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Rin meets him in the winter.
It’s been a few months since the beginning of classes and Rin has easily settled into a brand new routine. He wakes up early every day, whether he has morning classes or not, and goes on a run. When he comes back, he treats himself to the same breakfast, always with a cup of hot tea, and then heads to class. Football practice is always held in the evening, so Rin packs leftovers into his mini fridge over the weekend, ensuring he always has an easy dinner waiting. He works on homework until the day’s exhaustion catches up with him and then calls it a night.
He has every day planned to the last minute. It’s how he got through high school and how he plans on succeeding now that he’s in university.
It might be mind-numbingly boring to anyone else, but it hasn’t failed Rin yet.
That might change today.
Because for the first time in this whole semester— which happens to be Rin’s first ever semester —he’s running late.
Somehow, he’d slept in.
Staying up one too many nights has its consequences. Rin wakes up to learn he has a developmental psychology class in less than twenty minutes, and his alarm has long given up on him. The professor running the class in question happens to be old-fashioned and unyielding. He refuses to record his lectures or even upload his annotated slides.
Rin can’t afford to miss a single lecture.
So he throws on the first clothes he sees as quickly as possible. He doesn’t want to look disheveled but there’s only so much he can do in five minutes. It takes him fourteen minutes to walk to class, so every second is valuable.
He grabs a protein bar from his desk, one of three pieces of furniture he’d been provided with, and laces up his shoes. He could replace his daily run by jogging to class, but Rin balks at the idea of sitting in a puddle of his own sweat for over an hour. He’ll just practice harder than usual today to make up for it.
Rin grabs his jacket from the back of his door and pulls it on. Protein bar in hand, he flings the door to his room open and lets it slam shut behind him.
He starts unwrapping the bar as he swiftly makes his way down the hallway, towards the elevator. He presses the button and waits.
Rin feels his sanity start to leave him when the elevator doesn’t immediately arrive on his floor. He’s half considering taking the stairs when finally, the beep he’s been waiting for sounds through the hallway. The doors slide open and he’s met with a girl. She’s standing in the corner, with her head bowed and her eyes on her phone. Rin easily steps into the opposite corner, and she doesn’t look up. Rin breathes a sigh of relief.
During orientation and even the first few months of the year, the elevator had been an unpleasant place. People forgot all basic etiquette and engaged random strangers in conversation, taking advantage of every possible opportunity to make friends. It had Rin resorting to the stairs, even though he lives on the sixth floor.
But now, it seems the desperation has finally worn off.
He chews on his protein bar until the elevator drops them both off at the first floor. Immediately, Rin takes off without looking back. He checks his phone as he exits the building and grimaces. He should hurry.
Rin’s only taken a couple of steps outside of the residence when he hears an unfamiliar voice.
“Uh— Excuse me?”
There’s no one else walking this street. No one else the voice could possibly be addressing.
Rin stops walking, but doesn’t grace the stranger with a response. Not yet.
“I think you dropped something,” the same voice sheepishly explains. It’s louder now. Presumably, the stranger’s stepped closer to him.
Rin turns just his head, and takes in what’s being held out to him. A hand, half enveloped by a puffy sleeve, displays a familiar set of keys.
Rin’s own hands immediately dart to his side pocket and he realizes it’s empty. How had he not noticed?
His eyes trace up the figure’s arms and land on their face. Rin doesn’t need to straighten his neck. They’re a whole head shorter than Rin.
A soft, rounded face— no, a boy’s face —greets him. His nose is red from the cold. There are streaks of gold running through his hair, nearly identical to the vibrant hue of his irises.
He smiles brightly and Rin is already wary of him.
“Here you go,” he says, extending his arm until his fingers are uncomfortably close to Rin’s hand, which still hangs stiff at his side.
Quickly, Rin snatches the keys from the boy’s hand. In the split second it takes him to get a grip on them, he feels an unmistakable warmth. Someone else’s skin pressed against his.
Rin tries not to shudder. He gives the stranger, whose palm is still awkwardly outstretched, a cursory nod.
Then he whirls around, determined to cut the interaction short and make it to class on time.
Despite his long strides and brisk pace, as Rin continues down the path he picks up on a lighthearted, “You’re welcome!” from behind him.
He doesn’t acknowledge it.
Rin meets him in the winter and it’s strange. He doesn’t even know the stranger’s name. But even upon his first glimpse of him, Rin knows, somehow, that Bachira Meguru is a creature of summer time.
Rin avoids visiting his brother’s apartment as much as he can.
It’s easy enough when his brother lives a good twenty minute drive away from campus and Rin happens to lack a car. They haven't gone out of their way to see each other since Rin started college and considering they have no mutual friends, Rin rarely bumps into his brother in general.
It works out, since Sae is equally unable to bear his company.
But sometimes, Rin is forced to seek him out.
He’s currently standing outside of his brother’s front door, with a plastic bag in one hand. Sae had texted him yesterday, asking for Rin to return the formal wear he had borrowed a few months back.
Sae had offered to come by Rin’s place to pick it up but Rin would rather his brother stay off campus as much as possible. Rin’s sure he visits sometimes to pick up Shidou, but there’s no need for Sae to get comfortable here. Not when he turned down the whole college route in favor of football.
Rin would rather get this over with quickly and return home in time to catch up on some readings. So he braces himself and knocks on the door.
When the door opens, it’s worse than anything Rin had been expecting.
“Rinrin?” he hears and immediately shuts his eyes in exasperation. It’s the most infuriating voice in existence.
Shidou Ryusei stands in the entryway, hair damp and loose instead of in its characteristic spikes. Rin doesn’t think too hard about the implications of that.
Shidou smiles at him, all teeth and antagonism, and makes no move to let him inside. “Sae,” he calls into the depths of the apartment. “Your kid brother is here!”
Rin refrains from pointing out he’s only two years younger. He gives Shidou a withering glare instead.
Before Shidou can say anything else grating, there’s the sound of footsteps. And then Rin’s brother stands behind Shidou, giving Rin a curious look.
“Aren’t you going to come in?” Sae asks, like he couldn’t care less.
Rin wasn’t planning on it, but if Shidou insists on blocking his way, he’ll take his brother up on it.
“Sure,” he says, through gritted teeth. Rin’s gaze returns to Shidou, who continues stubbornly standing in his way.
To his disgust, Sae then uses the most sickening tone Rin’s ever heard from him to say, “C’mere, Ryusei.”
Obediently, Shidou does.
Rin takes a step inside of Sae’s apartment, regretting everything.
Shidou is looking at his brother like he’s never seen anyone as riveting as him and Rin has just willingly inserted himself into the situation.
Rin doesn’t understand them. Absolutely nothing about Shidou or Sae comes off as endearing. Love must really blind people.
He has to suppress a shudder when he imagines another possibility. The possibility of the two of them being actual soulmates, and making the rest of Rin’s life a living hell.
Rin drops the plastic bag he’s holding onto the first surface he sees. It happens to be a coffee table, covered in notes. Rin glances over them casually and notices a detailed flowchart on DNA repair. Oh, right. Shidou and his pretentious microbiology degree.
