AAAAA IM GOING CRAZY - Tumblr Posts

──✧ ˚ · “ 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝

ft. 𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 / mentions of sae itoshi

*.✧ rin isn't at all surprised to see sae has brought you along to the family event. what startles him instead is how hard it is to contain his urges.

*.✧ wc: 6k. cw: nsfw/suggestive, fem reader, pining, angst, mentions of mental health issues & therapy, mentions of injuries, foul language. all characters are in their mid 20's. the itoshis are pro players. reader has a backstory. // notes: FINALLY the 1st part to my mini series after dark !! biggest thank you to my beloved river for beta reading, it wouldn’t of have gotten out without you 🤍 check out the official playlist for best experience :) enjoy!

There’s something odd hanging heavy in the air – humid and thick as Rin steps out from the airport terminal, suitcase clattering loudly on the sidewalk. 

Maybe it’s still the annoyance that’s pooling deep in his gut, caused by the encounter that took place barely minutes ago – a group of fans recognizing him and the few other players in line to border control.

He’s thankful, he really is, but not in moments like these.

Not when the discoloration under his eyes could be seen from miles away, and yet, it must seem like he’s less of a human as people just keep on yapping. Talking, grabbing – asking if it’s okay to take a picture. Commenting on a recent goal, congratulating. It was only this annoying because there was Shidou and a few other players right beside him, and yet, everyone seemed desperate only for a smidge of his attention, toppling him over with inquiries and requests and appreciative words.

It's only natural he's always the one in the spotlight – the team captain with an aloof aura to contradict his status. But there is something even more alluring to him, and it's probably the way he still manages to crack a slight smile at one of Ryusei's comments as they move down the line; a small action that's gotten recorded anyway, he's noticed, and he's sure it'll be all over Twitter within an hour or two, considering it's still a rare occasion to see him loosen up.

It's puzzling to some still – the complexity of Paris X Gen's highest grossing player. It's confusing but intriguing, how his presence is dangerous enough to keep him marked by the other team at all times, and yet, they seem absolutely petrified at the thought of going one-on-one with him. It's a wonder how he appears to be just as intimidating outside the field, eyes sharp and stance tall, but on his good days, he can give a young fan the softest smile possible. It's a whiplash – but he never called himself easy to be around. No one ever really did.

That's what brought him to the very top.

A heavy sigh slips past his lips, fingers tugging the corduroy jacket to cover more of his tee clad chest, and puts a hand up as his designated driver slows down by the entrance. As the vehicle stops and the man gets out to open the trunk, Rin holds back a sigh to see it's not the usual driver that meets him during most of his flights. (It's not because he's pretentious. He just really, really doesn't want to talk tonight anymore. And he knows the usual would've picked up on that. Now, he's not sure.)

He hands his suitcase over to get it into the trunk, then moves to the backseat of the car, hoping for a quiet ride.

It’s nearing midnight, the flight having been postponed due to some issues that he just couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to, and it seems like it’s enough of a reason to keep the driver silent. That, and probably the exhaustion written all over his face, teal eyes zoning out the window and teeth nibbling on chapped lips.

He’s back home now, a thoughtful gift for his parents sitting in his suitcase, but there’s no place for nostalgia or relief in his heart. Instead, it fills with dread at the thought of seeing a mess of auburn hair and a pair of turquoise eyes, mirroring his own – no matter how much he resents it. 

If it was all up to him, he’d pretend Sae was never part of their family – act like they had never met, like the elder had never broken his dreams and stained his teenage heart with dread. It’s been what – eight years? Almost a decade, it seems, and a few therapy attempts ago, but even though Rin has found his own self, his very own objective and a goal that isn’t dictated by Sae anymore, the thought of his brother still makes him uneasy at best. 

He wishes he didn’t see the longing in his mother’s eyes, how she cannot stand to see her sons treat each other as if they were air. There wasn’t much either of their parents could do to bring the brothers back on the right track and it seemed like they knew – could see it in the way the younger tensed up, seeing a suitcase by the front door and an additional pair of shoes on the mat. 

There was no way to save them, not back then, and not now.

