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His house is empty in the summer. His parents work incessant overtime, Sae is on another continent, and Rin has nothing to do but football and Isagi Yoichi. That isn't a sufficient explanation as to how, exactly, he ends up agreeing to skinny dip in the ocean at two in the morning, but it's a start.
"God, it's cold," Isagi remarks, knee deep in the water.
They're in the shallows, right at the final break point of the waves, so it's hard to adjust to the water as it crashes white and foamy against their legs. Still, Rin's skeptical of his assessment—Isagi isn't shivering, not even a little.
"This was your idea," Rin replies.
Isagi rolls his eyes at him. "What does that have to do with saying the water's cold?"
What's cold is the way they aren't touching in this brief respite from July's dusty heat. It gnaws at Rin from the inside as Isagi wades ahead of him, the dimples in his lower back catching the light of the full, heavy moon in a weird way.
There are a number of things that Rin finds problematic about his life. The Isagi-shaped ball of feelings in his chest that expands day by day, nourished by sweat and stupidity, has become his most pressing issue. Now, it's to the point that Rin forgets that they don't really know each other. Isagi just plays on the club team that he'd joined this summer out of pure boredom while waiting for his first semester of university to begin. He's turned into a fantastic way for Rin to waste time, even if Isagi can be a little handsy and his gaze occasionally makes Rin feel like he's being impaled.
Unlike most young adults in the Tokyo metro area, Isagi has a car. That's enough to get Rin to shut up and tag along for things like this.
"The sandbar ends here, I think," Isagi says, which sort of snaps Rin out of following him in a daze. Here, navel-deep for Rin and a little more for Isagi, the waves are a little calmer. Rin's done a good job so far at preventing his hair from getting wet.
Isagi's blue eyes shift to him as they're both lifted slightly, buoyed by the water rushing its way to shore. His expression is uncharacteristically neutral—no cocky grin, no raw annoyance, no focused pout. It's like his face has become a mirror, eyes seeming black without any sunlight to brighten them, and Rin just sees himself.
What is it about him that makes Rin want him? He can't wrap his head around it. Is it that Isagi's the closest thing to normal that Rin's ever seen? That he's real in a way Rin has never been, a person who makes their own choices about their life instead of being forced to scrap together the remnants of other people's dreams? Rin wants to crawl into Isagi's skin and live like that for a day, just one day, just to see if it helps him understand himself a little more.
"Rin?"
Rin didn't even realize he was touching him. He blinks and he's resting his hand on Isagi's side; his entire hand is below the water except for the second knuckle of his thumb, and that, too, is consumed when it rises with another rolling wave.
Maybe he can read his body like braille. Slowly, Rin's fingers creep up. He feels the thick muscle of Isagi's stomach that shifts with every breath, each rib on his left side, the coin-sized birthmark over the last one at the very top of his ribcage, right before his pectoral muscles begin. Rin pauses to feel his heartbeat.
"Stop getting hard, pervert," Rin murmurs, still distracted by all of the thoughts swirling through his head that he really should be setting aside for later.
Isagi's so flustered from the innocent touch that Rin would be able to feel the heat rolling off of him even if they weren't connected at the moment. "Do you really think I can control that?"
For that comment, Rin shoves him right into a crashing wave that he isn't tall enough to stand against. He derives an unreal amount of amusement from watching him get washed away, almost all the way back to the sand.
"You're such an asshole," Isagi shouts, then lowers his voice a little as he wades back over, mostly talking to himself. "Like, seriously, sometimes I wonder why I put up with you."
Rin looks up at the moon, which is a mistake, because its glow makes everything else around him fade away. It's still too early in the year for tsukimi, but it's still full and bright and makes light slither over the water. Rin isn't paying attention when it abruptly splashes around him and he's suddenly beneath a wave—the saltwater takes away his sight and burns his eyes as he tries to regain his balance and stand up.
He surfaces, pushes his now-soaked hair out of his eyes, and is met with a shit-eating grin from Isagi. Rin didn't feel him push him—he could just be delighted by Rin suffering the same fate as him from karma alone—but that's not what it feels like. Without the sun to warm him, the outline of Isagi's body looks just as silver as the tips of the waves, an extension of the sea.
