I-want-to-die-but-i-dont - What Even Is Life? - Tumblr Blog

one thing you loved about living in spain was that you could always drive sae to and from football practice in his expensive car.

these late-night drives were undeniably romantic. your fingers would grip the steering wheel as your passenger princess— your boyfriend— rests his hand on your thigh, his fingers lightly rubbing circles on the soft skin. occasionally, he would give a playful pinch, sending shivers up your spine as the cool breeze entered through the open windows and hit your skin.

tonight, however, as you waited at the red light, you decided to blast a song that you knew sae secretly enjoyed listening to. you eyed your boyfriend mischievously, cranking up the volume of the car's sound system to its highest.

sae flinched and turned to you with a raised eyebrow, the slightest hint of embarrassment flickering his eyes, though he wasn't surprised that you had somehow discovered his guilty fondness for this song.

“really?” he asked nonchalantly, gently pinching your lower hip with the hand already resting there. you could barely hear him over the loud music you had blasted on the speakers.

“what?” you replied, feigning innocence as you bit your lip to stifle the giggle that threatened to escape. “you don't like it?”

he rolled his eyes as he shifted his hand from your thigh to your cheek, leaning in towards you slightly. you hesitated, but as you felt your cheeks fill with warmth, you leaned in as well. soon, your lips were slotted together in a tender kiss.

but suddenly, you both were startled and broke the kiss as a horrified voice boomed from the backseat.

“. . . y–you two are disgusting!”

you glanced in the rearview mirror, meeting the gaze of an offended and a literally gagging man.

your fault. you had completely forgotten that you were dropping rin off, too.

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

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destined

synopsis: the universe is very cruel to not bestow a soulmate to the child who fantasizes of having one.. 

warnings: heavy angst, slowburn, slight enemies to lovers if you squint, nagireo are soulmates! cheating (but not by reader or rin), a bit fast paced in some scenes, graphic description of a breakdown, mentions of trauma, car accidents, hospitalization, happy ending  

wc: 18.1k

genre: soulmate au

notes: i passed out forty seven times but here's the fic :DD oh. my. god. i did not expect for a silly little brainrot to have reached me this far, this fic was a lot of work and i hope all of you enjoy it <33 special thanks for my girlies (pibby and koca) for being there when i rant about the loss of will for this fic but i managed to finish it !!! oh my god aaaa aight i'm going to take a nap

taglist: @tim-shii, @venusbby, @kakujis, @daiseukiis, @kokoqian, @lizzy-me, @rinnietoshi, @hyomagiri @no-name-no-business, @shortymctotty, @rroxii

they say that the night before you turn sixteen, a mark will appear on your wrist. it was the universe finally giving you your soulmate, the one you were destined to love. 

in a world where one is destined to be your soulmate, you couldn’t help but fantasize about it at such a young age. you remember listening to your mother’s stories of how she and your father met and how it felt like the odds were in their favor and it seemed like the stars aligned when they first saw each other. 

“will i ever find my own soulmate, mommy?” you asked, your mother cooed at the wondered look in your eyes as she looked at you through the mirror. her hand in your hair, braiding it as you tried replicating it with your doll. 

“i’m sure the universe will give you somebody that you’ll love unconditionally.” your mother says, smiling softly at the sound of delight that left your childish frame. 

“i’m sure i’ll love them unconditionally, too!” your mother laughed, before launching off to a story of how she and your father came to be. 

you couldn’t wait to meet your soulmate.

to say that the wait felt like forever would be an understatement. the thought of meeting your soulmate one day has always plagued your mind. you never had crushes on the kids your age, you never accepted confessions from the guys in your class because you thought that meant betraying your soulmate. 

your best friend, reo, has always been supportive of your talks about your potential soulmate. he doesn’t care if you’ve already told him the future you had envisioned after meeting your soulmate, how you’d probably meet them in a cafe that you frequented, or maybe you’ll met them in a cliche setting where you trip and they catch you in their arms. 

reo has heard it all and he lets you repeat it whenever you feel the urge to, he was a year older than you, you were beside him on the night he gained his mark and now, he’s beside you as the two of you giddily sat on your bed, awaiting for the mark. 

“do you think it would be as pretty as yours?” you were excited, reo could tell as much as you were subtly shaking on your bed. 

“that’s subjective,” reo scoffed, carding his hands through his hair. “no soulmate mark can be prettier than mine.”

you pushed him off the bed, laughing at the glare he sends you. 

5 minutes. 

your eyes couldn’t stray away from the alarm on your phone, alerting you of what will happen in a few moments. 

“hey (y/n)...” reo started, you hummed, not even looking at him. “what if we were soulmates?” you make a face, causing reo to burst out laughing. 

“reo!” “i’m sorry, you should’ve seen the look on your face!” he laughed as you glared at him. “(n/n), i love you but i think that we’re too powerful to become soulmates.” you nodded in agreement, “definitely. the world would never handle us!”

you and reo shared a laugh before your phone vibrated a bit, 

30 seconds left.

“reo! oh my god.” you instinctively gripped your best friend's hand as you watched the seconds go down. 

20 seconds left. 

“reo… it’s happening.” you quietly squeal, body shaking in anticipation as you watch the number go down to fifteen, then ten. 

“five.” 

“four.” reo counts down with you. 

“three… two…” 

you hold your breath as the last second passes, your eyes automatically flitting to your wrist.

a gasp leaves your lips as you see a line forming at the middle of your wrist, stretching at the expanse of your skin. you watch with wonder as lines and patterns adorned the skin of your wrist, blending beautifully as the line ends, completing your mark. 

you looked at your wrist in awe. a smile slowly forming at your face as you carefully examine the intricate design. 

“reo!” you turned to your best friend who was looking at you with a big smile on his face. “oh my god, reo, look! it’s here!” you say, waving your wrist in front of him, the both of you laughing with glee. 

your plans of looking for your soulmates together was now coming to fruition.

“how does it feel to have a mark now, (n/n)?” reo laughs as he lets himself fall down on your bed. 

you smile, tracing the details with your fingers, only to let out a strained sound, immediately alerting your best friend. 

“it feels nice! but reo…” the purple haired male turns to look at you. “is it supposed to hurt…?” 

“what?” reo’s eyes widened. 

“my mark… it hurts.” you say, as you feel a scorching sensation of where your mark lay. it felt like the mark was being traced by a sharp blade as you closed your eyes and clutched your wrist, whimpering at the pain. 

“reo… why does it hurt?!” you ask, reo was panicking alongside you. it didn’t hurt when he got his mark, so he couldn’t answer you. 

“i-i don’t know… mine didn’t hurt when i got it!” “reo… it burns.”

tears filled up your closed eyelids as you clutched your wrist tighter, it was excruciating. it felt as if you were being punished for reasons you didn’t know of. 

“(y/n)...” reo said quietly, barely above a whisper. as if he were scared to startle a sleeping bear. 

“your mark… it’s turning black.” what?  

your eyes opened immediately, eyes trained on the mark that used to be a pristine white, darken as seconds passed by. 

“reo, what’s happening?” you panic. “reo, please, make it stop… what’s happening?!” you cried, helpless, to your best friend who didn’t know what to do.

you kept repeating those words until you let out a scream, alerting your mother who was downstairs. 

the mark burned, it felt like you were being sliced open as the pain of your mark dissipates. realization sinks in as you look at the now darkened wrist. 

you didn’t have a soulmate. 

your mother bursts through the door, eyes filled with worry which turns into shock once she sees you being cradled by your best friend, your hand protectively on your burning wrist, the pain feeling as if it were a newly put out flame, with the embers haunting you. 

your mother sees the darkened mark and feels tears build up her eyes as she walks closer to you, letting out a sob alongside you who clung to her while reo patted your back comfortingly.

in a world where a white mark means that you have not met yet, a golden one indicating that you are now connected and a gray one meaning that they have died. 

the universe was cruel enough to give you a black one. meaning, your soulmate didn’t exist. 

your mother curses the stars above as you wept for the soulmate you never had. 

life goes on, it has to. you were now twenty-one, working in a cafe near your university. no longer do you weep for the life you fantasized when you were a child. the permanent mark on your wrist was a reminder that you will never find the one destined for you, but that was fine. you’ve gotten over it. 

or so, you convince yourself. 

reo met his soulmate at the age of eighteen, his name was nagi seishiro and when you were first introduced to him, the longing for a soulmate sparked once more. 

your best friend described meeting his soulmate like sparks flew as a buzzing sensation was felt throughout the mark on his wrist and it got progressively intense when they neared each other. reo said that it was one of the few times he ever saw nagi run, and it was to him. 

you couldn’t help but be envious of how reo’s mark that used to be white was now a shining shade of gold, nagi’s wrist matching the same shade as they held hands. when you saw how nagi looked at reo when he went off on a tangent on the most random topics, you couldn’t help but think if there would be someone who’d look at you the way nagi looked at reo. 

when reo suggested putting yourself out there in the market, you almost wanted to scoff at him. 

it seemed pathetic to try finding people who didn’t have anyone fated to them. it seemed desperate to look at people’s wrist and wonder which shade of gold would display on their skin, who would pair well with the person with the white wrist walking by the street and how did the stranger with the gray mark lose their beloved. 

but still, as much as you tucked that hopeless romantic feeling that your inner child kept trying to push out desperately, you think you’d give love another shot.so, with a sigh and a nod, you let reo set you up with acquaintances he knew. 

it took years of blind dating to finally settle with reo’s friend’s friend. his name was karasu tabito, and you think that you like him more than you intended. 

when you first met him, your eyes immediately flitted to his wrist, it was white. you didn’t know why he’d bother going on blind dates when clearly, there was someone waiting for him. but then again, maybe he had a bit of hope that he could accidentally be matched with his soulmate. 

on the second date, you couldn’t help but ask why he even bothered, clearly you weren’t his soulmate. he only waved it off with a laugh, saying that he didn’t care what the universe says. he’d date who he wanted to, a stupid mark shouldn’t get in the way of finding someone. 

and from that on, you and karasu clicked, even going as far as asking you to move in with him after the sixth month of dating. 

life was good, you were in a steady relationship with karasu and neither of you could care any less that you weren’t each others’ soulmates. 

“baby, i’ll be back before dinner. don’t miss me too much.” karasu winked you rolled your eyes as he pecked your forehead. 

“i can’t believe my boyfriend is going out on the day of our seventh month.” you tut playfully. “oh baby, ‘yer killing me.” karasu said as he snakes his arms around your waist, placing a short kiss on your neck, nibbling on it.

“just go.” you say laughing as he faux pouted when you pushed him out your apartment door, closing it in his face, laughing harder you hear his muffled voice yell at you playfully through the door before his footsteps receded.

you think you love karasu. you loved how he’s shown you nothing but utmost loyalty and gave you the love you deserved. how your hand awkwardly fit through his whenever he intertwined it with yours. how he’s made you feel like the only girl in the world and you’re the only one that mattered. 

and nine months in, you still find yourself falling for the ravenette.

hours passed and you decided to get started on dinner. you planned on making karasu’s favorite, in celebration of the nine months the both of you got together. you were so caught up in chopping the vegetables that you didn’t see your phone vibrating. 

once you finished preparing dinner, you checked your phone. eyes softening upon the sight of karasu’s contact name. but that didn’t last long as you felt uneasy upon reading his message. 

something came up, i’ll be late. 

you shook your head, mentally scolding yourself for assuming the worst as you opened the tv of your apartment, trying to rid your mind of your boyfriend’s texts. 

you weren’t sure how long you’ve been staring at the screen, trying to make sense of the series that you’ve already watched one too many times. 

karasu still wasn’t here. it’s been three hours since his last text and he hasn’t responded to any of your follow ups. 

you didn’t want to seem pushy, but the food was getting cold and you were worried that something had happened to your boyfriend. it was unlike karasu to not message, he usually manages to send a quick text no matter how busy he is. your thoughts were clouding your mind, the moving images on screen were now seeming like a blur of random colors and sounds.

you perk up once you hear the door of your apartment make a sound, the jingling of keys is loud as you watch the door open, your boyfriend entering with a blank look on his face. 

“tabito… you’re late–” “i texted you.” he cut you off stiffly, not meeting your eyes as he tightened the scarf he was wearing. 

a scarf that you didn’t remember him leaving with. 

“right…” you say, trying not to alarm him. you didn’t know why he was acting like this. he left the apartment in good spirits a while ago. maybe it was work?

“uh… i’ll go heat up dinner.” you say, awkwardly walking around him to get to the kitchen. 

“we need to talk.” you freeze, your back was turned to his, so was he. you turned your head to see him with his head down and from the way his body was postured, you can see him fiddling with his thumbs, a telltale sign that he was nervous.

“okay.”

dinner was the dictionary definition of tense, and you couldn’t pinpoint why. you could barely taste the food that you made as you watched karasu push the pieces of meat on his plate, occasionally shoveling small bites.

“are you– is the food good?” you asked, trying to make a conversation and break the tense silence that was deafening. he gave you a small forced smile as he nodded.

“yeah.” 

then that was it. 

dinner consisted of you trying to talk to your boyfriend who was giving clipped answers, you wanted to question why the hell he was wearing a scarf and a jacket in your warm apartment and where did he even get it. those weren’t the clothes that he left with. 

now that you think about it, he barely made eye contact with you when he got home. 

“tobi… did something happ–” “i met my soulmate.” the world felt like it stopped. it felt like cotton was being shoved into your ears as your heart erratically beat in your chest, as if it were trying to escape its confines as karasu’s words echoed in your head. 

“w-what?” “my soulmate.” karasu finally looks you in the eyes, “i met her.” 

“oh.” you gulped, not exactly knowing the right words to say. 

“i…” “can i see the mark?” karasu was thrown off by your question, the long sleeve he was wearing was now raised to his forearms, showing you the golden mark. 

you felt numb. you didn’t know what to say nor do as you looked up to see karasu guiltily looking at you. however, your eyes couldn’t help but flit down to the loosened scarf, widening once you saw the bruised skin of his neck. 

you wordlessly yanked the cloth off, karasu immediately covering his neck with the marked forearm as you backed a few steps away.

“t-tobi…” “i-i’m sorry.” karasu says quietly. “something happened between us. i didn’t mean for it to turn out like this.”

“clearly someone did.” you scoffed, feeling rage fill your body. “you couldn’t keep it in your pants until you broke it off with me, huh?” 

karasu took offense to that, it was clear that he did as he slammed his fist on the table, startling you. 

“i told you, i didn’t mean for it to happen!” “but it did!” you say, feeling frustrated tears build up. 

“i would’ve understood that you would leave me for your soulmate, i don’t stand a chance against the universe, tobito!” you say, throwing your hands up in the air and letting the angry tears roll down. 

“but couldn’t you have at least broke it off before you fucked her? was our relationship just not important to you that you’d immediately drop me because you met her?” you ranted, not paying attention to the way karasu’s hands balled into fists. 

“you’re making a big deal out of this.” karasu said with clenched teeth. “we both knew that this relationship wouldn’t have lasted.”

“i never thought abo–-” 

“how the fuck is it my fault if my soulmate managed to make me happy in the few hours i met her compared to the months i spent with you?” he cut you off and the next sound the both of you heard was your palm meeting his cheek 

“fuck you, karasu tabito.” 

the ache in your chest worsens as you see karasu turn his back to you as he leaves the room. 

“i’m over this.”

you were twenty-one when you felt your second heartbreak, twenty-one when you told yourself that maybe love just wasn’t for you. 

“come on, (y/n), take a break.” reo whines as you type in your laptop, finishing up a document due tonight. 

you were now twenty three. it’s been a year, eight months and 21 days since karasu broke your heart and left nothing of it. not that you were keeping count. 

“reo, you know i can’t. not everyone is a ceo-in-line with a malewife.” you mumble, causing reo to laugh out loud at your retort. 

“i’ll have you know, nagi is now trying to look for jobs outside the subsidiary company of mikage corporations..” “emphasis on trying, reo.” you roll your eyes, knowing the lazy tendencies that nagi had. it’s been like that for the years that you’ve known him and clearly, reo was more than happy to provide for him.

“give him some credit.” reo pouted before smiling fondly at the thought of his snowy haired soulmate. 

“what a simp.” you mutter playfully, only to feel a balled up piece of paper hit your forehead, it was the paper that encapsulated the straw for reo’s drink. 

“jerk.” “no, you.” reo said as he stuck out his tongue and placed his lips on the drink, sipping his iced beverage. 

“... so–” 

“no, reo.” 

“i didn’t even say anything yet!”

 “we all know where this is going, reo. you’re going to try setting me up with someone… again.”

“hey!” you give reo a look as you stopped typing on your laptop. “no i won’t.” you quirk a brow at the purple haired male. 

“i won’t!” reo reiterated, raising his hands in defense. “oka–” “but nagi will!”

“huh?”

“hey, (y/n).” you don’t know if you could call it comedic timing as you jumped a bit after hearing nagi’s voice. the snowy haired male plopping down the seat beside his lover.

“go on a date with my coworker.” 

“no.” 

nagi turns to his soulmate, “sorry, baby, i tried.” “nagi!” 

the snowy haired male sighed before turning to you once more. “please?” 

“no.” “reo, she said no.” 

reo gives him a sarcastic smile, “i know, love. i can hear her from here.” the purple haired male sighs as nagi plops his head on reo’s shoulders. 

“hey… (y/n).” nagi calls out and you look at him with an inquiring brow. 

“remember that favor you owed me?” your eyes widened, and nagi knew that he had you. 

“nagi…” “what favor?” reo was confused as he looked between the two of you. you shook your head at nagi who gave you a small smirk in return. 

“go on a date with my coworker.” nagi repeats, a daring look in his eye, something in you tells you that if you said no once more, he’d make you regret it so with a sigh, you mumbled a bitter “fine.”

nagi gave a hum and a nod in response, making himself even more comfortable on reo’s shoulder. 

“nagi, my love?” “hm?” “what was the favor?”

“nagi don–” “remember when we were in freshman college and your tub in the bathroom was suddenly stained purple?” reo nods and you want to disappear.

“well, that was (y/n). i don’t know what she did but i took the blame for it.” reo’s eyes widened. “was this the one where i ignored you for a week?” nagi nods, pouting slightly and reo couldn’t help but lean a small peck to his lover’s lips. 

you wanted to retort but reo looked at you with a mischievous grin. 

“well, now you have to go on two dates with him!” 

you sigh, knowing that you would have to make yourself look presentable for whenever the date would be. 

your phone suddenly vibrated on the table after a few minutes of conversation with the couple. 

“shit, i have to go!” you say as you gather your things in your bag, looking over at your best friend, he gives you a nod and helps you pack up your things. 

“a work meeting, right?” you nod, standing up once all your things are gathered. “i’ll see you soon, reo, nagi!”

“text me when you get there!” reo yells as you nod and wave them off before running out the door. 

you only had ten minutes to arrive at the office, you were supposed to leave earlier but the conversation between the three of you flowed so naturally that you reached your final alarm. 

your legs were trying to pick up its pace, not noticing the man who was running as well, intercepting you and causing you to fall on your bottom. 

“watch where you’re going.” the man said as he glared down at you. you couldn’t help but stand up and glare right back, right into his piercing turquoise orbs. 

“i could say the same thing, asshole.” it was a pity, really, he was tall, had dark hair and was really handsome.

but he was a total jerk. 

you can see him roll his eyes at you before turning away, “your files are on the ground, better get to it.” he muttered before walking away. “fucking klutz.” 

your fist clenched, wanting to give the man a piece of your mind but you were already running late. you hastily grabbed your files before taking off once more, hoping that you wouldn’t be late. 

the odds weren’t in your favor and you ended up having to explain yourself to your boss.

oh how much you wanted to punch that jerk of a stranger. 

“no, because, reo, if you were in my position, what would you have done?” you say as you ranted, putting on your cardigan and fluffing your hair in front of the vanity mirror. reo was on his phone as he laid down on your bed. 

“i think i would’ve been sued for punching him.” reo mumbles absentmindedly. “exactly!” you slammed your hands on the dresser, causing reo to look startled. 

“god, i can’t believe he couldn’t even have the decency to help me! it’s not like it was only my fault that i bumped into him? can you believe that?” 

reo only laughs at your frustration before standing up and heading over to you. 

“alright, (n/n), you’ve let it all out, now it’s time to make you prettier for the date.” reo says as he sits you down in front of the mirror. 

“let’s make him fall in love at first sight.” he winks. 

“now, we can’t have you looking all grouchy for your date, right? that isn’t popular with men.”

“fuck men.” you retorted, causing reo to laugh before he helped you apply your make-up. 

“i have a feeling you’d like this one.” 

to say that you were nervous to meet this mystery man would be an understatement, this is the first date you’re going to ever since… him but you had little to no hope, you didn’t want to assume and get hurt in the long run so with a deep breath, you opened the door of reo’s car and got in.

“are you nervous?”  your best friend asks as he drives to the location nagi sent him. 

“a little?” you say honestly, it’s been a while since you’ve gotten out there and put yourself in the market, so to suddenly be thrown into a blind date was nerve wracking. 

“don’t worry, it’s nagi’s friend. i don’t think nagi would refer you to an asshole.” you gave him an incredulous look as he turned the corner. 

“wasn’t it nagi who introduced karasu?” “karasu was a friend of a friend, that doesn’t count.” reo defends. 

you and reo bickered over your bad taste in men and their terrible skills at setting you up with men on the way to the restaurant, you knew that once you leave the car, the nerves would take over once more so you do your best to not let it show to your best friend. 

“we’re here.” he says as he turns off the engine, causing you to give him a puzzled look. 

“me and nagi aren’t going to leave you alone for your first date so you can rest easy, think of it as a double date!” reo beams as he exits the car with you following right after. 

reo immediately came to your side and linked your arms together before walking towards the entrance. 

“reservation under mikage.” he tells the hosts who welcomes the both of you with a smile, leading you to the private room that reo reserved. 

once the two of you stopped by the door, reo unlatched his arms from yours and held both of your shoulders. 

“alright, we’ll give this a chance, okay? he might seem… a bit closed off… but i think you can open his cold heart.”  you raise a brow at him. 

“and you’re telling me this… seconds away from meeting him, because?” “i forgot to mention it.” reo shrugs.

“reo–” you were cut off by reo opening the door, pushing you inside, you had to regain your bearings as you were caught off balance. 

“so… (y/n).” you hear nagi say, “meet rin.” your eyes flit towards the man who sat beside nagi, eyes widening as you see equally shocked turquoise eyes staring right back at you. 

“you—” “so, being a klutz just comes naturally, huh?” he interrupts you, you stood up glared right at him, wanting nothing more but to suffocate him with the napkin that was folded like a swan by the table. 

“uh…” you hear reo ask quietly from behind. “do you… know each other?” 

“no.” “yes!” rin quirks a brow at your aggression. “this is the asshole i’ve been telling you about!” 

reo’s eyes widened as he let out a loud “oh.” 

“why are you here?” you asked the tall male who quirks yet another brow at you, one more quirk as a response and you were about to shave his goddamn brows off. 

“nagi invited me.” “don’t tell me…” you turn to look at reo and nagi who were suddenly by the door. 

“this reminds me, i have to talk to the manager of this place, my father told me that there will be a partnership between our corporation and theirs so… nagi, come on, let’s go!” reo said, pulling his lover outside the door, the tall lanky male following with no question. 

you sighed, this “double date” was already not going the way anyone expected. 

“so.” you hear rin say after a few seconds of silence. “do i get a name?” 

you gave him a grimace, as if you couldn’t believe what he was saying. “you’re kidding, right?”

“i’m not.” he rolled his eyes, “is my impression that bad that you won’t even give this date a chance?” 

now that you think about it… wait. was he trying to gaslight you? 

“i don’t even know you.” you say, “that’s the only impression i have so i don’t think you can blame me for not wanting to be in the same room.”

you scoff, feeling a bit bad for the way you were responding. god damn it, his gaslight was working.

“...fine.” you relented. “just this once.” 

rin says nothing as he pulls out your seat for you, pushing you towards the table once you sit down. 

once the both of you ordered, silence took over the room and you wished that reo would stop acting like he’s doing anything important and come back to get rid of the awkward tension. 

“so…” you begin. “you didn’t answer my question earlier.” rin cuts you off, you gave him a confused stare. 

“does being a klutz come naturally?” your hand twitched as you adjusted the napkin on your lap. 

“are you just trying to pick a fight?” you responded, “you can’t answer a question with a question.” he evaded your question smoothly. 

“no. i’m not a klutz-” you roll your eyes, “you just happened to be in the way!” 

“and you were so mean about it too! what was that about?” you couldn’t help but question him. 

“i… it wasn’t a good day for me. sorry.” your eyes widened at his sudden apology, “if you apologize like that, then it’s weird for me to not accept it.” you say, an unconscious pout on your face. 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, but… how about we start with a fresh slate?” rin says, straightening up in his seat when he sees you nod hesitantly. 

“great.” he says before putting out his hand. “itoshi rin.” he introduces himself. 

“really?” you teasingly looked at his hand. “you’re offering a handshake on the first date?” 

“would you rather i kiss you instead?” rin rebuts, your eyes widened and that seemed to incite a chuckle out of the male in front of you. “so, your name?”

“(y/n)(l/n).” you begrudgingly replied, placing your hand in his in a firm shake. 

“it’s nice to meet you.”

when reo and nagi comes back, they were half-expecting to return to the room with table sheets thrown and glasses broken, maybe even food stain on your clothes so when they pushed the door open and see rin smiling out of all expressions, it’s safe to say that they were bewildered. 

“oh, reo. nice of you to come back.” you say, smiling sarcastically at him before stabbing the piece of meat on your plate, your knife in hand postured in a very questionable angle.

reo gulped, knowing that you were aware that he made up such a dumb lie to leave you and rin alone, but he thinks that he’s done a good job, even if you were currently glaring daggers at him. 

“oh, rin, you’ve met (y/n)?” nagi said as he sat beside him once more, you and rin blinked in confusion, from the corner of your eyes, you could see reo slap a palm on his forehead. 

he knew that he told nagi to act stupid, but not that stupid. 

“yeah… you kinda… left us no choice.” you answered for rin. 

“so,” reo interrupts as he sits next to you, across from nagi. 

“you enjoying the food so far?”

dinner ends with the four of you drinking wine and sharing stories as if you were old-time friends. the previously tense and awkward atmosphere disappears and the night ends with laughter. 

when it was time for the four of you to leave, reo pulled you aside. 

“is it okay if rin drives you home?” “what?” you were bewildered, sure you and rin were somewhat decent tonight but you don’t really trust him enough to know your location. 

“please? nagi drank too much and you know how he is when he’s drunk…” reo said as he clasps his hands on your right one, silently begging for you to say yes. 

“why can’t i just ride with the two of you then?” “well…” “don’t answer that, use protection.” reo smirked before pleading once more. 

“come on! i’ll sponsor your first official date with rin!” “wha–” “i’ll even buy you whatever you want for a week, just say yes!”

“a month.” “fine, now let’s go before nagi throws a drunken fit.” reo hits your shoulder playfully as the two of you reunite with nagi and rin.

rin was supporting nagi’s weight, grunting whenever nagi leaned further on him. 

“for such a big guy, you’d think he wouldn’t be a lightweight.” rin complained to reo who immediately latched his arms around his lover’s waist, taking off the weight on his coworker. 

“you better make sure that you take my bestie home safe, itoshi.” reo warns as he pokes an accusing finger on rin’s chest while supporting a drunk nagi with his free arm. 

“whatever.” rin rolls his eyes lightheartedly as the couple walks off after reo hugs you goodbye– extendedly, nagi too. 

when the two finally left your sights, you turned to rin with a bow. 

“it was great meeting you, but it’s fine, i can take a cab somewhe–” “don’t be ridiculous. it’s late. and mikage entrusted me with bringing you home.” rin interrupts you as he guides you to the parking lot. 

“besides, i don’t mind.” rin says as he opens the passenger seat for you. 

you looked at the open door skeptically. “how do i ensure that you’re not plotting my murder?”

rin rolls his eyes. “if i truly did want to murder you, i had the perfect opportunity back at dinner with the number of steak knives there were.” 

“a steak knife…? how do you even come to that thought?” rin shrugs, “i watch a lot of horror movies, now get in.” with a small mutter of how you still doubt if he was a murderer, you comply and for the third time of the night, he rolls his eyes at you.

once he closes your door, he walks right over to the driver’s seat and situates himself inside, starting the engine once you give him the directions to your apartment. 

“apartment, huh? you don’t live with your parents?” rin asks as he drives along the highway. you shake your head. “no, i moved out when i was 21.” to live with someone who broke my heart. “it was odd at first, but i’ve gotten used to it.” you reply. 

“got any siblings?” you asked, you hear him scoff as he turns the corner. “what is this? twenty-one questions?” 

“you started it!” you huffed, pouting unconsciously. “just answer, you’re such a–” “i have an older brother.” he interrupts you before you could insult him once more. 

“oh? are you close?” rin let out a breath through his nose before replying with a curt “not really.” 

you wanted to ask more, but you knew that it was not the time and place for it, you immediately diverted the topic by asking another question. 

“how do you know nagi?” rin sighs as he stops at a red light, his fingers tapping the steering wheel lightly. “our department got reshuffled and he was assigned to sit next to me. i think we bonded over soccer as a hobby and it just went from there?” rin tries to recall, you hum in understanding. 

“aren’t these the types of questions we should’ve been having back at dinner?” rin scoffs. “i’m not sure if you realized, but you resented me before we talked about mikage’s dumb tactic to get us alone.”

the rest of the drive was filled with natural conversation, you think that talking to him was fun, you even went ahead and shared the gossip that was circling around your workplace. 

“and then, i swear hina told me that– oh, we’re here.” you quiet down once you noticed that the car had slowed down. 

“hm? hina said what?” you smirked playfully. “guess you’ll never know.” you say as you unbuckle the seatbelt. 

rin rose a brow at you before he took his phone from the middle console. “better text me what happens then.” you tilt your head to the side, looking at the phone in his hand with a teasing glance. 

“couldn’t get enough of me already?” rin scoffed. “i just want to know what hina said after hanagaki mixed up all her documents and got her into trouble.” he shrugs. you smirked. “okay, sure. if you say so.” you say, punching in your number in his phone, sending yourself an emoji. 

“thank you for bringing me home, itoshi-kun.” he only gives a nod in response. “be safe on your way home!” 

rin nods once more before he drives off, not before reminding you to finish your gossip through text. with a short laugh, you opened your messages and continued the story, an unconscious smile on your face. 

you: there was a lot of screaming in the printing room, but we weren’t so sure if it was because of rage.

the next time you hear from rin, it was three days later with him asking you out on a formal date. 

you: what took you so long to ask me out?

itoshi rin: had to gather courage

you: for what?

itoshi rin: had to make sure that you were interested

you: was me giving my number not enough proof for you? 

itoshi rin: so is that a yes

you: to where

itoshi rin: i honestly don't know. i didn't think i'd get this far. 

you: rin 😭 yes. but i'll decide where :D

itoshi rin: that's sketchy… sure. go wild.

you: got it ;D

when rin itoshi said to go wild, he didn’t mean to pick out the most expensive restaurant in the city. he was sitting in front of you, eyes staring blankly at the unpriced beef in the menu, not even knowing what to order. you looked back at him with a laugh. 

“itoshi…” he looks up at you, you smile menacingly before whipping out reo’s black card. 

“let’s go wild.” you winked and you could’ve sworn there was a spark that flickered in rin’s eyes. 

“did you just pick that up somewhere?”

“no, it’s reo’s.” 

“say less.” 

sometimes the rich need to be given a run for their money. 

so with money out of the question, the both of you splurged on your date, even going as far as reo calling you middate to ask what the actual hell you were doing with his card.

you couldn’t remember a time when you laughed so hard in your life.

one date turned to three, then five, then the next thing rin knew, the two of you were drunkenly– well at least you were, walking on the street after having spent time in a nightclub. 

rin sighed as he watched you almost stumble at your feet, if it weren’t for his hand that latched onto your waist to stabilize you. 

“let’s go and get you home, (y/n).” he says as he walks with you to the corner of the street, hoping to hail a cab. you pull away as you recognize your surroundings. 

“rin,” you slur, a drunken smile on your face as you look into his eyes. “i don’t want the night to end yet.” rin raises a brow at you. “it’s two am.” “who cares? let’s go somewhere, i know a place!” you beamed and really, 

how could rin say no? 

out of all the places he expected you to take him to, he wasn’t expecting a closed park. it was old, clearly mismanaged as he takes in the rusty swings and distorted slides, but it seemed that you didn’t care as you pull him by his hand towards the swings, immediately sitting on it. 

“push me.” you say as rin only shakes his head softly at you, doing as you say. 

when the swing rises up, you couldn’t help the giggle you let out as the cold night air hits your face. rin smiles at the way your laughter permeates the otherwise quiet park. 

once you had enough, rin sits on the swing beside you, he was too tall for the swing so he stretched his legs a bit as he watched how your swing slowly skids to a stop, causing you to rock the swing in calmer motions. 

“having fun there?” he asked with a small quirk of his lips. you leaned your head on the cold metal chains as you nodded with a hum, eyes closed and a smile on your face. 

“did you know?” you asked after a few seconds of silence. your companion hummed questioningly at your query. 

“this was the park where me and reo met.” you start. “i think i was crying because some boy pulled my hair and kicked the castle i was making in the sandbox and then reo yelled at him.” you recall, thinking about the snotty-nosed kid that you never saw again. 