A screech of the driver slamming the brakes brings Rin back from the train of thoughts, safety belt digging into his chest as he jolts forward a bit. He looks through the windscreen, watches as the car that cut in front of them maneuvers sloppily, and the driver shakes his head.

“People really are going crazy this time of the year,” he mumbles, and their eyes momentarily meet through the rear view mirror. 

It’s a bit awkward, the way silence falls over the vehicle quickly after, but honestly Rin doesn’t mind that much. He knows he comes off aloof, too proud to engage in small talk. It’s a bit of a lifesaver now, when it’s getting hard to keep his eyes open anymore.

He hums in agreement and shifts in his seat, long legs spreading out and forward. Carefully, he rolls his ankle, the strain making his brows furrow as a breath hitches deep in his chest. He rests the heel of his foot back down and closes his eyes. It hurts, but he can’t tell whether it’s still the sprained joint or his pride.

The driver seems to catch up on the striker’s discomfort and quickly leans over, pulling the passenger seat forward to make more space. “There, Itoshi-san. It’ll be a bit of a long drive, so make yourself comfy.” He smiles, a little uneasy still, but as Rin stretches his legs out and gives a small mumble of thank you, he takes it as an incentive. 

“That last goal was out of this world, honestly– I hope you don’t mind.” 

The man sounds sincere, taps his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously. Rin keeps his eyes forward, on the car in front of them. 

“Some say this was the season’s best goal, and I agree.” 

A tight smile pulls on the athlete’s lips. Yeah, he’s heard it, too. Heard all the praise, accompanied by pitiful and worried looks as he limped off the field – hoping, praying the camera doesn’t pick up on the seething look in his eyes.

This could’ve happened to anyone, and honestly, it wasn’t even that big of a deal if you looked at it objectively. It’s a light injury, and he might even consider himself lucky it happened on the last match before Christmas break. He’ll have his time off, spend it with family and friends, and go to his physio appointments without any disturbance. (And get his ear talked off, probably. Because as breathtaking this goal was, he had to push the throbbing pain in his joint aside, force his foot into the awkward angle and feel, hear the crunch of the bone as he sent the ball into the net. It was everything that their physio team told them to refrain from.)

By the time the season restarts, he’ll be as good as new.

But if there’s one thing Sae engraved into his mind, is that he hates pity and resents vulnerability. He wants to smack the medical team away as they work on his ankle, swollen and reddening within seconds as they tighten the bandage around it, pressing ice bags to the aching joint. 

This can happen to anybody – anyone but him, it is.

To react to it so passionately isn't anything unordinary – but it's everything that's unlike him.

“Thank you,” Rin simply says and settles on that being his final reply. He doesn’t want to dig deeper into any of it, to continue with the topic that he’s pretty sure everyone already knows is a minefield.

The man behind the steering wheel seems to catch up on the subtle sign and just gives a slight smile. 

Rin shudders at the way pity floods the vehicle, taunts him and makes the tight loop around his heart pull. He hates this, but there’s not much that’s left to do about it besides biting back on his tongue and leaning back into the seat.

It’s peaceful for the rest of the hour-long drive. Starry skies invite him to look out the window, gaze growing unfocused with exhaustion and thoughts that race through his mind with the speed of light.

He wishes there was a way to silence that, tune out the whispers and taunting like the driver did to the radio upon noticing the striker’s tired look. 

His therapist said it’ll take some time – long hours spent dwelling over his notepad, trying to reach inside to grasp his ego and the issues that burn at it the most, only to scribble them down on the paper and try to voice them out in the office a few days later. He’s never been good with communication or speaking his mind, at least not in the conventional way that won’t leave the recipient in tears or shock; but, hey, his therapist did say that he’s seen worse. Rin wonders if he was being honest about it, but then finds himself realizing that this is exactly the same route of thought that he’s supposed to watch out for. He knew these words would seep into every crevice of his mind, sit heavy on his heart, and that's why the therapy was abruptly cut short – cause he couldn't, didn't want to hear any of it anymore.