“Do you have plans tonight, Rin?” Rin turns to see that Sae has stopped staring at his boyfriend.
He wonders if Sae is trying to extend an invitation. It somehow convinces him to say, “Just some homework,” instead of a flat yes.
He waits and Sae says nothing. Then, “We’re going to watch a movie.” He gestures at the tv.
We most definitely refers to Sae and Shidou. There’s no explicit request for Rin to join them. And Rin definitely won’t invite himself after such a laughable attempt to include him.
Rin turns to Sae’s kitchen and opens a cabinet. He might as well give himself a convincing reason for entering Sae’s apartment in the first place.
He pours himself a glass of water and gulps it down. He can feel his brother’s eyes on him the whole time.
Finally, he puts the empty glass down. “Well, I should get to it,” Rin says coolly.
Sae scrutinizes him a beat longer but doesn’t stop Rin as he heads for the door.
Out of the corner of his eye, Rin sees Shidou wave him goodbye. He wrinkles his nose and turns the door handle.
“Bye, Rin,” his brother says in place of thanks. Rin hums in place of a proper answer.
It’s the first time he’s seen his brother in weeks and Rin truthfully expected no different.
He shuts his eyes again once he’s stepped into the hallway.
Once upon a time, when Rin was too young to know any better, Sae had been his favorite person in the world.
That was before he and Saw grew up into different people and Rin learned siblinghood meant nothing outside the confines of his childhood home. Hell, it had ceased to mean anything to Sae while they were still inside of it.
Rin shakes his head and snaps out of it. He’s too old to let Sae tip him off balance.
He marches down the hallway and leaves the sound of Shidou’s muffled laughter behind him.
Late at night, Rin realizes he’s all out of clean socks. He’s been off his game all week, in a purely metaphorical sense. His football has been as flawless as ever, but his carefully constructed routines keep failing him.
He looks at the time and tries not to groan out loud. At least there won’t be anyone to disturb him in the laundry room.
He grabs the hamper full of dirty clothes sitting in the corner of his room and slips his keys and his laundry card into his pocket.
Then he makes his way out of his room and into the elevator, a place he’s become intimately acquainted with.
As expected, he comes across no one as he winds down the familiar hallways and approaches the laundry room.
But as the room comes into view, he freezes.
The floor is glistening suspiciously. As Rin takes a closer look, he realizes that there’s soapy water spilling out from under the door to the laundry room.
Rin feels his eyebrows furrow in irritation. Has some idiot managed to break one of the washing machines?
He has no choice but to venture further. He can’t make do without clean socks tomorrow.
Gingerly, he makes his way to the door and taps his key card against the sensor. The door unlocks with a click and Rin opens it, careful not to trip and fall.
To his surprise, the room isn’t empty.
There’s someone perched on top of one of the dryers, with their legs dangling off the side of it. They have their head in their palm, and appear fast asleep.
Rin glances around the rest of the room and finds the entire place covered in a good centimeter of water. One of the laundry machines is running and Rin watches in horror as more water seeps out of it.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
At Rin’s voice, the stranger stirs.
A set of golden eyes meet Rin’s own, and he starts. Stranger isn’t quite right. It’s the same boy from a couple days ago, who handed Rin his dropped keys.
“Oh, it’s you,” the boy says sleepily.
Rin’s face hardens. “What the fuck did you do?” he asks, gesturing at the catastrophe surrounding them.
The boy rubs at an eye, then takes in the sight of the floor.
His eyes widen. “Oops,” he says, sounding a little too blasé for Rin’s taste.
“You should have called maintenance,” Rin tells him in frustration.
“I didn’t realize it was leaking.” His eyes are earnest, in opposition to his otherwise unbothered state.
Rin takes another step, wincing when the water sloshes beneath his shoes. He wades through the stuff, until he’s reached one of the empty washing machines.
Robotically, he begins unloading his dirty clothes into the drum. Only once he’s thrown a detergent pod inside and started the wash cycle, does the boy address him again.
“You’re not going to call maintenance?” the boy questions him, with his chin still propped up on his hand.
Rin blinks at him. “Not my problem,” he says bluntly.
The boy’s eyes widen again, but this time, a smile crosses his face. “Huh. I misjudged you,” he says, like he’s delighted by the idea.
Rin raises a brow.
“You seem so proper. But I guess you’re actually just rude, aren’t you?”
With a displeased frown, Rin places his hamper on top of the machine he’s using. Then he turns to exit the room.
“Where are you going?” the boy interrupts. His playful tone is starting to get on Rin’s nerves.
Rin doesn’t know what compels him to answer him. “To my room.”
“But you’re gonna have to come back to put your clothes in the dryer…”
Obviously, Rin doesn’t say.
“So, you might as well wait here,” the boy explains.
Rin turns back around, stunned by the suggestion. He can’t be serious.
But the boy meets his gaze easily and pats the dryer next to the ones he’s sitting on. “Come on,” he says.
Before Rin can turn him down, the boy points at his shoes. “Your socks are gonna get wet any second now.”
Rin looks down and realizes he can feel the dampness seeping past the soles of his shoes. Careful not to appear overeager, he walks over and pushes himself up onto the dryer.
The boy grins at him. Rin quickly looks at the wall.
“So, what’s your name?”
Rin doesn’t want anything to do with him but he doesn’t want to come off as childish either. His pride wins out.
“Itoshi Rin,” he says stiffly.
The boy hums. “Interesting.”
Burning with curiosity about what he could mean, Rin bites his tongue. He isn’t interested in a conversation.
“I’m Bachira Meguru,” the boy, Bachira, tells him.
Rin doesn’t grace him with a hum. He thinks that Bachira will lose interest and pull out his phone or find some other way to entertain himself.
Instead, he addresses Rin again. “What floor do you live on?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“How rude,” Bachira says again. “I’m on the fifth floor, for your information.”
Rin purses his lips. What is he meant to do with that information anyway?
“I really thought that would work.” Bachira’s pout is exaggerated and at odds with the sparkle in his eye.
Bachira is cut off from whatever he was planning to say next by the chime of the leaking washing machine.
He leaps off the dryer with a strange sort of grace, and doesn’t even flinch at the inevitable splash. Humming to himself, he pulls open the door to the machine and gathers a heap of wet clothes. Then he carries them to the dryer he was sitting on and dumps them inside.
Bachira repeats the process again for the remaining clothes in the drum, then closes the dryer. Rin watches him in absolute silence. But as he goes to start the machine, Rin interrupts him.
“Are you not going to use a drying sheet?”
Bachira’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “A what?”
Rin pales when he realizes Bachira is being serious.
“Stop.” Rin reaches into his pocket where he’d stashed a few extra detergent pods and dryer sheets before coming down here, just in case.
He doesn’t try to throw one at Bachira. The sheet is practically weightless.
Instead, he shimmies off of the dryer and opens the door to the one Bachira’s using himself.
Rin throws in a drying sheet, then closes it. He backs away to let Bachira choose his preferred dryer settings.