“is that the start of your friendship?” rin indulges your drunken reminiscing, you smiled at the memory before nodding. “reo’s like an older brother to me. the brother i never had…” 

“he’s always been there ever since… he’s the first person i call when i need someone, he’s the first person to know anything and everything… and.” you take a pause as you intake a deep breath. 

“he’s the one i was with when i turned sixteen.” you say, unconsciously rubbing the black mark on your wrist. rin’s eyes flit downward to your wrist before looking at his own. 

“i’m sorry. for what happened to you.” you shook your head, “it’s all in the past now.” with the way you were talking, rin assumed that you were sobering up. 

“you know… the topic never came up because i trusted nagi and reo to not set me up with someone who found their soulmate, but… what about yours?” you say as you look at him with bleary eyes, not noticing the way he gulps. 

“dead.” 

“oh, shit. i’m sorry–” 

“don’t be. it’s all in the past now.” rin says, repeating your words from earlier. 

“do you…uh.” you try finding the words to say. “do you wanna talk about it?” rin shakes his head as he softly caresses the darkened mark. 

“i’m not ready.” you nod understandingly before trying to divert the topic, “remember the first time i rode in your car?” rin nods at the memory. 

“are you close with your family? i’ve never really asked that. all i know is that you’re not on good terms with your brother.” 

rin sighs as he rocked the swing with the heels of his shoes, gently swaying as the night air tussles his hair softly. 

“there’s just some unresolved things that happened between me and sae-nii.” he said, name dropping the said older brother. “but i am close with my family in general, i don’t see them often though.” you hum out a reply as you look up to the nightsky that was littered with stars. 

“the sky looks so beautiful at this time of night.” you say mindlessly. rin stares up at the sky then at you. “so does the moon.” you scoff lightly, not understanding the hidden meaning behind his words as you gripped the metal chains of the swing. 

“ah, this place is my happy place.” you say, eyes closed as you tilted your body back. “it’s such a shame that it won’t last for long.” a sad smile forms on your face as you sit upright once more. silence overtaking the two of you before you broke it.

“can i say something dumb?” rin looks at you, a small smirk on his face. “you usually never ask when you do. the amount of questionable things i’ve heard from you is concerning.” 

“oh shut up.” you laughed as you leaned over and pushed him by the chain of his swing. “just say yes or no.”

“go ahead.” you grunted, not liking how he didn’t follow the options you gave him. you breathe in a deep breath. you weren’t sure what suddenly gave you the confidence, maybe it was the fact that you were still slightly tipsy, or maybe it was the way rin told you more about himself and let himself be vulnerable with you. 

“i think i like you.” you say, just loud enough for him to hear. you hear the rustling of the swing chains stop as he stills. you looked down, knowing right then and there that you’ve probably ruined a great friendship. 

you gave yourself a bitter smile before raising your head up once more, preparing to play it off as a joke. but before you could do, you feel his hand on your cheek as he turns your face towards his and presses his lips to yours. 

a surprised noise escapes your lips as your eyes widen. it took you a split second to kiss back as you closed your eyes and your hand cups his hand on your cheek. the kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to leave you in a daze, twin blushes on your faces as you pulled away. 

to say that the kiss felt leagues different than when you kissed karasu would’ve been an understatement. 

rin’s kiss conveyed the words he couldn’t say out loud. i like you too. 

“be mine.” rin whispered, afraid of breaking the atmosphere the both of you created. your thumb brushes against his fingers as a small smile spreads on your face. 

“gladly.” you whispered back as rin pulled you into another kiss. you felt happy. 

the fact that rin was now yours clouded your mind and numbed your body with ecstasy, paying no mind to your soulmate mark that throbbed defiantly. 

maybe it was the universe giving you a second chance. 

breaking the news to reo was something you didn’t want to do. you didn’t want to be subjected by his ‘i told you so’s and his ‘aren’t you glad i played matchmaker?’ – even if technically, it was nagi who set the both of you up but reo would argue that a soulmate is just one person split into two. 

“i’m happy.” was all reo said once you told him, with rin holding your hand in his lightly. nagi was right beside reo as his eyes lightened up a bit. nagi didn’t say anything, but with the nod of acknowledgement he sent to his coworker, he didn’t need to say anything more. 

“hey, rin.” your now boyfriend looks at your best friend as the purple haired male looks at him sternly. “you better take care of her.” 

rin breathed out before he replied with little to no effort. 

“i don’t ever see the day where i won’t.” his hand squeezes your tighter once he hears nagi snort. “i don’t think i’ve ever heard rin say something so cringe.”

rin rolls his eyes at his coworker as they bickered over, you and reo only watched with amused gazes as they went back and forth. 

“so,” reo turned to you with a toothy grin on his face, an expression you loathed on him because it made him smug. 

“what?” you sighed, exasperated. 

“i told you so.” he winked, you rolled your eyes. “reo, shut the fuck up.” before pushing him and letting out a laugh.

reo couldn’t help but see the way rin’s eyes darted over to you and a soft expression taking over his face when he heard you laugh. 

reo thinks that maybe, the stars were finally aligning to your favor. 

you were happy. to say that you and rin have been together for a year with no effort would be a lie. there were times that you and rin fought, to the brink of breaking up but your love for him surpassed the struggles that came your way and now, the two of you are about to celebrate a year and three months of being together. 

you think it’s finally the time to tell him that you loved him. 

you’ve always withheld those three words, fearing for the time where your partner will leave for their real soulmate. you thought about the time where karasu made you feel loved. but this was different, rin was different.

he didn’t have a soulmate, he didn’t have anyone who was waiting for him, he didn’t make you feel like you were some kind of plaything. the respect and adoration he showed you had no bounds. 

you think this is what a soulmate is supposed to feel like.  

the door opens to his apartment, he had invited you beforehand and cursed when he was called back into work, saying that a coworker had mixed up the files and it needed to be submitted asap, so rin cursed before apologizing, wanting to get the job done as soon as possible. 

your boyfriend gave you a kiss before assuring you that he would be back as soon as he can. 

rin paid no mind to the way it felt like his left wrist numbed in pain.

he doesn’t understand when it happened. 

for the first five months of his relationship with you, it felt like his mark didn’t exist. it felt like it was merely a gray mark that stained his skin. but when the tenth mark of your relationship, the thought of you made his mark burn. 

the first time rin felt it, he felt like his entire body was burning. he couldn’t help but hiss in pain in the confines of his own apartment. he didn’t understand where it was coming from, maybe it was because he slept in the wrong position? he didn’t know. 

all he knew is that the thought of loving you burned. 

he decides that he’d love you in silence, never uttering those three little words out loud, fearing for what could possibly happen when he does so. 

so now, seeing you look at him in a lovestruck expression, he couldn’t help but fear the words that will come out of your mouth. 

rin watches as you breathe in a deep breath, mentally preparing your entire body to say the words you’ve been meaning to say to the olive haired male. 

“rin… i lo–” you were interrupted with rin’s lips meeting yours. you let out a surprised noise but reciprocated nonetheless. you could feel rin try to pull you closer to him as you wrapped your arms around him. 

you pull away slightly. “i lo–” he pressed his lips back hastily, more aggressively. as if he were trying to swallow your words whole, his tongue immediately intermingling with yours as you try pulling away once more. 

what the fuck has gotten into him?

“r-rin.” “stop talking.” rin says as he latches once more. you gripped his hair and pulled him away from you, eyes meeting his clouded ones. 

“i love you.” you feel his body sag a bit as he bites his bottom lip. 

“you can’t.” 

huh? 

you froze, unknowingly verbalizing your confusion. 

rin swallows, as if he were struggling to breathe. 

“you can’t love me. we’re not soulmates.” he mutters, pulling away completely for you. 

you were speechless. your hands were getting clammy and you couldn’t find the right words to say as rin turned his back to you. 

“w-why does that matter now…? rin… hey.” you walked up to his back to turn him around only for him not to meet your eyes. 

“tell me–”  “i can’t… love you when all i see is her.” you froze, heart beating uncomfortably in your chest as you desperately tried to meet the eyes that stayed on the ground. 

“what…” “can’t you get it, (y/n)? i can’t do this. i can’t say that i love you when all i can see is the ghost of my dead soulmate whenever i look at you!” rin let out. 

you gasped at his words, your throat feeling uncomfortable and your hands felt clammy. 

rin didn’t kiss you because he reciprocated your feelings. 

rin kissed you because he wanted to stop you from telling him. because he knows he can’t say it back. 

rin didn’t love you. he loved the ghost of the dead soulmate he saw in you. 

it was as if hell froze over, you couldn’t breathe. rin finally looks up to you with deep regret in his eyes. 

“i’m so sorry.” rin says, barely over a whisper as he looks down once more, not knowing how to face the look of brokenness on your face. 

“so…” you start, wincing at the crack of your voice. “a-all of this… what exactly is it?”

“hey… rin.” tears were blurring your vision as your voice gets heavier, “tell me. was that all i am to you? a replacement?” your heart burned. 

rin stayed quiet, his mind conflicted. he doesn’t know what to say. all he knows is that he can feel his heart breaking at the sight of the tears building up in your eyes. 

“say something!” he flinches at the yell you let out, angry tears are now cascading down your cheeks and he wants to wipe it away, oh so desperately. 

but he can’t. 

he can’t go against the universe. 

all he can do is watch as you hiccup, trying to demand answers from him. 

“tell me!” 

“i don’t love you.” he says, swallowing down the guilt he feels. his mind battles over itself, he desperately wants to retract everything he said. every lie he’s uttered and every word he’s ever said for you to look like that. 

you’re crying… because of him.

and he hated that. 

but this was for the best. he swears that it was for the best. 

“i’m so–” “don’t.” rin watched as you interrupted him, face now devoid of emotions as you let reality sink in. 

it was as if the universe just loved to play with you.

“go screw yourself in hell, itoshi.” you say, turning around and slamming the apartment doors closed after leaving. 

once the male heard the door slam close, he couldn’t help but slide against the wall of his apartment, it was as if the sound finally snapped him out of his facade as tears lined up on his bottom lashes. 

what the hell was he so afraid of? 

when rin heard you profess your love for him, it was like his breath was stolen. 

he wanted to scream on how he loved you more and your existence brought the missing spark in his eyes. but he didn’t. he couldn’t. 

the ghost of his old soulmate still haunts him to this day.

but until when? until when will he let the ghost of his past haunt him. until when will he stop himself from finding his true happiness? 

rin didn’t know the answer until a few minutes ago. or was it hours? he didn’t know how long he’s been crying himself to exhaustion as he ruins another good thing in his life. 

the reality dawns upon him as he looks at his phone, already planning on texting you. 

2:49am. god knows how dangerous it is out there for you. 

and rin wasn’t about to keep fucking up. 

so be it if you’d rather not see him, if you’d rather not have anything to do with him after this night. all he wants for you is to be back in the comfort of his four walls and safe. he’d go out of his way to book a hotel for himself for the night if you’d not even let him sleep on the couch. he doesn’t care. 

all he wants is for you to be within his sight again. 

so with a quick grab to his coat, he ran out of the apartment complex in search of you.

he doesn’t know how long it’s been since he ran, you couldn’t have gone that far, right? he searched nearby convenience stores, but had no luck. he tried calling your phone over and over, but no answer. 

rin felt pathetic. he felt helpless. 

~

“the sky looks so beautiful at this time of night.” you say mindlessly. rin stares up at the sky then at you. “so does the moon.” you scoff lightly, not understanding the hidden meaning behind his words as you gripped the metal chains of the swing. 

“ah, this place is my happy place.” you say, eyes closed as you tilted your body back. “it’s such a shame that it won’t last for long.” a sad smile forms on your face as you sit upright once more. silence overtaking the two of you before you broke it.

“can i say something dumb?” rin looks at you, a small smirk on his face. “you usually never ask when you do. the amount of questionable things i’ve heard from you is concerning.” 

“oh shut up.” you laughed as you leaned over and pushed him by the chain of his swing. “just say yes or no.”

“go ahead.” you grunted, not liking how he didn’t follow the options you gave him. you breathe in a deep breath. you weren’t sure what suddenly gave you the confidence, maybe it was the fact that you were still slightly tipsy, or maybe it was the way rin told you more about himself and let himself be vulnerable with you. 

“i think i like you.” you say, just loud enough for him to hear.

~

fuck. why wasn’t that the first place he looked? 

with a deep breath, he ran once more, praying to whoever was above that he’d find you.

so when he saw a lonesome figure swinging herself gently by the swings, he couldn’t help but yell out your name. 

you perked up, the moonlight shining on your figure and rin thinks you look beautiful like that. once you see him, you immediately stand up and dash away from him. 

rin curses, knowing that he was still at a distance and it wouldn’t be easy catching up to you, given the headstart that you had. 

“(y/n), please. listen!” rin yells out as he crosses the playground, only to see you already on the other side of the street. 

“go away, rin!” you yell from the other side and rin stayed in his place, taking in a deep breath. 

"just listen to me!" he yells and you stop in your tracks. 

it was cliche, really. rin thinks. 

he never thought he’d be running after someone at two in the morning, hoping that they aren’t too late and confessing their love for them under the moon. 

but life works in comedic ways, doesn’t it? 

“i lied.” rin says, loud enough for you to hear him from the other side of the street. 

“i never saw her in you. i’ve always seen you as (y/n).” he continues, closing his eyes as he yells out his feelings on the empty street. “i’m terrified.” 

“i’m so fucking terrified of feeling this way because all i’ve ever been taught about since i was a kid is that soulmates are certain.” that’s what you were taught as well. 

“but… having you… feeling you… loving you.” rin takes a deep breath in. 

“it all feels so right, so if the universe doesn’t think that we have a chance with love even if we’re not soulmates…”  he pauses before yelling at the top of his lungs. 

“then fuck the universe! all i want to do is love you, soulmate or not.” you stared at him, yelling like a mad man at almost three am. 

“so please… come back to me.” rin says as he holds his hand out, eyes solely trained on you. waiting for your next move. “please. just give me one chance. i won’t ever waste it, i love you!”

“please.” rin says, trying not to get his hopes up when he sees you take a step forward, your eyes focused on him, your surroundings didn’t matter as you ran across the street. 

“shit, wait, (y/n)–!” maybe you should really pay attention to your surroundings. maybe you shouldn’t have been a klutz. 

maybe… maybe if then, you would’ve realized the out of control vehicle coming at your direction in a haste. 

and it was as if time had moved in slow motion and his feet were stuck in the ground. itoshi rin found himself helpless as he watched the vehicle collide with your body. 

the universe must hate him so much that he was forced to watch the love of his life get hurt in front of him, twice.  

maybe it was the universe’s way of telling him, fuck you, too. 

the hospital hallways were quiet. too quiet. rin could still feel his ears ringing as his mind played back to the incident that took over not even hours ago. 

“(y/n)!” rin yells as he runs over to your figure, the dark ground stained with red as you cough. his hands were shaking. 

he didn’t know what to do. 

“shit! what happened?” he heard a stranger call out, footsteps were getting closer to him but he couldn’t hear it. “mina, call the ambulance!” he hears the stranger yell at his girlfriend? who knows. rin couldn’t focus on anything. 

his coat was being stained red as you bled out into his arms. 

“(y/n)... come on… don’t do this to me.” rin whispers as he shakes your semi-conscious figure gently. 

“i-...i’m g-glad.” you whimpered, eyes wincing at the pain that was seeping through your body. 

“d-don’t speak.” rin said, trying to keep his heart steady and his tears at bay. his hands were shaking as he cups your cheek and wipes away the stray blood. hoping desperately that the coldness he felt from your skin was brought about by the nightair and not your body losing its warmth. 

“you’re going to be okay.” he says as he caresses your cheek. 

“i’m g-glad you love me too…” you say, voice getting quieter every passing second. 

“i’ll spend all of our lifetime telling you that. don’t get too emotional the first time.” rin scolds, trying not to make his nerves evident. 

you let out a small pained giggle. “i wonder if it’ll still be around to hear it.” you say out loud, 

“don’t cry… rinnie. you’ll be okay.” you say smiling as you nuzzle your face onto his hand. “your palm is so warm… rin.” you say, closing your eyes causing rin to shake your body gently. 

“hey… (y/n). don’t close your eyes… it’s not funny.” rin says, voice getting progressively louder. 

at this point, he couldn’t care less about the drunk driver who was currently vomiting his guts out, he couldn’t care about the couple who was keeping a safe yet close distance in concern. he wasn’t even able to hear the loud sirens of the ambulance, too hyper focused on the fact that he can’t do anything. 

he feels pathetic. he feels so fucking useless that he wishes it would’ve been him instead. 

a tap on his shoulder causes him to flinch and hold your body protectively to his. a glare immediately on his face as he faced the stranger. 

“sir. please calm down. we mean no harm.” rin recognizes the stranger as a paramedic, he was confused. rin looks past the paramedic’s head to see the couple nod their head in greeting. they were the ones who called them and rin can’t help but tilt his head in gratitude. 

“please let us transport her to the hospital, she’s losing too much blood.” rin turns towards you, who was in his arms before nodding. 

two more paramedics came with a stretcher as rin stands up, fully supporting your weight as he gently lays you down. 

“i’m going with you.” rin said, finality in his voice as the paramedic nodded and wheeled you into the ambulance. 

rin’s shaky hands clasped with yours on the entire ride through. 

“oi.” his recollection was cut off short as he hears a gruff voice call from the side. he slowly turns his head as he sees reo. 

once reo catches his attention, he saunters over the olive haired male, eyes hard as he speaks. 

“what happened?” rin says nothing, staring off to the white wall ahead of him. 

“hey… rin. what happened?” reo repeats, his voice eerily neutral. rin still doesn’t respond as he stands by the wall.

reo didn’t like his silence, the next thing rin knew was that his back was against the wall and his collar was gripped by reo tightly. 

“answer me! what the fuck happened?” 

“it’s my fault…” rin says quietly, eyes devoid of emotions and words monotone, as if he were now a programmed robot that didn’t feel things. 

“what the fuck happened, rin? didn’t you promise me that you’ll protect her?!” reo yelled, causing a few onlookers to look at them. nagi immediately mediated. 

“reo… you’re causing a scene.” nagi says, trying to lull his soulmate. “i don’t give a shit if i’m causing a scene! my best friend is unconscious and in a fucking hospital room!” 

rin peered his eyes to look at reo’s frustrated ones, with tears building up in his eyes. 

“you promised me you’d protect her.” he says, voice barely above a whisper before his eyes harden and the grip on rin’s collar gets tighter.  

“if anything ever happens to her… i won’t ever forgive you.” was all he said before letting go, leaving rin alone in the hallway as he went to find the doctor. 

nagi was left alone with his friend. the snowy haired male takes a calmer approach, placing a hand on rin’s back. 

“what happened, rin?” maybe it was the gentle coax of nagi, or maybe it was exhaustion and overthinking.

the next thing rin knows is that he’s sliding against the wall, body racking with sobs and he covers his face with his hands. nagi’s eyes widened in surprise as he crouched down and tried to comfort his friend. 

“n-nagi… it’s all my fault.” rin sobbed, not even caring on how loud he was or how the other people in the hall were judging him. he feels as if something invisible was weighing him down, he couldn’t breathe properly, he couldn’t even stand properly as he topples his weight over nagi who gently guided him to the cold metal waiting chairs. 

“what happened?” nagi asks again, knowing to drop it if rin doesn’t answer once more. 

“s-she… (y/n) told me she loved me…” nagi’s eyebrows furrowed. the snowy haired male still doesn’t understand how that was relevant. 

“we had a fight… i told her i didn’t love her…” “what?” rin sniffed before continuing, accepting the handkerchief nagi gives to him in gratitude. 

“i… i was so fucking scared and i told her that i only saw her as someone else.” “did you?” “fucking hell, no! i hate that i said that. i hate that i can’t take it back…”

“maybe i was just honest in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this fucking situation and i would be in my bed with her in my arms.” 

nagi could only rub his back, trying to wordlessly comfort his friend because he knows that no matter what he says, rin would probably not comprehend it, too caught up in his regrets. 

a man in a white coat stops in front of them, rin looks up and immediately stands up. 

“how is she? is she okay? please tell me.” nagi placed a grounding hand on rin’s shoulder. the doctor gives them a blank stare as he flips his clipboard. 

“you’re here for ms. (l/n), right?” rin nods, “ms. (l/n) is in a stable state for now. her body is reacting well to the medicine that we injected. however, her head has suffered injuries. she’s unconscious and has not yet woken up since we treated her.” the doctor says before looking at the two, apologetically. 

“we don’t know when she will wake up. or if she’ll ever wake at all.” if it weren’t for nagi grounding him, rin was sure he would’ve collapsed on the floor with the second statement. 

“you may see her. but only three people at a time.” the doctor says before nodding in goodbye, walking off and turning on the corner of the hallway.

“i’m going to find reo… you go and see her.” nagi clasps his hand on rin’s shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly before he saunters off to find his lover. 

with nagi gone, all the nerves he felt before were hurling right back at him with top speed. rin feels like he wants to vomit, he feels like his footsteps feel heavier as he walks over to your room. 

his hand pauses before he could fully push the door and it seemed like his body has a mind of its own as he takes a step back and turns away, walking the opposite direction. 

he couldn’t do it. he couldn’t face you. 

“where are you going?” he freezes in his step as he hears the gruff voice of reo. he turns to face the male, teal eyes staring into reo’s puffy purple eyes as he tips his head down. 

“please take care of her for me.” 

“you’re not even going to see her?” rin gulped as he fully turned to your best friend. “i can’t.” 

reo clenched his teeth at the display your boyfriend was showing. 

“i can’t see her… i’m the reason why she’s here.” “isn’t that more of a reason why you should stay?!” reo yelled, startling the hallway filled with people, causing a nurse to tap him on the shoulder to ask him to lower his voice. but reo shrugs the hand off his shoulder as he stomps over to the numb male, his hand fisted in his collar. 

“if you walk out of here right now, i’m never going to let you see her again.” reo says, eyes hard as he speaks, voice barely above a whisper. maybe it’s for the best. rin thinks as he looks at reo with empty eyes. 

“please take care of her.” rin repeats, voice void of emotions, reo clenches his teeth even harder, his fists shaking as he grips the cloth of rin’s shirt tighter before closing his eyes and letting go. 

when reo opened his eyes once more, it was as if something had possessed the male. 

“you’re a sad, pathetic, excuse of a man, itoshi rin.”

when he got home to his apartment, it was safe to say that no furniture was left untouched as he went on a rampage. if his neighbors were home, they would probably hear the wretched sobs he let out or the sound of glasses breaking and things being thrown around. 

rin doesn’t know what to do anymore. 

his heart is screaming for him to turn and run back to the hospital so he could stay by your side but his mind is screaming back that this was all his fault and he had no right to see you. he didn’t deserve to. 

fuck. everything hurted. his hands were bloodied and bruised from the wall he punched, his hair was a mess from him trying to pull it out, he was slowly breaking down and he didn't know how to calm down. 

his knees finally gave out as he let his body collapse on the floor. he couldn’t move. his mind was too loud. everything felt so loud. 

he doesn’t realize how long it’s been since he was in his state of pity. he was too caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the series of knocks on his door. 

rin couldn’t feel the tears that were running down his face, his lower lashes drenched as it ran endlessly. 

“you’re a mess.” he jolted when he heard the voice, still not looking up from his position, thinking that he was now imagining the voice. a pair of shoes entered his vision, black slacks replacing it as the figure before him kneels and he was forced to look up. he sees the same color of teal looking back at him, a look of concern and indifference in his eyes. 

“sae…nii…” rin mutters as he blinks, his mouth opens trying to enunciate the words on the tip of his tongue before his body slumps against his older brother’s, eyes closed as he is rendered unconscious. 

the older itoshi only sighs, rubbing his younger brother’s hair before lifting him up and tucking him into his bedroom. 

rin wakes up with a jolt. even in his sleep, the memory of the car colliding with your body wouldn’t leave him alone. he heaves in a breath, struggling to find his breathing before he feels a cool glass pressing on the side of his face. 

“you’re awake?” he calms down a bit, before he turns his head to the source of the cold. he sees his older brother looking at him with a blank look as he holds the glass of water in his hand. “drink up.” 

rin complies, his hands shaking as he drinks the water slowly, as to not get choked by the flow of liquid running down his throat. 

“what are…” rin internally cringes at the blockage in his voice. “what are you doing here… sae-nii.” he tries again after clearing his throat. 

“you look like shit.” his brother replies, not even considering his words. not that rin expected him to. 

sae sighs as he walks over to the armchair by his room and sits down, crossing his legs and leaning his head on his arm that was propped up. “your coworker called.”

“nagi?” “mm. that’s what i think his name was.” rin looked at his brother. it still didn’t make sense. so what if nagi called? nagi has called sae multiple times already, be it because rin’s phone battery died, or rin drank too much and nagi didn’t want to deal with it. but nagi’s calls were almost always rejected. 

so what made this any different? 

“he wouldn’t stop spamming my texts, said that he was worried about you and asked me to check up on you.” rin sighs, “i’m fine on my own, nii-chan. you can go back home, i’m sorry for bothering yo–”

“would you cut the shit out?” rin stared back at the blank expression sae sported. 

“i spent two hours cleaning up the mess you made in the apartment. clearly you’re not fine on your own.” sae refutes rin’s earlier claim.

rin said nothing, he could only look down as his fingers clenched around the blanket that was wrapped around him. if he wasn’t so caught up in his thoughts, he would’ve heard his older brother sigh, stand up and walk over to his bed. he only snapped out of his daze once he felt the bed dip. 

“i’m here, rin.” sae says as he pats his younger brother’s shoulder firmly. 

“i’m listening.” rin clenched his fingers harder, his hands shaking slightly, as he closed his eyes. his mind was still being too loud.

“rin, i’m right here. i always am.” sae reiterates as he rubs his brother’s shoulders, the same way he used to do when they were younger. 

“i’m right here. so tell nii-chan what’s wrong.” 

the next thing sae feels is his younger brother’s arms wrapping around him and his sobs progressively louder by his ear. sae paid no mind as he let his younger brother cry, hands rubbing his back comfortingly. rin feels like being taken back to when he was a child and when he would run to his big brother for comfort. 

his body shakes as the final thread he was holding onto finally snaps and he tells his brother everything. 

to how he first bumped into you. his first date with you. the way he felt when he heard you laugh. the pain he felt when he saw you cry. the sting in his soulmate mark when he first realized that he loved you, and the way he was helpless when he saw the vehicle crash into you. 

sae only held him tighter, grounding his younger brother as hiccups escaped him. 

“i don’t know anymore, nii-chan.” rin says as he pulls away, his older brother keeping an arm around his back. 

“i love her… but… i can’t– i don’t…” “you need to let the past go, rin.” sae interrupts, rin looks at his older brother, a bit confused and angered at the same time. 

“i don’t see how this is related to–” “clearly, you’re afraid to love again. don’t you think that the world has been cruel enough to you? to her? why else would you have pushed her away.”

“my mark, nii-chan…” rin says quietly, causing his older brother to look at him with a curious expression. “it burned…” rin says as he subconsciously rubs the forsaken mark. 

“whenever i think of loving her… the mark burns and it’s the universe’s way of telling me that what me and (y/n) has… it’s all temporary.” rin sniffs, heaving in a deep breath. 

“i love her. but the universe won’t let me.”

silence. 

the itoshi brothers were silent as rin’s words sunk in. sae only watched as his younger brother’s hands were balled into fists, shaking slightly. the older itoshi rubs his hand down his brother’s back in soothing motions. 

“then fuck the universe.” sae says, a hard glint in his matching teal eyes. “why should they get a say on who you should and shouldn’t love?” rin swallows as he looks up at his older brother confused. 

“is a little pain all it takes for you to back out and stop loving her?” the younger’s eyes widened. his older brother’s words sinking in as he recalls your smile, a tingling sensation immediately tickling on his wrist. 

“it got you thinking, huh?” sae asks and rin nods, not looking at his brother anymore. thoughts too filled about how he was so afraid of nothing.

fuck the universe. he’ll love you, even if it kills him. 

with a new resolve, he stands up and grabs his phone, shooting nagi a text.

“where are you going?” sae asked as his brother shrugged on his coat. 

“to see the love of my life.” 

sae blinked and sighed. “romeo, i don’t know how to break it to you, but it’s four am now and you need to take a shower.”

four am? how long was he unconscious for? sae shook his head at the surprised look on his younger brother’s face as he pointed to the digital clock beside his bed. 

“the exhaustion burnt you out, i think you’ve slept for sixteen hours…? i’m not sure. i couldn’t wake you up.” sae recalls and rin nodded his head in understanding. 

those sixteen hours could’ve been spent with him by your side. before rin could voice out his regrets, sae smacks him upside the head. 

“go get some rest, i’ll drive you to the hospital when you wake up.” he scolded, as he stood up from his brother’s bed. 

“i’ll take the couch, you go and rest.” sae says as he walks to the door, grabbing a blanket on his way out. 

“nii-chan.” rin calls out and sae turns to face him with a short “what?”

“thank you.” 

sae scoffs and rolls his eyes at the uncharacteristic behavior rin showed him. 

“whatever, loser.” was all he said before closing the door and leaving rin alone to his thoughts. 

tomorrow, he’d make things right.

tomorrow didn’t go by as planned as he couldn’t find the courage to do so, it took another twenty four hours of rin breaking down and sae trying to calm the younger itoshi down. it took a lot of coaxing and assurances from the older male that rin can take his time and told him that you’d rather have him delay a day than have him break down right in front of your unconscious body. 

on the next day, rin was internally shaking when he stepped foot in the hospital, his body moving instinctively as his feet pad to where the doctor from yesterday said your room was. 

his brought his shaky hands up as he pushed the door open, immediately alerting the snowy haired male and the violet haired male of his presence. nagi was by the couch of the hospital room and reo was right beside your bed, clutching your hand in his.

immediately, reo’s eyes hardened as he looked at the male, his purple eyes were puffy and red, voice broken. 

“what the hell do you think you’re doing here?” reo’s voice was cold. it was as if rin was being thrown a bucket of ice water after having been just woken up as reo glared daggers at him. 

“i… i’m here for her…” rin says, quietly. as if he were ashamed, which he was. he should’ve been there for you ever since you were admitted but the guilt ate him alive. 

reo didn’t say anything, face now in a blank expression as he turned away from rin and back to you, sadness immediately welling up his eyes. 

nagi patted the seat beside him on the couch. immediately asking how the other male was. 

“i’ve been…” rin tries to find the words to say. tired? guilty? ashamed? he didn’t know. he didn’t know how to enunciate that the feelings he felt was probably well deserved. 

“...fine.” rin whispers, throat clogging up. nagi nods, “that’s… good.”

rin clears his throat. looking over your sleeping figure. “has she…” he blinks the tears building up away. 

“has she woken up yet?” and before nagi could nod his head no, he was interrupted by reo’s deep voice.

“now, you care?” rin swallowed. “you didn’t seem to care when you left her by herself in this hospital just a day ago!” reo bitterly spat. 

“reo…” nagi warns his soulmate, reo ignores it as he stands up from your side and walks closer to the two of them, rin automatically stands up, bracing himself for the possible things that your best friend might do. 

“you don’t deserve to fucking be here.” reo says as he looks straight at rin. “you don’t get to flee then expect us to welcome you with open arms.” 

“you don’t deserve to be here, after putting my best friend in here in the first plac–” “that’s why i left.” rin interrupts, the thin strand of rationality leaving him as he lets the tears flow down his face. 

“you can blame me all you want, nothing is going to change and i know i don’t deserve to see her anymore, nor do i deserve to be loved by her but for fuck’s sake. don’t you think this is hard for me too?” rin says, reo’s eyes widen for a millisecond but before he could interrupt, rin lets out a sob. 

“i hurt her before, we fought before she got here and all i can think about is how this is all my fault. you don’t need to keep reminding me because i am fully aware that i’m the reason why she’s here! why she’s going to di–” a slap interrupts rin’s monologue. the aforementioned’s head jerks to the left

“if you know what’s good for you, do not fucking finish that sentence.” reo says, tears pooling up in his eyes. 

“are you seriously going to fight in front of her?” nagi said, an unknown expression on his face. 

“your–” he turns to rin, “girlfriend” then to reo “and your best friend, is in a coma and the both of you decide to fight right in front of her?” nagi says as he glares at the both of them. 

“she can hear whatever you’re saying and i don’t think she’d appreciate hearing you fight in front of her.” shame fills the faces of the two boys as they looked away from each other. 

“reo’s let's go outside for a while.” “n-nagi–” “you haven’t left the hospital since she got here, you need a fresh shower and proper food.” “but i–” “rin’s right here and he’ll let us know when something happens.” the snowy haired male turns to the olive haired male. “right, rin?” 

rin gives him a silent, yet determined nod. 

“you cannot fucking expect me to leav–” “reo.” 

reo lets out a deep breath, closing his eyes before opening them and looking at rin with an angry, yet sad gaze. “you better let me or nagi know immediately.” 

reo takes one last longing gaze at you before he gets pulled away gently by his lover. nagi gives rin a nod of acknowledgement before the door shuts and he is left alone with you. 

a hesitant step. 

rin takes a hesitant step as he walks over to your unconscious figure. he sits down the chair reo previously sat in, taking your hand in his as he intertwines it one-sidedly. 

he feels his throat clogging up once more 

“hey, baby.” he whispers as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles. 