Rin scowls, decides not to take the karma-or-revenge lying down, and immediately begins to wade back over to him. Isagi reads his expression almost instantly—without any hesitation, he starts to swim away, deeper into the cold ocean. Rin hears him laugh when he comes up for air.
"You're being weird again."
Rin frowns at him. It's ridiculous that Isagi—a nineteen-year-old he'd met six weeks ago, who's currently drying his hair with a Pompompurin t-shirt—is trying to lecture him about being weird.
Part of him is terrified that Isagi is realizing that Rin started molting from the moment they met—his heart has changed and it's starting to show through his hard exoskeleton. Rin swallows that fear and focuses on shaking the sand out of his clothes instead, trying to put them on as quickly as possible now that he's dry enough.
Even though Rin doesn't respond, Isagi continues, "Like, you're thinking so hard that there's steam coming out of your ears. It's like you've been somewhere else this entire time."
"Why do you care?"
He lowers the makeshift towel. "Seriously?"
Rin clenches his jaw. It seems like Isagi's being difficult on purpose—or, maybe, Rin's finally losing his mind to the carefree whims of his heart.
He doesn't like to repeat himself, so Isagi does it for him. He sounds truly indignant when he says, "Why do I care? Don't ask me stupid questions."
You're starting to sound like me, Rin almost says. He doesn't get to because Isagi's closed the distance between him and kisses him, which isn't that unusual, except for the fact that it comes on the tail of several half-baked implications about their not-relationship.
Isagi steps back after a few moments, seeming noticeably less irritated. His eyes dart all over Rin's face; it's uncomfortable for a reason Rin can't quite put his finger on.
Rin avoids his gaze by bending over to pick up his things now that he's partially dressed—shorts and shoes are enough for the walk back to the car—and once again is forced to pay the price of lowering his guard. Isagi slaps him on the ass hard enough that Rin stumbles, one hand in the sand before he can regain his balance.
Pinning him with a proper glare as he stands up, Rin growls, "You will fucking regret that."
All Isagi does smile like the biggest idiot in the world. It's hard to see any of his other facial features in this kind of darkness. Behind him, in the distance, city lights shine white and red, imitating stars since light pollution prevents them from seeing real ones. "Will I?"
Rin kind of wants to fuck him out here, right on the beach, but that's a little risky and he'll get sand in every crevice of his body. They opt for the car instead—well, Rin decides it wordlessly, and Isagi follows without asking any questions.
In the backseat, Rin says, "If we get caught, I'm killing you and then myself."
"Then hush," Isagi replies, a smirk on his lips right until he presses them to Rin's. Isagi shifts forward a little, finding a way to balance on top of Rin, and Rin just melts into the faux leather seats.
They don't exchange many words. At least, they exchange less than usual as the clothes they'd just put on come right back off. Rin just shuts his eyes and listens to both of their breaths, somehow feeling like he's peering behind the veil of reality and is properly grounded for the first time in a very long time. He seeks warmth, hands sliding across bare skin while he sees nothing from behind his closed eyelids, and Isagi's breathing harder than he is once he's inside.
He licks a stripe up Rin's neck as he adjusts, forcing a moan out of Rin before he bites his lip to keep it together. Isagi starts to rock into him, murmuring something unintelligible where he's buried his face right under Rin's left ear, teeth closing gently around the skin there.
"Deeper," Rin breathes, spiraling. Isagi pulls away humming before gripping Rin's thighs, pushing his tongue back into Rin's mouth, and giving him exactly what he asked for.
Rin wraps his arms around his neck for a moment before he can't stand his hands being still anymore. Isagi smells like salt—tastes like it, too—and the sweat beading on his skin helps Rin's fingers glide across his back. His wet hair sticks to Rin's where their foreheads are pressed together.
An unexpectedly loud noise works its way out of Rin, suddenly forcing his eyes open. Two of Isagi's fingers slide into his mouth in place of his tongue, and like an asshole, he whispers, "Shh."
Rin can't decide whether it's unfortunate or hot that he's way too far gone to fight back. He just digs his nails into his back and relishes every centimeter they drag down. Rin's certain that the salt left behind from their earlier adventure will get into the wounds; that thought puts fire in his veins that he hopes Isagi can feel.
"Fuck, Rin, you feel so good," Isagi tells him.