“What does that do?” Bachira asks him, after starting the dryer cycle.
Rin pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. But the words leave him anyway. “It’s to soften your clothes.”
Bachira tilts his head and says, “Aw, so you like soft things?”
Rin’s perpetual frown deepens. “I just like doing my laundry correctly.”
Bachira nods like it makes perfect sense, and it pacifies Rin, just a little.
He clears his throat then makes his way back to the dryer he was sitting on.
Bachira joins him again, paying no mind to his drenched shoes.
The machines hum away as Bachira opens his mouth and says something else Rin never asked to hear.
Somehow, Bachira continues to talk to him for the entire half an hour it takes for Rin’s clothes to be washed.
After Rin loads the dryer, he can feel Bachira’s gaze on him. It’s strangely heavy.
They haven’t spoken about anything substantial. Bachira’s been asking him pointless things about laundry, cleaning, and even the weather.
Rin only responds to a select few of his questions, but Bachira continues speaking to him anyway.
But when Rin returns to his seat, Bachira changes gears. “Tell me something,” he requests. “Anything.”
Just like anything else he’s done tonight, Rin isn’t sure what’s compelling him. But he opens his mouth and asks, “Have you heard of Erikson’s Stages of Development?” It should be an easy way to lose Bachira’s interest.
When Bachira shakes his head no, Rin starts reciting whatever he can remember from his last lecture, as blandly as possible.
And to his surprise, Bachira follows along, nodding and asking questions. Rin doesn’t know if he’s actually absorbing any of it, but, at the very least, he’s pretending to be interested.
Bachira doesn’t leave even after his clothes have dried.
He gathers them all up and joins Rin again, prompting him to keep going.
And Rin does, if only in an effort to fight the sleepiness that’s been taking him over. As the night drags on, Rin thinks to himself that there’s a strange quality to this whole conversation. A conversation he’s allowed himself to be dragged into somehow. A conversation that Bachira has extended out of boredom, and Rin has indulged, for a reason he can’t name.
A conversation like this could only happen under the cover of night. A conversation like this won’t matter tomorrow.
Rin will likely never see Bachira again.
It’s obvious from the animated way Bachira speaks, from the shine in his eyes. Bachira seems desperate to light up a room as inconsequential as this tiny laundry room. Rin dims any room he enters.
People like Bachira Meguru have nothing to do with people like Itoshi Rin.
Or so Rin had thought.
He goes a week without running into Bachira, and it only makes sense. Bachira lives on the floor underneath Rin and doesn’t seem to have anything in common with him. Rin had gone months without ever noticing him at all. Twice in one week was an unlucky coincidence.
But Rin’s sitting at a table by himself in the dining hall, scarfing down his lunch, and a tray lands across from him.
He looks up to see Bachira pulling out a plastic chair and settling in on the other side of the table.
Rin blinks.
“Hi, Rin-chan!”
Rin immediately scowls. “You can’t just–”
“I’m almost definitely older than you, Rin-chan. I’m a second year.” Bachira grins, like he’s proud to have figured Rin out. “So I’m allowed to.”
Rin doesn’t confirm Bachira’s assumption about his year of study. His silence is an answer in itself.
“What is it that you’re studying anyway?” Bachira asks him, as he spears a piece of chicken. He’s decided to stay then. Good thing Rin is almost done eating.
Rin finishes chewing the food in his mouth, swallows, then says, “Psychology,” dryly.
Bachira claps his hands together in excitement. “I was right!” Rin rolls his eyes.
Then: “When I paint, I see a monster.” Bachira tells him, all too seriously. “He urges me on. Can you explain that to me, using psychology?”
Rin stares at him and Bachira stares back confidently.
“No,” Rin says, diverting his eyes from Bachira’s ridiculous face. He looks down at his food and says, in mild unease, “Go see a professional.”
Bachira laughs like Rin has just said something particularly funny.
Rin hopes the whole thing has been a joke. Bachira changes the subject before he can think too hard about any of it.
Between bites, Bachira leans across the table, as far as he can, and says, “Well, as you might’ve guessed, I’m an art student.” Rin had made no such guesses.
“Fine Arts,” Bachira clarifies after a moment. “I transferred here, actually. So in a way, it’s my first year too.”
Rin blinks. That explains his persistence. He’s in the same boat as any first year, awkward and alone.
Rin leans back in his seat, resigning himself to another odd conversation. If he continues acting unbothered, Bachira is sure to lose interest.
He doesn’t quite realize yet just how persistent Bachira is about to be.
The next day, Bachira finds him at the same time, in the same place. Rin had made it too easy for him.
Rin doesn’t look up this time.
Bachira addresses him immediately, deliberately ignoring Rin’s disinterest.
“You’ve got to tell me which room is yours.” Rin can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “I stood outside of every door on the sixth floor listening, but I couldn’t figure it out.”
Rin blanches. Suddenly he regrets telling Bachira which floor he lives on yesterday.
Bachira snickers at Rin’s expression. “I’m kidding. But seriously, which room are you in?”
Rin shakes his head and takes a sip of water. “Not telling.”
“Well, you should visit my room instead,” Bachira says petulantly. “Five-fourteen.”
“Why are you so…” Rin doesn’t even know what he wants to say.
Bachira gives him a skeptical glance. “Are you really that bothered?”
“I’m confused,” Rin says flatly.
“Oh. Well, I like you, Rin-chan.” It takes everything in Rin not to gape as Bachira continues. “You’re fun. So we should hang out.”
Even aside from Bachira’s questionable choice of words, Rin is hesitant to believe him. He has some degree of self awareness, after all.
He finds it hard to meet Bachira’s gaze when he shakes his head. “The dining hall is enough.”
Bachira smiles again, and Rin doesn’t think much of it.
Later, he’ll chide himself for his lack of caution. Later, he’ll wish he’d just picked up his tray and left Bachira sitting at the table alone.
But worse of all, he’ll regret none of it.
Rin’s favorite part about running in the morning is that the campus is nearly empty before dawn.
His eyes snap open to the sound of his alarm and he blinks at the ceiling for a moment, listening to the birds outside, before he slips out of bed. He slides into his slippers and pulls open the drawers built into his bed frame .
Rin reaches for his athletic clothes and gets changed, trying not to shiver all the while. He has the heat turned up as high as possible in his room, but it’s still freezing. Maybe he should talk to maintenance about it.
He grabs his toiletry bag once he’s done and leaves his room, heading straight for the bathrooms.
Another benefit of being up early is having the communal bathroom to himself. He rarely sees anyone out of their room this early.
But Rin quickly realizes he’d gotten ahead of himself. When he enters the bathroom, he pauses.
He can hear water running. He takes a steadying breath before turning to the sinks.
When Rin sees Bachira Meguru washing his hands through the bathroom mirror, he pauses. Then he thinks he should really stop being surprised
At the sound of his footsteps, Bachira’s hazy eyes meet Rin’s own in the mirror. “Rin-chan?” he asks sleepily.