“i’m here now.” he says as he looks at your closed eyes, he lifts his body up a bit as he leans over and presses a kiss on your forehead. “i’m… i’m so sorry.” 

he whispers as he sits back down, both hands now holding your hand as he sobs. 

“i’m so sorry, please wake up.” he continues, sobs getting progressively louder. 

“i love you.” he whispers as he stares at your sleeping figure. he closes his eyes as his lips press on the knuckles of your hand. “please wake up. come back to me.” he whispers but as expected, there was no response. not even a twitch of your hand. 

“i’m sorry it took me long to face you… i couldn’t find the strength to do so.” he continues. nagi’s words repeating in his head. you could probably hear him. 

“you know…” he starts, willing himself to finally open up the story that you’ve always been curious about. 

~

“you know… the topic never came up because i trusted nagi and reo to not set me up with someone who found their soulmate, but… what about yours?” you say as you look at him with bleary eyes, not noticing the way he gulps. 

“dead.” 

“oh, shit. i’m sorry–” 

“don’t be. it’s all in the past now.” rin says, repeating your words from earlier. 

“do you…uh.” you try finding the words to say. “do you wanna talk about it?” rin shakes his head as he softly caresses the darkened mark. 

“i’m not ready.”

~

“i think i’m finally ready.” rin says as he closes his eyes, adjusting your hand so it seemed like you were cupping it gently. 

“it was when i was seventeen…”

~

to say that rin would want to stop believing in soulmates would be an understatement. he despised the thought of it. he thinks that being destined to someone the universe thinks you belong to was stupid and dumb. he thinks that it’s ridiculous, but inside, his inner child voices out the desire to meet them. 

he shakes his head as he walks along the busy streets of shibuya, the white mark on his wrist being hidden by his coat sleeve. 

“ne, rin,” his colleague catches his attention, he looks at bachira in indifference but responds with a hum at the call. 

“wouldn't it be so funny if we bump into your soulmate?” bachira asked teasingly as rin rolled his eyes at the two-toned male. 

“you wouldn’t know if i felt them anyway.” rin curtly replied and bachira clicked his tongue playfully. “that’s no fun, rin-chan.”

rin says nothing after that, stopping right in front of the pedestrian lane, waiting for the cars to stop. 

then he saw her. 

it was accidental, he swears. 

rin had no plans on trying to locate his said soulmate. he didn’t expect his wrist to suddenly give a ticklish buzz, when their eyes met. rin immediately clasped his wrist, holding the mark, grounding it so it would stop the uncomfortable feeling. 

bachira, who was with him, gasped in realization as he realized what his friend was doing. 

“rin-chan…” bachira says and rin hisses at the discomfort before he raises his head from his position, looking over at the girl who clutched her wrist as well. 

when their eyes met once more, and rin’s eyes flit towards his mark that was darkening from white to gold. he looks at her one more time, watching the way she gasps at realization and looks at the golden lines replacing the mark. 

the coast was clear, until it wasn’t. 

the girl ran as soon as the light went green, brushing off the hand that was trying to stop her. rin was about to follow her lead before bachira’s arm stopped him. the olive haired male turned to glare at his friend.

“oi, bobcut what the fu–” “watch out!” multiple people yell and the next thing rin hears is the screeching of tires and numerous gasps surrounding them. 

rin’s head immediately whipped to the side, to where the source of the loudest murmuring was and saw a trail of blood. 

“oh my god! is she okay?!” “someone call an ambulance!” “don’t just stand there!” “she’s barely breathing! does anyone know first aid?!”

rin’s teal eyes followed the crimson trail, his breath hitching once he realized that the starry eyed girl he was staring at not even a few seconds ago was out of his sight. he gulped, finding it difficult to breathe as he realizes that the person the people were swarming over was his soulmate. 

“move out of the way!” he demands as he runs to the scene, kneeling before her. his hands shaking as he raises his marked wrist, brushing away the blood clumped hair off her face. 

“y-your name…” his soulmate whispers. eyes trying desperately to stay open as she looks at his blurry teal eyes. “p-please…”

“itoshi…” rin gulps, tears unconsciously trailing from his eyes. “itoshi rin.”

his soulmate smiles. reaching for the hand on her cheek with her own, her wrist marked with gold. “i-i’m... so… glad to have met you… my soulmate.” she smiles, a full smile, as if she wasn’t bleeding to death and as if she wasn’t slipping away from his hands. 

“live a fulfilled life, be happy, for me.” she says, staring straight at the male before the spark in her eyes disappeared, the hand on his turning limp and rin watched with helplessness as his mark fades to gray. 

rin’s hands begin to shake more than they have, he tries to stop the sobs that are threatening to wrack his body. his soulmate mark pricked him, it taunted him. 

he wasn’t given a chance to get to know her, love her. 

he didn’t even get a chance to know her name. 

rin paid no mind to the police officers on scene asking if he was okay and if he was hurt in any way. he felt numb. his hands were shaking, he jolted once he saw his friend’s eyes look at him with pity. 

“rin…” bachira says, voice uncharacteristically soft as he tries to find a way to console his grieving friend. but bachira knows he can’t do anything about the situation. 

he could only place a hand on rin’s shoulder as his soulmate’s body was taken away into an ambulance. 

but rin can’t see the point, his mark was already a shade of gray. no hospital could ever bring his soulmate back to life. 

he never even got her name. 

the universe was cruel to rin as he yelled in the middle of the busy streets of shibuya for the soulmate he lost. 

~

“i didn’t even get to know her name…” rin chuckles bitter as he narrates the memory, hand slightly shaking as he clutches yours, placing gentle kisses on your fingertips. 

“i only found out when we arrived at the hospital and got it from her parents…” he whispers. “i never had the chance to spend any time with her.” 

he closes his eyes, leaning his forehead into your hand that was clasped with his. 

“but with you… it’s different. i know it is.” he continues. 

“the universe… gave me a chance to meet you… and love you.”

he opens his eyes, looking at your unconscious face before letting out a shaky sigh. 

“so please… wake up…”

“i promise that i’ll make you feel the love you deserve. so please, wake up for me.”

rin pleads for the last time of the day before his eyes flit shut, exhaustion taking over his body as he falls asleep by your side, his hand still in yours. 

rin wakes up to hushed mumbles, his eyes fluttering open, mind a bit disoriented from the sudden stream of consciousness.

“he can leave now, right?” “reo, don’t be like that.” he hears nagi shush his soulmate. 

when did they get here? rin thinks but decides that it didn’t matter as he slowly rises from his position, immediately checking on you to see if you were awake and to his disappointment, you were still unconscious. 

“oh, you’re awake?” rin hears nagi ask, he faces them with hazy eyes as he nodded. “what time is it?” rin asked, voice heavy with sleep.

“a little over two am.” nagi says. 

it was the fourth day that you were confined in this room, and reo didn’t want to tell rin that the doctors have talked to him regarding you. 

rin nods. “i see.” 

“you can…” reo said, voice unusually softer than the previously hostile tone he uses with him. “you can go back to your apartment and rest. nagi and i can watch over her.” 

rin shakes his head. “my rest is right here.” he says as he keeps his eyes trained on you. 

“i’m not leaving her again.” he promises, voice barely audible to the two other males in the room. but rin didn’t care, he said it to you. whether reo or nagi heard, it wasn’t any of their business. 

if whatever nagi said about coma patients hearing you when you talk to them is true. good god, please give me a sign. rin thinks, loosening his grip on your hand as he settles on rubbing gentle circles on it. 

he was so caught up with the motions that he didn’t realize reo sit beside him. 

“you know…” rin looked at the purple haired male. “i blamed you.” reo said as he grit his teeth. 

“i blamed you… even though it was wrong.” he continues and rin remained silent, not exactly knowing where the young heir was going with this. 

“i needed an outlet… to blame, to be angry at… that i didn’t realize the most affected one is you.” reo said, eyes not breaking contact with rin’s. 

“i’m…” reo struggles to find the words to say. “i’m sorry. you didn’t deserve that.” reo says quietly, as if he were ashamed of his previous actions, which he was. 

“it’s okay.” rin replies, “i understand. you were hurt as well.” 

nagi was quietly watching the two of them, relieved that they were no longer in hot waters. 

“reo.” nagi calls out. reo looks at his lover with an inquisitive gaze. “let’s go get food. rin needs some too.”

“but–” “i need someone else to help carry food for three.” reo sighs and nods before standing up and patting your head. 

“let me know if something happens, okay?” 

rin nods and reo takes one last look at you before he follows nagi outside the door. 

and then, it was silent. 

rin doesn’t know if the silence is suffocating him or if it’s comfortable. he wasn’t sure of anything anymore. “just one sign…” he whispers to you. 

“just one sign that you’ll come back to us, to me, please.” he begs, not expecting anything of it. 

twitch. 

rin held his breath, eyes widening at the movement he felt. he wasn’t sure if that was from him or… you. 

he tries his hardest to stay still, his hand limp in yours, desperate to feel you twitch against him once more. praying to all the deities he never once believed in. 

twitch. twitch.

rin pulled away, hands starting to shake as he watches how your eyes slowly twitch subtly, and rin stood up almost immediately when he saw the way your eyes fluttered open. 

you were awake.

 your eyes were barely opened, pupils darting from side to side as you tried to make sense of where you were. your body felt heavy, but you didn’t care as you tried to stand up.

only to feel a hand stop you. 

“don’t move.” rin? “d-don’t overexert yourself.” he says while he pushes you back down gently, taking the small remote by your bed and elevating your upper body. 

“r-ri–” you tried to say but words couldn’t come out. your voice was rough, as if it were grinding down sandpaper as you tried to speak. 

“i– uh. i’ll go call the doctor, please… stay here!” rin said as he ran to the door. “i mean, stay awake!” then the door closed shut, if you listened closely, you could hear the uncharacteristic yells from the male as he screamed for a doctor. 

rin came back as soon as he left, a doctor and nurse trailing behind him as he immediately went to your side once more and took your hand.

“ms. (y/n), do you know where you are?” you nod. “do you remember what happened before you arrived here?” a hesitant nod comes from you. 

“y-yes.” you croaked and the doctor immediately ordered the nurse to fetch you a cup of water. 

“do you remember your name?” the doctor went on asking you basic questions about yourself before he announced your condition as stable. 

just as the doctor left, reo immediately ran inside panting. 

“(y/n)!” he yells as soon as he enters the room. you answered with a sheepish smile and a short wave at your best friend. 

“hey, re–” “don’t fucking scare me like that ever again!” he interrupts your greeting as he basically jumps on you, pulling you for a tight hug. 

you held him back, feeling the way his shoulders suddenly start to shake and sobs were now leaving your purple haired best friend. 

“don’t scare me like that again… please.” he whispers, repeating the words he said once more. 

“i’m sorry.” you say back, voice quiet as you let your best friend sob against your shoulder. 

the next few minutes were spent with reo ugly crying on your shoulder and rin holding your hand tightly in his. countless apologies running out of your mouth as reo scolds you for scaring him. 

“admit it though.” you say as you pull away from your best friend, wiping his tears away. “you missed me.” 

“you fucking dumbass, of course i did!” he says as he glares at you. “you think i would be in a hospital for the past four days?” “i was here for four days?”

“...you don’t… realize it?” you slowly shook your head in response before nagi stands up and places a hand on reo’s shoulder 

“i think…” nagi starts, “these two have a lot to talk about..” 

“but i just got here–” “reo.” “fine.”

the both of you left the two of you once more and now rin couldn’t help but feel shy in your conscious presence. 

“(y-y/n)...” “i heard.” “huh?”

you sighed as you looked at your intertwined hands. 

“i uh… heard snippets… of your story.” you say, looking at him with sad eyes and he already hated that he managed to make you sad, even if it was indirectly. 

“what was her name?” you asked and rin stays quiet for a few seconds, before you can take it back you hear him mutter a name. 

“akitsu hanabi.” rin recalls, you nodded. “do you still think about her?”

rin pursed his lips for a few seconds before he answered. 

“i usually don’t. not ever since you. i don’t like remembering what happened.”

“i don’t think any of it matters now.” rin continues before he brushes your knuckles gently. “i…i think–” he pauses. “i think my soulmate would’ve wanted me to be happy.” he recalls her last words from her. 

“and i know that it meant you… maybe, somehow, you were sent by my soulmate.”   he hypothesizes. “i don’t know what it’s like to be loved by someone you’re destined to, but i’d take your love any day, (y/n).” 

you held your breath, staying quiet, not quite knowing the words to say. 

“fuck the universe. i only want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.” you say nothing, snaking your hand onto his cheek and pulling him closer, he immediately moves towards you. 

your lips meet in a passionate yet gentle kiss and rin wants to cry, this is everything he ever wanted, he had always been deprived of the love he longed for and you were right there, and he’d never let anything take you away from him once more. 

he’ll spend the rest of his life showing you that he loved you if he had to.

“hey, we got foo– in a fucking hospital?!” the two of you jumped back, startled by the door banging open and reo going inside, the paper bag filled with food frozen in his outstretched hand. 

you bit back a laugh as you saw rin look away, cheeks turning red and you could feel your own heating up as well. reo sighs and shakes his head before he brings back the attention to the food in hand. 

“you can eat each other’s faces later, we brought food. also, (y/n) we got you soup because that’s what the doctor said.” reo said as he gestures to the bowl on the side, clearly having his personal chef prepare it because all of you knew that reo wouldn’t settle for takeout in a situation like this. 

before you could reach for the soup. rin beats you to it, taking out the spoon and holding the bowl close to him before he scoops the liquid and brings it to your mouth. 

“really?” you couldn’t help but let out a teasing smile. 

“i’m only feeding you because you’re still unwell… and i love you.” he whispers in the last part, causing you to freeze. 

“h-huh?” the skin of your marked wrist twitches as you asked him to reiterate, you’ve heard him say it before the entire accident but it still felt surreal. 

rin put the bowl of soup down, clasping your marked hands together. “i love you.” he says, pressing a kiss to your mark, uncaring of the fact that the universe doesn’t want you to be together, that you weren’t destined to be with one another, that you were born to be alone in this world.

“i love you.” he repeats, placing a kiss on the skin of your wrist.

the both of you freeze as an overwhelming sensation takes the both of you by surprise, the two of you instinctively tightening the grip you had on each other’s hands as a surge of white light explodes between your intertwined hands. 

“w-what the hell is happening?” nagi whispers to reo who stopped mid bite when his peripheral caught sight of the white. 

“(y/n)... your mark!” reo gasped as the black mark disintegrates from your skin, leaving a blank canvas. “rin, yours too!” nagi added, the couple’s eyes widened in disbelief while the both of you had your eyes closed due to the sudden pricks of pain. 

you opened your eyes once you hear reo exclaim about your mark, widening once you see white dots appearing in replacement of the obsidian color you were familiar with for the past nine years. 

a gasp escapes you, causing rin to open his eyes and look at you before immediately looking down, eyes widening as well as his wrist being in the same condition as yours.

the two of you watched with bated breaths as a pattern slowly formed on your wrist, lines connecting and painting a mark that only meant for you before the line completed. your intertwined hands began shaking once you realized that the lines stopped from you and continued for rin’s. the pattern being drawn into a perfect contrast for yours. 

a perfect fit. 

once rin’s wrist was completed, it was silent. 

the two of you looked at each other at the same time, speechless on what just happened and before any of you in the room could say anything. 

you felt a ticklish feeling on your mark.

you hear reo gasp, from your peripheral, you can see him clutch nagi’s arm as he says shakily. 

“the mark… it’s…” you didn’t hear anything after that as your focused eyes turned towards the mark, the previously white lines was now being colored a shade of gold. 

tears well up in your eyes as you look at rin who was looking at you with an unknown expression. 

what the fuck just happened?

in a world where one’s soulmate is determined on the night you turn sixteen, you and rin manage to defy the universe at the age of twenty five. 

“r-rin…” you were cut off by his lips slotting with yours once more, you closed your eyes, letting the tears slip out as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. 

you can hear reo let out a sob. he was so, so happy for you. 

reo knows that you deserved this happiness more than anyone. nagi lets out a smile before he wraps his arm around his lover, pressing a short kiss on his forehead as the young heir sobs into his soulmate’s chest. 

you pull away, lips forming into a teary smile as rin wipes it with a shaky hand. he couldn’t believe it either. a few hours ago, he was begging for the universe to wake you up and to return you to him. 

he never expected that you’d fully be his once you wake up. 

it was as if the universe was saying. we were wrong. be happy. you truly belong to each other.

“i love you.” you whisper as you nuzzle closer to his hand on your cheek. 

“i love you… soulmate.” he responds, a genuine smile breaking out of his face when he sees you giggling at the word. 

“my soulmate.” you say back, a happy smile on your face.

“(y/n), oh my god!” you hear reo yell as he stands up and runs over to the both of you, you and rin pulls away as reo envelopes you into a hug. 

“oh my god… what just happened?! did you see that shit? it was like a white explosion then  the next thing is that you had a soulmate?! what the fuck– what in the actua–” 

“reo…” you cut him off, a small smile on your face. 

“do you remember our promise of finding our soulmates with each other?” reo’s bottom lip wobbled, suddenly remembering how you were right there beside him when he first saw nagi, he remembers the childhood promise you made with him. 

“you’re here with me when i found mine.” you say, “you led me to him. thank you.” you smile, emotional as reo buries his head to your shoulder as he sobs, your one arm wrapping around his back, comforting your best friend. 

you can see nagi look at him fondly as he nears the three of you, clasping a hand on rin’s shoulders. 

“you still think the blind date was a waste of time?” “man, shut up.”

rin and nagi smiled at each other at the lighthearted conversation before rin looked at you once more. 

adoration and affection written on his face as he catches your attention by placing his hand on your free one. the sudden touch caused you to look at him as he smiles and mouths. 

“i love you.”

you smiled back, letting him lace your hands together as you mouth back. 

“i love you too.”

in a world where soulmates were destined at a young age, you changed destiny and finally found the man you grew to love and in turn, the universe decided to go along with the odds. sealing your fate with his. 

the two of you were destined to be with each other.

---

"are you free later?"

nagi stands sluggishly by the side of your desk, looking at you with those drowsy eyes that might just shut down anytime.

"yeah, i am. what's up?"

nagi tilts his head, closing his eyes as he tries to remember the words he had practiced seconds ago to say to you.

"i want to confess later." he said all so casually.

"what?!"

"i'm confessing later, why? can't you go?" he repeats, he looks at you owlishly waiting for an answer.

"oh, nagi.." a fond look paints on your face as you pointed out. "you just confessed."

"no, i haven't?"

you try to stifle a laugh. "you just did."

"but i didn't, i haven't told you about how i feel, yet."

he tilts his head at you. for someone who thinks everything is a hassle, he really does have a lot to say right now and you think this is the most words you've heard that has ever left his lips.

"and you just did, again."

"oh, sorry," he looks at his feet and shifts his weight onto the other, his ears noticeably red on its tips. "...so are you still free, though?"

you can't help, but break out of a smile. "yes."

"okay, thanks. don't be late, wait for me on the field, watch me okay?" he stumbles over his words as he walks slowly out the room backwards facing you, embarrassment engulfing him wholly.

you only nod at him, "i will, don't worry."

"'kay, i'll see you later?" he asks once more, just to be sure.

"yup, now go. i think someone's waiting for you?" a lock of purple peeks by the doorway of your classroom, but quickly disappears as soon as you mentioned it.

"yeah, uhm bye y/n." he says before leaving the room.

"oh my god nagi, what was that?"

"i confessed."

reo can only sigh in exasperation, shaking his head in disappointment, but really it all worked well right? so what else can he do? what's done is done.

"that's—" reo sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose momentarily in contempt. "fine, okay it's good enough."

"what do i say, when i confess later, though?"

"oh my god."

◞♡ surprise surprise a n*gi drabble,, ik he's ooc but who cares :> likes & reblogs are highly appreciated !

---

— it felt like the world / nagi seishiro x reader.

— hurt/comfort (i think). light angst (real). established relationship & break-up. timeskips. pro-player!nagi.

when you were seventeen, figuring out that nagi seishiro didn't mind you at all felt like the world.

when you hand him your heart on a silver platter and his gaze is warm and he replies okay, (like you're meant to understand what okay even means) there's a brush of pink on his cheeks.

he takes your hand because you're walking home together, pauses, then speaks, "i don't know how to be a boyfriend though…"

your answer is a smile, like you're happy enough just to be with him.

"just be yourself, nagi." you say.

he can do that—be himself. it's easy and being with you is easy, too. being with you feels nice, even if he isn't quite sure how to describe it—that should be enough for now. thinking too much about it is too much of a hassle anyway.

it's enough for quite a long while, actually. up until he's inside the blue lock building and reo is persuading him to stay.

"this is lame, though. i'd rather go home to y/n," he says.

but ego jinpachi and reo knew exactly just what to say to keep him in blue lock. after that, you're stuck with occasional calls and a few texts.

even with this, even just a little bit, nagi starts feeling like he's a world away. it’s probably the puppy love of it all, that you want more of his time with you. you're reckless enough to let that thought slip through when you're talking to him. 

"what if you get eliminated, though?"

"hmm? s'not possible, reo won't let that happen…" and nagi sounds so sure of himself, all the time.

"you'll be gone for much longer, then?"

"i guess. training is such a pain. i just want to sleep and play games with you."

you laugh a little, silently, because he sounds so sleepy teetering the edge of knocking out.

"i wish they'd let you out, though. even just for a day… you feel so far away…" you trail off, the silence follows you, and you think he's finally asleep.

you wish him goodnight before hanging up, before the corners of your lips quiver into a frown.

it takes nagi two days.

two days after your last call, there's a knock on your door just as you finish watering choki.

when you open your front door and find your boyfriend standing there, phone blaring with the sound of his game, eyes trained to the screen—you can't help but hold your breath. there’s an echo of game over through the speakers of his phone before his grey eyes finally meet yours.

then, nagi smiles. he slips his phone inside his pocket, places his hand on top of your head, then leads you inside as if he owned the place.

but ah, well… with the love you had for him, you’d probably let him have all that was yours anyway.

all you get is a day with him, but it's enough for you to feel like your chest is expanding, like you're full of affection just for him. he seems different already from your time apart, but it's a good different and you're happy for him.

he's cuddled up against you and you feel like this is all you'll ever want—him. you've only been together for a few months and he seems rough around the edges, but you're starting to understand that nagi's love language is the way he's always touching you and pressing soft kisses against your skin like he's constantly telling you, silently letting you know, that he loves you.

but all you get is a day, then he's back in blue lock. the next time you see him is in the bleachers of their match against the JPN U-20 team and you're nothing short of captivated. it feels surreal to see him in the field like this, beaming with energy—he looks like he belongs with the stars, like he's exactly where he's meant to be.

there’s no question about him going pro. he will. and even when he starts feeling like he’s worlds away again, you couldn’t possibly love him less.

until he had to leave you.

you're standing opposite from each other in your living room. you're upset because you don’t want him to go, he can tell, but he's unyielding.

"this is something i want, though," he tells you, just factually, like this is just something you had to accept without a fight.

it's funny, because you had a lot of fight in you, actually. but you wanted him so bad, loved him so much.

in the end, you could only pray that the long distance works.

at twenty-one, nagi leaves you to join a team in england. he leaves you with choki and a promise he'd come back, visit you when he can. but each day spent without him, your chest empties out the affection it had once been full of. it's slow because nagi actually loved you, you knew this. he called as much as he could, he'd tell you to watch him play through the television and once in a while, rare as it is, there's a bouquet of flowers at your front door.

love is enough except when he comes home to you briefly for your anniversary, nagi knows something is wrong. somehow, despite the warmth in your eyes and your happiness that he’s there, you’re privy to his touch.

like he’s completely unfamiliar to you.

it doesn’t stop him from proposing, it doesn’t stop you from saying yes. you keep thinking you don’t want him to slip from your fingertips but nagi knows you’re slipping from his. he moves in with you, you're hopeful again.

it wouldn't kill you if you couldn't hold his hand whenever you want. you think perhaps this is enough. it had to be.

it doesn’t stop him from flying back to england after. he still called as much as he could—but the time difference remains difficult, the press is ruthless with assumptions when nagi's partnered up with models in brand endorsements, and nagi hears less of you when he's too tired from his games. eventually, you stopped picking up every call because you'd rather be busy with your life than wonder what your lover was up to, miles away from you and knowing this wasn't enough.

you realise it when your heart is finally breaking, that you’re asking this over the phone instead of right in front of him.

“my parents have been asking, seishiro… when are we getting married?”

you've been engaged for over a year and no plans have been made—but it’s worse when you’re met with silence. the future blurs further, you’re not sure if you could do this alone anymore because this was his decision. when he said he’d come back, you probably should’ve asked how long he’d be gone from you.

“we can figure it out when the contract ends, planning a wedding's a pain anyway,” he mutters through the phone.

“but i want you home, sei.” and it’s the most honest you’ve ever been to him in the past two years.

“i can’t just leave, though,” he replies. you wonder if he'd ever thought the same two years ago, before he left you.

you wonder if it would be petty of you to ask if he ever thought he couldn't just leave you.

he gets a vacation on the next year, just a year before his contract with manshine city ends. but you’re with him on the couch when he tells you he’s being offered a better contract in spain. that he wants to take it. you want to be happy for him, but the breaking of your heart is loud enough in your own ears. it’s so loud that the words slipping from your mouth are unfiltered and uttered without thought.

“what about us, sei? what about me?”

nagi frowns like he doesn’t understand what you mean.

“it's not like we're in a hurry to get married, y/n. we can just do it whenever.”

“would you leave me then, too?”

"it doesn't matter, we'd still be together." but you couldn't give him the answer he wants and the ring on your finger is starting to feel heavier.

your silence is all that he's met with and the uncertainty frustrates him. if he's honest, realising you might not want to be with him anymore hurts. so instead he asks again, "do we have to figure this out now?"

"you've been away from me for years, sei. when will you come home? or am i just not worth staying around for?"

he stands from the couch, phone in hand, "i dunno, maybe you're not."

he says it so nonchalantly. as if it wasn't enough to break you. you know he's about to walk out the door, leave again.

"i miss you, you know. i want to feel like you still love me… but you're so far away from me," you try while you're watching him shrug his hoodie on, reaching for his keys.

watching him leave.

"you've been saying this for years. you're just being a pain, y/n."

then he's out the door.

one week later and six years of your relationship with nagi runs down the drain.

you wonder what hurts more: letting him go or in another universe, being married to him while you're stuck apart from each other—because leaving you was easy.

your place is rid of nagi's things, it isn't much, he simply loads it up in the back of his car. for either of you, it's yet to sink in.

until you're slipping the diamond ring from your finger, standing in front of him.

"take care, nagi," you tell him with a tight smile, the ring falling into the palm of his hand and an ache settling heavy on his chest.

he hums, eyes trained on the ring he got for you. he says okay and then he's driving off. you're left to wonder where you go from here.

nagi comes back to england early and news of your split is quick. 

a few months later, rumours of him taking an offer from a team in spain circulates and your heart hurts again because even if this is how you split up, you wish you could still hear his voice after he wins a game—telling you he's tired, telling you he wishes he could just go home to you.

but nagi doesn't know what to do with himself after every win anymore. when his teammates invite him for a celebratory drink, he comes only because he isn't sure he can handle the frustration of knowing he can't call you, or that you won't pick up even if he did.

he has a few months left with manshine before he could sign a new contract. the frustration never ends though; every moment slipping by him, the ring he keeps on a chain around his neck is a weight heavy with your absence.

he thought that this is what he wanted, that being far from you never really mattered, that it's okay if he couldn't feel you against him anymore, couldn't kiss you like he's telling you he loves you without the words.

he wonders if you felt like this the whole time he's been away for years.

it's a pain that he figures he never wants to feel anymore.

so when the year ends, nagi finds himself at your front door instead of spain.

your door opens and there you are, pretty as ever, eyes bright with a kind of carefree edge to them. but you're pretty, even with the shock painting your face that he'd usually tease you for.

it's all he could think of, that you're so pretty and so, so close to him again and there's so much he wants to say with no idea how to say them.

"nagi… what are you…?"

"i missed you," is the first thing he says. they're words enough to make your lips quiver and eyes sting. "and i'm sorry, i left thinking i'll be fine even if i loved you."

he speaks while he's trying to etch into memory the way you say his name again, so clearly, so softly. you miss him a lot too, you want him back without question, but you think you can't just take him back to let him leave again.

"but you're supposed to be in spain—" you mumble, confused. he's shaking his head before you could finish, a pout settled on his lips.

"i don't want to be there, though. i want to stay here with you, if you let me again..."

"i don't understand, what about soccer?"

"doesn't matter anymore, i could just join the japan u-20. they'll let me do that, right? but everything else is a pain if you're not there." he sounds so sure of himself, like he thought about it everyday since you were gone from him.

it's difficult to process because you've wanted this for so long, to finally have him back to you. it takes you so long that he gets nervous, because what if you don't want him anymore?

he shifts his gaze, suddenly flustered but all the more certain, "i love you, y/n. i'll prove it to you if i have to."

to be honest, nagi isn't sure what he would've done if you didn't want him anymore. perhaps he could've tried his best to win you back, even if it took him too much effort. he'd do it only because nothing truly makes him as happy as he is with you. nothing is that much troubling or that much boring as long as he had you.

it's just you he needs, really.

luckily for him, he doesn't really have to dwell on it—because your warmth engulfs him, your arms around his body.

and he says, finally, "i'm home, y/n."

---

─ ✰ HEARTBREAK ANNIVERSARY.

─ SYNOPSIS: rin misses you. he wonders if breaking up with you was really worth it.

─ WARNINGS: 1.2k words!! angst, regret, pining, exes, perhaps ooc rin, probably bland but!! it’s here

─ AUTHOR’S NOTE: RIN GIRLIES HERE IS UR MAN &lt;3

— rin’s eyes anxiously dart around, scanning for your face somewhere in the stands, an unconscious habit he hasn’t been able to drop. the roar of thousands of fans cheering him on, yet strangely, the absence of satisfaction lingers within him.

it’s weird, even he knows it, that he still hopes his ex comes to his soccer matches. he’s fully aware that you are unlikely to be present, but even so, a lingering sliver of hope refuses to fade. and it’s strange, because he was the one who broke up with you to pursue his career, he was the one who broke your heart, he was the one who'd made you cry... so why does his heart feel so damn empty when you aren’t there to watch him soar?

fuck. this isn’t the time to be thinking about this. so with an annoyed huff, he pushes his feelings aside, and plays ball.

as the final whistle blows, everybody in the stadium erupts into cheers, confetti cascading down to honor the exceptional achievement. japan won nationals, rin scoring the winning goal by himself, marking tokyo's historic first-ever victory. his eyes widen with disbelief, puffing from the exertion of the intense match. the weight of the moment settles on his shoulders, and he couldn't help but look up, expecting to see the familiar sight of your proud face in the crowd, your pretty eyes catching onto his— oh. that’s right. you won’t be there anymore.

his smile falls the slightest bit. the sensation of pride and joy seems to snap almost instantly, and he doesn’t know why. this… this was his goal, his dream. the thing he wanted most in the world, in the palm of his hand. and really, he should be more happy, but he can’t seem to shake off the sinking feeling in his stomach.

his radiant smile begins to falter, a subtle shift in the atmosphere as the waves of pride and joy that had enveloped him seemed to snap abruptly. this achievement, this culmination of his dreams and aspirations, now lays within his grasp. one would expect satisfaction and happiness to course through his veins, yet an inexplicable unease settled in the pit of his stomach, casting a shadow over the moment. ignoring all his teammates’ cheers and screams, he speeds towards the locker room to get changed and go home.

his house really isn’t any better. (he questions if it’s really ‘home’ without you.) the concept of "home" now feels strangely foreign, a place that should be comforting but is instead tinged with an undeniable sense of absence. it's as if the essence of warmth has been drained away.

the once-inviting space lacks the comforting sprawl of your giant stuffed animals overtaking the bed or the mountains of your clothes taking over the closet. a peculiar emptiness lingers, a void that cannot be filled by mere physical belongings. the silence within the familiar walls is unsettling.

rin finds it quite odd not feeling your arms wrap around his torso, giving him a peck as you asked about his day. it’s strangely… quiet as well. there’s no you singing along to some laufey song completely out of tune, no alarm going off because you burnt the takoyaki, or the constant hum of the tv playing in the background. it's a quietude that, rather than offering solace, only accentuates the hollowness of the space. he’s not so sure he likes it.

he stares at the shiny, gold metal he had received. his mind, despite receiving a sparkly, golden-hued award— an emblem of achievement— stubbornly fixates his thoughts of you. he finds himself gazing at the metallic surface, a token of success that pales in comparison to the vibrant memories of your presence. he recalls your playful curiosity, imagining how you would have marveled at the gold medal, playfully testing its authenticity with an endearing chomp. he misses it. he misses you.

and he wonders what you might've changed his contact to. stupid ex, maybe? loser bitch? he deserves it. but he can't help but wonder, is there a possibility he'd still be 'rinnie', or 'my love' with a heart that never made sense because it looked more like a cheeky smile to him? (he wishes he had treasured you just a little bit more.) is he blocked? or is he just another number in your phone now? do you reread the messages he sent to you?

because he does. your contact name is still ‘loml’. he has every single photo you sent saved. he stares at the old "i love you" texts night after night after night. it's pathetic, really, but his heart aches for those moments when you'd scold him for overexerting himself, when you'd sleepily wake up at two am just to make him a hot meal when he came back late, when you'd stick those tacky hello kitty bandaids on top of the scrapes he got from soccer. he misses your good luck kisses, the ones where you'd pull his face down to your height and let out a big dramatic 'mwah!' in front of all his teammates— where he'd grumble and complain but his cheeks were undeniably a bright rosy red.

but above all, the vivid memory etched in his mind is the pain he inflicted upon you. your voice trembling, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you desperately clung to his arm, seeking an explanation. "what do you mean, rin? i don't understand. did i do something wrong?" your words quivered, on the verge of shattering, yet he callously shrugged you off, meeting your tear-filled eyes with a chilling glare.