Not everyone has ill intentions, Rin. As long as you’re hung up on what he did to you, you’ll have a hard time trusting others. And I know you don't want to admit it – but you need it.

The car comes to a stop right by the curb. Warm, yellowish light seeps through the familiar windows and hits the sidewalk.

Rin blinks once, pulled from his thoughts.

“There you go.”  The driver glances at him over his shoulder and unbuckles himself, about to help him with his suitcase but is stopped by a wave of Rin’s hand.

“S’okay. Thank you.”

He hums and fishes for his wallet in the pocket of his jeans. He pulls out a bill and places it in the man’s hand, undoing his seat belt and opening the door, ignoring the small sound of protest – probably caused by the tip he’s just left.

Rin gets out of the vehicle, careful as he shifts his weight to the wounded ankle, and takes his suitcase out from the trunk. There’s a harsh thud as the wheels hit the ground and a complimenting soft puff, heavy scent of smoke filling his lungs. He glances up at the elderly man, who now stands by the driver’s door and takes a drag of his cigarette. 

No matter what he does, how much he tries, he’ll always be watched – a pair of eyes trained on him at all times, whether it’s at the field or on the streets.

He holds the eye contact, waits for the man to speak. It comes with an exhale, a cloud of white reaching him from across the car –

“Good night, Itoshi-san.”

– a pause.

And then, Rin feels his eye twitch, has to hold back a snarl.

“Get well soon.”

Cold breeze seeps under his jacket, bites at the cotton-clad skin and sends shivers down his back, aching and slightly hunched. It’s a contrast to the bubbling, stinging bitterness that spills over his insides. 

He bites his tongue and tastes iron.

Then, he gives a small nod before turning on his heel and stepping away, heading towards where he can faintly make out his mother's voice from the other side of the mahogany door.

Oh, how he craves to believe it – the warm smiles sent his way, earnest wishes spoken with nothing but pure intentions – but he doesn’t know how.

And won't anytime soon.

By the time Rin's suitcase is put down by the bed in his old bedroom and he's clad in a set of hoodie and sweatpants, sat down at the dining table and slurping up the last sips of miso soup, the uneasy feeling is nowhere to be found anymore.

(Or at least, he's succeeded in pushing it to the very back of his mind, until it's barely a hushed hum.)

His mum insists on hearing about everything that took place throughout the last few months he's spent back in Paris – but to be fair, there's not much to tell her, Rin realizes. He's signed a couple new brand deals, yeah, and got a proposition from another prestige club – this time over in England, but it wasn't anywhere near the salary that he had his eye on. But that's about it, and there's not much gossip he could indulge his mother in – even though he knows she wishes there was. (She's always been playful with him – both of his parents were, actually. They know it riles their second-born up, but know it's sportive – and that he doesn't really mind. Not if it's them, that is.)

"I thought you'd surprise us with something, Rin." His mum quips, taking the bowl from his hands to wash up.

From his seat across the table, his dad breathes out a laugh.

"There's been enough surprises this year already, though, don't you think?"

Ah.

Teal eyes follow his father's, to where he gives his wife a look. The woman turns around, a cloth in hand as she dries off a cutting board, and there's a bit of confusion before her whole face lights up–

"Now that will be hard to top!" Another laugh, leaving him the only unamused one in the room. "Oh, god. I still cannot believe it." She sounds excited, very much so that it leaves a bitter taste on Rin's tongue, enough to sour his mood and brew the uneasy feeling deep in his stomach all over again.

He knew, fuck of course he knew there was no escaping it – and yet, he was still gullible enough to hope that the holidays would pass without him hearing any of it.

"I can't wait until Sae comes and tells us all about it. You know how he is through the phone, couldn't get a proper word out of him, but I need to know everything."

He really tries to fight back the furrow of his brows, for his mother's sake. It's only natural she's excited, a spark in his eyes that he remembers seeing only on the most special occasions. Him getting into Blue Lock, then being selected for the U-20 national team. Him having to move overseas, signing a contract that stuck millions to his name.