Is he feigning surprise? How is it possible for them to bump into each other like this, when this isn’t even Bachira’s floor?
“What are you even doing here?” Rin questions him, as he steps up to the sink with his toothbrush in hand.
“Our bathroom’s under maintenance,” Bachira explains with a yawn. “I couldn’t hold it in any longer.”
Rin doesn’t ask him why he didn’t visit the fourth floor instead. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle the answer.
Every day this week, without fail, Bachira has joined Rin for lunch. It’s mostly Rin’s own fault, for having such a consistent schedule.
Their conversations consist of Bachira speaking about whatever is on his mind that day and Rin begrudgingly nodding along.
It’s too early for Rin to deal with Bachira’s antics right now. He squeezes some paste onto his toothbrush and sticks it in his mouth instead.
“Wait, there’s no way you have class this early!” Bachira exclaims.
Rin doesn’t grace him with an answer. He’s obviously occupied. He isn’t going to talk around the toothbrush in his mouth and send his spit flying across the room.
Bachira realizes Rin’s not going to speak to him, and hops onto the other end of the countertop, where he patiently waits for him to finish. The swinging of his legs betrays him.
It’s like the exhaustion has entirely left him.
Once Rin’s done rinsing his mouth, he turns to Bachira and says, “I’m going for a run.”
Bachira blinks at him. “Outside? In this weather?”
Rin has no idea what he means by that. The cold ceases to mean anything after a bit of physical exertion. Bachira frowns at Rin’s blank look. Maybe the sleepiness is making a reappearance.
But then Bachira asks, “Can I come along?”
Rin scrutinizes him. “You want to run? At six-thirty in the morning?”
Bachira shrugs. “Why not?”
Rin can’t think of a way to refuse him. Bachira seems to mean what he’s saying, though Rin never knows how to tell when it comes to him.
Instead he says, “If you can keep up,” as ominously as he can manage.
But then Rin takes in Bachira’s paint-splattered sleeping shirt and paper thin shorts. “But not dressed like that, you can’t.”
Bachira treats it as an invitation to look at what Rin’s wearing. His eyes trace him from head to toe. Rin stiffens, standing up a little straighter to feel more in control.
Some kind of understanding dawns on Bachira’s face.
“I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes then!” Bachira announces, before sliding off of the countertop. Rin can only watch him leave in astonishment, eyes following him until he reaches the end of the wall between the bathroom and hallway, then vanishes from sight.
Rin inhales once. This is fine. He can deal with it.
But he momentarily learns he can’t deal with it at all.
Bachira lets out a pained groan, for the fifth time, and says, “Wait, Rin-chan. Stop for just a second.”
Rin turns to see Bachira standing on the path behind him, both arms wrapped around his shivering body. His nose is red again, Rin notes without meaning to.
The sidewalks are clear of snow, but it covers every space where grass had once poked out of the ground, every space where autumn leaves had gathered during Rin’s first months here. It sparkles, even in the dim early morning light. If Rin turned to the horizon, he’d see the sun begin to make its ascent.
Instead, he looks at Bachira.
“I told you, you won’t warm up if we keep stopping.”
“But then there’s wind,” Bachira says. “It makes my face colder,” he complains, bringing up a shaking hand to cup his cheek.
“Why did you even come if you can’t handle the weather?”
Bachira pouts. “I told you. I want us to be friends.” Before Rin can react to that, Bachira looks up at him, suddenly serious. “This is what you like to do, isn’t it?”
For some reason, Rin feels a prickle of alarm. He wrinkles his nose in lieu of responding to Bachira’s question.
But before they continue running, he shrugs off his jacket and tosses it at a shell-shocked Bachira. Rin was starting to overheat anyway.
It doesn’t mean anything.
Rin gives Bachira a second to put it on, fixing his gaze on a barren tree. When he looks back, he finds Bachira practically drowning in his jacket.
He’s shorter and slimmer than Rin, so the garment hangs off of him. The sleeves reach past his hands but Bachira looks grateful for the extra warmth. Rin watches as Bachira reaches up and pulls the hood over his head. His bangs press against his forehead.
He looks ridiculous. He looks ridiculous, but he’s beaming up at Rin like he’s never been happier.
Rin doesn’t let his eyes linger.
It doesn’t mean anything, after all.
Bachira wears him down slowly.
Rin doesn’t realize it until a few weeks pass, and he finds himself sitting cross-legged on the floor of Bachira’s room.
He’s been instructed to “sit still,” while Bachira hastily cleans up around him. Rin’s eyes had gone wide when he’d stepped inside and been met with utter chaos. There were colored pencils scattered on the floor, clothes decorating every surface, and a collection of takeout boxes stacked high in the corner.
Now, Rin watches in dazed horror as Bachira shoves aside what can only be multiple months’ worth of clutter. Even multiple months feels like an understatement. Is it possible to make such an enormous mess in just one semester?
Rin wonders how he’s meant to do any work here. Bachira had invited him here to study, but Rin may very well find himself cleaning the whole place out of frustration.
But then, a strange thought crosses Rin’s mind.
If Bachira is only cleaning his room now, with such a bashful look on his face, does that mean he’s had no occasion to do so before? Does that mean—
It occurs to Rin, all of a sudden, that he’s likely the first person Bachira’s had over.
He sits there in silence, as he disassembles a month’s worth of assumptions, as he entirely undoes the image he’d constructed of Bachira Meguru. Bachira, who he’d thought of as sociable and well-liked, might actually have some need of Rin.
It makes some semblance of sense, when Rin really thinks about it. If Bachira had other people to eat lunch with, why would he bother spending his breaks with Rin? Why would he seek Rin out every morning, when he’s nearly too tired to force his eyes all the way open?
All this time, Rin assumed he was a glorified charity case. That Bachira thought Rin was fun and interesting the same way a little kid might find their neighbor’s unfriendly dog fun and interesting. But maybe Rin had been wrong.
Rin watches Bachira work and thinks.
Bachira couldn’t have made it far living like this. It’s obvious to Rin that the boy is used to someone enabling his messes, someone who cleans up after him and tells him to leave things as they are. But here, there’s no one to look after him.
Here, Bachira could very well be lonely.
“Okay!” Bachira announces, cutting off Rin’s train of thought. “It’s clean.”
Rin blinks at him, then lets his gaze travel. It lands on the pile of clothes Bachira unceremoniously shoved under his bed, then on the desk buried in art supplies, then on the crumbs of food decorating the tiles of his floor.
“It’s still a mess,” Rin tells him bluntly.
“I don’t think it’s that bad.”
Bachira proceeds to reach for the bag he’d carelessly flung aside after entering his bedroom. To Rin’s surprise, rather than pull out a well-loved sketchbook, Bachira slams a heavy textbook onto the ground in front of him.
Rin tries not to gawk. He really didn’t think Bahira owned any textbooks.
He thinks Bachira’s about to astonish him even further, but the other boy just stares at the cover of his book. Then his shoulders drop.
Rin bites his tongue to hold back his amusement.