"you're just a distraction. sorry, but soccer's more important to me."

he recalls the way your hand slowly fell away, the slow nod of comprehension, and the sight of your trembling bottom lip as you fought valiantly not to crumble. he was stupid. so, so stupid. he wishes he had pulled you into the shelter of his arms, confessed his foolishness, and reassured you that he didn't mean those hurtful words. or better yet, he wishes he didn’t say them at all. and he wants to ask, have you moved on? do you find your heart fluttering for somebody else, threatening to beat out of your chest like you once made him feel?

to be loved is to be seen. you saw him beyond the carefully constructed mask, piercing through the layers of the egoist the world molded him to be. in your gaze, he wasn't just the world's best striker or sae's little brother; he was itoshi rin. and that was enough for you.

oh, how utterly foolish he was to let you go. are you still as pretty as ever? (of course you are. you’ve never not looked absolutely stunning to him.) do you still smile as brightly as you once shone, his precious shooting star? he hopes you still find a reason to break into a grin every day.

but the question that is constantly on his mind like a broken record player. if he were to grovel and beg, surrendering his pride on his hands and knees, would you accept him back?

for a moment, he considers it. calling you. his finger hovers tentatively over the ‘audio’ call button, mere millimeters away from hearing you again. rin so desperately wishes to hear your sweet voice, see your angelic face, to be able to bask in your presence once more. would you be shocked? happy shocked, or enraged shocked, or maybe you wouldn’t pick up at all. would he go to voicemail? if he left one, would you listen? do you miss him as much as he has missed you all this time? (it’s been a month, but to him it felt like years.) yet, as the gravity of his past actions weighs heavily in his heart, an inexplicable hesitation ensnares him. you… don’t deserve this. you’re healing right now, he’s already chosen himself once, it would be utterly selfish to do it again. with a heavy exhale, he gingerly sets down his phone, fixing his gaze upon the ceiling above.

and suddenly, soccer doesn't feel like his passion after all. he wonders if it was really you.

his bed feels a little bit too cold now.

© KAEFFEINEE 2022-2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

---

wherever you are, wherever you may be — i. rin

soulmates (name au) + "i'm done waiting."

synopsis. itoshi rin meets you under a sky full of fireworks. he spends the next 6 years of his life trying to convince himself that he doesn't love you. you spend the next 6 years giving him every reason why he should.

wc. 12.4k (i need to close my eyes and sleep for a while)

notes. huge thank you to ellie (@hyomagiri) and mari (@saetoshi) for helping me with this 🥹 this fic actually put me through it and i'm so grateful to both of them for their support 💗

— for my beloved @ode2rin 💐 | event masterlist ✉️

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2024

Every year on the seventh day of the seventh month, Itoshi Rin finds himself standing at the daunting entrance to his local shrine.

The tradition is completely beneath him—something childish that he grumbles about under his breath despite letting you drag him all the way out here with soft eyes watching your smile.

Tanabata is the festival of stars. Of love.

It is a story his mother used to whisper to him as they watched the night sky in awe, pretending that the galaxy was collapsing in on itself to allow for a romantic midnight rendezvous between two lovers.

It’s something far too sappy for his liking.

But the food is okay, he supposes, and it’s a good opportunity to get out of the house and spend time with you which he seldom has time to do now that he’s back in his training season.

There were too many things about it that he loathed: the screaming children that would bump into his legs; the way his ears would stay ringing for days after the festival ended; how you could always convince him to come as if you were some sort of hypnotic devil in disguise, and how thoroughly wounded his pride would be at that fact.

However, his least favourite part of the festival by far is writing down his wish for the year on a scrap piece of paper and hanging it around a bamboo tree. One, because he can never for the life of him think of anything meaningful to wish for. And two, because he isn’t sure he even believes in that sort of thing.

Rin is struggling again this year, pencil lightly scratching his temple as he thinks.

He’s painfully aware that he’s never put so much thought into this before, but you seemed so excited to come all the way here before heading to the festivities that he couldn’t possibly let you down.

His wish dawns on him then, something he wants to do before the next time he makes the climb all the way back up here 365 days from now.

“Hey,” your voice calls out quietly. “What did you wish for?”

“What did you wish for?” Rin quickly refutes.

You cast your narrowed eyes from the side, tilting your little slip of yellow paper away from him.

“Only if I get to see yours first.”

Normally, he would give in to you right away. His resolve when it comes to you is embarrassingly weak. But there’s no way for him to explain himself. No way he could show you the words he’s written lest he hurt his ego.

He stubbornly folds up the piece of paper and shoves your face away. All you do is laugh and he feels terribly warm.

“No peeking,” he tells you when you kiss across his fingertips.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2018

A name appeared for Itoshi Rin when he turned thirteen years old.

He remembers the day well—it was hard to forget, anyway. As much as he wanted to focus on the burning of the name etching its way down his skin, he couldn’t. Not when he was blinking snow out of his lashes and watching his brother’s retreating back.

Rin likes to think that the universe fucks with him in any way that it can.

Maybe he had done something terrible in his past life and this was its karmic retribution, or maybe he was just unlucky.

What he does know is this: the name on his pinky only reminds him of all the things he ever lost.

Every syllable struck needles into his heart—a painful memory of crawling after the tracks of the wheels Sae left behind with his luggage until gravel and ice were stuck under his nails. Or worse, the clawing of his throat as they sat across from each other at dinner—the way he didn't even smile when Rin announced to his parents that his soulmate mark had appeared while his mother cried out in joy.

In fact, Sae didn’t talk to him for the rest of his visit. He remembers that hurt the most.

The name had haunted him for all the remaining years of his life—a forced memory that he wished he could forget. There came with it a feeling of loneliness that crushed him despite the proof on his pinky that there was another soul wandering the earth that would fix him.

He refused to believe it.

Only revenge would fix him. Only proving himself better would heal the cracks in his heart. Only beating Sae. Sae, Sae, Sae. His brother’s name had been repeated so many times that it was easy to ignore the other burning his skin.

In all those years he found it easy to cast aside his soulmate. To ignore it even if it hurt.

So he wonders why it’s so bad tonight.

He’s done everything he could think of: slathering cooling ointment down his finger to stop the searing, wrapping it in a cast to prevent himself from admiring it for too long, even tying a wish to a piece of bamboo hoping it would disappear.

A finger snaps in front of his face, drawing his attention to his teammates in front of him. Both look equally amused.

“You’re dreaming,” Isagi muses. “You’ve been spacing out all night. Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” Rin mutters, swatting his teammate’s hand away from him. He had been staring again, longingly eyeing the way the letters danced down his skin. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“None of your business.”

“Yeesh, it’s not good to keep things bottled up, you know?”

“You’re annoying,” Rin glowers before it melts back into indifference. “I’m fine,” he reiterates.

Isagi seems unconvinced, as he usually is when Rin is being mysteriously vague about what’s on his mind. He and Bachira share a tentative glance before sighing and shaking their heads.

“Well… okay,” he finally yields. “We’re going to get some snacks before the fireworks start. If you’re going to sulk then at least stay put and do it here so we can find you again.”

“Yeah,” Rin grumbles, already making an escape plan. “Whatever. Will do.”

As soon as the boys are out of sight, he turns heel and hurries away. The crowd is driving him crazy and he needs somewhere quiet so he can stare at his hands until his eyes are dry.

He comes to a pond situated just outside of the festival grounds, deep water glimmering under the moon and the passing lanterns.

Plopping down on the bench, he hunches over onto his knees with his elbows and takes a deep breath. It instead comes shallow, as if someone has just punched him in the gut. 

It’s then that he realizes he’s not alone.

Your yukata is muddy, fabric soaked and dripping at the sleeves though you don’t seem to care or even notice. You look frustrated for some reason, lip curled into a concentrated frown while you plunge your hands into the mud around the edge of the water.

Away from the crowds of people, he can hear the summer song of cicadas chirping all around. Your hands dip in and out of the water, quiet splashes filling the rest of the silence on top of the distant buzz of children laughing.

It’s just you and him. Something primal inside of him rages, pounding against his chest until it feels like he’s suffocating.

Run. Run. Run.

His legs jerk, urging him to stand up and leave, but he feels glued down to the bench—tethered where he sits and forced to watch you repeatedly sink your hands into the muddy waters.

No more than five minutes must pass as you both ignore each other, yet it feels like an eternity stretches by. 

Finally, you pipe up.

“You’re scaring them,” you tell him plainly.

His head whips in your direction at your voice, soft and careful. His teal eyes narrow at you. “Huh?”

Your frown deepens, turning to look at him with your hands still submerged. “The frogs.”

“Come again?”

“Your vibes. It’s scaring the frogs away.”

His eye twitches.

“Ever consider that you’re just dogshit at catching them?”

“Excuse me?”

“And look at you, making a total mess of yourself. Don’t you care that you have to go home looking like that?” He presses, leering at you like an insect he’s about to crush under his heel. You simply stare at him, expression blank.

Huffing, you tear away from him and sink your hands beneath the mud. “No. I don’t.”

He watches in silence as you sift around for a moment before pulling your hands up, a smile slowly morphing into your face.

“I got one…” You breathe, looking more elated than he thinks you should. “I really caught one.”

“First time?” He quips sarcastically. A part of him wonders why he hasn’t gotten up and left you altogether yet.

“Cut me some slack,” you complain, eyeing him from the side again. You gently run a finger along the back of the frog, trying not to scare it away. “I haven’t done this in forever.”

“Clearly.”

You snort. “Yeah. Clearly.”

Rin looks at you quizzically, puzzled at your sudden change in demeanor. You seem… softer. Less agitated, at the very least. You’re gazing at the frog adoringly, as if it had somehow solved all of your problems and was dragging you into another world.

Any retort he had ready to shoot at you dies in his mouth. The anger rising in his chest extinguishes in the blink of an eye, and a deep hush settles over you as he watches in curiosity.

For a moment, the universe goes quiet. He’s gotten so used to having everything on his mind all at once that the silence is almost unnerving.

He once believed that his world would end with an injury that never healed quite right, or when he was too old for any team to want him.

He once believed that his world would end when he could no longer imagine the feel of a ball between his palms.

He once believed that his world would end the day he couldn’t play football anymore—that the only thing that would ever kill him was if the chance of standing alongside his brother died with him.

But he was wrong.

Itoshi Rin’s world ends with the bellow of a firework.

In a few years, he would think of this stretch of a few seconds fondly. He would squeeze you a little tighter with his chin resting on your shoulder, staring up at a colourful sky. He would think it was poetic, in a way, that you were the one who painted his world in the same hues of shimmering gold.

Rin remembers, though, that only one thought had crossed his mind.

I’m so screwed.

He can see every fine detail of your face, illuminated in all the colours of the rainbow. And he can’t help but think you are the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. He can trace each intricate curve of your nose to your chin to the surprised parting of your lips; the way your lashes flutter as you blink rapidly, tensed from the sudden explosion.

The light fades faster than it appeared, yet it feels like a millennium has passed. The reverbing echo of the firework crackles across the sky, thundering in his ears so loud that he can feel it pounding in his chest.

(Or is that his heart? He can’t tell. He feels dizzy.)

Darkness envelops your bodies again, save for the dim glow of distant lanterns. Every part of you is seared into his memory, a floating image when he blinks.

The frog leaps from your hands back into the water, leaving nothing but ripples behind.

You stay there with your hands outstretched, looking lonely under the dark sky. Another one goes off above your heads, signalling the start of the display.

“There you are, Rin!” Bachira and Isagi come rushing over from the path, excited smiles and mirth bubbling in their laughs as they approach. “We thought you went home without us already!”

Rin slowly blinks out of his reverie. For a second, he glances in your direction again just to catch your eyes. 

“I almost did,” he grumbles, forcing himself not to stare.

“Fireworks are starting!” Isagi yanks Rin to his feet and begins dragging him away before he can even protest.

Without turning around, he can feel the weight of your eyes in the back of his head. There’s an unfamiliar ache in his chest, and the name etched down his pinky burns infinitely hot.

Later at home, he stares at the spot where Sae used to sit back when he still came to Japan for anything other than to take a new passport photo.

“My soulmate’s name showed up,” he had mumbled that night to break the tense silence. It was strange that he still felt like he owed his brother that much—to make his visit as normal as possible despite having his heart carved open.

Sae only looked at him blankly, spoon halting just above his bowl. He was eerily still, quietly deciding how to react. Then,

“Good for you,” he said. And nothing more.

Rin squeezes his eyes shut and he feels warmth rolling down his cheeks. He quickly wipes the tears away, pretending as if they never existed.

He spends the rest of the night trying to forget your face.

(And the next year trying to recreate it in his dreams.)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2019

Rin makes it another 275 days before he finally remembers every piece of the puzzle that is your existence.

He saw you in his sleep. The back of your head, anyway.

You were sitting in his favourite café, at the table he claimed for himself right by the window. You ordered a coffee but let it sit for so long that the ice melted. Then, you wiped up the condensation rolling down the frosty glass with your finger.

Rin watched you from afar, observing you the way he wished he did last summer.

Maybe then he could have dived deep into the recesses of his brain to remember why exactly you struck him so. But there he was, stuck watching the back of your head as you gazed out the window.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Your fingers drummed mindlessly against the wooden table, reciting a rhythm just slightly louder than the pounding of his own heart. 

“Can you leave me alone?” He finally called out, hoping it would stop your incessant beating.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“You’re annoying me,” he hissed. Annoying for disturbing his peace and quiet. Annoying for plaguing his dreams even after all these days.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Seriously,” he grunted, standing up from his seat so fast that the chair scraped horribly against the wooden floor. Still, you didn’t pay him any mind, instead more interested in the faceless people walking by. “Knock it off!”

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

He bit the inside of his cheek in hesitation, the itch in the back of his mind ever present. “What’s your name?”

Silence.

You finally turned his way. Slowly. Agonizingly slow.  And Rin was right—you were still so beautiful, 275 days later.

Grinning at him big and bright, you almost seemed to collapse in on yourself with joy. Like a star about to implode, or maybe more akin to a firework.

Either way, his breath was stolen from him.

You silently mouthed your name, making sure he saw every vowel and accentuated syllable. Warmth flooded him in every way—probably brought on by the racing of his heart.

It was impossible that his soulmate was someone like this. Someone whose smile looked like it could heal even the deepest wounds.

You grabbed his attention again with a big wave of the arms, and he watched in anticipation.

“You’re—”

Rin followed your mouth as you sounded out the words without a voice.

“—smiling!”

He reached up to run his fingers along his bottom lip. And you were right, he realized, as he traced it midway up his cheek.

(When did he start smiling?)

(Why?)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Rin thinks about you just as much in the waking world as he does in his dreams.

It’s spring, though snow is still settled over the eaves of homes that he passes on the way to the grocery store. Apparently the winter cold is supposed to be especially long and bitter this year, permeating until mid-May.

He stares at his feet as they mark the virgin snow, decorating his sneakers white and making his feet cold.

Did you walk through the same snow this morning?

Then, when he’s going through the motion of smelling the bottom of pineapples at the store:

Do you like pineapple? What if you’re allergic?

(He shakes his head and puts them away. He suddenly isn’t craving it.)

His obsession with you has only intensified as the year has gone on. If you ever peered into his mind, he would receive a well-deserved slap across the face.

The soulmate mark engraved down his pinky has never bothered him so badly.

It’s like you’re constantly with him—a ghost haunting him, or perhaps more like a curse. Thinking about you takes up unnecessary space in his head. Space that should be dedicated to football, and football only.

He's about to go home so he can make a list outlining the ways he can forget about you.

(Ironic, he knows, but in all honesty he already exhausted all of his options from his first list.)

But then he comes to a stop outside of his favourite café. It looks the same, even has the same advertisements plastered in the window as the last time he was here.

He hesitates at the door, but when he walks in it smells the same. It's decorated the same. Not a single table is out of place.

He walks up to his regular spot, runs his fingers along the wood where he remembers you tapping in his dream.

There's no sign of your existence here.

Rin shakes his head in annoyance, cursing himself out in his head because he was stupid enough to think he would run into you here.

Then disappointment floods his body, like a dam had been released in his chest and it's flowing unstoppably to every piece of him.

(Wait, why is he disappointed? He really needs to take a nap.)

He runs his hand through his hair as a nervous reflex, simultaneously relieved and irritated that you're nowhere to be seen.

It takes him a minute to recollect himself, to realize that he probably looks like a crazy person just standing beside an empty table like a lost child who doesn't know where to go, and decides to just go home.

He pulls into the line to get a drink for his walk home when—

"Thanks!"

His heart drops.

You waltz out of the back, tying your apron around your waist as you exchange spots in the break room with one of your coworkers.

Rin is about to die, seriously. You must be new here, since he's been to this café more times than he can count and he's never seen you before. Or was it that he was specifically looking out for you this time?

Whatever the reason, he's dumbfounded.

“Hey,” your acknowledgment makes him freeze in his spot. “Frog guy?”

He looks at you stupidly, rubbing his eyes like a cartoon character as if he’s imagining you standing right in front of him.

His gaze drifts down to your name tag, fresh and newly printed with white marker. Signed at the end is a little flower, petals swirled into tiny hearts.

Your existence before him is undeniable.

"Um. Yeah," he sputters in disbelief.

"I..." You clear your throat, looking as bewildered as he feels. "I didn't think I'd see you again."

'You're my soulmate. Of course we'd run into each other,' he thinks to himself. Out loud, though:

"Yeah. Me neither."

The person behind him in line coughs quietly, impatiently tapping their foot. Rin takes the hint and quietly tells you what he wants. You lean in across the counter to hear him better, and his face grows warm.

Once you fill in the boxes on the cup, you place it down and move it to the side for someone to fill. It catches his eye immediately.

Itoshi Rin is scribbled neatly down the side of his cup.

“How did you...?”

You awkwardly shift in your spot, evidently embarrassed as you fiddle with the strings of your apron. Then, with your own hands.

“W-Well…”

His eyes dare to drop down to where your thumb is nervously slathering up and down the name on your pinky.

“Oh.”

"Sorry, I just figured—"

"It's fine," he interrupts. Your mouth snaps shut.

Tense silence stretches thin in the air, ready to shatter at any moment. But for some reason, he feels as though he's choking on nothing.

You fumble over the emptiness, quickly snatching up the cup to make his drink yourself after deciding it's too awkward to just stand there.

He watches you in a daze, half shaken and half in awe. Never in a million years would he have thought a dream would lead him back to you.

When you turn back around with a full cup, you look equally stunned. 

“Itoshi—”

“Rin. It’s just Rin.”

You look at him in surprise, lashes fluttering rapidly as you let it sink in.

It's not your fault. You don't know that it's a sore spot that he just so happens to share the same last name with the person he despises most in the world.

It's not your fault that he has a quick temper and his voice raises slightly, enough to make you flinch back just a tiny bit.

And it's definitely not your fault that it stings so much—that he had expected you to speak to him as if you'd already known him for a lifetime and not as if you were just two strangers looking at each other from across a bar counter.

“O-Okay," you take a deep breath, cheeks puffed out and expression unreadable.

You slide the cup across the counter and he catches it in his hand.

He debates whether or not he should say more, like apologize for snapping at you. But then someone calls you by your name, and the way it rolls so beautifully off their tongue catches him off guard.

"Sorry. See you, Rin," you smile sweetly. Maybe a little awkwardly, a small step toward the one he dreamed about. And his heart is set in motion.

Rin decides that today won't be the day.

Another day, he'll be brave enough to crack a joke so dry that you try and scrub his name off your skin. And another day, he will ask for your number because, yeah, you might be the most alluring person he's ever met.

As he turns to take his leave after just staring at the spot you were standing in for a solid few seconds, he can hear some of the other baristas clamouring for you.

He doesn't want to look. Really, honestly, he doesn't. 

But he does anyway.

It's just a quick glance over his shoulder—nothing more than a fleeting moment as he takes the chance to look at you one more time.

Those two seconds is all it takes for him to realize just how much trouble he's in.

You're laughing big and toothy, waving your hand in front of your face dismissively as your coworkers poke fun at how flustered you are. Then your hands are clasped over your stomach and you've doubled down a little in your awkward fit.

His heart has never beat so loud in his own ears.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Itoshi Rin used to smile just for the sake of smiling, once upon a time.

He had aunties who would pinch him by the cheek and fawn over him, cooing about how he looked just like his mother. How his face would cherub and the apples of his cheeks were bright red. Even when he grew out of his baby face, people would tell him how wonderful his smile was.

Sae rarely ever smiled, so it was something exclusive. He never felt like he was standing in his shadow. It was special—the kind of praise only one Itoshi would know.

Rin has forgotten how to smile like that.

He smiles to be polite to his family, if ever. Even then, it's not like he owes them that much. At some point, it became too much effort. And he had no reason to do it.

It was always a tiny thought bothering him in the back of his mind:

I'll never meet my soulmate if I'm always scowling like this.

He thought that was what he wanted, anyway. He wouldn't need to worry about running into his soulmate if no one ever looked his way. If everyone feared him enough not to spare him a second glance.

He doubts everything he ever thought as he sits on the edge of his bed staring at his desk.

It's lit up by a single lamp, shining down on his empty coffee cup like a spotlight opened up by the heavens themselves.

Your phone number is written just below his name.

Rin had almost tossed it into the trash without a second thought earlier in the day. He would have, if it weren't for the loose dog that blitzed by him and made him drop it.

Fate just loves to mess with him.

He picked it up and his thumb had stopped over the number. It was written so small, as if you had wanted him to miss it. Or perhaps you wanted to test destiny yourself—to see if the planets would align and he would discover your seven digits there for him to find.

And now he's home. He's been home, just looking. Contemplating. Stressing.

He migrates from the edge of the bed and settles into his desk chair. Then he gets up, moves back to the bed, and flops down. An endless cycle, back and forth, pushing and pulling.

Rin plops down onto his desk seat and sighs in frustration, ruffling his hair around before his forehead slams into the table.

Every part of his mind screams at him to stop. To toss the cup away and forget today ever happened. His head raises from his arms and he stares at the set of numbers illuminated on the paper, taunting him. 

Finally, he exhales through his nose, sitting up straight and reaching for the cup to toss. His fingers delicately brush along your phone number.

“So dumb…” He huffs, eventually finding his phone instead and opening his contacts.

It’s nearly midnight. He tries to imagine your face as you wait by your phone for a message from him, that stupidly hopeful glimmer in your eyes, and he feels sick to his stomach as he sends it.

Rin: hey. it’s rin.

He throws his phone down on the desk again, screen down so he can’t cringe at himself. A few minutes pass in complete silence as he sulks.

He considers that you may have gone to bed already, or you were offended by the fact that he ignored your offer to connect all day and instantly blocked him. Maybe you thought he never saw your number at all.

Then his phone buzzes. His body moves on autopilot, snatching it up faster than he can realize what he’s doing. He’s halfway through the embarrassing thought that he just immediately read your message after you sent it as your text sinks in.

Unknown: hi! it’s great to hear from you ヾ(〃^∇^)ﾉ

Unknown: i was starting to think you were never gonna text lol

Rin: i wasn’t

He chews his lip for a moment before quickly following up:

Rin: but i changed my mind. just cause.

Unknown: hahaha got it got it. ‘just cause’ (˘◡˘)

Unknown: rin

Unknown: wait nvm

Unknown: whatever

Unknown: rin

Rin: what

Unknown: let’s get coffee ^ ^

He stares at the screen in disbelief, watching the typing bubble pop up and disappear again and again. He can imagine again what kind of smile you must have on your face right now, or maybe you look flustered, or maybe this all means nothing to you at all and this is your way of being polite.

Regardless of the reason, he eventually types out his response.

Rin: ok

Christ, he’s so tepid.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2020

He comes to memorize every part of you, like how the sun kisses the horizon and the moon knows the tides.

Intimately, almost—if he didn’t overthink the way your touch lingered on him he could easily ignore the way it made his heart pound in his ears.

Rin learns the feeling of your fingers against his skin as you compress an ice pack to his knee. He knows your laugh—can pick apart sarcasm from genuine cheer unlike most other people he encounters. He’s never been good at reading people yet for some reason you’ve become an open book for him. 

It’s not fair that you’ve ensnared him this way, that he can’t seem to run from you (because his favourite coffee is from your café and he can’t be bothered to find a new place). That he finds himself instinctively reaching over to his phone when he can’t sleep (he has to make sure his alarms are on, might as well text you goodnight while he’s at it). And you’ve become annoyingly comfortable (he doesn’t have an excuse for this one—your lap is just conveniently a very nice place to rest his head).

He must be an open book, too.

At some point he probably stopped trying to hide his growing feelings for you, though you either didn’t notice his sudden shift or you didn’t care.

Vulnerability has never been a part of Rin, even before Itoshi Sae ruined his life.

He despises how you so easily pry him apart, skinning him alive with your hand lathering down his chest as you laugh. 

Still, he’s grown accustomed to your fingers stringing through his hair, to the way your head tilts when he explains football plays to you, to the obvious way you fluster when he attempts (poorly) at flirting with you.

He’s gotten especially fond of the way you meet him at the end of his practices with such sweet, wandering hands—pushing the hair stuck to his forehead from sweat away from his eyes; using a towel to wipe up his neck; the squeeze you give his palms as you examine them to see if there are any new cuts and bruises.

Usually, he’s the epitome of confidence in his plays. Today, however, his cheeks burn as you approach him with the same honeyed smile.

“My shots were shoddy,” he admits before you can even get a word out. You only raise a brow, hands faltering in front of you. “That was lame.”

“I think you’re good.”

“Good,” he frowns. “But not great?”

“The greatest,” you quickly correct yourself, smiling at his cravings for praise. You’re armed with a fresh towel like you always are, reaching up to clean his face as if it’s the only thing you were born to do.

He relishes in your gentle touch, peering at you through his lashes while you prattle on about how amazing he was even though he missed half of his shots.

You were so blindly supportive, it sickens him. 

Not because he felt you were being disingenuous, but because he’s not deserving of your praise. 

For the first time in a long time, it feels as though his soul is disconnected from his body. He used to walk the earth this way—uninterested in his surroundings and obsessed with only one thing.

Itoshi Sae. Itoshi Sae. Itoshi Sae.

Suddenly, he’s thirteen again and gasping for air; screaming into his pillow and trashing their shared awards until his mother comes rushing in to stop him. He’s alone in a field, abandoned and crushed.

It’s not like he’d never lost before, even in front of you. Loss was just a part of football as much as he hated it.

But your praise only makes his stomach turn, because he knows you mean it.

You truly do believe he’s the best, when really he’s been futile in his attempts to catch up with the big brother he admired so much as a kid.

“Stop,” he gently interrupts.

Rin tries to use his hair to hide the wetness of his eyes, with little success. You can see right through him, unfortunately. It’s a talent he wishes you didn’t have.

“Rin?” You say softly, reaching up to brush the hair out of the way. He doesn’t try and back up or swat your hand away, instead letting you see his miserable expression. You sigh quietly, looking more exasperated than surprised.

“Sorry,” he mutters halfheartedly.

You shake your head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Shame boils in his stomach at your reassurance. There is something to apologize for. Here you are, supporting him with all your heart, and all he can think about is his stupid brother. How he’ll never catch up. How he’ll never be good enough.

Doesn’t your kindness warrant his attention at the very least?

“Come on,” you tug at his hand. “Let’s get you a pick-me-up.”

Rin abides silently, body following yours off the field and onto the streets though his mind has floated off elsewhere.

He tries to count how many steps you take in between the field and the destination, but loses count somewhere around three hundred. Then he moves on to counting the hairs on the back of your head. He loses count at one hundred. Eventually, he gives up and opts for staring at your conjoined hands while he lags behind.

When you come to a halt, he nearly bumps into your back.

The ringing in his ears stops as he blinks at his surroundings. Waves crash against the shore of the sandbank, singing the song of the ocean. It had been so long since Rin walked down this stretch of the shore, he almost forgot what the sea looked like.

“Wait here,” you urge as you hold him by the shoulders then disappear around the corner.

He collapses at the wall separating land from sea, swinging his legs under the railings to sit comfortably as he remembers doing when he was a kid. His gym bag is abandoned behind him, cleats and all.

When you return, you shove a popsicle into his hand.

He’s confused at first, just looking absently at the packaging. It must be for a concerning amount of time, because you eventually pipe up.

“Do you need me to open it for you?”

Rin glares at you and your teasing smile. Carefully, he unpackages the treat and pops it in his mouth.

Sweetness melts over his tongue and he exhales sharply through his nose. You watch him in amusement with your own treat stuck in your mouth.

Silence engulfs you, eating Rin from the inside out until he feels ill. He holds his half-eaten popsicle in front of him, watching it melt down his hand.

You stare at him for a second before nudging him lightly with your elbow.

“I was being serious. You were really good. I can’t even imagine playing like you do.”

Rin’s stomach turns. The last thing he wants is your pity.

“You don’t have to be so nice,” he mumbles, resting his chin on the railing. “42 percent.”

“42 percent?” You echo, peering over the railing to get a better look at his face.

“The percent of shots I made today.”

“Come on,” you urge gently. “Aren’t you being too hard on yourself?”

“If I’m not hard on myself, I’ll never—” he stops, choking lightly on his spit. When you don’t interrupt, he shoves the popsicle back in his mouth. “Whatever. You wouldn't get it.”

It’s quiet again, save for the crashing of waves upon rock. Rin thinks for a moment that maybe he had gone too far, or that his little meltdown had freaked you out.

But when he finally dares to look at you again, you’re smiling.

“Maybe not,” you admit with a whisper. “But I do know this…” You reach over and cup his cheek with your free hand, thumb sweeping the expanse of his cheek soothingly. “There is no one—and I mean no one—who works harder than you do.”

He swallows thickly, subconsciously nudging his face a little further into your palm.

“You deserve to be a little kinder to yourself.”

The way his heart catches in his throat is strange. He can’t describe it. The warmth in his belly is foreign, but it’s pleasant.

For the first time in the year he’s gotten to know you, the thought crosses his mind:

I think I’m in love with you.

Rin’s mouth opens with the idea, but he forces it shut just as fast.

Fear grips his lungs and squeezes, stealing his air and forcing him to pull away from your touch.

“Okay,” he breathes in resignation.

You seem stunned by his sudden retreat, smile faltering ever so slightly. But you recover quickly, hugging yourself as you slouch over the railing.

Conversation moves on just like that. He appreciated that about you, too. He never had to dwell.

It feels nice, everything about this; to have his legs dangling over the edge of the cement, feet barely ghosting over the surface of the water; to have a popsicle melting between his teeth while he listens to you talk.

For some reason, it feels as though he’s reclaiming lost time, reliving a moment he thought he would never have again.

When he checks his popsicle stick, it tells him he’s a winner for the first time since he was thirteen.

(He finally allows himself to believe it when your knee gently knocks into his.)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2021

“Frog cotton candy?”

“Frog shaped cotton candy,” Rin corrects, peering around the giant fluff of candy to look at you quizzically.

“Yeah,” you giggle. “But why?”

He grumbles quietly, cheeks a soft shade of pink as he shoves the treat into your hands.

“I thought you’d like it. Nevermind,” he deadpans, turning around to toss it into the garbage.

Your laugh crescendos and he feels his heart squeeze with affection. When your hand stops him by the forearm, he thinks he might explode.

“It’s cute.”

You pick apart the floss ruthlessly with your fingers, and he watches almost in a trance—hypnotized by just your existence.

(When you finally pop the sugar into your mouth, he imagines it melting on his own tongue. The thought makes him unbearably warm and he forces it away.)

His fascination with you doesn't end there.

There's a certain charm to you that he can't understand—something that draws him in, tantalizing but terrifying at the same time.

He can't help the way he watches in a daze, the way you've ensnared all his attention and taken up the space in his mind. 

Rin has never been good at being kind, but here he is.

Here he is, bringing you cotton candy because he thought it was stupid but cute.

Here he is, rolling up the sleeves of your yukata with a gentle scolding when you rush over to catch goldfish.

And here he is, letting you cling to his arm as if he's the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

He really, really hates it—how mushy you make his brain feel.

He's halfway through re-rolling your sleeves with a half-hearted scowl on his face when you stop him, hand pressed to his forearm.

“Listen, Rin.”

“Hm?” He leans down so that he can peer at your face hidden behind your almost nonexistent candy floss.

“I have to show you something.”

Rin stops dead in his tracks, raising a brow as he fully turns toward you. “What is it?”

“Can you close your eyes for me?”

His heart does a somersault in his chest. “You’re not doing anything weird, are you?”

“Who do you think I am?” You sputter.