(He vaguely recalls the same look plastered on her face when she received the call from Sae's manager, back when they were kids – the call that would be the beginning of their downfall. Of course he remembers. But, since there's discomfort already eating away at his chest, he decides to ignore the memory instead.)

It's self-explanatory that she has the same, bright grin spread over her features, when she speaks about her oldest son's engagement.

Sae is engaged – soon to be married.

Sae, the last person he'd ever think is capable of love.

Sae, who's so harsh and focused on himself, who he's seen disregard every little speck of affection thrown his way for years.

And fuck does it sound unbelievable – until there's a certain face flashing in the front of his mind, a pair of bright eyes and a pretty sweet smile that's enough to make his palms clammy. Until he remembers about the only person that could melt anyone's heart – even his brother's.

Even his o–

He only ever realizes he'd zoned out again when an engine roars softly outside the house, then cuts off promptly. There's a sequence of car doors shutting, quiet talking, a trunk being opened.

"Oh! They're here!"

Rin's eyes follow his mother as she glances out the kitchen window and tosses the rag down on the counter, jogging over to the front door as the voices grow closer. His dad gets up from his seat as well, much less energetic, but there's a smile on his lips that mirrors his wife's and in that moment, he feels out of place. It doesn't fit, the uneasy jitter in his chest that's such a harsh contrast to the warmth that his parents are about to engulf you and Sae in.

The difference to what he's feeling compared to them is like nails on chalkboard, he thinks – and the second he sees the agonizingly familiar head of red hair enter his vision, he shudders as if the sharp sound really resonates through the room.

He might not be hearing it, but he's seeing a contrast even worse. Sae, in his black sweatpants and a Real Madrid hoodie, with a look at his face that's so well rested, it's unlike anything he's seen on him lately; and standing right by his side is you. Rin notices you're too engrossed in tugging your suitcase inside and welcoming his parents, and so, he uses the moment to roll his eyes up your body - the Ugg slippers, beige leggings, a white zip up fitness jacket and finally, your face.

It's a divergence that makes him uneasy. The devil himself, looking far too comfortable with an angel right by his side, with a parallel smile.

There's not even one reason for you not to be this joyful, but Rin selfishly wishes there was. He wishes that you didn't have to look this happy, standing next to the very same person behind everything miserable in his life. He wishes he understood and that he could cut through the dissonance that sits heavy in his head – but it's been years, and he still hasn't found a way to do it.

He only ever realizes he's still stuck in his seat when his father's eyes meet his own from a few feet away. It's not judging per se, more so urging him on to at least pretend, for his mother's sake. He reads right through it.

Rin exhales shortly, pushes his chair back with a sound that brings your conversation to a halt. He feels like the martyr when he steps closer to where everyone is standing, feels four pairs of eyes watching him and it makes him want to roll his eyes.

Sae's the first to force a smile and only give a jerk of his head. Rin wouldn't expect any more of him.

"Hey, Rin." He hums, rubbing the back of his neck. "S'been a while."

A small nod, then a shrug as he stuffs his hands into the pocket of his sweatpants.

"It has." He cranes his neck slightly, an involuntary mirror to his brother's own attempt at soothing the strain.

He ignores the way their mum winces at the tension that resonates between the two, how it's thick enough to suffocate everyone and make them shudder with unease. But no matter how earnest his attempts are, no matter how hard he tries, he cannot bewitch the reality, and the realization comes in a soft hum, warm and sticky-sweet as it resonates.

You're here too, after all. A savior of sorts.

"A while too long," The smile you offer him makes Rin want to scream. His chest swells unconsciously and his gaze softens, almost instinctively when his eyes drink up your mellow expression. "It's been a year for sure."

It must be a joke, Rin thinks, how someone that could make any chaos subside with just a couple words and a gentle smile stays glued by the hip with a person that only needs a single look to make the world crumble all over again.

(A joke, or perhaps, a perfectly complete puzzle that keeps the universe intact. But he doesn't want it to be that way.)

Just when his father gives a slight chuckle, reaches a hand to pat your back and gives a reassuring rub to your shoulder, Sae clears his throat. With one hand reaching for the suitcase's handle, he maneuvers it down, as if in thought.