Then, out of the blue, Bachira stands up with a glint in his eye. “I’ll get us drinks from the vending machine,” he says excitedly. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Rin doesn’t even get a chance to reply. Bachira heads off in search of refreshments, and leaves Rin sitting in his room, all by himself.
Rin’s own textbook sits open in front of him, but he pays it no mind. Instead, his eyes wander.
There are traces of Bachira everywhere he looks. The walls bear art and posters and the desk is stained with paint. It’s nothing like Rin’s own room. It’s disorderly and individualized rather than well kept and sparsely decorated.
But Rin notices more than just art on the walls. Taped to the wall above Bachira’s desk are photographs, too tiny for Rin to make out from the floor.
He stands, glances at the door, then takes a hesitant step towards the desk.
The pictures come into view. Immediately, Rin picks up on a trend.
They mostly feature a young woman, with dark hair and Bachira’s eyes. In her arms or by her side is Bachira, in all the stages of his life. In some, he’s chubby-cheeked and smiling the same smile he gives Rin now.
Something in Rin’s chest clenches at the sight.
So this is what Bachira looks up at as he toils away at night, desperate to meet a deadline. This is what Bachira wants to see when he’s eating a meal by himself, or tying back his hair, or sketching something self-indulgent.
It isn’t something Rin understands. His own walls are blank. He has no printed photos of his family in his possession and he never intends on acquiring any.
But it easily slots into place among the other facts Rin has learned about Bachira today.
Something else catches Rin’s eyes as he watches Bachira grow up through blurry photographs. Someone else.
It’s a newer photograph, crisp and clear. It features Bachira, standing in a school courtyard. His face is rounder, and his hair is pinned back with colorful clips. It suits him, oddly enough. But Rin is more occupied with the figure standing next to him.
Bachira’s arm is wrapped around the shoulders of another boy, a boy with messy dark hair and piercing blue eyes. They’re wearing matching school uniforms.
When Rin looks closer, he sees the same boy in a handful of other photographs. In all of them, Bachira is smiling widely, wider than Rin has ever seen. For some inexplicable reason, Rin’s stomach sinks.
In his scrutiny, Rin doesn’t hear Bachira’s door creak open again. He continues tracing the unfamiliar boy’s features, trying to work him into the half-finished puzzle of Bachira’s life.
“That’s Isagi,” Bachira interrupts. Rin flinches in surprise. He turns and finds Bachira’s face much too close to his own.
Rin swallows and takes a step back.
“He’s my best friend,” Bachira explains, giving him a curious look. Rin has no explanation for his interest, but Bachira picks up the slack for him. “Maybe you’ve played against him?”
“He plays football?” Rin asks, trying to quash the shame welling up inside of him. Rin had gotten ahead of himself again. He was foolish for thinking Bachira was anything like him.
It’s obvious upon a single glance. Bachira is loud and bright and loving, and Rin is nothing of the sort.
“Yeah!” Bachira’s eyes, which Rin had always thought of as brilliant, take on a new sort of glow. It’s unfamiliar to Rin. “Isagi is really good. He’s a monster.” He says the word with near childlike glee.
Again, Rin chides himself for his stupidity. Had he really thought he could be some kind of remedy for Bachira’s loneliness?
Bachira is looking at Isagi’s photograph reverently and Rin now knows that role has already been fulfilled.
A cold drink is pressed into his hand. “Here you go,” Bachira says.
Somehow, the touch burns.
But soon, Bachira proves him wrong.
Sometimes, when Bachira’s sitting across from Rin in the dining hall, or on the floor of his bedroom, or, more recently, in Rin’s own bedroom, he goes quiet.
It surprised Rin the first time it happened. He just assumed Bachira was incapable of silence.
But some days, the quiet entirely takes him over, like Bachira had grown tired of holding it back.
Some days, Bachira will bask in Rin’s company and not say a word. And every so often, Rin will feel a heavy gaze land on him, as if Bachira is checking to see he’s still there. As if Rin has anywhere else to go.
It all points to one conclusion.
Bachira Meguru has had ample practice with loneliness.
He inches closer every time his eyes find Rin. Rin doesn’t even think he’s aware of it. Bachira just gravitates towards people. He demands to make himself known, and all but bars Rin from forgetting him.
Right now, there are only a few measly inches separating them.
It’s a strange thing to notice, but Rin can feel the body heat emanating off of Bachira.
He hasn’t been this close to anyone in ages. It’s probably why the sensation is heightened to such an intense degree. Rin wishes Bachira would close the gap, so Rin can finally know his warmth, while simultaneously hoping he’ll move to the other corner of the room, or out of it altogether— that he’ll go somewhere far away where Rin never has to see him again.
Rin blinks when he realizes how far his thoughts are wandering. He tries to refocus on the textbook in front of him, traces the word threshold until it ceases to hold any meaning.
Next to him, Bachira exhales a frustrated sigh.
It’s about time. Rin is surprised he managed to hold out this long.
Bachira has no stamina when it comes to schoolwork. He tires of it within seconds, much to Rin’s annoyance. Studying in silence is one thing. Studying with someone whining and groaning and talking his ear off is near impossible.
Still, Bachira’s getting better at it. It’s why Rin doesn’t say anything when Bachira closes his notebook.
“How much longer are you gonna study, Rin-chan?”
Rin frowns. He’s far from finished for the day. He’s about to tell Bachira as much, when his phone starts vibrating on the floor, cutting him off.
His and Bachira’s eyes immediately dart towards the device.
To Rin’s surprise, his phone is lit up with an incoming call from his brother. There’s no photo attached to his contact; Rin’s screen just displays the letter S .
It’s entirely unexpected. Rin reaches out and grabs hold of the phone, watching it vibrate for a moment.
Bachira gives him a curious look when he continues to stare at his phone, rather than accepting the call.
Rin inhales sharply, then slides his finger across the screen and presses it up against his ear.
“Hello?”
“Rin,” comes his brother’s dispassionate voice. “Are you home?
“Yeah,” Rin says hesitantly, a little alarmed by the question. “Why?”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then: “I’m outside.”
Rin freezes. All he can manage is, “What the fuck?”
Does he seriously mean outside of Rin’s dormitory? Without any advance warning or anything?
That isn’t something they do. Sae’s never visited him before. In fact, he shouldn’t even know which building Rin lives in.
“Yeah,” his brother says. “So come let me in.”
Rin hates it when Sae tries to order him around. “Why?”
“I have to drop something off,” Sae explains. He pauses, then adds, “From our parents,” like an afterthought.
Rin has no clue if he’s telling the truth. But Sae has no reason to lie.
It’s not like it matters. “I can’t let you in.”
“Why not?”
“Because—“
“Is something wrong, Rin-chan?”
Rin’s eyes widen in horror. He immediately cups a hand around his phone, but it’s too late.
“Rin-chan?” Sae questions, taken aback. Rin shoots Bachira a glare, but Bachira can only tilt his head in confusion.
“That’s—”
“Oh, I get it,” Sae interrupts. If Rin didn’t know any better, he’d think his brother was teasing him.
“What do you mean?”