He lets out a long sigh before complying, squeezing his eyes shut. After a long silence, he considers peeking a little bit.

That is, until he feels your breath gently fanning over his parted lips.

Nearly leaping back, he wills himself to stay grounded and slowly slides his hands up your arms until he gets to your shoulders. As he imagined, your body is impossibly close to his.

It takes every bit of concentration he has not to waver. If he really tries, he can focus on how your breath smells sweet of candy. How your hair blows softly with the summer breeze, tickling his cheeks. How you smell. How you breathe.

(Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His heart is about to beat out of his chest. Is that okay?)

You tense up in his hold and suddenly you’re retreating from him, swiftly pulling out of his arms. Just as he’s about to ask you what happened, there’s a piece of candy shoved into his mouth.

“You wanted to try it, didn’t you?” You ask rather breathlessly. He opens his eyes, looking at you curiously.

Rin has never seen this expression on you before, lips pulled tight in embarrassment and pupils blown. You look more like a wild animal caught in a cage than someone who just made a move on him.

He gingerly takes the empty paper cone from your hands and folds it up, no longer able to meet your gaze lest he explode on the spot.

“Yeah,” he says softly, shuffling over to dump it into a bin. “Thanks.”

When he turns around to look at you again, his breath gets caught in his throat.

Why are you laughing?

You giggle into your palm, hiding your gleeful smile from him as you double over slightly.

“Your face is all red!” You holler.

He grunts in embarrassment, using the back of his hand to hide his own face. “Shut the hell up,” he spits.

“It’s almost like you wanted me to kiss you!”

“Oh my god, please drop it.”

“No way! I’ve never seen you look like that before!”

(‘Speak for yourself,’ he thinks.)

“So what if I did?”

Your laughter halts as if it was swallowed into the pits of your stomach. Slowly unraveling to stand up straight, he sees another expression he’s never been able to imagine on you, but he can’t quite place it.

“Did what?” You murmur.

“Want you to kiss me.”

Your face is warm under the glow of lanterns, eyes shimmering with the overhead lights. Rin watches your mouth open and close repeatedly as you try and formulate some sort of response.

A firework explodes atop of you, and he wonders if it just saved you.

You seem jarred for only a moment more until you jolt, grabbing him roughly by the arm and giving him a pull.

“I just remembered,” you gasp. “I actually did have something to show you!”

Rin doesn’t get a word in before you’re dragging him along by the arm. With each boom of an explosion, your footsteps pick up, building into a full blown sprint out of the festival grounds and through the thicket.

You tug him along, guiding him by the hand through the winding path of trees and logs. His stamina is better than yours but you’re pushing up the hill despite your huffing and puffing—it makes him laugh with you.

When you break free of the forest, Rin’s eyes focus on a field of plush grass and buttercups.

You let go of his hand, flinging yourself forward and spinning on your heel to exaggerate how wide the opening is with your arms.

“Isn’t it great?” You shout over the fireworks. “Away from the crowd!”

He rushes up to you so that you can stop yelling, invading your personal space until you can hear him just at his normal volume.

“It’s perfect,” he tells you earnestly.

You grin up at him widely before pulling him along to the edge of the clearing. You plop down together, eyes glued to the sky as the fireworks rage on.

Rin only lasts a few seconds before his eyes drift to the side, trying to drink in your expression. It’s become a habit of his to try and imprint your very existence into his brain.

Against his better judgment, his hand creeps toward yours until your fingers are overlapped.

Thankfully, you don’t use the opportunity to tease him about it, instead shifting a little closer until you’re practically burrowed into his side. If it were anyone else, he would have shoved them away.

(When did he stop trying to push you away?)

When your pinkies slowly close together, he feels as if he can’t breathe properly.

Mark-to-mark, it’s as though he is full of all the love he’s ever felt for you from every life—past or future. Like there’s a love that exists within him that transcends lifetimes, if it were even possible.

If he were to peer into another dimension, would you still be together like this? Would you be plucking buttercups and mindlessly twirling them between your fingers? Would he be itching to envelop you in his arms just to devour you?

His thoughts cease when you take a deep breath.

“I used to come here alone,” you admit.

“No one took you?” He asks. Your gaze is piercing the night sky, never leaving the show. He can see the bloom of colours in them.

“Not since I was little, but I always loved it here.”

The question burns hot in Rin’s mind: even if it was a little lonely sometimes?

He remembers back to the night that he first saw you, with your hands dipping into the murky waters of a frog pond and an air of desolation surrounding you. Then he remembers how he couldn’t sleep that night. Not with the image of you crouching there alone burned into his memory.

“Did you know this festival is a celebration of love?” He suddenly asks.

Oh what the fuck? Oh, god. Why did he say that?

That was so lukewarm of him. So stupid. So pointless and lame.

He just wanted something to say to you, something that would make him stop thinking about how you might have been alone for all that time before you knew him.

The silence burns between you, tense and awkward until he starts stuttering out something else to fill the void. But then you look at him, slow and intrigued and so damn amused that he can feel heat rising to the tips of his ears.

“I had no idea.”

There’s a longing in your expression that tells a different story. A twitch of your pinky against his that gives away your blatant lie.

And, damnit. Here he is again, four years later under the same stars. Under the same fireworks. Only this time, he’s able to see your face even closer as it lights up a million different colours—teal like his eyes; rose like his cheeks; golden like the heart he’s tried so hard to protect.

Four years later and he still thinks you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen: pinkies interlocked, sheepish smile on your face, an undeniable shake in your voice that means you have more that you’re too nervous to say.

For a moment he considers finally letting go of all the things keeping him bolted and chained where he stands, swallowing the key to the cage surrounding his fragile, thumping heart. And for that fleeting second, he feels as though he’s the bravest man alive—that nothing could stop him even if you were to turn away and snub him out with the heel of your foot.

But how could he open his mouth and tell you anything when all he feels is the sick twisting of his stomach, the daunting glare of the older brother he adored so much, and the coldness of snow soaking his clothes as he sits in a field and cries?

There’s a burning, raging fire within him. Something primal and afraid and unchanging despite how much he wants to fall into your arms the way your shared etchings say he should.

It screams at him: run away. Run. Run. Run. This will only end in hurt.

He’s too fucked up. Too messed in the head and too quick to anger because he’s actually soft at heart, easy to betray—

“Rin.”

Your hand swiftly captures his face and he’s dragged unceremoniously out of his reverie.

Of course you would be able to pick out his turmoil by expression alone. By the droop of his lips into a frown—not the annoyed one he would flash his teammates, or the grimace he would scare children away with. The kind that’s sad and slow and timid, like an animal caught in a net.

“I’m really happy that we’re friends.”

“Friends?” He breathes, half confused and half incredulous.

Deep down he knows that it’s an attempt to comfort him without being too sappy. Maybe you can sense it somewhere in your soul that he would probably break down and sob if you were to make him feel any more vulnerable than he already is with you. It’s an effort to take away whatever guilt he feels and give him a chance to relax.

However, he can see a different tale in your eyes.

Loneliness as empty as the sky on a cloudy night. A yearning for more, for someone, for him, to fill the gap. I’m tired of waiting. That’s all he can read beneath the sea of colour exploding in your irises.

It only makes him feel worse, but he allows himself to be lied to anyway if only to feel the warmth of your skin against his just a bit longer.

“Yeah.”

Your pinky twitches again. He can feel the brush of your name against his, the grate of your matching soul marks. Your eyes tear away from his and are glued to the infinite sky above once more. To the stars you know are there but are covered by smoke and fire.

Rin only stares at you. He can’t focus on the explosions of fireworks anymore, not when you’re right in front of him looking so perfect. His summer treasure.

“Yeah?”

He knows he sounds dumb, repeating everything like an oaf who can’t fathom what’s being said. You giggle and it floors him.

“Just being able to stand here with you—” you glance at him again, only for a second. He can see the exhaustion in that moment, but he’s too selfish to pry. “—I think I’m the luckiest person alive.”

“Even if…” He swallows harshly. It feels like shrapnel cutting down his throat. “Even if I can’t be more?”

“Even so.”

There’s a pause and you open your mouth to say more, maybe to give him an ultimatum or to elaborate on your feelings, but then you’re interrupted by the end of the display.

Counteless fireworks explode above you in the finale. Rin can hear the awestruck gasps of families down the hill, the distant cries of children and the faint shutter of cameras filling the air.

He realizes then: he’s been smiling. His cheeks hurt from how big it’s gotten. And you’re smiling at him, too.

(The fireworks rage on, but in the end, all he can look at is you.)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2022

Falling in love with Itoshi Rin was one of the most foolish, most wonderful things that could have happened to you.

He was an enigma in and of itself, a mystery of a soulmate who was able to love you wholeheartedly and push you away at the same time.

There were nights where you would stay up wondering why he was your soulmate when it seemed like all he wanted to be was alone. Other times, you fell asleep smiling to yourself knowing that somewhere deep down you both belonged to each other. 

The universe chose you. The universe chose him. It was indisputable, yet you still had doubts.

Tonight is one of those “foolish” nights. It seems as though you have been stood up.

For three hours you’ve waited in the same spot at the gates of the festival, watching families and couples pass by but never the one person you’d wait until the end of the world for. The sun has long since gone to sleep over the horizon and the streets are fully lit up with lanterns for the festivities.

6 pm. That was the time Rin promised he would meet you. In the past, he was always late but at least had the decency to tell you beforehand that you could go ahead without him. Only when you arrived and sat down to wait for him had he finally messaged you.

Rin: gonna be late. see you at 7.

7 pm. That was the rescheduled time. It was when you expected to see him walking up to you in his yukata that you begged him to wear this year, matching adoringly with yours. And at 7 pm you would tell him. You would tell him everything.

For months prior you had practiced almost pathetically so, recited and perfected your speech while staring at your reflection in a mirror. You’d written him a letter, too.

7 pm. You were finally going to thank Rin for everything. For accompanying you to such a silly festival even though you know he loathes it. For meeting you under the stars and the moon and the fireworks time and time again. For bringing life back into a childhood memory that you had long since hated.

7 pm. You were going to tell him thank you. You were going to tell him you loved him, just as it had been written in the stars many years before you were born.

It’s 9 pm, nearing 10 and the start of the fireworks show. He missed the entire night without explanation.

At 9:58 pm, just as you’re about to give up all hope, you finally come face to face with teal eyes and a stupidly handsome face sheen with sweat. It shouldn’t hurt so much, the way he looks at you so dismissively as if he hadn’t blown you off all night. 

“Sorry,” he mutters disingenuously, attempting to brush past you without a second thought. “Let’s go, I’m thirsty.”

He has his gym bag slung over his shoulder and a windbreaker over his uniform. No sign of the yukata you had picked out for him to wear.

You don’t follow him, staring at his back in disbelief. When he realizes you aren’t trailing behind, he turns on his heel and raises a brow in question. “Are you coming?”

“I was waiting for you all night,” you tell him coldly. I was waiting for you all this time and you never showed up. 

He swallows thickly, suddenly overcome by guilt because of your downcast expression. “I know. I lost track of time.”

“Lost track of time?” You scoff incredulously. Your mouth opens as if you have more to say, but you’re interrupted by a bang.

Rin’s eyes flutter closed. He can’t listen to this. He can’t watch.

He knows this all too well. He knew it all along.

The universe was wrong. Itoshi Rin was never cut out to be someone’s soulmate.

“We’re missing it…”

Your back is turned to him but all he can imagine is the terrible expression you must be making right now, twisted in sadness and anger. The worse image is a completely blank face—unfeeling and cold. He doesn’t even want to think about it.

Booms echo in the distance yet all he can focus on is the faint hum in his ears, the horrible churning in his stomach and the fog of guilt clouding his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly that he’s sure you can’t even hear him under the deep, bellowing explosions over the horizon.

He doesn’t remember the last time he apologized for anything like this. Being cold and aloof was just in his nature. Never before had he felt like it was necessary to be remorseful for the way he is—for how he was made to be.

The slight tremble of your shoulders and the way you use the back of your sleeves to wipe tears from your eyes force the words out of him before he can stop it. He tells you again,

“I’m sorry.”

He weakly attempts to grab you by the arms, holding you from behind so he can make you look at him. You jerk away fast as lightning, knocking him away as you swivel around to glare.

“Why didn’t you come?” You demand. There’s anger shaking in your voice. Rin doesn’t know how to respond to it, not when you’ve always been so understanding and kind. Perhaps he was too cruel for you if he was going to break you this way.

“I got caught up with—”

“With football, right?” You laugh bitterly, taking a generous step back. Hurt pours from every inch of your expression and all it does is make his heart ache.

“Stop,” he suddenly snaps. You flinch at his tone and shrink back, only adding to his guilt. He always had the worst temper. “Don’t be like this. You know it was important,” he explains, gentler this time. Softer, trying to coax you back over.

There’s a beat of complete silence, save for the hollowed explosions in the distance. Rin blinks at you a couple times before his frayed nerves finally calm again. And then he realizes something terrible.

The look in your eyes, the deflation of your shoulders—this is what utter defeat looks like. For a moment deja vu rushes through his blood, bringing him back to a time when he too felt as miserable as you. 

Every year he’s had the opportunity to read your expression: I’m tired of waiting. But he always foolishly assumed you would still wait around for him forever. That your patience would be as infinite as the stars in the sky. That just because he had the privilege of having his name scrawled down your pinky, he would be guaranteed to have you.

It was disgustingly selfish.

Just as he opens his mouth to apologize again, you storm up to him and shove the piece of paper roughly into his chest. With the closed gap, he can clearly see the tears streaming down your face illuminated by warm lanterns.

“Just forget it.”

“Wait—” He catches your wrist as you push past him, stopping you in your tracks again despite your struggle to get away. “Come on, I said I’m sorry!”

“Rin,” you sniffle, voice breaking with just the syllable of his name. It makes him falter. “I’m tired.”

“But—”

“You can’t even spare me one night? Just this one night in the entire year?” You breathe, no longer trying to dance around the subject. “What is it with you? What are you so afraid of?”

Being put in the spotlight never bothered Rin before. It was easy enough to ignore when all his life he was watched carefully. But it’s different with you; you’re the only one looking at him in this moment yet it feels like the weight of a million pairs of eyes at once.

An answer comes quickly to his mind, almost natural. He knows exactly what’s wrong with him.

He’s afraid of being left behind again. Of being hurt. Rin is terrified of love and being loved because he’s too pathetically fragile.

The pieces of his heart are clumsily glued together and he’s scared that even the smallest turbulence would send it shattering into a billion shards again. He doesn’t know how to put himself back together properly anymore. 

Itoshi Sae permanently fucked him up.

Though they were on slightly better terms now, the scars would always haunt him. The simple solution is to shut everyone else out, to protect the weak heart he harbours.

If he told you that, would you understand? Or would you try and claw his name off your skin?

You take his silence as an answer and pry away from him again, holding yourself protectively—guarding yourself from the catastrophe that follows Rin wherever he goes.

“Goodbye, Rin.”

He doesn’t watch you go. 

The nearest bench becomes his temporary home. He could do hundreds of plays in a football game and never tire, but for some reason your disdain has sucked every ounce of energy from his body.

It doesn’t register that he’s still holding the paper you forced into his hands until it crinkles in his hold. He slowly unfolds it revealing ink sloppily smeared across the page.

And then he reads it. Again. And again. And again, until it’s shaking in his hold. Until the dull ache in his heart feels like the pierce of a knife. 

Rin doesn’t know what to do anymore. He’s always had one clear goal for his entire life, but now everything is all muddled. Messy, like everything else he touches.

He turns everything into a disaster.

Does he chase after you and risk having his fragile heart broken all over again? Does he risk being left behind or does he close off the gate for that option entirely? He could sit in his cowardice and never change, preserving his heart forever in this moment of time; a polaroid in the slideshow of his mortality.

There’s a familiarity to this all. Perhaps he had lived through this decision a million lives before this. Maybe he would live through it again an infinite amount of times, so long as it was your name etched into his skin.

Was he as messed up in this life as he was in every other?

If he had ruined everything in this life, if he made the wrong choice and drove you away in hatred until you drew your last breath, then maybe he could make it all up to you in the next one.

Or, if that were the case, maybe he was born into this world only to love you—to make up for the millenia where he ran away.

Rin’s legs have never moved so fast. Not in football. Not even from his brother. If you were the light at the end of the tunnel then he would keep chasing you forever, he thinks. Until his wounded heart gave out.

Of all the stupid decisions he’s made in his life, have any of them amounted to anything? He’s going to give it one last try. One more chance to prove to himself that not everything he touches burns to ashes.

“Wait!”

You visibly startle, eyes wide as you turn to see Rin dashing toward you. He doesn’t give you even a moment to ask questions, to wonder why he’s coming back to break your heart again. 

You’re engulfed in a hug faster than you can blink, stumbling back from the force of his body colliding with yours until your sandals get kicked off your feet.

“Rin?” You murmur his name in disbelief, breathless even though you weren’t the one sprinting down the road.

“Just give me one more chance,” he stammers out. You can feel the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders as he holds you and fights for air simultaneously. Your hands twitch at your sides but you remain lifeless in his arms.

He tries again: “Let me prove it to you. Let me prove that it wasn’t some freak accident that led me to you. That my name on your skin is meant to be there.”

“Don’t do this,” you tell him quietly, lips brushing against his ear as you speak. “I don’t want to be loved and feared at the same time.”

“But…” Rin squeezes your body against his, almost desperately. Clinging to what he has ruined. “For once in my life, I want something more.”

I don’t want to be alone anymore.

You hesitantly shift, hands slowly trailing up his back until your body is curling against his. He can trace the outline of your body against his, like a puzzle piece that he was missing slotted perfectly in his grasp.

“I thought my soulmate would only slow me down and break me. I was wrong. I know that now.”

He slowly rocks your bodies back and forth. You pull away until your eyes meet his, red with tears. It’s the messiest he has ever seen you, but his heart refuses to be still. It aches.

Beautiful. It’s the only word he can describe you with. It didn’t matter if you were lit up under the wondrous sky, or handing him coffee in a crowded café, or sobbing in his arms. 

You would only ever be his infinitely beautiful soulmate.

It’s the only constant he would have in this life and every other, even if you were to break his heart. It would be the single greatest achievement in his time, above football, above any of his petty competitions—that your name is etched down his pinky.

It scares him. It thrills him.

With the distant roar of fireworks, he kisses you. And you allow him, hiccuping against his lips as you cry.

You stay like that for a long time, listening to the hollow shockwaves of fireworks exploding miles away. He’s the first to draw back, raking in shallow breaths. You chase him, finding solace against his lips once more but not fully indulging him with another kiss.

“Do you fear me?” You whisper into his mouth.

“More than anything,” he tells you.

“Do you love me?”

After a moment of contemplation, he answers,

“More than anything.”

You nod slowly, awkwardly pulling away from him and taking a step back. It’s your first kiss and you don’t know where you’re supposed to look anymore. Rin stops your nervous shifting with his hand swooping under your chin.

“One year. I promise.” You look at him in confusion, so he continues. “Next year, when the season and my contract are over, I’ll meet you there. At the pond.”

You seem skeptical still, with your brows knitted together and a lost haze in your eyes. He raises his pinky, the one with your name forever grafted into the skin, and offers it to you.

“I pinky promise.”

It’s so ridiculous, wearing his heart on his sleeve with something he learned about on playgrounds when he was a child. A pinky promise shouldn’t mean any more than the words he has already spoken. But for some reason, your eyes light up.

He feels nothing but relief when your pinkies lock together.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“You’ll wait for me?”

“Rin.” His name leaves you in a breathless laugh that makes his world spin. It sounds so tired yet so sweet. “I’ve been waiting all my life.”

“I’m sorry,” he says once more for good measure. You nod. A wordless acceptance.

Itoshi Rin is your soulmate. It’s not like that fact will ever change no matter the time, no matter the distance.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2023

Fate is a funny thing. Soulmates are a funny thing.

The universe threw Rin curveball after curveball, beating him down until he was nothing but a husk heavenly built for one purpose only: beat Sae. Beat Itoshi Sae.

There were times when he would lay awake at night wondering why he was given this life, why he was thrust into hardship and hurt and betrayal. How could something so perfect, something so all-knowing, be so cruel?

For as long as the name had been grafted into his skin, he resented the idea of a soulmate.

He hated the idea that only one person in the world would be his eternal weakness. That one day, one person would hold every piece of his soul in their hands. Even then, his soulmate was the other half of him—his salvation. His downfall.

They would know every inch of his skin. Every bleeding wound of his heart. Every bruise and scar along his legs from cleats and nails and gravel. Having a soulmate meant having every part of him exposed, to be judged and worshiped at the same time.

At your hands, though, he’s certain this is what he was born for—to spend the rest of his days by your side even if you were doing something as mundane as catching frogs together.

“You’re scaring them,” you hiss quietly.

Your fingers sink into the pond and Rin watches your reflections ripple as water fills your palms. Your faces contort and meld into one being. In some ways, it’s a familiar feeling—to have been intertwined with you since his very conception.

“You’re terrible at this.”

“It’s your fault!”

“Right,” he deadpans. “You haven’t caught a single one all night.”

“You were late,” you remind him with a huff, cheeks inflated. “Before you got here I was catching frogs all night. Coincidence?”

Rin makes another noise, something akin to a snort. But he doesn’t acknowledge your statement, instead reaching over to gingerly roll the sleeves of your yukata up to your elbows.

“Are you always so sloppy? Your sleeves are getting all wet.”

You glare at him from the side, delivering a deadly warning. “Are you always such a pain in the ass?”

“I get it, I get it. I said I was sorry for being late. Nii-chan really wanted to try that new ice cream place downtown.”

Your gaze drifts to him in the shimmering reflection, watching his smile soften at the mention of his big brother. It was wonderful that they were trying to patch things up.

Sae had decided to come home after all, promising Rin that they would play together again once they both took a well deserved break.

You could tell that Rin was trying his best not to make a big deal out of it, but the way he cried into your shoulder later that night said it all.

“I feel bad having you come all the way out here just to see me. Your brother is back in Japan isn’t he?”

“Yeah. And he wants to meet you.”

You nearly fall over. “What?”

“Please don’t look so starstruck about that. I feel sick.”

Laughing, you recentre yourself, sitting back on your heels with your hands on your knees. “Sorry, sorry! It’s not that…”

Rin raises a brow. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“It’s just—” you fumble, cheeks burning hot at the idea of being introduced to Rin’s family after all these years. Formally, as his partner. His soulmate. The name they had all known since he was thirteen. “What would I even say to him?”

He looks at you in bewilderment. Then, he snickers, only laughing harder when you smack his arm.

“Don’t worry about that,” he assures, reaching out to pat the top of your head. “Just be yourself. My family will love you.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, studying your reflections in the water with a soft smile. You’re staring right back at yourself, but Rin is only looking at you.

“I haven’t done anything special.”

“You lit up my world,” you laugh, turning back up to look at him properly. You make a mini explosion with your hands. “Boom! Like that. A firework.”

“You’re too corny,” he murmurs in embarrassment, turning his head away to hide his flushed face. “Can’t you explain it like a normal person?”

“No can do,” you tell him, voice gentler this time. After a pause, you shuffle your sandals around in the mud and take a deep breath. “If you want me to be totally serious…”

You lunge over and tackle him into your arms. He nearly loses his balance holding the both of you upright, stumbling back on his heels before he catches your waist. You don’t seem to share the sentiment of staying pristine, knees digging into the dirt as you squeeze him tighter.

Rin feels his heart catch in his throat the same way you’ve made it for the last six years.

“Thank you. For letting me love you. For being my soulmate.”

His hand is automatically in your hair, scratching your scalp as he smiles into your shoulder.

“I’m sure I gave you nothing but a hard time,” he grumbles.

“But I still love you.”

“Even though you had to wait?”

“Even so.”

“And that I’m a pain in the ass?”

“Even then, I do.”

Rin burrows himself into your neck, hiding his face again. It does a poor job at masking the kind of expression he’s making, though, considering how warm his skin is.

“What if I’m not good enough?”

He feels terrible—guilty that he needs to keep having this conversation with you. But you always comfort him the same way. He hopes you always will.

Drawing his head up with your muddy hands, you dirty his cheeks just to get a glimpse of him. You murmur a half-hearted sorry for making a mess.

Then you’re kissing him.

“I’ll be here to remind you how much I cherish you.”

You nip his bottom lip and he opens wider. You whisper into his mouth,

“And how happy I am that Itoshi Rin was born into this world.”

Itoshi Rin, broken. He who thought that he could never be put back together.

Itoshi Rin, vengeful. He who believed the only happiness that existed for him in this world was to surpass his brother.

Itoshi Rin, who did not believe in his soulmate while staring right at them. And Itoshi Rin, who finally allowed himself to love you wholly, completely, as it was written in the stars.

“I love you,” he says, as if just those three words could encapsulate everything he feels for you.

“Always?” You giggle. He rolls his eyes. 

“Wherever you are, and wherever you may be, I will.”

You kiss him one more time for good measure.

“That was corny.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2024

“No peeking.”

Rin folds up his piece of paper and hangs it from the bamboo tree. You’re tugging him along before he can even properly check to see if it’s been secured.

“Come on, I don’t want to miss the fireworks!”

He wouldn’t miss them for the world. You’ve always looked the most beautiful under the brightened summer sky.

The wish he scribbled down blows softly in the breeze as both of you rush by, back to the festival where it all began.

7 July 2024. I wish I had the words to tell you how much I love you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

extra notes. hi! if you made it this far, i'd like to give you the warmest most grateful thank you ever ( ´ ω `)

so, here it is. i've been working on this since last september-ish... for some people that amount of time is not much, but genuinely, i've never devoted so much attention and time to one single fic and i hope i did this one justice. rin has always been a guilty pleasure of mine to write for. i hope this man stays far far away from me until i can stomach even looking at his name again LOL ‾́ ◡ ‾́

also i finally admitted defeat and took out all my pictures and dividers because tumblr was fighting my posts that had any. so... sorry the formatting looks like this

additional tags: @jenoutof10 @hanrinz @itoshiexx lol hi guys it made it out of the drafts i hope you like it

---

(lucky for you) we’re just friends

lee haechan x gn!reader

wc: 6.6k

summary: haechan realizes, for once in his life, he doesn’t know what to do. he's in love with his best friend, and he's sure you don't like him the same way. do you think about him as much as he thinks about you?

warnings: angst, little fluff, bittersweet, unrequited feelings, jealously, argument, confession, dialogue heavy, end of a friendship

heavily inspired by like a friend - pulp

this is part 1 of the how it all goes series!

haechan can feel how his heart pounds in his chest, aching and yearning for something he can’t quite reach.

he’s someone who tries hard to get what he wants, and most of the time, being able to achieve that. he believes if he wants something that bad, then there should be no reason why he shouldn’t be able to get it. he’ll learn, he’ll adapt, he’ll make any changes needed. but now, as he lays in bed within the darkness of his room, he feels lost. nothing’s ever quite compared to this feeling, a feeling of longing for something.

something called you.

he has his phone on his chest, feeling the buzzing of notifications as you text him. you asked if you could come over, despite how late it is and how rain currently is pummeling down. he couldn’t say no to you, his best friend. while he’d be normally happy to see you, he was busy thinking of how it would feel to kiss you before you texted him. he can’t bring himself to pick up his phone, not really sure what to say.

it’s not until he hears knocks at his door that makes him get up. he opens it, and there you are, your jacket drenched in rain while you smile at him. he can’t help the smirk that forms on his face, mirroring your own. he pulls you inside, away from the cold rain and into his warm apartment. you peel your jacket off before pulling haechan into a hug, nuzzling into his shoulder. he can feel how cold you are, his arms hesitantly wrapping around you.

“sorry for coming so late,” you sigh, “just wanted to see you.”

“long day?”

“horribly long. it’s like god was testing me or something.”

haechan laughs as you pull yourself away from him, plopping down on his couch, taking up most of the space. haechan squeezes himself in the small spot left, one hand finding your knee as he tries to comfort you. despite the tiredness of your voice, your eyes shine when they make eye contact with his, almost as if he's healing you.

you start, “i almost ended up not coming here, i thought you fell asleep on me,” he shakes his head, “you weren’t answering me.”

“i was just… in the bathroom.” he lies.

you hum, glancing at him one last time before pulling out your phone. it’s quiet, and haechan can hear the light sound of rain thrumming against his window. you’re here, taking up all his space, not bothering to move you out of the way. whatever’s his is yours, he thinks. he turns to you again, notices how you’re typing on your phone, your attention pulled away from him. he makes a show of grabbing your phone from you, whines coming from your mouth as you try to grab it.

“no phone time when you’re here with me!” he huffs, “you asked to be here so late, so now you have to pay attention to me.”

you frown as you try once more to reach for your phone. haechan laughs loudly at you, enjoying how hard you’re trying. “say please, haechan. maybe even a pretty please, haechan will do!”

you glare at him, inhaling a big breath of air before saying, “pretty please, haechan.”

he cooes at you sweetly before precariously handing your phone back to you. you sigh, now fully seated up as you lean into his side. you miss how he flinches at your touch, how his eyes dart nervously to yours. you lean your head onto his shoulder, eyes closing as he wraps an arm around you.

he likes how this feels, likes how you just come to him no matter how much he annoys you. he wonders if you’re like this with anyone else, wonders if you’d still smile at them if they annoyed you as much as he did. he doesn’t like the thought, biting on his tongue at the uncomfortable feeling inside of him.

he looks to see you now scrolling through instagram, not noticing the longing looks that haechan sends your way. you surprise him when you tiredly look up at him, seeing him slightly flustered for a second before pushing it away. it’s bittersweet, having you like this knowing he’ll never really have you like this. at least not in the way he wants.

he’ll let you do this as many times as you want. he’ll let you take over his mind if you need to.

you: haechannn

you: come pick me upplzzzz

it’s two in the morning and haechan can hear two buzzes coming from his phone. it’s you, probably drunk, asking for a ride home. he’d normally go out to party with you, but one essay and one shift later, he was stuck to his bed. as much as he’d like to go back to sleep, you’re more important. he grabs whatever clothes are closest to him, shoving his keys and wallet into his pockets before driving off.

he has the address from when you had asked him if he wanted to go. but as he pulls up to the place, there is quite literally no spot for him to park. he parks down the street, having to walk a good eight minutes down to the house. he slips past the people outside, into the house that’s filled. despite the amount of people there, he can easily spot you from far away. of course he would, he thinks, you shine the brightest to him.

he taps your shoulder, and as you turn towards him, he can see the growing grin on your face. it’s easy to tell that you’re drunk, the hooded eyes and lazy smile on your face proving it.

“haechan,” you drag his name out, “you don’t know how much i missed you,” you whine into his neck as your throw your arms over his shoulders. he tries to stop the blush on his face from forming from your warm breath on his neck, but fails when he feels your nose nuzzling against his skin. he doesn’t try to pry you off of him, deciding in this one moment to indulge in your touch.

“come on, we gotta get you home so you can sober up.”

he drags you away, saying goodbye to your friends as you both walk out. you lean against him as you both walk down the street, his body warm compared to the cool night. his hand is wrapped around your waist, leaning into your touch. it feels so normal like this, so used to the thoughts of you two together like this playing in his head late at night. he’s not sure if this will ever happen like he wants it to, holding onto you a little tighter than before.

the streets are illuminated by orange street lights, shining down the both of you as the loud music begins to fade as you walk away. he can feel you stumble, him helping you back up as you smile at him. he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to pretend that your smile doesn’t play in his mind constantly. it hurts having you this close, but it hurts even more knowing you probably don’t feel the same way as him.

in the current turmoil of his mind, one thought is louder than the rest. he doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t even want to think it. he tries to push it away, but when he looks as sees the sweet smile on your face, three words begin to form in his throat. he can’t help it, the words begin to bubble up, threatening to slip out of his mouth. before he can stop it, his mouth opens up, sucking in a breath until-

“haechan… you take such good care of me… you’re such a good friend.”

your words are whispered into the cold air. haechan’s mouth shuts, the words dying in his throat as new thoughts are replaced in his mind. he’s only your friend. no matter what he wishes, what he wants, what he feels like he needs, he’ll never get it. this time, there’s no way for him to work to get it- to get you. the smile on your face tells him what you said is real, genuine words despite how drunk you are.

he feels a little stupid as you make it to his car. he opens the door for you, letting you stumble into the passenger seat. once he’s in, he buckles your seat belt, successfully getting you away from the cold and into the safety of his car. he sees how your eyes shut, how your body naturally leans towards his. it’s stupid for him to think that there’s any way that you might like him back.

he grips the wheel, bites his tongue, fighting back words of a confession to your tired mind. he can’t do that to you, and decides it’s better to drive off into the night.

he unlocks his apartment for you, opening the door and taking you straight to his bathroom. he washes your face to the best of his ability, rinses your mouth out with water, and hands you a cup of water. you whine, but he sternly tells you to drink it. after more complaints, you eventually listen to him, gulping it all down.

he didn’t mean to have you come over. you asked if you could in the middle of your car nap, eyes still closed as you spoke. he can’t say no to you. he eyes you, your party clothes still wrapped around you as you gulp down the water. he offers you some of his clothes, and you happily accept them.

“won’t you let me sleep with you, haechan? it’s too cold for you to be alone on the couch tonight.”

you knew him, knew how he’d give you his whole room to himself. he tries to argue with you, but you pull him down next to you. your arms wrap around his body as you nuzzle your neck into his shoulder. if this were any other day, haechan would play along, trying to annoy you. but tonight, his heart is aching while wrapped in your arms.

he loves you.

