[Rin didn't really account for Keisuke, someone who was a little abnormally in touch with his own emotions despite how their world had deprogrammed a lot of them from stuff like that. But it was something that he had been dwelling on, something caught in his mind and digging into him periodically across the hours, the ones that he had spent in the classroom with Akira, waiting for the night to pass, and all the rest between then and now. Like always, he felt the need to apologize for his own shortcomings—even the ones he couldn't control, or perhaps only he perceived as being there at all.
Eventually he does rattle to a halt, though, looking at Rin with slightly misty eyes, drawn taut around the edges with pain and grief and guilt. He's hesitant at first, wary of what Rin might say, but—it's so strange to hear it out of someone's mouth, that it's not his fault. It's something he struggles actively to accept. It's always been his fault, his shortcomings, his mistakes. This place has helped him through some of that but not all of it.
All he ends up thinking is how—strong Rin is. He's gone through all of this, come back, and here he is, trying to make Keisuke feel better about it. It rolls right back around to make him feel guilty, that even in this he's being cared for. Something that would apparently repeat itself, even when Keisuke wished so much it wouldn't.
He doesn't feel like he's worth it. He probably never will.
He looks down, lips barely moving to give breath to,] you don't have to. [But he blinks, eyes fixing on their hands at the increased pressure there, stuck in the moment between breaths when Rin decides to relinquish him for just a second in exchange for wrapping his arms around Keisuke's chest.
He freezes—for a good, long second. His arms half-raised, suspended by his sides, eyes a bit wide and surprised. Keisuke's definitely not used to stuff like this, not with anyone. At first he's a bit panicked, unsure of what to do, but... it's comforting. The warm bloom of breath that he can feel as Rin laughs before speaking, continuing to fight to assuage his fears and doubts and guilt.
He's so unused to someone doing something like that for him. That's why he's unsure—for just a moment longer.
And then he, with just a touch of hesitation, returns the gesture, arms encircling around Rin's shoulders to hug him back. It's a bit ironic; Rin's small but deceptively strong, and, in opposition, strong-statured Keisuke's embrace is oddly gentle, as if softly handling something fragile. Not Rin, as he knows he guy can handle himself much better than he ever could, but... perhaps what Rin was offering to him.
His words are all tangled up in his throat, so all he can do is nod, the movement of his chin brushing past the crown of Rin's head. Hopefully he recognizes that.
A beat. A bit hoarsely:] ...Okay. [I'm sorry. A bit more solid:] Okay - I won't.
[ It's unfair. It's unfair and it's selfish but despite the fact that Rin knows Keisuke is riddled with that guilt he doesn't find himself faltering in his decision even an ounce. He'd rather get taken, he'd rather protect him, rather the other be the one handling such guilt, than have it be the opposite. He has enough of that on his shoulders as it is, his inability to save people he cares for in the past hanging onto him like weights, dragging him down and threatening to overwhelm him entirely.
He really doesn't know how much more of that he'd be able to manage.
Rin doesn't have much expectation when it comes to his own impulsive move, and wouldn't have been that bothered by Keisuke not returning the hold (so long as he wasn't pushed away instead). It, most definitely, is a lot more pleasing to have those arms curling around him though, and he smiles against the fabric of his clothes before he can help it. It's strange, how something like this could be... relieving, to him, when the purpose of it had been to help the other feel better. ]
Yeah, I don't have to, but I'm going to. Don't you try convincing me to not want to protect you when I can. [ His tone is chastising, but exasperated as he rubs his face against Keisuke's chest, nuzzling against him for a moment as he breathes in and tries to regain composure. When he pulls away, it isn't far, but it's enough that he can give his friend a wide smile, warm and as at ease as it usually is. He's fine. He's here, in one piece, and he's fine. Nothing to worry about or feel guilty for, see?
(Though Rin knows, far too well, that Keisuke isn't going to stop feeling guilty about it so easily - but the least he can do, and maybe only thing he really can, is convince him that he doesn't hold anything against him.)
He leans further away, hands sliding around so that he can thump his free one against Keisuke's chest, patting him reassuringly. ] Next time I'll have the knife thanks to you. Don't know how much good it'll do against creepy tentacles but- [ A carefree shrug. ] -we'll worry about that when it happens.
[There would be no clear solution, no proper winner to this conundrum. Neither of them had proper value of their own lives to achieve something like that, both so perfectly willing to leap in between someone else and a bullet that they ended up at a crossroads. Keisuke, frustratingly enough, feels as though he has more of a reason to. Rin is useful in situations where he is not. He's quick, clever, strong, amiable, and he could handle more than his own in a fight. Keisuke, by his own comparison, was bumbling and troublesome, never able to properly defend himself, so he was only ever a liability.
It made him want to yell in frustration, that this keeps happening. It was agonizing. How many times would people get hurt because of him? Whether it was Rin, eyes gentle and voice soft in saying this was his decision, or Akira, shrugging it off in that nonchalant way he did, it still hurt. It was a constant reminder of his own shortcomings, reflected in trouble on those he cared for.
It's a tangled web of emotions he's got, all snarled up in the space between his heart and his throat. He swallows with some difficulty, fearing a scratchiness in his voice, first nodding into the crown of Rin's head at his response. Perhaps he should've been embarrassed at how Rin nuzzles into him, like an animal affectionately into the palm of an owner, but he doesn't repudiate it.] ...Okay. [It was all he could give. An affirmative, trying to acknowledge and appreciate, even though what Rin had given him—an affirmation of caring enough to risk himself—was something Keisuke felt guilty in taking.