“You have company over.”
Rin really doesn’t like the way his brother says the word. “No, it’s not— God, just stay there. I’ll be downstairs in a minute.”
He ends the call without waiting for Sae’s response. Rin turns to Bachira, who’s watching intently from his side. “My brother’s dropping something off. I’ll be right back.”
Bachira perks up and gives Rin a pleading look. “Can I come?”
“Huh?”
“I want to meet your brother,” Bachira says earnestly.
Rin doesn’t even need to think about it. “Absolutely not.”
Of course Bachira would want to meet Itoshi Sae. He probably sees his name in the news, probably watches him on television with his best friend Isagi. Probably considers him a celebrity of sorts. Bachira’s probably wanted to meet him for a while, or at least as long as he’s known Rin.
Rin can’t think of anything he’d like less than Bachira meeting Sae.
Bachira frowns at the answer. “C’mon. How else am I supposed to hear embarrassing stories about you?”
Rin’s breath catches in his throat. “You—”
Bachira laughs, warm as ever. Bachira laughs easily, and Rin can’t help but notice. Rin isn’t ashamed of laughter, per say, but Bachira’s draws his attention every time. It gives him pause even now.
Eventually, Rin gathers his wits. “Just stay right here, Bachira,” he says with a sigh.
“Yep,” Bachira agrees, smiling as Rin goes. Rin closes the door to his room behind him and braces himself. Two steady breaths and he’s ready to face his brother, who’s somehow stepped foot into Rin’s personal bubble.
It’s easy to spot him once Rin exits the elevator. He’s standing on the other side of a glass door, with his shoulders relaxed and his eyes fixed on his phone.
He looks up at the sound of the door opening.
“Rin,” he greets.
Once Rin would’ve addressed him with Nii-chan. Now he takes care not to address him at all.
“Yeah. You said you had something for me?” His breath comes out puffy in the cold winter air.
Sae moves his arm and Rin notices the plastic bag he’d been holding at his side. When Rin examines it closely, he can make out glass tupperware inside.
“I visited home this week,” Sae says. He holds the bag out to Rin. “This is for you.”
Rin takes it gingerly. “Oh. Thanks.” He doesn’t say anything more, waiting for Sae to bid him goodbye.
Instead, his brother blinks. “Are you not going to invite me in?”
“I told you, I can’t,” Rin insists, his fingers tightening around the plastic he’s holding.
“Because you have a boy over?”
“Because I have a friend over,” Rin hisses. “Well… Barely.”
Sae raises a brow. “Then why do you look like—”
“I don’t look like anything. You’re overstaying your welcome,” Rin tells him bluntly.
Sae doesn’t point out how lacking of a welcome it's been. He just gives Rin a searching look, before shrugging. “Alright.”
But right before he turns to leave, he says, “I bet you’ll eat your words soon.”
“Hah?” Rin sputters.
“Just a feeling,” Sae says, explaining absolutely nothing. “If you’re so confident, why don’t you take me up on it?”
Rin can feel his forehead creasing in frustration. “Sure, whatever,” he mutters without looking at his brother. “Just go home.”
After another long stretch of silence, Sae does.
Rin can’t help but notice the footprints he leaves behind in the snow. As he exhales another visible breath of air, Rin’s frustration all but drains out of him. It reminds him of something. He used to be angry once.
Some things were easier back then.
Still, now that he’s numb to all things involving Sae, it takes Rin less than a minute to shake off his unease and make his way back upstairs.
When he opens the door, Bachira immediately turns towards it, like he’d been patiently waiting. He reminds Rin of a dog, sitting eagerly by the entryway.
“You’re back!” Bachira says, eyes twinkling.
“I’m back,” Rin says, with significantly less enthusiasm
Once he’s slipped off his shoes, he removes the tupperware from the bag and places it on the table. He’ll probably microwave it some time after Bachira leaves, and eat it in place of instant noodles tonight.
“From your brother?” Bachira asks.
Rin nods.
Bachira’s quiet for a moment. Then he says, “It must be nice.”
Rin gives him a quizzical glance as he sits back down. He doesn’t dare take his earlier spot pressed up against Bachira. Rin doesn’t have it in him to do something like that. Not that it particularly matters, when Rin’s sure Bachira will be back to invading his personal space in no time.
“To have a brother,” Bachira explains. “I’ve always wanted siblings.”
“You can have mine,” Rin says, perhaps a little too seriously. When Bachira tilts his head, he can’t help but elaborate.
“We’re not close. He just wants to look good in front of our parents.” Bachira hums, and for some reason, Rin feels compelled to continue.
“He doesn’t particularly like me.” Rin says it matter-of-factly because it’s true.
Sae loves him, of course. It's only natural. It's his responsibility as his older brother. But Sae is under no obligation to like him and Rin isn’t naive enough to pretend he does.
“I don’t know about that.” Bachira finally says. Then shakes his head, gaze suddenly heavy on Rin. “Do you like him?”
It’s a ridiculous question.
“I can’t stand him.”
Rin can’t stand Sae but he instinctively searches for his face whenever he scores a goal. Rin can’t stand him but still fights the urge to share his every achievement, like a little kid showing off toys to adults who couldn’t care less.
It’s only natural to grow apart with age, Rin knows. But maybe Sae could have done so less coldly, or could have begun the process earlier on, so Rin would never have developed unreasonable expectations. So Rin wouldn’t have had to feel the sting of disappointment, over and over.
Rin can’t stand him, couldn’t care less about his brother.
But sometimes, he wishes his brother could care about him. Just a little.
Could care about Rin. Not the younger sibling the universe has given him responsibility over, but the Rin he’s barely attempted to get to know. Could care about the grown-up Rin that couldn’t outgrow his over-attachment to his older brother, even as adolescence put every one of Sae’s flaws on clear display.
Because Rin knows now that Sae is just as mean and twisted as he is. Sae’s just as rotten, but he’s made himself likable somehow. People flock to him anyway. It leaves Rin more irritated than anything else. Rin has no need for that many people— just one person would be enough.
A finger lands squarely between Rin’s eyebrows, cutting his thoughts off entirely. Bachira pokes at the crease that had gradually started deepening the longer Rin thought about Sae. His hand retreats before Rin can bat it away.
“Loosen up,” Bachira demands. Rin can only stare at him.
Then, despite his annoyance, Rin complies, all too willing to leave his brother’s visit behind them.
But hours after Bachira leaves, Rin sits himself down at his desk and places Sae’s offering in front of him. He rummages around his drawers and finds the one and only set of cutlery he owns, preparing to dig in. He’s disrupting his carefully organized meal schedule, but even Rin’s familiar with words like moderation now.
Rin sticks a spoonful of reheated food in his mouth, chews and swallows. Then he stops, unable to do much more than glare at the glass container in front of him.
The food tastes perfectly fine. But does Sae really think he’s an idiot?
Rin’s old enough to be able to tell Sae’s cooking apart from their mother’s.
Rin sits in the dark with the food in front of him, considering. What could his brother possibly hope to achieve with the gesture? Is he buttering Rin up for something? Rin can’t think of anything his brother could need of him.