“... and so i was about to fight my professor, he just wasn’t- hey, haechan? are you even listening?”

haechan tears his gaze off of you from far away. you’re sitting next to your own friends who he doesn’t really talk to. you pay no attention to him, probably not even aware he’s in the dining hall at the same time as you. you look nice right now, smiling and laughing, leaning onto the person at your side. he wonders if you’re talking about him, wonders if you bring him up as much as he talks about you.

he’s taken away from his thoughts as renjun snaps his fingers in front of him, glaring straight at him. haechan sends a pretty smile at renjun, hand on his cheek as he puts all his attention on him, “continue.”

“do you even know what i was talking about?”

“something about… a fight… and your professor…”

renjun huffs, turning around and scanning the room to find what haechan was so distracted with, “if you were paying attention to what i was saying, you would’ve known that the fight would’ve been- oh. oh.”

haechan looks away, eyebrows furrowed knowing that renjun had seen you. it’s stupid, haechan thinks, how you take all his attention. haechan wasn’t even supposed to be here, his class was cancelled, joining renjun to go grab lunch. if he had known you would be here, he would’ve asked to do something else. it’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to you, but he doesn’t want to think about the other night.

“haechan, you can’t keep doing this.”

“doing what? looking at my literal best friend?”

“you know that’s not what i’m talking about.”

haechan sighs, trying to move on. he pushes the food on his plate around, trying to push all thoughts of you out of his mind. he just can’t stop thinking about you. he wonders if there might be any way for you to see him more than what he is- a friend. he can’t force you to like him, can’t force you to think about him. all these feelings for you are building up inside of him, and it only gets worse when he sees you.

haechan looks at renjun, really looks at him and asks, “is there anything i can do about this?”

renjun looks a little startled by his seriousness, “if i’m speaking honestly, there’s not a lot. if you’re the only one feeling like this, then what else is there left to do?”

“it’s just… the other night, we were walking together, and i just felt… it felt different. i realized that i have all these feelings but there’s nothing i can do about them. they have nowhere to go.”

it hurts to think about, and with a quick glance, he sees your smiling face once more. you’re free from worry, free from the stress of knowing how haechan feels. seeing you puts a smile on his own face. if he were just your friend, he’d walk over, say hi, and sit. but he’s here, sat with renjun, talking about how you don’t want him. how you supposedly don’t want him. although it hurts, it’s funny to think about how there might not be anything between you two anymore.

renjun doesn’t laugh, doesn’t get annoyed, he just breathes out, “i don’t think it’s going to happen the way you want it to.”

haechan plays with his fingers, “i know.”

haechan has to pick you up after class today.

he hasn’t seen you in person since the party night. he’s of course texted you, never fully being able to pull away from you. you draw him in every single time, texts filled up with pictures with a text saying this is us. while haechan is fighting to keep everything in, you’re sending him posts that remind you of him. the small gesture makes his heart swell, body aching to be with yours again. it’s only been like, three days, he reminds himself, i’m acting like i’m dying.

he swallows down his feelings, turning on his car and blasting a song to try to think of something else. he can’t, thinking of you sitting in the passenger seat humming along to the song. he thinks about laughing at you when you sing off-key, thinks about how you ask him to sing instead. he thinks he can sing every single song in the world if it would make you happy.

after an excruciatingly long ride, he finally makes it to your class’s building. you let him know you’d be waiting outside, and as haechan pulls up, he sees you. except, you’re with someone else, laughing along with someone that haechan has never seen before. he bites his lip, grips down onto the steering wheel as the sickly feeling of jealousy pools in his body. he honks his cars horn, thinking it might be the only way to get your attention.

you’re startled out of your conversation, turning to find the source of the sound, finding haechan sitting in his car. there’s a smile etched on his face, but his eyes show something else you can’t quite pick out. he watches you say goodbye to this random person, watches as you walk to his car, sliding yourself in. he can’t stay upset too long, tries to shove down the feelings almost slip out.

“hey, haechan. should’ve texted me that you were here, i swear i almost died when you honked.”

“it wouldn’t have been a problem if you weren’t so busy talking to whoever that was.” he bites the inside of his cheek as he drives off to your apartment. he’s supposed to hang out with you, but he’s not sure what’s about to happen.

“be nice!” you say jokingly, “they were just someone from my class, someone kept asking crazy questions during lecture so we were just-”

“laughing together,” he cuts you off, “yeah, i saw.”

you roll your eyes, “clam down, dude. i’m not replacing you, i promise you are still my best friend.”

your words are supposed to calm him down, but it only makes it worse. he doesn’t want to start an argument, doesn’t want to make you feel bad for something you’re not even aware of. but that’s the problem, you can’t see how he looks at you, can’t see that he’s getting jealous of the thought of someone else making you laugh like he does. it’s bad to feel like this as a friend, worse as someone who likes you. he chooses to be quiet.

“anyways, there’s this party i got invited to at a friend of a friend’s house. you wanna go with me?”

“who invited you?” haechan asks, trying to focus on the road instead of the rising jealousy.

“this guy that my friend knows. i wouldn’t have said yes if it weren’t for you,” you chuckle, “i felt bad that you couldn’t go to the party the other night.”

once your words register, he immediately feels bad. you were thinking about him. you felt sorry for him, felt the need to say yes to someone you didn’t know, just for him. he lets out a small laugh, “you know you didn’t have to. we’re literally supposed to hang out today.”

you smile at him, happy that he’s calmed down, “trust me, i wanted to. plus, i wanted to see if i can find someone cute to talk to tonight.”

haechan gapes out, “why would you need that? i’m gonna be there with you the whole night, just talk to me?”

he can see how you give him a confused look, “i meant like, talking talking to someone. you’re supposed to be my wingman.”

“it’s not that, i just- i don’t know. sorry.”

“don’t do that. tell me what’s wrong, please. i’m here for you, i’m your best friend.”

before haechan realizes it, it all just flows out of him, “i don’t want you talking to someone else. i want you to talk to me, want you to spend tonight with me. not some person from class or- or some random person from a party.”

he doesn’t look at you as he continues, “i want you to be with me. and, god, i just- you don’t know how much i want you to just look at me for once.”

his ears are ringing. he can’t hear if you’ve said anything, or if you kept quiet. he’s near your place, wonders if you’ll still let him, let him apologize, let him put it all behind you. instead, he sees how you shift in place, sees how your eyes shift all over, sees you breath in to speak.

“drop me off here.”

“but i-”

“haechan. please drop me off here.”

he can’t breathe, mind going blank as he can feel you run away from him, “i’m sorry, i just- i didn’t mean to- i don’t know what i was saying-”

“don’t make this worse, haechan. i’ll text you, i’ll walk home, just let me get off here.”

he can’t fight this. he can’t keep you in here. he can’t take back what was said. he unlocks the doors, whispering, “okay.”

what has he done?

haechan feels like his life might quite literally be over.

not only did he angrily confess to you, he might’ve just ruined his friendship of many years just to say that he likes you. well, he didn’t outright say i like you but… you could probably tell what he was trying to say. nothing can make this better. like any of his problems, he wishes he could text his best friend. this time, he’s not sure if you would answer him.

the next best thing he can do is call renjun. he doesn’t really want to, doesn’t want to hear a lecture, doesn’t want to hear how he messed up, how messed up he is. at the same time, he doesn’t know what to do. renjun might not either, but calling him would beat the recurring thought of how he’s ruined everything.

so haechan calls him.

“hey, i’m doing like, ten different things right now so-”

haechan interrupts, “i confessed.”

there’s silence on the other end for a few beats, “you did what?”

“i confessed without even thinking. i just rushed it all out with no plan and i-” haechan takes a breath, “i was so jealous, so fucking jealous to where i couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

“and what happened?” renjun sighs, closing whatever book he was reading.

“nothing good, i think. we were supposed to go to a party, i’m assuming neither of us went to the party. i drove home alone, and now i’m here, and nothing feels right anymore.”

“did you try talking or just like, sending a message?”

“no, what’s the point? who’d want to talk to anyone after something like that happens?”

“that’s true.”

it feels like the conversation ended, haechan and renjun sitting in silence on the phone call. haechan can feel how his eyes begin to well up with tears, feeling like everything might truly be over. you’re still his best friend, he still wants to talk to you, laugh with you, cry with you, and do so much more. you’re slipping away from him, and it’s all his fault.

“i know who you are as a person, haechan. you-” haechan hears a small groan as renjun tries to articulate his words, “you can’t give up like this. i know you don’t want to give up like this.”

“but what can i do? it’s all so fucked, i fucked everything up.”

“no, you know what to do. you just can’t do this halfheartedly, this is your best friend we’re talking about. make it work, haechan.”

“and if it all doesn’t work?”

“then that’s how it ends.”

haechan whispers goodnight into his phone, quickly hanging up on renjun. he doesn’t bother trying to hear anything else. his body buzzes with a feeling of longing, quickly moving to his messaging app. he finds your contact, hovering over your name as he moves to text you. he stares at his screen, reads a few texts from nights before, and lets out a breath. his fingers begin typing, and before he can fully register what he’s typing, he sends you a text.

haechan: if it’s okay with you, would you want to come over tomorrow afternoon?

haechan doesn’t go out the next day.

he stays in his room, hovers around in his apartment. haechan keeps on checking on his phone, trying to see if you’ve texted him back already. the sun is beginning to set, and haechan thinks it might actually all be over. it hurts knowing he hurt you, his best friend. you’ve never really argued like this before, haechan not letting you run away from him for more than a second.

now that this has happened, haechan can only think of giving you space. he can’t beg you to talk to him, can’t just ask you to ignore what he said. these feelings that he has are as real as yours are, he can’t look past that. so as he checks his phone one last time, he’s ready to let you go. he moves to sit on the edge of his bed, staring off into space.

it’s not until he hears a knock at his door.

he didn’t invite anyone but you over, and he’s sure you’re not showing up. he trudges to the door, fully expecting to see renjun with a frown on his face when he opens the door. instead, when he opens the door, he sees you standing there. your eyes look tired as you greet him with a faint smile. he awkwardly stands at the door for a moment too long, spluttering as he tries to come up with something to say.

“are you gonna let me in, or what?” you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice. 

he blinks, “sorry, uh, come in.”

he moves aside to let you in, giving you space as you walk in. so many times he’s hung out with you, but none of them feel like this. he feels guilty, feeling like he pressured you into coming over. he keeps his distance from you, shifting his weight on his two feet, watching as you look around his apartment before your gaze settles on him. you don’t look angry, you don’t look happy either, but you still smile at him. he can feel his heart jump in his chest.

“look,” haechan starts, “i didn’t even know you were going to come over. i-i’m sorry-”

“let’s not do that just yet, yeah? let’s just… talk. wanna head out to your balcony?”

he nods, quickly catching up to you as he slides open the door to his balcony. you watch how jittery his movements are, a feeling of sadness washing over you as he tries being careful around you. you did this to him, and you don’t really know how to fix it. you move to his cramped balcony, big enough to fit two lawn chairs and the smallest table you’ve ever seen.

you remember the day he bought the table. you watched as he hauled the big box by the balcony, opening it up just to see a small table, staring right back out at him. you both bursted out laughing, hunched over as you pointed at the size of it. haechan’s cheeks were tinted pink as he tried to justify himself for the accidental mistake of buying the wrong size.

“whatever! it’s perfect for out here, perfect for our little space.”

you hummed, “you better not invite anyone to this spot. this is for me and you only.”

“you know it’s only gonna be you. who else would i’d rather have here than you?”

you look away, fitting yourself into the cramped space of the balcony, sitting down on one of the worn-down chairs. he squeezes in, quickly sliding the door shut as he sits on the other chair. he’s not looking at you, choosing to look out at the setting sun, the light cascading over the both of you. it’s quiet, save for the passing cars and the rustling of the leaves on the trees. you breath out, trying to figure out what you want to say.

haechan beats you to it, “i really didn’t think you were gonna come. i texted you so late, and… i don’t know, i was so horrible to you yesterday.”

“the text you sent me was like, the most formal text you’ve ever sent,” you laugh out, “i was so worried that i just had to come over.”

he freely laughs out at your words, feeling himself relax at your words. he has to remind himself again that it’s still you, his best friend. he’s known you for so long, and for the meantime, he can put his feelings at the back of his mind.

you shift a little in your chair, “so… was all of that like, you saying- i mean, you confessing to me? i didn’t want to assume, and i know i kinda just walked out, but i wanted to ask.”

he messes with his fingers, “i don’t know how it happened. i didn’t want it to happen like that, i wasn’t even sure i wanted to say all of that.” he bites down on his lip before speaking again, “i don’t want to call it a confession, but i do want to say it now, properly. i like you.”

you suck in a breath, not really sure what you’re feeling. this is haechan talking to you, your friend for some time. you never really thought too much of how touchy he was or how flirty he was, it just seemed like him. now, as you finally piece it all together, you take note of the longing gaze, the shyness when you flirted back, how he always calmed down with you around.

you see it now too, his eyes softly scanning over you, no sadness in his eyes despite the situation. his look is full of all his feelings for you, and it hurts that you’re barely seeing it now. 

“oh,” you dumbly say, “that’s… i’m sorry.”

he lets out a confused laugh, “do you even know what you’re sorry for?”

you try not to laugh too hard, given the circumstances, but you do anyway. haechan joins you, and it feels normal again. “i don’t even know. i can see that you like me now that you’ve told me, but i just- how come i didn’t see it before?”

“i thought that i was pretty obvious with it. renjun even told me that i had to stop being so forward.”

“even renjun told you,” you repeat, “what a good guy. he could see it before i could.”

“he is a good guy, he was there through it all. all the times where i told him how nice you looked one day or how much i wanted to kiss you during a party.”

“you wanted to kiss me? how- how long have you liked me for?” you didn’t mean for your voice to get so high-pitched at the end, but you can’t hide how surprised you are. 

he laughs dryly, “i’m not even sure myself. it just kinda happened over time.” he sighs as he feels his phone buzz, opting to turn it off completely, “you just… i liked how you always stayed you. no matter who you talked to, even if i got jealous watching you laugh and smile at other people.”

your heart aches in your chest. he likes you, and at no point did you ever stop to think if you like him. he’s nice, a good friend, funny, and cute. comparing to how he feels about you, though, your feelings almost mean nothing. anyone can use those words to describe him, and you don’t think you feel anymore than that. you can’t say this to him, turning away to try to avoid him altogether.

“what’s wrong?” he takes hold of your shoulder, feeling how it shakes under his touch, “hey, you can tell me. i… i can probably imagine what you’re gonna say.”

“y-you can?” you sniffle, and he lets out a small laugh when he sees that your eyes are filled with tears.

“i think so. i prepared myself for everything, and it’s probably so much better than you just flat out never talking to me again.”

“i could never do that to you!” you splutter out, “you’re still my friend, and i… i’m sorry for saying that.”

he scratches the back of his neck, clearing his throat before he says, “so can i assume you don’t, uh- you don’t like me back?”

you don’t answer right away. you focus on your hands in your lap, twiddling your thumbs together. you know your answer, but you just can’t get it to come out. it feels wrong, almost betraying your friend in a way. you hate seeing him sad, and knowing that you might cause him pain makes everything even worse. you try clearing your throat, opening up your mouth, but nothing comes out.

he doesn’t try rushing you. you can tell he knows. he knows you like the back of his own hand, and your silence tells him everything. yet, he still doesn’t press you for an answer, doesn’t get mad or upset with your silence. there’s not point in doing so, no point in causing an argument that doesn’t need to be made.

finally, you speak up, “i don’t think,” you take a breath in, your words steadily come out, “i don’t think i like you. at least, not in the way you want me to.”

he slowly nods, biting down on his bottom lip as he takes in your words. it’s not that he didn’t expect this, but it’s different when it’s actually coming from you. he’s imagined this, he’s had renjun tell him this, and yet, his heart still hurts. he doesn’t really know what to do. all that he can come up with is, “yeah, that’s what i- that’s what i figured.”

it’s quiet for a while, you both sit there, staring at the sunset in front of you. no one comments on how pretty it looks, how the beams of sunlight strike against the purple hues of the sky. before you can think about it, you say, “i’m sorry-”

“there’s nothing for you to be sorry about. those are your feelings. i can’t make you feel bad over what you feel.”

you let out a shaky breath, “i know. i just, i don’t know, i wish there was more for me to say.”

“then can i ask a question?” you nod, “was there no time where you ever thought that, maybe, you could’ve liked me?”

you laugh out despite how shaky your voice is, “your nosy ass.”

he lets out a genuine laugh, no sadness behind it as he tries to refocus. you shift in your seat a little as you try to think of anything. he makes you happy, recalling all the times he’s wiped your tears away and made you laugh. even just from the other night, he helped you back to his apartment when you were too drunk to do anything. he didn’t have to come and get you, but he did.

even though he’s done all these things, you never thought of him more than a friend. it feels selfish in a way, all the things he’s done for you while you just take from him. you shake your head slowly, haechan watching how you face him, but try not to look at him. you sigh out, “i… it just always felt like you were a good friend to me.”

haechan just nods dumbly. it’s what he can expect, it was never supposed to be ‘more than friends.’ he was never supposed to find fall in love with your smile, how you lean into him when you laugh, or how you come to him when you’re sad or tired. it’s his fault you both feel like this, and he’s scared of what this might mean for the both of you.

he pokes his tongue into his cheek, his hands folded across his chest, “so, what now?”

you stare at the side of his face, his face scrunched up from either the sunlight or the worrying feelings brewing in his head. you’re not even sure yourself. you don’t know what you want, you don’t know what haechan will want in the future, either. it scares you, almost a feeling of expectations that haechan will have of you slowly falling in love with him.

“i’m not sure…” you inhale, letting out the words you really didn’t want to say, “are you… are you still going to like me after this?”

he wastes no time responding, “i’ll always like you as my friend, but i don’t think- i don’t think i can just push away these feelings i have. i won’t let it get in the way of our friendship, but it’s always going to be at the back of my mind.”

you can feel your heartbeat in your throat, trying to get yourself from saying anything that might hurt. in the end, you think, it’s probably better to say this now. “i just- i’m scared that you want me to fall in love with you in the future. i can’t make that promise, even if that’s not what you’re thinking right now.”

he tries cutting you off, “that’s not what i-”

“i know, haechan. but it’s just, we aren’t gonna be the same after this. i’m gonna be aware of how you act around me. i’ll see how careful you are when you hug me, or- or when i try to talk to someone else and you have to hide your feelings.”

his hands grip onto his thighs, your words blurring into each other at the end. he knows what you’re saying, and it almost sounds like you’re trying to pull away from him. he’s not sure how he can get you back, feeling the distance between you both even as you’re seated right next to him. he shuts his eyes, images of you both together flashing behind his eyelids. you’re everywhere, he thinks, he can’t get away from you.

you continue after a bit, “i just think we need time to figure this out. i just, i don’t want to lead you on in any way. i can’t let you keep falling for me when i know it’s just going to hurt you even more.”

he wants to try to reach out to you, grab your hands and beg you to stop. he wants to make a joke, wants to wipe the serious look on your face and replace it with a laugh. he wants to take you back inside, sitting next to you on the couch while pressing a kiss to your cheek. he tries to shake away the thought, now knowing there’s no way that it will ever happen. all he can do is nod at your words.

you pat the armrests of the chair, feeling the need to walk away from here, from him. you can feel your heart breaking for your friend as you stand up suddenly. he watches with you with bleary eyes, eyes begging you to sit back down. he watches how your hands can’t stop moving around, trying to figure out what you want to do.

“i think i want to go now, haechan. it’s- it’s getting late, and i don’t want to keep you for too long.

he subconsciously nods, sliding open the door for you as you rush into his apartment. he follows you in a daze, his body seeking at your warmth as you pull away from him. he wants to reach out and hold your hand, pulling you against him as he laughs against your shoulder. he swallows, watching how you awkwardly stand in his apartment.

“text me if you need anything. if you feel bad, don’t- don’t hide it from me. i’m still your friend, okay? remember that.”

he’s not entirely sure, but he thinks he nods at your words and lets out a small okay. he opens the door for you, letting yourself out, standing at the doorstep for a little longer. “i love- i care about you, haechan. i’m here for you, always.”

he watches you rush down his hallway, entering the elevator as it opens for you. he slowly makes his way back to the balcony, leaning against the metal fencing of it. this almost feels like a last goodbye, and he’s not sure if he’ll ever see you again. at least, not as friends. he finds you walking down the street, hands moving to your face as you presumably wipe away tears.

he could’ve held back his feelings. he could’ve never fallen in love with you. he could still be hanging out with you today, laughing on his couch as he puts on a dumb romcom. he could’ve still had it all with you, but he threw it all away in a selfish act of love. he doesn’t feel bad for ever loving you.

as haechan watches you walk away from him, he can’t help but wonder if all this time spent with you was worth it. the times cramped up in your apartment, times where you cried out to him, times where you were the only person who could heal him. all the times where you only thought of him as a friend while he could only wish for more with you. 

he doesn’t think he could ever regret it.

a/n: this is my first fic without any smut and i am so happy with how it came out… i know how hard it is to fall off w someone so i just had to… *looks out a window* i hope this wasnt too sad but i also hope it was...

taglist: @mwahaechz @froggyforyoongi @the-universe-in-you-jjh @dorkyji @ppeachyttae @omlhyck @hazyhae @vip-access @snflwrhaerecs4u @forhaever @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @haechology @candyeollies

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PowerPointless

Part I

Formula 1 x Russell!Reader

Summary: you decide to throw your brother a birthday party based on the thing he loves most in the world: PowerPoint

Note: a huge thank you to @struggling-with-drivers because this would not have been possible without her help

#1 - Max Verstappen

#2 - Logan Sargeant

#3 - Daniel Ricciardo

#4 - Lando Norris

#10 - Pierre Gasly

#11 - Sergio Perez

#14 - Fernando Alonso

---

𝐚𝐜𝐞・h.h.

— volleyball superstar and your personal hell hwang hyunjin proposes a trade-off you can't refuse: his matchmaking services for a passing anthropology grade. the plan is foolproof in theory; in practice, it is something else entirely.

words・15.2k

pairing・volleyball player!hyunjin x tutor!reader (gn)

genres・college!au, sports!au, fake enemies to friends to lovers, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn. hyunjin is a huge flirt. mc #DGAF. two polar opposites sharing one soul. a seungjin fic if u squint. loosely inspired by the manga/anime haikyuu!!

warnings・mentions of anxiety, fear of failure, heartbreak, loneliness, and self-image. course language and callous banter (as always) ft. suggestive flirting and one kms joke. some of the referenced players and coaches are real; this fic is not.

playlist・collision by stray kids・value by ado・waiting for us by stray kids・eternity by bang chan・dreaming by smallpools・fly high!! by burnout syndromes

a/n・writing this felt like returning to my roots tbh. i love volleyball and i love sports aus and i love, love hwang hyunjin. thank u to my sahar for bringing this fic to life with me, as always; i can no longer write for him without also writing for you. i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i adored writing it. happy late birthday, our jinnie, our hyunjin, our forever ace; you are so unbelievably loved ♡

“Not a word out of you,” you say, tossing your backpack onto the floor of the lecture hall with a heavy-handed flick. “I’m serious.”

Hyunjin glances up at you with a frown. “When did people stop saying good morning?”

Your lack of an immediate comeback tells him the situation is dire. He observes you for a moment, his mouth falling open, hanging still, then curving into a slow, serpentine smile.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Please, angel.”

“No! Leave me alone.”

Hyunjin slumps back into his seat, thinking hard. The solution occurs to him with a poke of his tongue into his cheek. “Coffee on me for a week.”

At this, your hands stop rummaging in your bag. You cock your head, your interest piqued. Got you. 

When you finally humor him and turn around, you’re flinching like you’re in pain, eyes closed and breath held and all. He giggles and leans in for a closer look. Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes if he wasn’t so flummoxed by the state of your forehead.

“What the hell did you do?”

“Tried to cut my own bangs,” you sigh. “It didn’t go very well and now I look like Rock Lee.”

Hyunjin lets out a forceful laugh. “You’ve seen Naruto?”

You open your eyes. Only then does Hyunjin remember how little distance he left between your faces, when he’s staring straight into them and all the strange, starry speckles they hold.

The air between you curdles like sour milk.

Things are awkward between you often, he’s realized recently. What’s more, he didn’t think he was capable of being awkward with anyone anymore until he met you. It was your ill-fated seat that he chose to sit next to on the first day of ANTH 111, your ill-fated lap onto which he chose to spill his Americano, and the rest was history (or, in this case, anthropology). His tongue ends up in sailor’s knots with every smart-aleck comment and pitiful laugh you’ve given him since. Maybe there’s more to it, maybe there isn’t—Hyunjin doesn’t think about it much. He doesn’t like thinking in general.

You pull away from each other in unison. You clear your throat, glancing elsewhere. 

“Of course I’ve seen Naruto,” you quip, and everything is normal again. “Why do you seem surprised?”

“Because you’re so scholarly.”

“I am not scholarly.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You go to a park to play chess with old people on weekends.”

“I need to get my steps in somehow!"

“You didn’t know what Urban Dictionary was until I told you to look up—”

“—ugh, I learned so much about you that day."

“Your favorite social media platform is Quizlet,” he bursts, exasperated. “Quizlet.”

“It is not.” An introspective pause. “Is it?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Hyunjin throws his feet up on the chair below him, jabs in your direction with a bandaged finger. “There is no way you enjoy watching 2D men beat each other up in your free time. I don’t buy it.”

“Honestly, I thought you’d have more to say about my current appearance than my hobbies.”

He does, though. Matter of fact, he’s been curating a list since this conversation started: Vector from Despicable Me, Dora the Explorer’s hot older sibling, Spock. You face-planted into a lawnmower. You mistook a paper shredder for a hat. It goes on.

But then his head turns. Your eyes meet again. It’s hard to sustain an inner monologue and look at your face at the same time.

He reaches up, nudges a lock of your hair over a centimeter or so, and gives the patch of forehead a gentle flick.

“Watermelon,” he mumbles with a sickening smile.

You divert your attention to your lecture notes with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You’re getting soft.”

He spends the entire lecture daydreaming about tropical coastlines.

“I only get coffee from that one place on the east side of campus, by the way,” you say as you’re strolling out the building together, “and I get it a very specific way. Can you handle it?”

“Your faith gets me out of bed in the morning,” Hyunjin deadpans. “I’ll handle it, love. Text me your order.”

All of a sudden, you position your hands close to your stomach, the lapels of your jacket casting them in shadow. Your fingers begin to move in a sequence that he’d recognize anywhere.

“Body flicker jutsu,” you whisper, and then you’re scurrying off without another word—but you do glance back at him to gauge his response. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the main quad’s busy thrum.

Hyunjin gapes at your retreating figure for so long that phosphenes start prancing around his field of view. Then he heads to the gym. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram.

“Hwang, I need you in my office.”

Hyunjin stops lacing up his shoes to see Coach Bang standing on the court’s sideline with a grim air about him. He glances at his captain, confused.

“Don’t look at me,” Minho says mid-stretch. “Godspeed.”

“Thanks, cap.” Useless.

Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. It’s all fluorescent lights and spotless white walls, the only decorative fixture a picture of his siblings, parents, and dog in front of the Sydney Opera House, framed and facing him atop his desk. Hyunjin once snuck the thing into the bathroom, an innocent plot to satiate his curiosity, and promptly discovered the man’s propensity for violence. He’s packing beneath those dry-cleaned polos, by the way.

Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “You can read, right?”

“Yes, coach,” he sighs. Everyone’s expectations for him are subterranean.

From: Jinyoung Park «asiansoul_jyp@snu.edu» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «cb97@snu.edu» Subject: Not good See email from Hwang’s antopology professor below . He submitted the complete script of the Trolls movie instead of his mid term paper and now he’s failing the class . Not good . Sort out ASAP JP Sent from my iPad

Bang snatches up his mouse and scrolls, his ears turning scarlet. “Wrong email.”

“Yep.”

From: Kyeyoung Kim «kyeyoungkim@snu.edu» To: Jinyoung Park «asiansoul_jyp@snu.edu» Subject: Regarding Hwang Hyunjin To Director of Athletics Park, I am writing to inform you that, as of yesterday, Mr. Hwang Hyunjin has a D- (64.9%) in ANTH 111: Cultural Anthropology, due to his submission of the complete script of a kids’ movie instead of his midterm paper. It is disappointing to see Mr. Hwang trivialize and ridicule my class to such a degree. Please see to it that he reorganizes his priorities lest his Student-Athlete Participation Agreement do so for him. Regards, Kyeyoung Kim Professor of Anthropology

“That’s bullshit!”

“We’re in agreement there.” Bang folds his arms over his chest, throws his foot over his knee. “Do you know what your Student-Athlete Participation Agreement says, Hwang?”

“Does anyone?” Hyunjin scoffs. Bang whips out a form and brings it to eye level, the thing covered from top to bottom in microscopic Times New Roman.

“No way you just had that.”

“I had it delivered ten minutes ago,” Bang confesses, then clears his throat and begins to recite. “All student-athletes must complete the academic term with a C or higher in all courses, should they wish to continue their participation in athletics thereafter.”

Hyunjin stiffens. “What the fuck? I’ve never heard of—”

“If any Department of Athletics personnel,” Bang continues, raising his voice, “have reason to believe that a student-athlete will not be able to satisfy this requirement, they are encouraged to utilize resources such as academic advising or peer tutoring in guiding said student-athlete back onto the correct path.”

He shoves the piece of paper across his desk. “Read that name aloud for me.”

Hyunjin stares at the signature at the bottom of the page, scrawled so carelessly that most of it deviates away from its designated line. There is a rare hollowness in his chest that he recognizes as anxiety. With it comes a glimpse of a life without volleyball, the question of what little of him would remain.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” he says under his breath.

The office goes silent. Bang tucks the form back into his drawer. It closes with a gentle click.

Then comes the yelling.

“The Trolls movie, Hwang Hyunjin? Trolls?! Are you fucking with me right now?”

“It was a cultural reset! The pinnacle of modern media! How’s that for anthropology?”

“BAD!” Bang explodes, gesturing to the email emphatically. “VERY, VERY BAD!”

Hyunjin slumps over, dejected.

“You’ve never had trouble with school before.” He leans over his desk imposingly. “What the hell happened this semester? What changed?”

Nothing is the first answer that comes to mind, but Hyunjin’s pulse spikes like a lie detector. Upon the inside of his eyes replays a scene of a certain someone with watermelon bangs doing teleportation jutsu at him from a few yards away, wearing a smile made of some kind of space dust that astronomists haven’t discovered yet.

He grits his teeth, annoyed. This is what happens when he thinks.

“Beats me,” he lies. “Typical junior year stress, maybe.”

“Does any of it have to do with Piazza?” 

Hyunjin shudders.

It just might, actually.

Modesty has no place in the career he’s had: high school national champion turned ace hitter in both the South Korean U21 roster and regular rotation for Seoul National University, the best collegiate volleyball team in the country. His name has lived at the top of ranking lists and the center of gold medals since he turned old enough to qualify for them; the press believes him the instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution. It’s a mouthful, he knows.

It was never a question that he would go professional; the question was who he should talk to and where he would go.

At the start of the school year, Bang, acting in place of the agent he was advised to find and never bothered to, gave him a list of people to reach out to. On the very top was none other than Roberto Piazza, the chairman and head coach of Allianz Milano, one of the most eminent club teams in the world—and current home to Hyunjin’s personal idol, outside hitter Ishikawa Yuki.

Hyunjin thought his poor coach had finally succumbed to his old age. The thought of stepping onto the same court as Ishikawa felt sacrilegious, let alone donning the red, white, and navy blue of Allianz Milano with him. But Bang slapped him on the back of the neck and reminded him that going professional was equal parts preparation and opportunity; he was never going to know the answers to questions he didn’t ask. Hyunjin was coerced to fire off an introductory email despite his reservations.

Piazza replied to his email within the week.

For the last five months, Hyunjin has been fighting with tooth and nail to manage his expectations. He scrolls past the team’s social media posts like they burn his eyes. He replies to Piazza’s emails right before working out with Changbin under the assumption that whatever the shredded libero does to him will eviscerate his brain. If his world is made of dreams, this is the one at its very core, imbued with destructive potential the second it became attainable.

But that’s the last five months. The last five weeks have been you kicking him in the shin because he’s laughing (or trying to make you laugh) and the professor is staring; you listening to him rant and rave about volleyball when he knows you couldn’t care less about the sport; you relaying the contents of your class readings like hot gossip, your eyes wild and hands flying around because you can’t contain your excitement. You, you, you.

He cards a hand through his air, regaining his focus. “You know how I feel about Piazza.”

“Expect the worst, hope for the best.” Bang’s chair skids backwards as he stands up. “I think it’s a good approach.”

Suddenly, he is directly in front of Hyunjin, low enough to meet his eyes. His hands rest upon his shoulders firmly.

“But hope is hungry, and it will consume you if you let it,” he says. “Do not let it, Hyunjin. I’m not asking.”

Even while being squeezed to a pulp and regarded with the cold intensity of a statue, Hyunjin can’t help but feel anchored, somehow, to the floor of this miserable office. Protected.

