so he can kill two birds with one stone. As he starts for the hall, he bangs his shin on an end table he'd forgotten or maybe had never noticed is there. He goes more slowly, feeling his way along, lightly dragging his hand along the wall when he comes to the hallway. A couple of picture frames swing askew as his fingers push against them; he'll have to straighten them when the lights come back on.
When he comes to tell-tale moulding around a second doorway, he pushes the door open and enters. He strips out of his shirt as he crosses to the closet, the top shelf of which he remembers putting the flashlight on when he moved in last month. And yes, it's right there at the edge. He smiles in satisfaction.
But when he brings it down, it's forbodingly light. He tries pressing the 'on' button anyhow, but of course nothing happens. He unscrews the head of the flashlight to find, as he suspected, the batteries missing. With a heavy sigh of exasperation, he screws the top back on and reaches blindly into the closet, dragging the first shirt that he touches off its hanger and slipping into it. He leaves the buttons undone as he starts back down the hallway, impotent flashlight in hand.
"Do you have any spare batteries?" he calls as he makes it back to the living room. "Haru must've taken the ones from the flashlight for something and forgotten to replace it."
"No batteries." Makoto's voice comes from the kitchen. "But I have something almost as good." There's a soft glow as he appears in the doorway, light from the candle filtering through cracks between fingers cupped to protect the flame as he walks.
"Ah, brilliant," Rin approves. "You really are always prepared."
"Unlike Haruka?" Makoto sets the fat candle down on the coffee table and produces several more from his pocket, lighting them wick to wick from the first one.
"I didn't say that."
"No," Makoto says, "but you were thinking it, weren't you?"
Rin doesn't say anything.
"You're always thinking about him, aren't you?" Makoto's voice is softer now, as soft as the gentle, flickering flames.
"Not all the time." The words sound hollow out of Rin's mouth, even though he knows they're true.
"You miss him."
This, Rin can confirm with a clear conscience: "Yeah."
"Did he break your heart?" Makoto's voice now is even softer than the candle flames.
"What?" Rin feels his brow knit, and lets it stay that way as he tries to look Makoto in the eye. Even if they weren't sitting in relative darkness, he'd have to work to catch Makoto's eyes because Makoto is looking down into the flickering flame. "Why would you think that?"
"Well," Makoto says, pushing his glasses up his nose as he looks up now, his voice steady, matter-of-fact, "you were lovers all those years."
Rin's brow smoothes as his jaw falls open. It takes him a couple of tries to get it moving again so he can respond. "You're not—" he starts, but even in his light he can see that Makoto is serious. "Friends," he finally manages to clarify. "Friends who lived together, yeah—but not. Not in the same bed or anything."
He can feel Makoto studying him in the dark, and he makes himself stay open. "You didn't break up?" Makoto says at last.
Rin shakes his head. "He got an offer to go to America, and he took it. That was it. Nothing got broken except," he risks a wry grin, "our lease."
Makoto nods thoughtfully. "So you aren't in love with him? You never were?"
"No," Rin says, and wonders if everyone thought that. Sure, he and Haru were close—are close, despite the distance. They're like siblings, maybe something even closer; he's as close to Haru as he is to Kou. Closer, even. More than friends, then, more than brothers, and less—or not less, but other than lovers. He wonders if there is a word for what they are, and thinks that maybe the inadequacy of human language is why Makoto has had this misunderstanding.
He is just opening his mouth to explain all this to Makoto when Makoto says "good," and before Rin can close his mouth again, Makoto's lips are on his.
Rin opens his eyes again when Makoto moves back. His eyes have adjusted to the dark, and he can see, maybe not perfectly clearly, but he can see Makoto, he can see Makoto's eyes, a shimmer in them that might be a reflection of candlelight, that might be a reflection of Rin himself.
He can see Makoto's mouth too, and he kisses it again.
When the power comes back half an hour later, Makoto untangles himself from Rin only to switch off the lamps so they can continue kissing in the candlelight, bright and soft.
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Another bright, jagged streak shoots earthwards, lighting up the sky again. As Rin looks up into the dark, he wants to reach out to take the hand beside his on the railing, but of course he's alone on the balcony.
Another flash, another deep reverberating crack: and everything goes dark. Rin's fingers slide over the cold, slick surface of the railing as the curl around it hard; he leans out over the railing, feeling it cut across his hips. His neck arches with the upturn of his face and he squints through the rain, strains to see through the darkness, but there is no movement other than the continuous fall of rain, and nothing now illuminates.