"Yep. Even longer than that, maybe." He wonders, "And– oh, look at that. Will you ever see each other when in full health?" It's patronizing, it's demeaning, it's anything but just a playful quip of one brother to another, and it makes Rin's eye twitch.

He opens his mouth to speak, "Will you shu–"

But before he can finish, you inhale sharply and cut in.

"Oi, oi," you roll your eyes, giving Sae's arm a light smack. "You're being mean. Stop." There's a glint of something in your eyes when you give your fiance a look and Rin's not entirely sure what it is, but he watches in astonishment when it shuts the elder up. You turn your head his way again.

You offer him a smile, a bit meek and unsure considering the jab Sae's made seconds earlier. "It's healing well, I hope?" You ask, sincere and sweet just like always, and spare his ankle just a short glance before you open your arms for a welcome embrace. "Hi, Rin."

It's hard for him to wrap his mind around how you're so sympathetic, so understanding and warm while seemingly not even trying. He wonders if it's why you chose this career path over any other, and knows for sure that it's why you're the best at it. You never insist, never push, never inquire - not unless you need to, with the referee's whistle ringing in your ears and a handful of sweaty, loud men standing right over your head as you work your magic.

It's no wonder every club wants you as their physio.

Rin's gotten a chance to feel your hand expertly move along his own limbs before. He remembers it clearly as a day, even though he's gone down on the field a hundred times already and it was seemingly just yet another one. But this time, this game, it was different. It was bizarre and unlike anything that's happened to him before.

First of all, his adrenaline has never spiked as high as when it was Real Madrid that Paris X Gen had to go against. It only ever took so much of him to ease his nerves and quiet down the screaming in his head when it was Sae that he had to try and steal the ball from. It was the one and only game that everybody knew was worthwhile – a guaranteed showcase of talent and hard work, a fiend between two brothers, both equally gifted.The pressure would be enough to knock anyone off their feet, but he could withstand it. He had no other choice.

Secondly, Rin's never seen a situation so absurd and unfortunate. Throughout his years as a professional, he was an eye witness to many fouls and injuries, some more gruesome and fatal than others. But to have three players go down at the same time, two of them from the same team, didn’t happen all too often. It was his teammate’s fault and Rin knew, but wouldn’t dare to scold him – not when he’s laying on the turf and gripping his knee tight, the joint stuck at an angle that has Rin wincing and shuddering. It’s bad, so, so bad, it’s insane, he thinks, watching as the other player struggles to get up with his teammates’ help. It’s chaotic, paramedics jogging over to them and putting down all of their necessities and there’s so much of it, there’s barely any space between him and the other player anymore. Both teams grow loud and erratic, shouting and reproaching wild and belligerent. Rin’s eyes follow the ref as he works on subsiding the uproar. It’s a hard job to do and he knows it, but doesn’t want to spare any more thoughts – not when he has a worry of his own, a sharp pain in his ankle that makes him nauseous. 

“Are you okay?” 

He hears a familiar voice, a soft tune that brings him back afloat. His heart hammers in his chest, adrenaline high and hot in his veins as he props himself up, hand tight on his sprained joint. He looks up and meets your eyes, wide but focused as your line of sight reaches his ankle. 

“I–” Rin hesitates, eyes slightly bewildered as they follow your movements. You crouch down right next to him, pull out a few necessary items from the med kit. An ice pack, he recognizes, a bandage, a stabilizer– “I’m not sure, it might just be a stamp.”

You hum, teeth sunk in your bottom lip as you carefully peel the sock down to reveal the bruised flesh. “Pain? On a scale of one to ten?” You spare him a quick look, delicate fingers gently pressing along the swollen skin. 

Rin grunts, fights back the urge to pull his leg away. “Six.”

With a nod, you work on untying his shoe, pulling it down along with the sock, “Sprained.” You simply point out, and his eyes widen. Your judgment’s quick, scarily so, and he’d hope that maybe you’re wrong - but the certainty in your eyes tells him enough. He’s never seen you this serious, gaze sharp and movements swift, but then again, it’s the very first time he sees you at work. So far, he’s only ever seen you hanging on Sae’s arm, all smiles and laughter as you attend a family event together.