Bang lets go of him. “I’m not asking you to find a tutor by the end of the week, either.”

Hyunjin groans. “Yeah, yeah. I’m on it.”

A set of bandaged fingers appear in your periphery to place a paper cup onto your laptop. Accompanying the smell of fresh coffee is that of smoky rose, as decidedly douchey as ever.

“I thought you said your order was complicated.”

You look up from your phone to see Hyunjin plop into the adjacent seat. His long, caramel-colored hair is damp and unstyled in the aftermath of a morning shower, droplets of water pearling on the lapels of a navy blue windbreaker, layered over a white long sleeve. You recognize the outfit by now as game gear.

“Was it not?” You ask.

“It was an Americano, love. I walked up to the cashier and placed an order for an Americano.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you could handle that much.” He flips you off as you squint at the cup. “Someone wrote their number on the lid, by the way.”

“What? Really?”

“No.”

He shoves you hard enough for your upper body to drape over the opposite armrest. You’re still cackling by the time you’ve straightened up again.

“Why did you get this, anyway?” Hyunjin grumbles. “I thought you had a sweet tooth.”

“I do, but you don’t.”

Only then does the fool understand that you had no intention of charging him in coffee just for a haircut reveal. He takes back the coffee hesitantly.

“Thanks,” he says at last. “Nice of you.”

“I know, right? Hated it,” you respond, and he almost chokes on his first sip.

You almost choke on nothing when Kim Seungmin materializes in the aisle adjacent. He holds out a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “Yo.”

Hyunjin dabs it up without putting down his Americano. “I fully forgot you were in this class.”

“Well, I’m due for my weekly appearance.” Seungmin slips into the seat directly below you, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi,” you say, somehow managing to stumble over the single syllable the word has. You thank your lucky stars that you fixed your hair yesterday.

You like Kim Seungmin. Not just in the cutesy, crushy way, but in the “I relinquish my rights” way where you spend every waking moment cursing out whatever stroke of misfortune placed Hyunjin in the seat next to you instead of him. He’s funny, gorgeous, and talented—a vocal performance major with a student-athlete contract—and you think your infatuation is more than justified. Hyunjin thinks it’s hilarious.

You side-eye your blonde adversary, prepared to see one of three things: a suppressed laugh, a dramatic eye-roll, or a mature kissy face that usually results in the first option. You’re met with something far more worrisome.

He’s thinking.

That can’t be good.

Suddenly, his phone screen lights up with a text that temporarily wipes the conspiratorial gleam from his eye. Hyunjin scans it over and groans. “Can this guy do his fucking job?”

“He wouldn’t have to if you didn’t quit,” Seungmin answers. “I’ll never forget you, Manager Hwang.”

“Shut up.” You peer at Hyunjin, silently requesting an explanation. “Our captain is forcing us to help him look for a new team manager. We need one for playoffs because of some stupid U-League rule—Seung, why do you look morose?”

“I’m mourning.” Seungmin does look morose indeed. “Hyunjin committed larceny last year and our coach punished him by making him our team manager for the rest of the year. It was so funny.”

Hyunjin slides down his seat. “It was the worst experience of my life.”

Neither man seems inclined to elaborate on the larceny thing. You choose to digress. “Can I ask why?”

“He had to be responsible,” Seungmin whispers. “For other people.”

The top of Hyunjin’s head stops right next to your armrest. You reach over and pat his hair in faux sympathy. “Poor thing.”

“Hardass refused to do it again this year, so now we’re recruiting.” Seungmin props an elbow upon the back of his chair, looks at you contemplatively. “I don’t suppose you have four hours to spare every day.”

Hyunjin scoffs from below you. Loudly. “This one? Team manager?”

“I can see it.”

“I can see killing myself, maybe.”

The next time you reach for him is to smack his forehead. A crisp smack resounds around the barren lecture hall, and Hyunjin cusses into his seat cushion.

“Seems like a great candidate to me,” Seungmin muses, and the warm smile he gives you mirrors onto your face before you can think better of it. God, it’s pretty. You wonder how it would feel pressed against your own.

Hyunjin is now completely out of sight and halfway onto the floor. “I miss when you didn’t come to class, Seungmin.”

Eighty minutes later, you’ve just emerged from the classroom when Seungmin calls out to you. You come to such a sudden halt that Hyunjin almost trips over you, but you barely notice him stumble, utterly enraptured by the hand Seungmin brings to the strands of hair by your ear, the fingers that dust your cheek as they pluck a small piece of lint from out of the tresses.

“Sorry.” He flicks it away with a sheepish smile. “I couldn’t unsee it.”

You manage to thank him just before your whole body ceases to function. Hyunjin sidesteps the two of you, yawning.

Seungmin excuses himself not too long after you reach the main quad. You also turn to leave, sparing Hyunjin a curt farewell in the process. He hooks his pointer finger around the handle at the top of your backpack and lugs you backwards with infuriating ease.

“I didn’t like that at all.”

“I don’t care. I have something to tell you.”

“You have a kid, don’t you?”

“Hello—who do you think I am?”

“The one-night-stand’s poster child,” you reply. “The champion of the contraception industry.”

“Yeah, contraception industry. It’s right there in the name.”

You can’t argue with that.

“What do you have to tell me?”

A shadow of hesitation flits across Hyunjin’s face. Your smile falters. Is it possible that you’re about to have a serious conversation with him for the first time? Maybe you should’ve saved the secret son bit for another time.

“I’m failing anthro.”

So much for a serious conversation. 

“Come again?”

He repeats the mystifying statement.

“You’re joking.”

The look on his face says otherwise, though, and your eyebrows disappear into your hair.

“You’re failing anthro?”

“I just said that, yes.”

“You’re failing anthropology?”

“Mhm.”

“Just so we’re clear—you’re failing Introduction to Cultural Anthropology?”

“Yes. I’m glad you’re having fun.”

This is the best day of your life. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Yeah, well, our professor has no media literacy,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Hyunjin clears his throat. “Anyways, I was thinking—”

“Wow! Congratulations. That’s a big—oomf—”

Hyunjin puts his entire hand over your face. Your mangled noises of protest go unacknowledged.

“I was thinking,” he continues, pushing your head around like a stick shift, “you and I can work out some kind of deal.”

You shove his wrist off you with a revolted groan. “I think I just ate some athletic tape.”

“Happens. You wanna hear the deal or not?”

“Does it involve ingesting more sports equipment?”

“Do you want it to?”

“Just tell me the deal, boy.”

“Alright.” He takes a deep breath. “If you help me pass this class—I’ll set you up with Seungmin.”

Your head performs a triple-axel on your neck. You are unable to respond for what feels like multiple hours. Finally: “I’m gonna need you to elaborate.”

“On which part?”

“All of them. Everything.”

Hyunjin sighs, then scans the courtyard. His gaze settles on the student union a little ways off. “Are you hungry?”

You pick up a sandwich and a smoothie in a state of nervous stupor. One would think it’s the prime minister you’re about to have lunch with and not an imbecilic left-side hitter eating from three different entrees at the same time.

He’s chosen a table a few yards away from a planter of flowering cherry blossom trees. You feel jealous eyes on the side of your face as you take a seat across from Hyunjin, but they don’t know that his telephone pole legs still bump against yours even with them drawn as close to your body as anatomically possible. Or that he’s drawing up a literal Ponzi scheme on your sandwich wrapper. You wager you’ve had better company.

“You like anthropology. I like listening to you talk about anthropology.” He traces over the wrapper’s left corner. “And I kinda want you to boss me around. That weird?”

“Yes, definitely,” you mumble around a mouthful of bread. “Please continue.”

“Conclusion one: you should be my tutor.” He taps in place as if applying a finishing touch, then swaps to the opposite side. “You also like my teammate, but he’s neck-deep in volleyball and music this semester, which makes him hard to get a hold of—for most people.”

“Let me guess. Not for you.”

“Ten points to Ravenclaw.” His British accent is nightmarish. “Seung and I live in the same building. We get dinner when we go back from practice together. Conclusion two: you should come with us.”

“To dinner or to practice?”

“To both. Which brings us to my third and final conclusion—”

He slams a fist onto the center of the wrapper.

“—you should manage our team.”

“I knew it!” You slam the table as well, your smoothie wobbling upon impact. “You’re trying to swindle me! You can’t pay for my labor with more labor. What do you take me for?”

“It’s not labor, dumbass! Ask our last manager! He didn’t do shit!”

“Yeah? Who was your last manager?”

“Me!”

Oh, right. “But you hated it!”

“I hate everything that isn’t playing volleyball. Try again.”

You fold your arms over your chest. “You said you’d kill yourself if I managed you.”

Hyunjin starts balling up your sandwich wrapper. “It’s true. I thought about you and my coach getting along and promptly got a rash. But it makes so much sense: you do whatever you want during practice, tutor me afterwards, and then you and Seung can eyefuck over ramen or something. My coach hops off my dick, you hop on Seung’s—”

“STOP!” A girl drops her receipt not too far away, startled by your outburst. “Stop right there. I get it. Stop.”

“It’s a good plan.” He slings the paper ball towards the nearest trash can. It drops into the hole without so much as a brush against the rim. “You know it is.”

You’re loath to admit that you do. “When did you even come up with all this?”

He flicks a thumb in the direction of your anthropology class.

“No fucking wonder you’re failing.”

“What is this, mock trial?”

The owner of this voice is the third man you’ve seen today donning that navy windbreaker, white long-sleeve combo. He has a face that reminds you of your neighbor’s cat from back home, sleek and sharp and only slightly sinister. There’s a dash of humor in his expression as he approaches your table like he’s enjoying the company of a court jester.

“Slamming tables like fuckin’ tariff lawyers,” the cat-man hums, lifting a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “I could see it from all the way inside.”

“Captain!” Hyunjin crows, dabbing him up without missing a beat. They really do that like breathing. “Just the man I was hoping to see.”

“Really? I thought you’d be avoiding me like the rest of our homunculus team.”

“I would never.”

“You did. Yesterday. When you saw me and started running in the opposite direction.” He pauses for emphasis. “As fast as possible.”

“Well, that was yesterday. Today is a new day.” Hyunjin tosses you a proud glance. “And today, I bring you a new team manager.”

You stiffen. “I haven’t—”

“Is that so!” When the stranger smiles at you, you feel the same satisfaction you did every time the cat let you scratch her on the chin. “Music to my ears. What’s your name, cutie?”

You catch Hyunjin’s eye across the table; he nods enthusiastically as if saying go on, then. You briefly picture yourself strangling him with his own athletic tape. You then picture yourself hopping on Seungmin’s—

Rigidly, you throw a hand out to the cat-man, your face aflame.

“Y/N,” you grumble. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

He shakes on it heartily. “Likewise. I’m Minho. Welcome to the team.”

“Yes, welcome to the team,” Hyunjin parrots, looking positively jolly. You gnash your teeth together so hard your jaw throbs.

He’s lucky that his proposal holds so much water. He’s lucky that you don’t plan to strangle him until after you try that eyefucking thing.

You do kick him under the table, though.

The team has five weeks to prepare for the Korean University League, the biggest college-level volleyball tournament in the country. You have five days to learn how the hell athletic tape works. You can’t tell which is the bigger endeavor.

“I’m going to cause him irreversible skeletal damage,” you tell Changbin.

The team’s libero is twice as kind as he is talented, a full-time sweetheart working part-time at the university’s sports medicine clinic. Only your first week on the job and you’ve already decided he’s the only person on Earth you would permit to usher you through the gym at 6:45 A.M., a roll of athletic tape pressed to your back like a pistol.

“You will not,” Changbin answers. “One, because this won’t involve his skeleton, and two, because I wouldn’t ask you to help if it did.”

“You’ve misunderstood me,” you return as the two of you stop in front of an examination room. “I want to cause him irreversible skeletal damage.”

“Oh.” He opens the door with a frown. “Oh dear.”

Inside, Hyunjin is sitting cross-legged on top of a taping table, fitted in a loose gray tee and athletic shorts. He watches in pessimistic silence as you enter the room and beeline straight towards the shelf on the right. You slip a thick binder into your hands and bury your nose inside it without so much as a greeting.

“I am going to get maimed,” Hyunjin tells Changbin.

“Have some faith, both of you,” Changbin replies sternly. You find the pages you’re looking for and begin poring over them like you’re cramming for an exam. “You’ll be fine, Jinnie. Y/N studied.”

“Studied?” He repeats. “For this?”

“I’m pretty sure Quizlets was made.”

“Three, to be exact," you interject, sticking out your hand. “Now tape me.”

Hyunjin mouths the words tape me in baffled silence. The latter obliges your request with a smile. “See? What could go wrong?”

The answer to that, actually, is a lot. Especially after Changbin gets called away to help stretch out a teammate named Felix who allegedly “sprained his ass,” leaving Hyunjin to you and your binder.

You detect no smoky rose in the air around him today, just the subtle smells of cedar and cypress—laundry detergent or shampoo, maybe. Figures he doesn’t wear that insufferable cologne to practice.

“Go easy on me, yeah?”

While Hyunjin’s tone is teasing, yours is downright somber.

“I can’t promise anything.”

With that, you turn your palms face-up in a silent request for his hand.

A few strands of hair fall into your face as you lean in for a better look. It’s the first time you’ve seen his fingers untaped; they’re pretty, long and slender and surprisingly manicured, but also battered in their delicacy, the veins running over the back of his hand and forearm prominent, his bottom knuckles discolored from the healing bruises they bear. His hard work is palpable upon the smooth skin as evidently as if tattooed.

Hyunjin says your name in close proximity. You respond with an absent hum.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

“No. Maybe a little.” You let his hand fall free and go to rummage for supplies. “Fine, yes. Very.”

“But you made Quizlets. You’re prepared for anything.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You realize only after spotting the gentle smile on his face that he’s making fun of you. “I hate you.”

“Actually,” he hums, “I think you care about me, love. That’s why you’re nervous.”

“Nonsense—I care about disappointing Changbin. That’s it.”

“And me. And hopping on Seungmin’s dick. All these things don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

You try to tackle him. Hyunjin catches your hands a few inches away from his face, fingers closing around your wrists with obnoxious agility.

“Have you lost your mind?” You whisper-shout, your face on fire. “Don’t bring that up here. I’ll maim you for real.”

The laugh that explodes out of him throws his entire body backwards, turns his eyes to crescent moons and his mouth into a little rectangle. You hate that you don’t hate when that happens.

“My bad, my bad. It slipped out. I won’t—”

One incremental shift of Hyunjin’s body later, you find that you’re precariously, alarmingly close to one another.

So much so that you notice the mole beneath his left eye for the first time, that you're nearly cross-eyed looking at it. That the tip of your nose actually brushes against his before you pull away with a quiet intake of breath. 

Things are awkward between you often, you’ve realized recently. You’re both professional yappers, always quick to digress, quick to find a new topic to bicker about before the awkwardness marinates. But hours later you’ll look back on the interaction and still remember how the air shifted: like a layer of dust had been blown away and something untouched and unknown was discovered just underneath.

Since you’ve met him, Hyunjin has spent more time on your nerves than on your mind. You’re not exactly losing sleep over such a circumstantial acquaintance; you know that his presence in your life will end the way it began, naturally and anticlimactically and inside the ANTH 111 lecture hall. Still, it doesn’t go unnoticed when your heart and stomach launch into an elaborate gymnastics routine in the wake of something he says or does, just as they’re doing now.

Hyunjin glances into your right eye a moment, then your left. The mole just below his left eye disappears when he smiles, the expression soft, saccharine, and sincere. How anyone casually looks the way he does is beyond your abilities of comprehension.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Your face continues to burn, now perhaps for different reasons. “What for?”

He lets go of your wrist, sweeps the lock of hair that keeps getting in your eyes behind the cuff of your ear.

“Caring about me.”

Then he flicks your forehead. You recoil with a quiet ow.

“Now stop stalling and tape me, dumbass.”

“Okay,” you mutter, rubbing the injury tenderly. “No need to get violent.”

It turns out the arduous taping procedure described in the instruction manual is for serious hand injuries. Hyunjin splints his fingers together for support, not rehabilitation, so it takes all of five minutes for him to talk you through his process. You finish taping both of his hands with nineteen minutes to spare. So maybe the Quizlets were overkill.

As you’re walking him down to practice, you take his hand and lift it to eye level, scanning your craftsmanship dubiously. “It’s not too tight, is it?”

“It’s perfect.” He swivels the hand around and grabs onto your entire face, the sensation by now eerily familiar. “Want another taste?”

You shove him down the stairs that remain. Unfortunately, there are only two. “You are truly grotesque.”

The gym has come to life since you arrived earlier this morning, now illuminated by shining ceiling lights in addition to the sun spilling through high, narrow windows. Most of the team has yet to step onto the court, still stretching or jogging along the sidelines: Minho and Coach Bang are talking strategy on the bench, the coach taking notes on a handheld whiteboard every now and then; Changbin is leaning over a recumbent Felix below the scoreboard, presumably trying to fix his ass.

The only one already with a ball in hand is Seungmin, setting to himself by the net. Once, twice, thrice straight up in the air, and then he glances in your direction and sends the fourth towards the left side of the court in a buoyant arc.

You only glean bits and pieces of the next few seconds. Hyunjin is at your side one moment, making a break for the net the next. His arms draw backwards in perfect synchrony. Feet hit the floor with laserlike intent. His entire body unravels like a fraying chrysalis as he rises to meet the ball, pounds it over the net and into the ground at an angle so clean that the sound of its landing resounds within your ribcage. It rebounds over the railing of the second floor and barely misses the doorway of the examination room you just emerged from.

Hyunjin drops lightly back onto his feet, following the ball’s tumultuous trajectory with proud eyes. A leftover breeze tosses a strand of hair over the bridge of your nose, and time starts moving again.

“Oi, this isn’t your backyard! Go pick that up!” Their coach booms, though his words lack their usual bitterness after what he just witnessed his ace hitter do.

Hyunjin swivels towards Seungmin first. “Crazy bitch. What the fuck was that?”

“Lower and faster. Further from the net too,” Seungmin returns. “How’d it feel?”

The grin on Hyunjin’s face reminds you of a wildfire, untamed and all-consuming and frightening in its fervor. “Like we just won everything.”

He tousles your hair as he jogs past you and back up the stairs to fetch the volleyball. Seungmin waves at you with one hand and palms another ball into his other. His face is warm and bare, his slim build flattered by his volleyball gear. You’ve witnessed few people so nice to look at and even fewer things as elegant as his setting form. But you are still thinking about Hyunjin—and you can’t move.

It is debilitating, watching somebody do the very thing they were destined for.

A little less than a week later, Hyunjin is approaching hour three of spewing hot garbage into a Word document when he decides to give up and call you. 

“Hello?” He immediately starts laughing. “Where the fuck are you?”

You poke the top of your head into the shot of your ceiling, gesturing to your headband. “My face is preoccupied at the moment.”

“Oh, you have to show me. Please.”

You flip your phone up for no more than half a second. A camera shutter goes off, followed by a shriek so loud that it peaks your mic.

“Motherfucker!”

He basically sprints to his camera roll. His prize: you with your face slathered in cleanser, hair pinned back by a Miffy headband, looking like the abominable snowman if he liked cute merchandise.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. “I’ll treasure this forever.”

“You’ll be punished, Hwang.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

You brandish your middle finger at him in response. He props his phone up against his computer screen with a chuckle. 

“Aaanyways, I have a thesis statement to run by you.”

The first thing you did as Hyunjin’s tutor was help draft an email to Professor Kim, begging her to let him resubmit the two essays he royally botched. She replied with a lengthy quotation from her syllabus, specifically the section that talked about (and prohibited) resubmissions, but ended up making an exception for Hyunjin on account of the “truly piteous timbre” of his email. You fell out of your chair laughing when he read you her response.

“You should’ve opened with that,” you grumble.

“I tried! Someone distracted me.”

“Read it before I change my mind.”

You spend a few minutes at most on the thesis itself, advising him to avoid passive voice, answer the prompt, establish a refutable argument, the works. Then he asks you a question about the research topic itself, allusions to the afterlife in Ancient Egyptian artwork, and the tutoring session takes a turn into what feels like a podcast episode.

You talk about the God of Death, Anubis, and his connections to the underworld; the elaborate, lavish funerary rituals intended to ensure the souls of the dead traveled safely; the vibrant murals that flanked their final resting spots as pictorial requests for divine protection. And you talk about them all with such confidence, such eloquence, that it’s as if you’re leading him through a history museum rather than talking to your phone as you do your skincare. He could listen to you for hours. He does, actually.

Around 1 A.M., Hyunjin stops typing mid-sentence when you come into frame for the first time, collapsing into your bed with a sigh of relief. Your eyes are soft and sleepy as they blink at your screen, strands of damp hair clinging to your cheeks. He feels his heart physically shift inside his ribcage when your mouth stretches into a yawn. It is the same sensation as the time you shot him a smile over your shoulder and he couldn’t move for ten minutes.

With that, his attention span has run its course.

“Baby,” he interrupts gently. “Let’s stop here, okay? You seem tired.”

You open your mouth as if to protest, only to yawn again.

“I suppose I am,” you concede. “Will you keep working tonight?”

“I think so. I hit my stride.”

“Text me if you have questions, then. I’ll respond when I wake up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Your lips curve into the smallest of smiles. It copies onto Hyunjin’s face incurably quickly. 

“I had my doubts about this tutoring thing, you know,” you murmur.

“Why is that?”

“Well, you told me this class was the closest thing to daily naptime you’d experienced since preschool.”

“It really is.”

“You also told me you would rather slam your tongue in a car door than read more than three sentences in one sitting.”

“I really would.”

“And you once referred to academia as ‘Virgin Village.’”

“Didn’t you come up with that?”

“No, hello? I live in that village.”

He grins. “I know. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Ah, don’t threaten me with a good—”

“What I’m trying to say,” you cut in, “is that I didn’t think you would take this seriously, but I’m happy to be proven wrong.”

Hyunjin leans back. “Well, turns out I might give a fuck about anthropology after all.”

“Really?”

“No.”

You pretend to punch him through the screen. It’s so cute that he forgets to think before he opens his mouth next.

“But I do give a fuck about you.”

There’s nothing crazy about the statement. You’re friends, sort of. You manage his team. It would be strange if he didn’t. But the seconds that follow are terrible, a silent prophecy of something disastrous, like a cloud of rubble before an avalanche, the standstill during a star’s final breath. And Hyunjin’s heartbeat is hounding against his ears like a performance of traditional taiko.

He says good night in a haste. The call ends. He stares at the wall of his bedroom in a muddled haze for who knows how long.

Then he opens his texts.

Hyunjin: We have team bonding tomorrow btw Hyunjin: Don’t forget Y/N: i forgot. Y/N: pick me up at 6:45? Hyunjin: 🫡

He picks you up at 7:53.

You approach his car with your fists balled and your eyebrows knitted together like a mean old curmudgeon and he’s walking too close to your lawn.

“His fault,” Hyunjin says before you start yelling.

Minho simpers at you through his open window. “Hey, you! So glad you could join us!”

You fix the man with a judgmental glare as you slide into the backseat. “Aren’t you the captain? Why are you this late?”

“Whoa, okay. I would’ve scheduled this for earlier if I knew right now was honesty hour.”

“You did schedule it for earlier,” you say. “You scheduled it for way earlier.”

“Yeah, well, you’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me, Minho.”

“I can too. Tell ‘em, Hwang.”

“I want nothing to do with this.”

When you step through the doors of the arcade, you’re met with a surge of sensory input that you haven’t experienced in years. The air hangs thick with the smells of greasy concessions; everywhere you look are flashing screens and neon signs, stuffed animals and fading posters; clamoring against your ears are the sounds of games being won or lost, of balls being pocketed or launched, and of a horde of fully grown men spectating a match of Dance Dance Revolution so passionately (and loudly) that they’ve scared everyone away from that side of the room. You recognize the current competitors as Changbin and Jeongin.

“I’ll go pay,” Hyunjin says. “How much time do we want?”

“Infinity,” Minho answers. Hyunjin doesn’t move. “Two hours.”

He flashes him a thumbs-up. “And you?”

“I’m okay, I think.”

“No you’re not,” the two men answer in perfect unison.

You glance between them warily. “I don’t mind watching, seriously. I don’t even know how most of these games work—”

“There’s Tetris,” Hyunjin cuts in.

You purchase an hour.

One would imagine the point of the evening is to break the SNU men’s volleyball team, not to bond them. You’ve never seen so many strained blood vessels in your life. Nor have you heard of half the insults they spew at each other as the night goes on. Felix has to pay a fee for lodging an air hockey puck in the side of the MarioKart machine. Changbin loses at skee-ball and has to down an XL slushie like it’s a shot. It’s a scary amount of boyishness expressed in scary ways.

But they’re happy. You’ve picked up on it when they’re on the court, noticed the raw elation they emanate just from playing together. Yet, their closeness has never been more evident to you than tonight. The men are either laughing or making someone else laugh, arms draped over each other at all times, equally happy to celebrate victories as they’re eager to punish losses. It dawns on you at some point that you’re glad to be here with them, grateful to be a part of something so special—especially because there’s Tetris.

“Have you ever considered going pro?” Hyunjin asks over your shoulder.

You waited until most of the team was distracted to slink off to your beloved machine. Hyunjin tagged along, undoubtedly with the intention of making fun of you, only to be rendered speechless by your mastery. He’s been watching in a state of stupor, forearms propped against the back of your chair.

You don’t respond for a while, too focused on a precarious patch to even blink, let alone partake in conversation.

“I already did,” you finally answer.

“Sorry, what? You played professional Tetris?”

“In middle school. Then I got bored and switched to backgammon.” You pause. “Then I got bored again and switched to chess.”

“How do you look like this with these hobbies?”

Your run ends a few minutes later with a somber sound effect. You turn around in your seat with an anguished groan. “I think I’m washed.”

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You just set a new record by three hundred thousand points.”

“It’s a small pond,” you say, and an idea occurs to you. “Do you wanna try?”

“I get the feeling I don’t have a choice.”

“Then you’re smarter than you look.”

“Well, you look—”

His eyes move between your shoes and your face, and then his voice is an inaudible mutter as he sinks into your seat. You think you hear something along the lines of unfair.

“What was that?”

“Ugly. I said you look ugly.” He cracks his knuckles. “Now let’s break some fuckin' blocks.” 

When Hyunjin learns that the pieces can be rotated (so six or seven attempts later), a man walks into the arcade. 

He has hair the color of dark chocolate, the face of a fairy prince—and he’s with someone. The two of them appear arm in arm, laughing at something he said. He looks at this person the way astronomers do to the sky.

Something shatters inside you like old porcelain.

Your hands loosen around the back of Hyunjin’s chair. You can’t watch. You can’t think. You can only feel a void of disappointment rip open, stretch over you like an elongating shadow.

“Seung!” That’s Jisung, you think. “You made it!”

“Yo, sorry we’re late.” That’s Seungmin. That is undoubtedly Seungmin. “Dinner took longer than I thought.”

“Min, are you sure I’m allowed to be here?” You don’t know who this voice belongs to and you’re not sure you want to. “I feel like I’m intruding—”

“Hwang,” you say suddenly. “I have to go.”

He turns around, confused. An unattended block falls into a terrible spot on the screen behind him. ”Already?”

“I forgot I had an important call to make.” You turn away, training your eyes on the patterned carpet. “Sorry. I’ll see you on Monday.”

You have touched Hyunjin’s hands many times. He’s asked you to tape his fingers every day since the first; he likes the way you cut off his circulation, says it helps him hit harder. But you never hold his hand so much as you examine it, the act stiff and unfeeling, cordoned within the professional pretense of athletic treatment. 

Now, Hyunjin catches your hand like a gardener repotting their favorite flower: delicately, careful of leaving its roots intact and petals untouched, but firmly, securely, so the flower continues to stand tall even when it’s been extracted from the soil, not even a speck of dirt slipping through the cracks between their fingers. That is the image you conjure when he slips his between yours, his metal rings cold where his fingertips are warm.

He says your name. There is a pinch of pain in the word, and you know that he knows.

“Do you want to be alone?”

You have never been asked such a thing—you have never asked to be asked such a thing—but, for some reason, the question brings tears to your eyes. 

“Yes, please,” you whisper, and you pull your hand away.

When you stalk past him, you hear Jisung notice you, call out to you, a note of worry in his question. You also count three pairs of eyes on your back: one concerned, the next confused, and the last you are wholly incapable of meeting. 

Unknown to you is the fourth pair fixed upon the top of the Tetris machine, where you’ve left your phone.

You emerge into the parking lot. The frigid air stills your mind for a fraction of a second, the last moment of mental quietude you will allow yourself that night.

Hyunjin’s right; the team manager doesn’t have to do much.

Coach Bang allows you to come to whichever practices and games you feel like, during which you might at most lug around a ballbag or fill someone’s waterbottle before holing up somewhere to do your own thing. But you like the people you work for too much to do so little for them, so you attend everything  your schedule allows. 

Last week, you could be found helping Minho put down the volleyball nets, your laughter echoing throughout the spacious gym as he complained to you about his biochemistry professor’s distinct “cabbage scent.” Or running to grab materials for Changbin as he treated his teammates’ injuries like you were assisting an orthodontist giving someone a root canal. The dinner invitations you extended to Seungmin were always turned down, but his teammates were more than happy to assist you and Hyunjin in your quest to establish the best kimbap joint in the area once and for all. You even had a heart-to-heart with Coach Bang during one of the team’s water breaks, in which you managed to get half a smile out of the guy; Hyunjin was convinced that was his way of asking you to elope. You’d spent more time in the gymnasium in those ten days than you had in the last ten years.

Then came the arcade.

Five days have come and gone. You haven’t attended practice since, but you still see Hyunjin every morning at anthropology. The two of you sit in uncharacteristic silence for most of the lectures. You’ve taken the best notes of your life. He doesn’t mention the previous weekend; he doesn’t mention much of anything. 

In person, that is.

That Friday afternoon, you’re reading on the terrace of the library when you receive a text. It’s from Hyunjin, a two-minute voice note. You hesitate for a moment, stick a pencil into the gutter of your textbook to save your place, and slip your earbuds in. You listen to it.

Then you listen to it again.

And again as you wrap up your study session and go home. Again as you cook yourself dinner and load the dishwasher. Again as you shrug on a jacket and pocket your keys, setting off on the familiar trek to the gym.

As for what you plan to do there on a Friday night, long after the team has finished practice, you haven’t the slightest clue. You continue to move regardless, fueled by the feeling that there is where you need to be.

Coach Bang is leaving the building just as you’re approaching it. He halts in his footsteps and raises his eyebrows when he notices you. The man has always been difficult to read, but his face is exceptionally opaque now. Maybe it’s the shadowy landscape; more likely it’s the uneasiness that began to mount within you once you noticed the lights in the gym were still on.

“It’s been a while,” he greets.

“Coach,” you return, lowering your head. “I want to apologize for—”

“Save it,” he says, not unkindly. “There’s nothing to apologize for, alright? The team is lucky to have you.”

You manage a grateful smile. “I’ll be back starting next week.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He starts to walk away, stops himself, and glances into the illuminated building. “I would give him some space, by the way.”

Your uneasiness morphs into anxiety as you watch his broad back retreat into the shadows. You remain outside the gym for a few minutes more, accompanied by the distant melodies of cricket chorales and the muffled squeaking of shoes against laminated hardwood, the harsh sounds of flesh meeting leather.

Briskly, you walk home, rummage around, and return to the gym ten minutes later with your textbook tucked beneath your arm. This time, you unlock and enter the building without a moment of hesitation. 

Hyunjin is positioned multiple yards behind the service line, rotating a volleyball in his hands. A high toss, two resounding steps, and a collision like the crack of a whip. The previous ball has barely landed in the furthest corner of the court when he’s picking up the next, retreating to the same spot to do it all again. His tank top is the color of charcoal over his sweaty skin, his hair auburn where it’s plastered to his neck. He’s alone.

You only catch sight of Hyunjin’s face when you descend the stairs. His expression is crystalline, hardened with concentration and fortified by courage, but fragile all at once, rendered delicate by fatigue and fear, spilling from his every seam and splintering off his person like a broken vase. You recognize it as clearly as if you were looking at a picture of yourself from the worst years of your life.

“I was told to give you space,” you call out, and Hyunjin drops the volleyball he’s holding.

His lips fall apart. Nothing comes out of them. The only sounds to follow are your footsteps as you make your way towards the bleachers, a vertical wall of plastic now that they’ve been retracted for the night. You fold your legs into a criss-cross as you take a seat at their base.

“Is this enough space?”

More silence. You gesture to the volleyball nervously.

“Don’t make me go further, please. I’m not ready to die.”

Finally, this earns you a smile. It’s not much, but it loosens the nervous coils in your heart, permits your lungs to contract once more, and it remains on his face as he swipes the ball back into his hands. You open your textbook.

The rest of the night elapses in turning pages and soaring volleyballs. You don’t care for minutes or hours; you give him all the time in the world, as he did you.

The only time you glance at the clock on the wall is around midnight, when Hyunjin hobbles to the middle of the court and collapses. You’re worried at first. Then he rolls onto his back and releases a guttural groan into his hands, and your held breath comes out a laugh. You set down your book and stand up.

There’s a lake of perspiration forming around him. You pay it no mind and flop onto the floor, your eyes instantly narrowing beneath the fluorescent lights. 

“How do you see under these things?”

