Haru suspects that he probably should be angry. The tone of Rin's voice seems to betray a presumptuousness--the same presumptuousness, perhaps, that Haru had raised his voice to the other day. Rin thinks he has everything figured out, and he's talking to Haru like someone who knows better than him. Haru knows he should resent that; it should make him mad.

Only whatever it is inside of Haru that would be angered by this can't seem to be bothered with waking up right now. The emotion that had charged their confrontation the day before has dissipated. He doesn't feel mad or resentful. He just feels nothing--a sort of bland lack; numb and muted.

For all that he usually exudes coldness and detachment, this is not how he usually feels about Rin. True, his range of emotional expression might be more limited than most people's, his own "hot" barely looking like a more conventional lukewarm. But those feelings, however limited, have still meant a lot to him. Only now he finds that he somehow doesn't even care that he doesn't care.

He blinks once and then just looks at Rin, wordlessly, his surprised expression fading because perhaps, in a way, this is to be expected. But there's none of the standoffishness or impatience that would come from him saying 'well talk then.' He doesn't even look impatient. He just waits. It's not like he was burning with a desire to get back to the party anyway.