Or worse, was he acting out of pity, trying to convince Rin that their parents care for him? It’s an equally lacking explanation. In all honesty, Rin doesn’t think his brother is capable of feeling something like pity.
No, Rin realizes he’s getting ahead of himself. For all he knows, his brother simply needed a guilt-free way to dispose of his leftovers.
So he abandons his spite and finishes off the meal, closing his eyes while nostalgia wells up inside of him, practically tangible.
Later, after he washes the tupperware, he’ll tuck it behind his own dishes, in the cabinet under his desk. Sae will never ask for it back, and Rin will entirely forget where it came from.
It’s a routine that the two of them will keep repeating, over and over again.
It’s only fitting that Rin meets Bachira’s family soon after.
By some strange stroke of fate, Rin finds himself at Bachira’s house over the break. By which he means Bachira’s persistence eventually wore him down.
Bachira had been horrified when Rin explained he’d stay in the dorms for the entirety of their winter break.
It wasn’t that Rin had no other option. It just seemed like the most logical choice. He hadn’t formally been invited back home, and didn’t see the need to waste time and money on unnecessary travel.
Bachira had practically begged Rin to come visit him during the break.
“Just for a few days,” he’d requested. “C’mon, Rin-chan. It’ll be fun!”
Now Rin is sitting stiffly at a dinner table, with Bachira to his right, and Bachira’s mother across from him, wondering why he allowed himself to be talked into this.
“Feel free to have more curry, Rin-kun,” Bachira Yuu tells him kindly.
Rin is still unsure how to behave around her. He’s barely said a word to her but she’s been addressing him with effortless familiarity, emphasizing how excited she is to meet the boy her son spends “so much time” talking about.
“Thank you,” Rin says stiffly. Next to him, Bachira grins.
“So you can be polite,” he teases.
Rin’s eyes immediately find Yuu in alarm, but she seems unbothered by the thought of her son having mannerless friends.
Rin exhales.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing here, even now. The Bachira family home is cozy. Too small for the likes of Rin. He feels stifled. Everywhere he looks he sees the evidence of a home well-loved. Under the tablecloth, he can see the remnants of scribbles and crayon drawings. Behind the dinner table, there’s a wall with spaced marks etched into it, presumably a record of Bachira’s height over the years.
Rin didn’t realize how off-kilter this visit would leave him. He’s only here for three days, but after just one night in a futon across from Bachira’s, he's fighting the urge to return to his dorm and leave this place behind.
(Part of him desperately wants to stay. That, more than anything, convinces him it’s time to go.)
The chime of Bachira’s phone breaks the silence that had settled over them after the meal.
Bachira turns to his phone, grinning at what he sees. “Finally,” he sighs. His relief is tangible. “Isagi’s here!” he tells Rin, before pushing out of his chair and rushing towards the front door.
And there it is. What Rin’s been dreading the most.
Bachira had mentioned it last night. “Isagi’s coming over tomorrow,” he’d said brightly. “I finally get to introduce you!”
Rin can only feel grateful Bachira didn’t expect any enthusiasm on Rin’s part. He doesn’t think he’d be able to feign it.
As Bachira’s footsteps grow quieter, Rin turns his attention to Yuu.
She gives him a quizzical look. “Have you met Isagi yet?” she asks.
Rin shakes his head.
Yuu smiles. “He’s a lovely boy. I’m sure you’ll all get along.”
There’s a creak that Rin has come to recognize as belonging to the front door. Bachira must have opened it.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Rin hears from the door. It’s a steady sort of voice, pleasant and unassuming. It grates on Rin’s ears.
Rin hears Bachira’s cheerful greeting, and then nothing else. He wonders if they’re embracing. That’s something that friends do, no?
When Isagi Yoichi walks into the kitchen, with Bachira at his heels, Rin pauses.
He hadn’t expected him to be so short.
“Hi, Bachira-san,” he immediately greets Yuu. Her smile widens. There’s a softness in her eyes and Rin gets it. It’s something reserved for Isagi. The three of them have formed a careful routine. Here, there’s space for a mother, and her son, and her son’s best friend.
There’s no room for an outsider like Rin.
He doesn’t get time to dwell on it. Isagi’s eyes meet his.
“Hi,” Isagi says. “Bachira’s told me about you, Ito–”
“Rin,” Rin immediately interrupts. “Just Rin.”
“Nice to meet you, Rin.”
Rin hums and doesn’t say likewise.
But Isagi smiles at his dismissal. “Your brother is Itoshi Sae, right?”
Rin stiffens. He studies Isagi carefully and thinks of something to say.
But Bachira beats him to it, throwing an arm around Isagi’s shoulder.
“You should be trying to beat Rin-chan first, Isagi,” Bachira scolds him. “We’re rivals, you know?”
Their schools barely qualify as such, but Bachira’s response does the job. Isagi shakes his head, suddenly apologetic.
“Sorry, you’re right, Bachira.” He turns to Rin. “I look forward to facing you,” he says earnestly.
“Yeah,” Rin manages to say. Something about speaking to Isagi puts him on edge. It’s a ludicrous suggestion, but maybe it has something to do with the arm Bachira has wrapped around him.
Do they not realize what they look like, standing in front of Rin and leaning into each other so shamelessly?
“I’m going to make some tea,” Yuu says, standing and giving Rin another unreadable glance. “Would you boys like any?”
Bachira and Isagi shake their heads, but Rin nods before noticing. He feels his face grow hot when he does.
But Yuu looks at him with approval, rather than annoyance. Like she’d like to serve Rin tea, not to fulfill her obligation as a host, but because she genuinely wants to make something for him. Like the act could somehow bring her joy.
She turns to the counter to do as much, and Rin can only stare at her back, confused.
“Bachira,” Isagi starts, when the conversation has well and truly died. “You said you’d show me what you’re working on.”
Bachira nearly jumps in his excitement. “Yeah,” he says sweetly. It’s a tone Rin hasn’t heard from him. His eyes are fixed on Isagi so intently, like nothing else in this room is worthy of his attention.
He grabs Isagi by the wrist and Isagi lets him lead the way without protesting. They’re so in tune, it calls to mind a word Rin barely knows the meaning of.
Rin watches them go, his stomach churning uncomfortably. And that’s when Rin realizes something. He’s in over his head.
He knows now why he feels so wrong here. He knows why Bachira’s house is stifling, and why Isagi Yoichi’s existence is so unbearable
Bachira and Isagi are probably soulmates. It shows in the easy way they orbit each other, shows in their practiced affection. They’re probably soulmates, or counting down the days until their marks arrive. It’s a theory Rin has no way of confirming, especially when he has no desire to ask them as much.
But he wants to know. And that’s enough warning.
“Rin-chan, are you coming?”
Rin tenses all over again. There’s Bachira, frozen in place, waiting for Rin to catch up to him. He’s leaning into Isagi, but now his eyes are on Rin.
Against his better judgment, Rin follows. He promises himself it’ll be the last time.