“I don’t,” he returns. “I complained about it to Coach once.”

“And?”

“He made them brighter.”

“Sounds about right.”

He spends the next few minutes catching his breath, his chest rising and falling in your peripheral vision. You sift through your mind for phrases of consolation or gestures of support and come up empty. You wish you had Hyunjin’s way with words.

But you think about the way his smile reached his eyes as he thanked you for caring about him, the tenderness with which he caught your hand at the arcade, the I give a fuck about you he blurted before ending the study call. You think about the voice note. It’s not that Hyunjin has a way with words; it’s that he’s brave enough to break the silences that you can’t, like he perceives your anxiety for the aftermath, shouldering the responsibility so you won’t have to.

This cannot be his burden alone.

You inhale. “What’s on your mind?”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer right away. You give up on squinting and close your eyes; the lights are still bright enough to dance around the murky darkness.

“I don’t think I know how to put it into words.”

You nearly laugh; you know how that feels. “Don’t think, just talk. I’m here.”

The same advice you gave yourself seems to work on him as well.

“Do you remember Ishikawa Yuki?”

“Your role model?”

“He’s currently playing for a club team in Italy called Allianz Milano.” He blows out a deep breath. “I’ve been talking to their coach, Roberto Piazza, for the last six months.”

The gears in your head creak in their effort to process the implications of these words. “Holy shit, Hwang.”

“He emailed again, this morning. Said he was coming to the tournament later this month, he’s excited to see me play in person, whatever. And it hit me, finally, that this is all real. Like, this is actually happening to me. I spent all of today freaking out and asked Coach to let me stay back after practice. Usually, it wears out my brain if I tire my body, but it only half-worked today. I couldn’t wrap my head around anything. I still can’t.

“I am who I am because of that man, and now…I have a shot at playing with him. I keep asking myself why I’m not—not happier. I should be bouncing off the fucking walls, no? If I told my past self that this would be happening to him one day, he would—”

You open your eyes, confused by the sudden silence.

Hyunjin is sitting up next to you, staring intensely into the bleachers. You first notice the tip of his tongue prodding into his cheek, then his shuddering breath. He lifts a hand to his face, pressing against his eyes.

You stop thinking after that.

You sit up with him. When you settle your fingers around his wrist, he allows you to pull his hand back to his side. But he turns away as if trying to hide from you; he squeezes his eyes shut as if that would obstruct your view of his pain.

You reach to cradle his face, bringing him back to you. The cuff of your sleeves wipe at the saltwater on his cheeks, push the hair off his forehead with gentle sweeps. The two of you are close, close enough that your lips would meet the space between his eyes if you so much as lost your balance. His gaze traverses to your face, but you resolve not to meet it. You know you will traipse into uncharted territory the moment you do.

“Don’t fight it.” You trace over the hill of his cheek. “Healing becomes easier if you let yourself hurt. Trust me, Hyunjin.”

His first name should feel foreign on your tongue, yet you suspect the syllables have accompanied you all your life.

“You don’t have to continue if you can’t.”

“S’okay.” Hyunjin lifts your hand away from his face, presses a kiss to the base of your palm. “I want to.”

You feel yourself stumble ungracefully into the uncharted territory from before. Does he do the same?

“I used to play volleyball on this expanse of cracked blacktop, behind my primary school. It was pretty brutal on my feet—I blew through so many different pairs that my mom almost made me quit.” He smiles at the memory. “But every time I came close to quitting, I’d go home and rewatch the same USA vs. Poland match from the 2008 Summer Olympics I asked my dad to record, and I’d promise myself it would be me on some other kid’s screen someday.

“That kid would tell everyone who’d listen about how cool I am. That I’m a secret superhero. That I’m living proof humans can fly if they really, really try—just like I talked about the volleyball players I grew up watching on my TV.

“The other day, Coach told me that hope would consume me. I thought it was just some senile drivel at the time, but..I think I get what he means now. I would do anything and everything to make that kid proud—even if it meant losing myself.” He lowers his head, auburn strands falling into his eyes. “That’s what’s on my mind.”

Amidst the ensuing pause, a storm approaches. It does not come in the form of rain or snow, sleet or hail, no; it is a gathering of words unsaid and emotions unacknowledged, all emerging from the deepest chambers of your heart in synchrony. The same entities you used to scapegoat for all the times things were awkward between you and Hyunjin when you were the culprit all along. You and your blind cowardice.

The storm tears open the seam of your lips. You do not resist; it’s long overdue.

“Every time Changbin sees you, he turns into a smitten schoolgirl,” you say. “He is physically unable to contain how endearing he finds you. He told me so himself.”

Hyunjin looks at you with widened eyes. You think you can see your own reflection in them, and you are the spitting image of a lighter dropped into gasoline, unstoppable in your vehemence.

“Jeongin comes to you for advice before anyone else,” you continue, “even for things related to school—which I still find hard to believe, I’m not gonna lie. But you have his best interests in mind, and it shows in everything you do for him. Of course your opinion matters more than anything in the world.

“I know you think he can’t stand you, but you are the reason Coach Bang loves this job, why he loves this sport. It’s written all over his face every time he calls you something mean, every time he makes you run another lap, every time he looks at you. You’re like a son to him. Everyone sees it but you.”

“Then there’s me.” You pause to catch your breath. “When I think about what my life used to be, I remember a lot of things. I remember loneliness. Insecurity. I remember my books and my backgammon boards and the way I taught myself to disappear inside them so the world would never find me. I remember avoiding mirrors like a vampire because I didn’t like seeing my own reflection. I remember feeling like I had to put on someone else’s personality every time I left the house because nobody would want to know me for me. All I ever wanted was a place where I could be myself, love myself, without consequence. I have yet to find that place.

“But I found a person. Someone who wouldn’t know time and place if they kicked his dick into his body. Someone who thinks instant ramen is high in nutritional value because it comes with dried vegetables. Someone who sweats the same amount of rain the Sahara Desert receives yearly—your body is not normal, by the way.”

Hyunjin giggles; it is soft and short, a small, tearful huff into the quiet air that makes you feel like you’re flying.

“Don’t get me wrong,” you say. “Your sense of humor sucks and your taste in coffee is so boring and you are the one with no media literacy, not Professor Kim. But I love spending time with you. I love who I am when I’m around you. And none of that has to do with volleyball.”

The next time you blink, you discover that he’s not the only one with tears in his eyes. How long has that been going on?

“There’s so much about you to be proud of, Hyunjin.” You give him a watery smile. “That kid will be spoiled for choice.”

When Hyunjin pulls you into his arms, you fall into each other like going to bed after a long day. Your face burrows into the crook of his neck in your embarrassment; he is laughing and crying at the same time when he mumbles something into your shoulder: “I knew you cared about me.”

You are so happy for the comedic relief you could sob. It helps that you already are.

“How the fuck are you still sweaty?”

You think you like his cologne after all.

Six days later, Hyunjin opens the door of his apartment.

A fun-sized flurry of black and white barrages into the hallway outside and almost runs headfirst into the figure waiting there. You fall to your knees like you’ve just been gravely wounded, emitting an ear-piercing wail to match. All it takes is a few good head scratches for Kkami to stop yipping bloody murder and start whining for attention instead. 

Upon minute five of watching you and his dog cuddle in the hallway directly outside his home, Hyunjin sighs.

“Can you come inside, please? My RA will think I’m doing some freaky shit again.”

You side-eye him as you walk into his apartment, Kkami perched happily in your arms. “What, exactly, does freaky shit entail?”

He smirks as the door falls shut. “You want me to tell you or show you?”

You turn to Kkami, disgusted. “Your owner’s a bit of a pervert, my dear.”

Kkami licks you on the chin. Hyunjin’s eyes narrow to slits.

“Traitor.”

Naturally, Hyunjin’s parents chose the eve of his final anthropology exam—and the week before the tournament that will determine the trajectory of his career—to ask him to look after Kkami for a few days. He nearly canceled their plane tickets himself, but his impromptu roommate is currently ransacking your face with kisses on his couch, and he thinks your laugh complements his studio better than any decoration. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” He calls from the kitchen area.

You meander over, Kkami (still) perched happily in your arms. “What do you have?” 

“Alcohol.” He opens his fridge far enough so you can peer over his shoulder. “Americanos.”

He stops speaking.

“Is that all?”

“Yes. Wait—and apple juice.”

“You are about to be a professional athlete.”

“What the Italians don’t know won’t hurt them. You want apple juice, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

“Maybe. Can you open it for me? My hands are full.”

Hyunjin does so with far less reluctance than he feigns. You thank him jubilantly, popping the straw into your mouth.

“Let’s get this over with.”

At 10:32 P.M., all is calm. You are sitting on the floor, your back against the side of his mattress. Hyunjin is where the universe intended: curled up in bed, both him and his laptop lying on their sides. You have studied eight out of ten units in only two and a half hours, and the night is still young. Kkami is but a fluffy, sleepy Oreo by your waist.

At 10:33 P.M., the Oreo begins to retch.

You startle a foot into the air. Hyunjin is out of bed and on his feet in the blink of an eye, the very image of a dog dad on duty. He grabs three different things off the kitchen counter with one hand and scoops up the long-haired chihuahua with the other, and then he’s kicking open the door.

Seungmin appears out of thin air carrying two heaping bags of groceries. Hyunjin nearly knocks him and a month’s worth of fresh produce down four flights of stairs.

“Hyun—Kkami?” Seungmin swivels. “Yo, what the fuck is—”

Hyunjin is already out the door.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin squats off to the side, pouring fresh water into a portable dog bowl. A little ways away, Kkami is throwing up ebulliently; a set of footsteps approaches.

“What is this thing?” Seungmin squats down next to Hyunjin, picking up the piece of patterned fabric lying on the grass. 

“Kkami gets sad after throwing up,” he sighs. “His blanket makes him feel better.”

Seungmin watches the chihuahua for a few moments, a soft flinch crimping his features. “He ate too fast again?”

Hyunjin rakes a hand through his hair. “I don’t get it. Nobody’s gonna take his food from him.”

Seungmin laughs. “I didn’t even know he was on campus.”

“I picked him up last night. My parents are traveling for work—they say hi, by the way.”

“I say hi back. I miss your mom’s cooking.”

“Me too,” Hyunjin says, smiling. “She would love to cook for you again—she’s always saying you’re too skinny.”

“She really is.”

A beat passes; it is then that Hyunjin has an epiphany.

Seungmin was the one who put a volleyball in his hands for the first time. Back then, Hyunjin was the lesser troublemaker between the two of them—a concept that neither of them can wrap their heads around to this day. Seungmin suggested they use the clotheslines in Hyunjin’s backyard as a makeshift net, despite Hyunjin’s dissuading; half of Hyunjin’s father’s wardrobe caught on fire, Seungmin had a black eye for a week, and nobody knows what happened to that volleyball. The two of them have been attached at the hip ever since.

It is a crazy thing, having your best friend as a teammate; a singular flick of the wrist or a point of his shoe and Seungmin will know exactly Hyunjin wants the ball down to the net’s fraying fibers; Hyunjin will be exactly where Seungmin needs him down to the flecks of paint on the volleyball court. Hyunjin has always been Seungmin’s hitter—Seungmin, always Hyunjin’s setter. Nothing will ever change between them so long as that remains the case.

At least, that’s what Hyunjin used to think.

Learning that Seungmin was in a relationship was as much a wake-up call for Hyunjin as it was for you. At first, he was just fucking pissed; how could Seungmin be so stupid as to turn down someone like you, especially when Hyunjin had shot his mouth off about his wingman services? More importantly, how long had his best friend of eighteen years been in love, and why was he the last to know? 

Only now, as they wait for his nine-year-old chihuahua to finish barfing, does Hyunjin realize that he can’t remember the last time he and Seungmin talked. Not “talked” as in a brief exchange inside the locker room or the lecture hall, about a new approach he wants to try or what Seungmin got on number four or if he wants a ride to practice—“talked” as in talked, about Hyunjin, about Seungmin, about the eighteen years they shared, about all the years yet to come.

Hyunjin sees his setter every day; he stopped looking for his friend a long time ago. 

“Yeonwoo, right?”

He senses surprise in Seungmin without having to look at him. But he also senses a smile, a subtle show that Seungmin recognizes what he’s trying to do—and forgives him.

“Yeonwoo,” Seungmin affirms. “We’re in the same songwriting intensive this semester.”

“Also a singer?”

He shakes his head. “Piano player. Performed at the Carnegie Hall in the United States at, like, seven years old. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so talented.”

“Wow, that’s—hi, old man. You done?”

Kkami walks over with his head hung low and tail between his legs, and Hyunjin hurries to drape the pup in his favorite blanket, pulling the bowl of water in front of him in tandem. Seungmin runs a hand over the top of Kkami’s head as he hydrates.

“You’ve suffered,” he tells him solemnly, and Hyunjin snorts.

“As I was saying—that’s crazy to hear, coming from the most talented person I know. You guys looked so good together.”

“Thanks. It’s weird. I’m happy.”

“You deserve it. You really do, Kim.” They exchange smiles, and Hyunjin gives Seungmin a playful nudge. “When are you introducing us?”

“The arcade wasn’t enough?”

“Don’t insult me.”

“Whenever you want, then.”

“Dinner with my mom, dinner with Yeonwoo,” Hyunjin recounts. “I’m holding you to it.”

“Bet.”

They shake on it. If Hyunjin wasn’t already reassured by Seungmin’s smile, he knows by his clasp around his hand that they’ll be okay.

“What about you?” Seungmin asks. “Are you together yet?”

Hyunjin knew this was coming. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Seungmin strings his hands together, letting them dangle in the space between his knees. “Someone you have questions for that you’re too scared to ask. Someone who’s lived in your mind since the day you met. There’s someone like that, isn’t there?”

Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek. 

Ever since that night on the gym floor, Hyunjin’s been having these dreams. By the time his alarm goes off in the morning, every detail of the dream has eluded him, leaving behind only a ghost of emotion, akin to the breeze that grazes your face moments after walking past another person.

But then he’ll get out of bed, and walk to that café on the east side of campus, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There, he’ll order a vanilla latte with extra sweetener, then turn around to see you standing five feet away, holding an Americano and trying not to laugh. And he’ll just know, with everything in him, that you are where his head goes when he’s not keeping watch.

He still addresses you by the pet names you hate. He still finds any excuse to be close to you; he still pesters you like a child with a crush. But now, he calls you his baby like one wishes on a star; his eyes drift to your lips every time you’re within two feet of each other; he makes fun of your likes and dislikes only because he’s happy to know about them at all. Ever since that night on the gym floor.

It’s impossible for nothing and everything to change at once. Two people teetering on the precipice of something cannot withstand a gust of wind so powerful. He’s already hanging off the ledge, losing his grip; where are you?

Next to him, Seungmin lets out a soft laugh. “There is.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say.

“It might’ve been me, at some point,” he hums, returning his hand to scratch the back of Kkami’s ears. “But it has always been you, Hyun.”

Four floors above them and inside Hyunjin’s place, you are pacing between his fridge and his bed, nervously awaiting his and Kkami’s return.

Something catches your eye, wide and flat and hung on the wall by his bathroom door. You approach it curiously, your lips pulling into a fond smile the moment you realize all that’s in front of you.

Many of the photographs are of Hyunjin: him in his preteens, dead asleep in bed while dressed head to toe in volleyball gear, braces visible because his mouth is open; an action shot taken at what must’ve been a U21 match, the South Korean flag stitched into the shoulder of his jersey; him with half a birthday cake in front of him and the rest smeared all over his face. There are headlines, too: Underdog team earns district’s first high school volleyball state title; Hwang Hyunjin proves himself worthy of “ace spiker” label at South Korea V. Croatia U19 match; Coach Bang “Christopher” Chan leads Seoul National University to second consecutive KUL championship. There’s one—Who is Hwang Hyunjin? Meet the twenty-year-old instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution—beside which he’s written the singular word “mouthful.” You laugh; you agree.

But pinned to the corkboard is also a photograph of Minho, surrounded by stray cats in the alleyway outside a K-BBQ restaurant; his parents cradling Kkami in an apple costume; his high school volleyball team silhouetted against a pretty sunset. Him and Seungmin as kids, covered in grime and scrapes but beaming nonetheless; him and Seungmin at age nineteen, stadium lights on their backs, unadulterated elation on their faces as they charge towards each other, beaming still. Changbin piggybacking Felix through the hallways of the gym, neither of them wearing a shirt; Jisung offering Coach Bang a beer while the latter looks direly unamused (you make a mental note to ask about that one later); what looks like a Rock Lee cosplayer grimacing in the middle of your anthropology classroom.

You rush forward as if decreed by gravitational force. Not too far away is another picture of you, in which you boast a Miffy headband and a face full of foaming cleanser. Then another, your eyes narrowed like that of a sniper taking aim as you’re playing Tetris; you with so many volleyballs piled into your arms that you can’t see your own face; your cheeks squished by a bandaged hand after you lost a bet about pandas (they can swim); you clutching your stomach on the library floor, brought to hysterical tears by Professor Kim’s email. You, you, you.

You bring your pointer finger to this last image, tracing it over the curve of your own cheek. You see a dimple on your face you didn’t know you had. You realize it only comes out for him.

It has always been him.

The front door opens. A man with telephone poles for legs and a long-haired chihuahua in his arms appears behind it. You sense in him that something has changed since you last saw each other. The two of you lock eyes. 

It’s not awkward this time.

Multiple yards behind the service line, Hyunjin is rotating a volleyball in his hands. It feels solid and sentient, an extension of himself held in cotton-clad fingers. He knows how this story will end.

He moves his eyes to his best friend’s back. Four fingers flash back at him twice, signaling a high lob set to the left, the very play they’ve practiced tirelessly for the last five weeks. The breath Hyunjin blows out of his cheeks seems to crystallize in the air, almost solid in all its exhilaration. 

He bends low and throws high. His arms drop behind his body like a spread of feathered wings; his feet fall into place below him like a meteor shower, two consecutive strikes against the earth that fissure its mantle. The lights overhead are bright. His palm pulls taut when it slams into leather. He knows how this story will end.

The volleyball tears towards the ground. It trembles as if scared by all that it holds: the guarantee of a flawless denouement, the catalyst of a radiant future. Hyunjin’s heart is beating hard enough to crack his ribs when he lands back on the ground, when the volleyball lands in the furthest corner of the court. He’s not scared at all.

He balls his fingers into fists.

“JUST LIKE LAST YEAR, BACK TO BACK ON AN ACE—”

An arm seizes Hyunjin’s neck; another drags him onto the floor. His head thuds onto the hardwood with a sound he hears over the whole world detonating. His vision fills with the faces of the people he cares for most, some covered in tears and others rivaling the ceiling with their blinding smiles. He can’t feel most of his body; his sweat drips into his mouth. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

“—DEFENDING THEIR TITLE FOR THE THIRD CONSECUTIVE YEAR—”

His eyes find Seungmin’s among the fray. Their hands clap together with such force that Hyunjin cusses at the impact. Seungmin’s gaze burns into his with a ferocity that Hyunjin plans to take to his grave. His setter. His best friend.

He says something inaudible, but Hyunjin reads the words off his lips, and his eyes fill with tears: we win everything.

“—YOUR NATIONAL CHAMPIONS: SEOUL NATIONAL UNIVERSITY!”

Hyunjin’s post-game interview is a lawless affair. He is allowed at most half an answer before a new teammate is barreling over with an animalistic screech or a new friend is screaming congratulations from out of frame.

The reporter is visibly agitated by her final question, unpursing her lips to ask: “Is there anyone you’d like to thank?”

Hyunjin exhales. “You want the short answer or the long—”

Changbin seizes him by the head. Hyunjin bursts into a peal of high-pitched laughter as the libero litters kisses all over his face, nearly crumpling to the floor in his attempt to escape.

“Love you,” he yells before hurrying off. 

“Love you too, Bin.”

Hyunjin turns a sheepish smile to the reporter.

“The short answer,” she deadpans.

He starts counting off his fingers. He thanks his family—his first and last teammates, his eternal anchors. His other family, his actual teammates, the best boys he’s ever known. His coach, who will let him call him Chris someday. His best friend and setter, Kim Seungmin, who set a clothesline on fire once and changed his life forever.

In the distance, a figure emerges from the locker rooms. There’s a navy blue SNU banner draped over your shoulders, two overflowing duffel bags in your hands. Jisung and Jeongin run over to take them from you, and the smile you give them is wide and flushed, a remnant of the elation you shared from afar. The three of you start walking out of the gym.

Hyunjin thanks you.

You didn’t ask for the position, he tells the reporter, but some idiot roped you into it, and they’re all so grateful that you decided to stick around. You know the team better than they know themselves—it’s hard to believe you’ve been with them for five weeks instead of five years.

What are you like? What aren’t you like, is the better question. You’re caring, smart, strong; you see so much goodness in the people around you, all while unaware that it is your warmth that brings it out of them. Flowers only bloom in the sun’s doting radius, and so did he.

You have the sort of soul that incurs the scorn of the stars. They are the only ones to deserve you, they'd argue; you’re wasting your potential among humans when you belong to the sky. They’re right.

Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek, suddenly annoyed. “Why the fuck am I still talking to you?” 

“Pardon?” The reporter returns, but Hyunjin is already vaulting over the bleachers, making a mad dash for the exit. She gives her cameraman an affronted glare. He shrugs.

He explodes onto the concrete, looking around in a frantic haze. He finds the blue banner heading toward the team bus and flanked by his teammates with ease.

He calls out to you.

You glance backwards. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the area’s busy thrum. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram again, but he’s used to this feeling by now. Jeongin and Jisung make themselves scarce.

You’re beautiful. God, you’re fucking beautiful. That was the first thought to enter his mind when he spilled an iced Americano on your lap all those months ago and you looked at him like he hailed from another planet. And it is the first thought to enter his mind now, when he runs up to you and cradles your face in his hands, his touch infinitely, impossibly gentle, and you look at him like he’s everything that has ever existed, everything that ever will. 

Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes—if he didn’t have something far better to do.

“Tell me now if you don’t want me to do this,” he whispers.

A stupid smile crosses the face of the smartest person he knows. “My lips are sealed.”

Hyunjin kisses you. He kisses you until the banner around your shoulders is wrinkled under his touch, until your hands are tangled in his hair and aching his scalp, until the breaths you take are breaths you share, passed between your mouths like a puff of smoke before they’re colliding again.

He kisses you until he’s crying, again, until he’s no longer tasting your lips but your grin, and he kisses you only harder when those scornful stars start to dance before him, for you are his, not theirs, and he’s really won everything, now.

“Hwang, I need you in my office.”

Six months later, Hyunjin sees Coach Bang standing a few yards away with a grim air about him. He stops in his footsteps and glances at his captain, confused.

“I know nothing,” Seungmin says, walking away. “Good luck!”

“Thanks, cap.” Hyunjin swears he’s had this exact exchange before.

Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace still reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. But there are two picture frames on his desk now: one of his family in front of the Sydney Opera House, the other of a band of boys clad in navy blue, draped over one another in exhausted bliss. The latter lends the room a much-needed sense of vitality. Too bad it still houses a rusty cyborg.

Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “Read.”

From: Nicola Daldello «ndaldello@pvm.com» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «cb97@snu.edu» Subject: Re: Allianz Milano V. Pallavolo Perugia practice game Christopher, Allow me to apologize for my delayed response as I shared your request with Chairman Piazza. It is my great pleasure to inform you that we would love for Mr. Hwang Hyunjin to participate in our practice game versus Pallavolo Perugia. The match is scheduled for Monday, October 7th, 5-7 P.M. CET in the Giurati Sports Centre in Milan. Mr. Hwang will be playing for Allianz Milano as an outside hitter alongside Mr. Matey Kaziyski, Mr. Osniel Mergarejo, and Mr. Ishikawa Yuki. Please let me know of your availability to call regarding Mr. Hwang’s travel logistics. His transportation and lodging costs will be paid for by the club. I’m looking forward to speaking with you and welcoming Mr. Hwang to Italy once and for all. Yours, Nicola Daldello Assistant Coach, Allianz Milano

“I told you, some opportunities just present themselves,” Bang says, turning his monitor back around. “As for next steps, I need a holistic calendar view of your entire month of October, including social ev—Hwang, is that foam coming out of your mo—NOT ON MY CARPET! HWANG!”

In a park about a ten minute walk away, a small crowd of elderly people are scattered across a few stone tables, hunched over the fading chess boards painted into the granite surfaces. Mrs. Choi whisks away Mrs. Baek’s king with a triumphant yelp.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! That opening is unbeatable!” She swivels towards you, shaking a fist threateningly. “You! Get over here. Your reign is over.”

You are sitting cross-legged in the shade of a broad magnolia tree, clearing out your storage. You tried to take a picture of a particularly rotund pigeon to send to Hyunjin earlier and couldn’t even do that. It was then you decided you couldn't live like this anymore.

“As excited as I am to beat you again, Mrs. Choi, I need ten more minutes,” you call back. 

She presents you with an unpleasant hand gesture. You turn your attention back to your phone, grinning. Two new notifications sit at the top of your lock screen.

Hyunjin: Omw now. Sorry had to talk to Chris Hyunjin: Same park? Y/N: yes Hyunjin: Who’s the opp today Y/N: mrs. choi Hyunjin: Not that bitch again Y/N: ?

He’ll be here in eight minutes.

You return to the task at hand. You’ve already cleared out your apps, your documents, and videos; all that’s left is the audio files. You conduct a quick mental review. Surely you’ll live without your downloaded music and accidental voice memos.

Instead of hitting the “delete” button, you extract a pair of tangled earphones from your jacket pocket.

You go back to your texts with Hyunjin, open the shared attachments tab, and scroll for a long time before you find the voice note he sent you seven months ago.

He finds you a sobbing mess.

“Hey, hey, whoa.” He’s on his knees in an instant, gathering your hands into his, a world of concern in the brown of his eyes. Your earbuds fall out and clatter onto the cement below. “Baby, what’s happening? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you say in a flustered haste. “Yes, I’m okay. I don’t—I don’t really know what’s happening.”

“Did that hag do this to you?” He asks this question so seriously. “I’ll beat up a senior citizen, I don’t give a fuck—”

“No!” You let out an ugly laugh through your tears. “No, no. Leave Mrs. Choi alone.”

“Then what is it? What’s wrong?”

Eventually, your vision clears enough for you to look at the man kneeling in front of you. His roots grow out longer every day, his hair by now nearly equal parts gold and black. A spot of sunlight infiltrates the magnolia leaves and lands on his left eye, turning it the hue of melted bronze.

Your fingers drift to the sides of his beautiful face as you lean in close; he smells like a combination of smoky rose and tropical coastlines.

“I’ll tell you later,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his hairline. 

He is dissatisfied with this, hooking a pointer finger beneath your chin, guiding your face back to his. He laves the saltwater from your lips, your tongue, and then you’re smiling again, barely able to remember why you cried in the first place.

You rest your foreheads together. “Have I told you that you look like a bumblebee these days?”

He smiles. “Does that make you my flower, then?”

“Because you’re irresistably drawn to me?”

“No, because I wanna put my pollen in—”

You shove him away. “You are grotesque.”

He returns in a flash. “You love me.”

You kiss him again. And again. And one more time for good measure, during which you mumble I do against his lips, and then you remember something.

“Why did Coach hold you back, by the way?” You pull away, tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Are you in trouble again?”

“No, no. The opposite, actually.”

Your brow furrows. “The opposite? What—”

“In this lifetime, please,” Mrs. Choi hollers from the chess tables. You roll your eyes. Hyunjin smiles helplessly.

“Duty calls, my love.”

“Tell me your thing later too?”

“Of course.”

You dust yourself off and stand up, making your way to the battleground. But not before you whisper to Hyunjin, “now watch me beat up a senior citizen.”

He laughs with his whole body, his eyes the shape of crescent moons, his mouth a little rectangle.

“Hypocrite.”

Hyunjin: [1 Audio Message]

This is my seventh take and I’m not recording an eighth. What you get is what you get. I don’t care anymore.

I understand if you don’t wanna talk about what happened at the arcade. I wouldn’t, either. I just wanted to say that you don’t have to do this tutoring thing anymore. I won’t be able to fulfill my end of our deal, so…yeah, it wouldn’t be fair to you. You’ve already done so much for us. For me.

As for team manager, you’ll have to talk to Minho and Coach Bang if you wanna quit. Doesn’t sound like a fun conversation, I know—but if that’s what you decide, I’ll have your back. They don’t scare me. Well, they do. Sometimes.

You’ve been…distant, this week. I’ve known peace and quiet for the first time since we met, and I fucking hate it. I realized I couldn’t care less if you’re my tutor or my team manager or whatever—I just don’t want you to be a stranger. Maybe that’s selfish of me to say, but I’m tired of pretending the idea of losing you doesn’t terrify me. It does. It truly fucking does.

I’m gonna end this here, because I almost just stopped recording on accident and I would’ve committed first degree murder if I had to do this all over again. Sorry that this got so long, and…I’m sorry about everything. You deserve better.

Come back to me whenever you’re ready, okay? I’ll be waiting.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・@automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8・@weedforthoughtz・@hyunverse

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

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orange peels

ᡣ𐭩 it's the worst best soft launch yet

pairing. . . lando norris x reader face claim. . . tingting lai (tingting_lai on instagram)

lnfour just added to their story!

lnfour ✓⃝

Liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, and 38,044 others

lnfour Busy week for Lando & the team. Swipe to the end to see how he really feels about it 🫢

View all 84 comments

user2 pls the last photo 🤣

landonorris i thought we agreed not to use that photo ╰ lnfour landonorris idk what you're talking about 🫣 ╰ landonorris lnfour suddenly i need a new admin ╰ lnfour landonorris no you dont 🙂🫶🏼

user3 not the flirting in the comments!!! ╰ user4 literally where????

yourusername

Liked by yourbff and others

yourusername lots of orange & oranges 🍊🧡

View all 63 comments

user6 you're so cute!! ❤︎ yoursername

landonorris orange is a good look on you

landonorris i think orange is a great color ╰ yourusername landonorris i think youre biased 😗 ╰ landonorris yourusername i definitely am 😉 ❤︎ yoursername

yourbff do you like this little life??? ╰ yourusername i love** this little life ╰ yourbff gross!

landonorris ✓⃝

Liked by maxfewtrell, yourusername, and 721,371 others

landonorris i'm definitely loving this little life

View all 659 comments

user7 now wait a MINUTE

user8 is..... is lando in his soft launch era?? ╰ user9 user8 but is it really a soft launch if we know who it is??? ╰ user8 user9 lmaooo pls theyre doing their best 😭

yourusername no photo creds??? ╰ landonorris yourusername i feel like it goes without saying at this point ╰ user10 landonorris yourusername OH?????

yourusername

Liked by landonorris and others

yourusername living the sweet life

View all 96 comments

user14 getting one step closer to the hard launch 😮‍💨

user15 lando's fingers must be sore from all the oranges he's been peeling ❤︎ landonorris

landonorris cuz the oranges? ╰ yourusername landonorris among other things 🤫

d rambles. . . im sorry if this seems rushed i did what i could with the photo limit 😔 but i hope you guys like this one, and as always feedback is always appreciated!

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ੈ✩‧₊˚ HOW DO YOU TURN THIS THING OFF? — LN4

pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader

summary: fans love when you make appearances in landos streams. it’s usually because he doesn’t know where something is, and the internet goes crazy over their favorite certified himbo. on one stream, you get a taste of your own medicine when lando tasks you with turning the live feed off, and fans get a little more of an insight into your relationship

genre: established relationship, humour

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just tweeted

ੈ✩‧₊˚ user2 just made a thread

ੈ✩‧₊˚ landonorris just posted a photo

liked by yourusername and 406,409 others

landonorris dinner date then stream, be there or be square, 6pm

view all comments

maxfewtrell did she have to show you how to use a knife and fork too?

yourusername i definitely had to show him how to fill my wine glass up when it was empty

user PUT Y/N ON THE STREAM WE WANT MORE Y/N

user if he comes on in a dress shirt i’m Dead

user oh they’ve all definitely seen the thread😭😭

ੈ✩‧₊˚ user just posted a thread

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 108,654 others

yourusername this time it was my own stupidity that let the secret out. and i didn’t have to show him how to propose! he did it all on his own accord!

view all comments

user YOU’RE SUCH AN ICON

user only lando and y/n could accidentally expose their own engagement

user THE CAPTION😭😭 she really has kept him alive all these years huh

user ‘i wouldn’t want to think of a life without you anyway’ now if that’s not meant to be than what is

landonorris i love you

landonorris really quick whilst we’re at it,,, where tf do we keep the spare phone chargers?

yourusername oh.. oh baby. i’ll be home in 5

————

a/n: hELLO! so the snippet from this got over 200 notes and i couldn’t wait to post it because you all loved it so much!

for the rest of my wips, check out the wip game linked in my pinned post!!

all of your feedback over the last few days has made me so happy sjdjsjs, any thoughts please feel free to send i am having so much fun creating for you guys. i seriously appreciate every like comment ask and follow!! anon emojis are now listed in my bio so if you wanna chat a bunch, have a look at what’s free !

- giselle

taglist (found here): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie @m0cha-bunny @woozarts @he6rtshaker @iluvvmeeee @goldenalbon @izzy-marvel @lucyysthings @lichterfee @tallrock35 @treehouse-house @iloveyou3000morgan

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