To have Sae’s girl tend to him like that almost feels like a blow. 

“Wait, shit–” Rin’s brows furrow as he shifts, and you give him an attentive look. “Hold on. Aren’t you supposed to–”

“Your team’s busy.” You interrupt, eliciting a hiss from the striker as you work the bandage around the sole of his feet, and then stabilize it around his ankle. “He’s got a concussion and misses a tooth or two. All on top of his kneecap popping out.” Rin stiffens, eyes involuntarily searching for his teammate. He sees him being handled onto the stretcher, holding his hands over his head, groans and cries reaching his ears and it makes his heart drop. 

You plop the icepack on top of his ankle and bring his focus back to you. “I don’t care who I’m with. I’m here to help.” You offer a small smile, heartening even though you’re pretty sure it won’t give much reassurance. You know your boyfriend’s brother, heard all about him and encountered him numerous times before. Most of all, you’ve seen the burning passion behind his eyes as he steps onto the turf. He’s not backing down. “I’m sorry, Rin, but you’re off.”

Rin vaguely remembers the protest that rose deep within his chest, making his blood boil as you helped him up. He knew better than to stand his ground and try to pretend that it’s not a big deal, knew all the possible consequences far too well to act so childish and stubborn. He remembers the worried expression flashing across your features as your eyes met upon him plopping down on the bench. He saw it all, the compassion with pity yet to be seen. But it never came. 

You only left him with a heartfelt look, warm and kind, and confusion blossoming in his chest, growing on top of the inquiry and anger. 

You’re always like this, Rin realizes. Always so collected and warmhearted, only ever welcoming him with hospitality and genuine worry, and never with pity. You’ve never given him any sort of look that he’s known to despise. 

He wishes you could be this way with him only, so attentive and sweet. But he knows you’re not and never will be. He knows the only reason you ever rushed over to him, despite being the rival team’s assigned physiotherapist, was because how awfully big your heart is, aching to help and bring comfort.

It’s got nothing to do with him, and he cannot force it.

The memory vaguely plays out in his mind as he inhales your scent, the irritation subsiding and making  way for the annoyingly fuzzy feeling. It’s been a year or even more. Long months since he’s last seen you and since you became engraved deep into his mind, his source of all kinds of thrills.

Throughout the years you’ve been with Sae, he never even thought to spare you a second glance. But ever since you treated him so kindly, looked at him with such warmth, he selfishly wishes he was the one giving you the Itoshi name instead. 

He wraps his arms around your frame and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Hey, (Y/N)."

It's only good decorum to greet you properly like this, and he knows it shouldn't be anything more than that, but as he gets an inhale of your perfume, he knows it's all but a convention.

Your hand rests on his back, fingers flexing on the sturdy muscle a bit, before pulling away entirely. You beam up at him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as your head tilts with a smile. For a second, Rin thinks you might want to say something else, tell him more - but you opt not to, and instead, turn to face his brother again. "I'll put these away," You say, reaching for his suitcase. "And hop in the shower. I stink like the airport."

The way you scrunch your nose makes Rin's mouth twitch with a ghost of a smile.

"Sure," Sae shrugs a bit and hands you off the luggage, but only after he leans in to give your lips a quick peck. "I'll grab you a snack later. 'Kay?"

"M'kay," you give a breathy giggle at the action, and Rin realizes he might be far behind in being familiar with the ridiculous ways you've changed his brother.

Because this look, lovesick and full of adoration even despite the sleep throwing a heavy daze over his turquoise eyes, is one that he's never seen on his older brother before.

His mom offers to remind you as to where Sae's old room as well as the bathroom are, ushers you off with a few gentle touches and laughter that disappears down the corridor. His dad leaves to boil the kettle to make some tea, and for barely a few beats of silence, it's just the two of them standing there, in front of each other, one craning his head slightly upwards, the other glaring down.

Rin hates it, hates the way he has to swallow thick and tear his gaze away. Taking the higher ground, he only makes a slight face, then turns on his heel to leave to his room instead.