They separate, albeit slightly, but enough room for Keisuke to be partially blinded by Rin's bright smile. He wonders, for a half-second, if that's the whole story of it. But he accepts it at face value, thinking he owed that to him.
Rin's fist makes a resounding sound against his chest, deep, like a beat against a drum. He looks down to where it rests, a belated smile etching itself across his face, and he looks back to Rin. He gives a single, rough laugh.] If there's anyone who can fight against those things with just a knife, it'd be you, right? [He reaches up to tap his own knuckles against Rin's chest, knowing that, despite how thin the guy was, he was solid, tough.]
Yeah. We'll - cross that bridge when we get there.
[Knowing this place, it would be sooner than he would want. But, for now -]
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Eventually he does rattle to a halt, though, looking at Rin with slightly misty eyes, drawn taut around the edges with pain and grief and guilt. He's hesitant at first, wary of what Rin might say, but—it's so strange to hear it out of someone's mouth, that it's not his fault. It's something he struggles actively to accept. It's always been his fault, his shortcomings, his mistakes. This place has helped him through some of that but not all of it.
All he ends up thinking is how—strong Rin is. He's gone through all of this, come back, and here he is, trying to make Keisuke feel better about it. It rolls right back around to make him feel guilty, that even in this he's being cared for. Something that would apparently repeat itself, even when Keisuke wished so much it wouldn't.
He doesn't feel like he's worth it. He probably never will.
He looks down, lips barely moving to give breath to,] you don't have to. [But he blinks, eyes fixing on their hands at the increased pressure there, stuck in the moment between breaths when Rin decides to relinquish him for just a second in exchange for wrapping his arms around Keisuke's chest.
He freezes—for a good, long second. His arms half-raised, suspended by his sides, eyes a bit wide and surprised. Keisuke's definitely not used to stuff like this, not with anyone. At first he's a bit panicked, unsure of what to do, but... it's comforting. The warm bloom of breath that he can feel as Rin laughs before speaking, continuing to fight to assuage his fears and doubts and guilt.
He's so unused to someone doing something like that for him. That's why he's unsure—for just a moment longer.
And then he, with just a touch of hesitation, returns the gesture, arms encircling around Rin's shoulders to hug him back. It's a bit ironic; Rin's small but deceptively strong, and, in opposition, strong-statured Keisuke's embrace is oddly gentle, as if softly handling something fragile. Not Rin, as he knows he guy can handle himself much better than he ever could, but... perhaps what Rin was offering to him.
His words are all tangled up in his throat, so all he can do is nod, the movement of his chin brushing past the crown of Rin's head. Hopefully he recognizes that.
A beat. A bit hoarsely:] ...Okay. [I'm sorry. A bit more solid:] Okay - I won't.
[I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.]
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He really doesn't know how much more of that he'd be able to manage.
Rin doesn't have much expectation when it comes to his own impulsive move, and wouldn't have been that bothered by Keisuke not returning the hold (so long as he wasn't pushed away instead). It, most definitely, is a lot more pleasing to have those arms curling around him though, and he smiles against the fabric of his clothes before he can help it. It's strange, how something like this could be... relieving, to him, when the purpose of it had been to help the other feel better. ]
Yeah, I don't have to, but I'm going to. Don't you try convincing me to not want to protect you when I can. [ His tone is chastising, but exasperated as he rubs his face against Keisuke's chest, nuzzling against him for a moment as he breathes in and tries to regain composure. When he pulls away, it isn't far, but it's enough that he can give his friend a wide smile, warm and as at ease as it usually is. He's fine. He's here, in one piece, and he's fine. Nothing to worry about or feel guilty for, see?
(Though Rin knows, far too well, that Keisuke isn't going to stop feeling guilty about it so easily - but the least he can do, and maybe only thing he really can, is convince him that he doesn't hold anything against him.)
He leans further away, hands sliding around so that he can thump his free one against Keisuke's chest, patting him reassuringly. ] Next time I'll have the knife thanks to you. Don't know how much good it'll do against creepy tentacles but- [ A carefree shrug. ] -we'll worry about that when it happens.
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It made him want to yell in frustration, that this keeps happening. It was agonizing. How many times would people get hurt because of him? Whether it was Rin, eyes gentle and voice soft in saying this was his decision, or Akira, shrugging it off in that nonchalant way he did, it still hurt. It was a constant reminder of his own shortcomings, reflected in trouble on those he cared for.
It's a tangled web of emotions he's got, all snarled up in the space between his heart and his throat. He swallows with some difficulty, fearing a scratchiness in his voice, first nodding into the crown of Rin's head at his response. Perhaps he should've been embarrassed at how Rin nuzzles into him, like an animal affectionately into the palm of an owner, but he doesn't repudiate it.] ...Okay. [It was all he could give. An affirmative, trying to acknowledge and appreciate, even though what Rin had given him—an affirmation of caring enough to risk himself—was something Keisuke felt guilty in taking.
They separate, albeit slightly, but enough room for Keisuke to be partially blinded by Rin's bright smile. He wonders, for a half-second, if that's the whole story of it. But he accepts it at face value, thinking he owed that to him.
Rin's fist makes a resounding sound against his chest, deep, like a beat against a drum. He looks down to where it rests, a belated smile etching itself across his face, and he looks back to Rin. He gives a single, rough laugh.] If there's anyone who can fight against those things with just a knife, it'd be you, right? [He reaches up to tap his own knuckles against Rin's chest, knowing that, despite how thin the guy was, he was solid, tough.]
Yeah. We'll - cross that bridge when we get there.
[Knowing this place, it would be sooner than he would want. But, for now -]