He comes very close to asking him to stop saying his name. It does very bad things to Rin—things that make him press his thighs much harder into Isagi's sides, things that make him squirm, things that make him forget out to speak. He can feel himself dripping, and the slap of skin on skin that feels louder than it is in the small space pierces him.
"Right there," Rin struggles to say around his fingers, voice pitching up into a whine.
It's perfect timing, actually. Rin goes over the edge first, moaning so hard that his throat feels raw, and one more thrust is all that it takes for Isagi to get off too. After the initial paralysis, his fingers slip from Rin's mouth to let him breathe. Rin thinks that the pounding in his head isn't just from his own pulse; he can feel Isagi's heart where they're pressed chest-to-chest, panting and sweaty, and he's suddenly a little lightheaded for reasons unrelated to the exertion.
Neither of them set the rhythm that they're beating to—they just sync up instinctively.
Isagi's thumb strokes the curve of his jaw. "C'mere," he says under his breath.
At first, Rin obliges him because he's always trying to kiss him, and it's a nice distraction as Isagi pulls out of him. Then, his brain starts to come back online, and it's a bittersweet feeling as his brain is flooded with fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck at the butterflies in his stomach.
Isagi pulls away just to study him for a moment, like he's thinking about something really hard. Rin doesn't like how much he hates that he isn't actively kissing him and tries not to let it show on his face.
For some reason, Isagi repeats that process several more times. Kiss, pause, kiss. Rin keeps thinking that this kiss will be the last one, and then Isagi kisses him again. Clingy bastard.
"Ugh," Rin finally groans, shoving him away and letting his head fall back against the seat as he finally relaxes a little. "Get off me."
Isagi scoffs lightly, sounding more amused than annoyed, and then the car door clicks open. Rin cracks his eyes open, cranes his neck to see that Isagi got out just to put his clothes back on, and goes right back to sprawling limply in the backseat with his eyes closed.
"Don't sleep yet," Isagi says, a few steps away. The salty air fills up the car, which is how he knows the door is still open. "I still have to take you home."
Rin doesn't really want to go home. He doesn't know what he wants, not really, but it absolutely involves keeping Isagi within an arm's reach until the sun comes up. Once there's sunlight, he has to be a real person again.
"Rin."
"Shut up," Rin sighs. "You're not helping. I'm just resting, for fuck's sake."
"Uh huh."
Blindly, Rin kicks him. It lands.
"Ow." He can hear the scowl in his voice.
Flatly, Rin offers, "Fuck you."
"Fuck you," Isagi retorts. The car door clicks as he shuts it, then another two sound as he slides into the driver's seat.
"Keep dreaming," Rin responds as soon as he's certain Isagi is back in the vehicle.
"That's hypocritical as hell."
Rin doesn't deign to respond. He just sits up with a groan, gets himself dressed, and pretty much collapses into the passenger seat because his legs stop working on the first step he takes outside of the car.
As Isagi drives, Rin checks for hickeys in the tiny lighted mirror of the passenger-side sun visor. Thankfully, none of them look bad enough that they'd need to be covered with makeup. Rin sighs, leans his head against the inside of the car door, and tries not to think about anything in particular.
The windows are halfway down, allowing Rin's hair to finish drying and the smell of sex to disappear in the wind. He briefly considers lowering the glass fully and leaning out to watch the streetlights turn to bright blurs. He doesn't though; he just shuts his eyes again, lulled into dozing off by the soft notes of old city pop songs playing on the radio.
Even in his state of semi-unconsciousness, the turns become familiar as they get closer to Rin's house. From the highway ramp, it's left, left, right, straight for a while, then another left.
Rin's already gathering his things as Isagi slows to a stop. He climbs out at the exact moment the car isn't moving anymore.
"Text me tomorrow," he says, tilting his head. His eyes are big and blue and dangerous. "I want to see that new Godzilla movie after we practice."
"Then you should text me," Rin replies, shoving the door shut.
Isagi doesn't pull off until Rin unlocks the door and is fully inside. Rin watches him leave from the window by the front door before he even slips his shoes off.
It's those little, idiotic things that make Rin feel sick. They're enough to keep him up all night, curled up on his side and wondering if rot—if turning into something disgusting and soft—always starts from the inside.