When his dad returns to the conjoined area, balancing three mugs in one hand and holding up the full pot in the other, he doesn't seem all that surprised to see just Sae standing there, pulling his hoodie off and throwing it over the chair silently.

The man sighs anyways, setting down the dishes, and only looks up when Sae breathes out a laugh.

"Just like the old times."

Rin is not sure how long he's been scrolling down his phone, or how much time has passed since he first plopped down on the king sized bed in his old bedroom. But sleep is starting to weigh down on his lids, leaving him with a cottonmouth and he tears a slight grunt from his throat upon realizing that the whole water bottle he's drank is now pressing against his bladder uncomfortably.

Tossing the phone away and propping himself up, Rin feels the tired muscles in his arm strain as he digs the palm of his other hand into his eyes, rubbing the exhaustion away. It works just enough to ease the slight sting, feet planted onto the ground as he gets up and strides across the dark room.

It must've been an hour, two tops, he wonders, reaching for the handle. The voices on the other side of the door have grown softer, quieter so as to not wake up the others that he figures must've fallen asleep by this point. He vaguely makes out the voices to be Sae's and his father's, probably still talking over yet another round of tea. His mom was always an early sleeper, and you looked quite worn out despite the gentle gleam in your eyes back in the living room, so it's not all that weird if you're both asleep by now. you've probably dozed right off as soon as you hit the bed, all warm and comfortable from your shower.

That's what he thinks. And that's exactly why he almost jolts in his step when he opens the door to see you, standing there, using the same momentum to push it open; hand pushing down on the other side of the handle. It wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary, just another encounter to laugh off by tomorrow morning's cup of coffee.

But the way you peer up at him – doe eyes wide and startled, a single rivulet of water streaming down your flushed cheeks as damp hair sticks to your forehead – knocks the breath out of his lungs.

You clutch the fluffy white towel closer to your heated skin, a meek sound of surprise hitching in your throat. Rin has to bite back a groan as the sharp movement only makes your tits press against each other even tighter. "Hah– o-oh, huh, I'm sorry– thought Sae's room was–"

Rin cuts off the jumble of words, "It's right across." He corrects, voice a gravelly tune that has your knees knock together in a sheepish buckle. Your cheeks scorch, blood rushing to the soft flesh as you gnaw at your bottom lip, "Excuse me."

You're not entirely too sure why Rin's attitude towards you took a whole 180 spin – but the way he pushes past you, tough muscle bumping against your finer frame, has you yelp slightly. You jerk a little upon the thud of the bathroom door slamming shut and turn to look behind you, a soft furrow to your brows, and ultimately decide to get back to the right room this time – before the sheer embarrassment eats you alive.

On the other side of the door, Rin grabs at the sink with one hand, keeping balance as he peels his sweatpants off. He tugs his boxers down along with them, then stands back on two feet and tugs off his sweatshirt, grip tight on the fabric as his mind reels.

It's a joke, all of it, he thinks as he steps into the shower yet again tonight. The water is instantly warm as soon as he turns it on, a remnant of your bath, he supposes, but the spray isn't meant to bring him any comfort this time. It works very little to soothe his strained and taut muscles as his back flexes when he reaches his hand down, fingers wrapping around the throbbing girth.

It has to be a joke, he's sure of it, as he shuts his eyes with a groan stuck somewhere deep inside of his chest, where he can swallow it down and keep it untraceable. All of it has to be some sort of get back, a play at his will power and conscience for all the fucked up shit he's done so far in life.

It would all be so much easier if he could just push all of the blame to a twist of fate, a kismet so preposterous it'd make anyone laugh. But he can't, and he's the only one to bear the weight of his thoughts, alone, gasping for air as he nearly doubles over in the steamy shower.

He's the only one at fault when he spills all over the tiles, a moan of your name mixing in with the steam, as all sense of morality goes down the drain.

I heard about a whirlwind that’s coming round / it’s gonna carry off all that isn’t bound, and / when it happens, when it happens, I won’t be holding on

© itoshi-s. do not plagiarize, repost as your own or mention on other sm platforms.