It takes a moment for Rin to realize the rumbling hadn't been thunder but lightning striking, probably hitting a transformer. There's no one here to laugh at him so he does it himself, aloud, catching a few raindrops on his tongue.
"Everything's out for six blocks," he calls as he steps back through the sliding door and shuts it behind him. He shivers as warmth washes over him. His shirt is plastered down in front and along his arms, and he can feel the wet crease across his jeans where he'd hoisted himself up on the railing. The flashlight is in his room anyhow, so he can kill two birds with one stone. As he starts for the hall, he bangs his shin on an end table he'd forgotten or maybe had never noticed is there. He goes more slowly, feeling his way along, lightly dragging his hand along the wall when he comes to the hallway. A couple of picture frames swing askew as his fingers push against them; he'll have to straighten them when the lights come back on.
When he comes to tell-tale moulding around a second doorway, he pushes the door open and enters. He strips out of his shirt as he crosses to the closet, the top shelf of which he remembers putting the flashlight on when he moved in last month. And yes, it's right there at the edge. He smiles in satisfaction.
But when he brings it down, it's forbodingly light. He tries pressing the 'on' button anyhow, but of course nothing happens. He unscrews the head of the flashlight to find, as he suspected, the batteries missing. With a heavy sigh of exasperation, he screws the top back on and reaches blindly into the closet, dragging the first shirt that he touches off its hanger and slipping into it. He leaves the buttons undone as he starts back down the hallway, impotent flashlight in hand.
"Do you have any spare batteries?" he calls as he makes it back to the living room. "Haru must've taken the ones from the flashlight for something and forgotten to replace it."
"No batteries." Makoto's voice comes from the kitchen. "But I have something almost as good." There's a soft glow as he appears in the doorway, light from the candle filtering through cracks between fingers cupped to protect the flame as he walks.
"Ah, brilliant," Rin approves. "You really are always prepared."
"Unlike Haruka?" Makoto sets the fat candle down on the coffee table and produces several more from his pocket, lighting them wick to wick from the first one.
"I didn't say that."
"No," Makoto says, "but you were thinking it, weren't you?"
Rin doesn't say anything.
"You're always thinking about him, aren't you?" Makoto's voice is softer now, as soft as the gentle, flickering flames.
"Not all the time." The words sound hollow out of Rin's mouth, even though he knows they're true.
"You miss him."
This, Rin can confirm with a clear conscience: "Yeah."
"Did he break your heart?" Makoto's voice now is even softer than the candle flames.
"What?" Rin feels his brow knit, and lets it stay that way as he tries to look Makoto in the eye. Even if they weren't sitting in relative darkness, he'd have to work to catch Makoto's eyes because Makoto is looking down into the flickering flame. "Why would you think that?"
"Well," Makoto says, pushing his glasses up his nose as he looks up now, his voice steady, matter-of-fact, "you were lovers all those years."
Rin's brow smoothes as his jaw falls open. It takes him a couple of tries to get it moving again so he can respond. "You're not—" he starts, but even in his light he can see that Makoto is serious. "Friends," he finally manages to clarify. "Friends who lived together, yeah—but not. Not in the same bed or anything."
He can feel Makoto studying him in the dark, and he makes himself stay open. "You didn't break up?" Makoto says at last.
Rin shakes his head. "He got an offer to go to America, and he took it. That was it. Nothing got broken except," he risks a wry grin, "our lease."
Makoto nods thoughtfully. "So you aren't in love with him? You never were?"
"No," Rin says, and wonders if everyone thought that. Sure, he and Haru were close—are close, despite the distance. They're like siblings, maybe something even closer; he's as close to Haru as he is to Kou. Closer, even. More than friends, then, more than brothers, and less—or not less, but other than lovers. He wonders if there is a word for what they are, and thinks that maybe the inadequacy of human language is why Makoto has had this misunderstanding.
He is just opening his mouth to explain all this to Makoto when Makoto says "good," and before Rin can close his mouth again, Makoto's lips are on his.
Rin opens his eyes again when Makoto moves back. His eyes have adjusted to the dark, and he can see, maybe not perfectly clearly, but he can see Makoto, he can see Makoto's eyes, a shimmer in them that might be a reflection of candlelight, that might be a reflection of Rin himself.
He can see Makoto's mouth too, and he kisses it again.
When the power comes back half an hour later, Makoto untangles himself from Rin only to switch off the lamps so they can continue kissing in the candlelight, bright and soft.