One of the cons of studying psychology is the ease with which one can fall into the trap of self-labeling.
Case in point: Attachment theory.
Rin can’t help but feel targeted as he stares down at his notes. Avoidant attachment in adults can supposedly hinder meaningful relationships. Apparently, such people find it difficult to rely on others, and often act superior as a defense mechanism. Rin thinks it’s all bullshit.
So what if Rin would rather hold people at arm’s length than let himself be vulnerable? So what if he’s unwilling to put in effort for others? It’s only reasonable when they’ll never try for you. When you know no one ever will.
Attachment theory is flawed anyway, Rin reminds himself. It fails to account for factors like class, gender, ethnicity and culture, all of which significantly influence the development of one’s personality. It’s entirely built on the bond between a child and their caregiver.
Rin’s parents can’t be entirely responsible for the kind of person he is today. He refuses to accept that.
But he hasn’t been making a strong case for himself this past week.
Ever since he returned from Bachira’s house, Rin’s made every effort to avoid him.
He’s been eating his meals alone in his room instead of the dining hall. He’s been waking up earlier than usual to run. He hasn’t outright ignored Bachira’s messages, but he keeps his responses brief and impersonal.
He goes to bed on time every night. He studies alone and actually gets work done.
Rin’s never felt so heavy.
He should be well-rested, but every night he lies in bed for hours until sleep overcomes him. He finishes his homework, but then spends half an hour staring into space. He can’t even finish the food he brings back to his bedroom.
He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.
(He’ll never put it into words.)
Rin can feel the consequences of all the above weighing on him strongly today. He’s trying to take notes, but every word his professor says drifts away before reaching him.
He resists the urge to bury his head in his arms. Just a few more minutes, he tells himself.
When the class finally ends, he’s quick to sling his bag over his shoulder and exit the lecture hall. He doesn’t quite run, but he walks quickly to avoid the flood of students that’s sure to pour into the hallway any second.
But then: “Rin-kun,” someone calls, stopping him in his tracks.
Rin turns to see a girl with silky, shoulder length hair. She waves and Rin realizes he knows her. Well, sort of.
She sits in the row behind him. Rin only knows because she has an awful habit of dropping her pencils and kindly asking if Rin could pick them up.
She takes his silence as an invitation and approaches him.
“Did you go to Monday’s lecture?” she asks.
Rin nods.
“That’s a relief!” she says with a grin. “I didn’t.”
“Okay?”
She shuffles in place, then hesitantly asks, “So do you think I could borrow some notes?”
Oh. Rin gets it now.
He could tell her no, but he can practically hear Bachira’s voice in his ear, calling him rude. Bachira never says it like it’s a bad thing, but it occurs to Rin, all of a sudden, that Isagi isn’t rude. From what Rin can tell, he’s far from it.
He doesn’t even stop to think before opening his mouth.
“I’ll email them to you,” he tells her. He doesn’t have her email, doesn’t know her name, in fact, but he can probably figure it out with a glance at the class roster.
But she shakes her head. “Text would work better.”
Then she says nothing.
Rin raises a brow, and she must realize she needs to elaborate. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before speaking.
“Your phone, Rin-kun?” she requests sweetly.
Rin hands it to her begrudgingly.
As she’s typing in her number, a sly voice cuts in.
“What’s all this?”
Rin feels his whole body tense. Why here and why now? When he and Bachira Meguru live in the same building, how is it possible to run into him here instead?
He’s standing next to Rin with his hair half tied up and Rin is at a loss for words.
“Bachira–”
“Here you go,” the girl says with a smile, passing Rin’s phone back to him. Rin doesn’t even look down at it.
“Have a nice weekend,” she says, before hiking her backpack up her shoulders and walking down the hallway.
Next to Rin, Bachira tilts his head, observing Rin carefully. “Who was that?”
“Just a classmate. She needed notes.” Rin doesn’t know why he’s explaining himself.
Bachira hums, still scrutinizing him. After a moment, he says, “You really don’t get it, do you, Rin-chan?”
Is Bachira not going to ask Rin where he’s been? Rin can’t help but feel on edge, even as he asks, “Get what?”
Bachira grins, and Rin tenses up even further. “Why that girl was talking to you,” he explains.
Ah. That. Rin has his personal theories, of course. He isn’t an idiot. Back in high school, he’d been offered tons upon tons of chocolate every Valentine’s day. He’d turned it all down, and is more than prepared to do the same with his classmate if she has similar motives.
But he wants to hear what Bachira will say, strangely enough. So he continues giving Bachira a blank stare.
Bachira doesn’t hesitate. “Because you’re handsome,” he sing-songs, unaware of how quickly Rin’s heart is beating. “Everyone thinks so.”
Do you, Rin doesn’t ask. He would never dare to, but Bachira doesn’t even give him the chance.
“So,” he says, voice suddenly sharp. “Why have you been avoiding me?”
It’s like the temperature of the hallway just dropped by ten degrees. Rin swallows. Bachira isn’t glaring, or even frowning, but his eyes are cold.
Bachira’s trying to corner him and it’s working. Rin shouldn’t have let the compliment lower his guard.
Rin can’t think of a single answer he can say aloud.
Because when I’m with you, I feel things I shouldn’t. Things I’m not allowed to feel.
“I’ve been busy,” he finally says. “It’s not personal.” He suppresses a wince when he realizes how insincere the words sound.
Bachira’s eyes narrow.
“So my mom didn’t do anything to offend you?” he asks, strangely accusatory.
Aghast, Rin shakes his head. Bachira Yuu was perfectly pleasant, more pleasant than Rin probably deserved.
Bachira doesn’t stop there. “And my house was up to your standards?”
Rin blinks. That’s not–
His stomach is sinking and all of a sudden, Rin realizes he feels hurt. Because why would Bachira say something like that? Does he really think Rin is so shallow? Does he not know Rin at all? “What standards?” he asks, quieter than he’d intended.
Bachira’s eyes widen at whatever he sees on Rin’s face. “No, wait. I didn’t…”
Tentatively, he extends an arm. When Rin doesn’t stop him, he carefully grasps the end of Rin’s sleeve. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that,” he says softly.
Then Bachira looks up at him, distraught. “I just missed you. That’s all.”
Rin forgets how to breathe.
“If I haven’t done anything, then stop avoiding me,” Bachira says, tugging at his sleeve. “We’re friends, whether you admit it or not.”
The truth is: Rin likes having a friend. Bachira is right; he’ll never say it aloud. But he does.
He’s survived the past week, but he’s been acutely aware of Bachira’s absence. Rin doesn’t have any other friends, after all.
But even if he did, Rin thinks he’d be equally miserable. Now that he knows what it’s like to have Bachira’s attention, Rin doesn’t want to lose it. And most of all, he doesn’t want to see Bachira with such a desolate expression on his face. Rin hurt him, whether he intended to or not.
So Rin pulls himself together and takes a breath. “Alright,” he says on the exhale.
Finally, Bachira’s smile returns. There’s something fragile in it, something Rin never noticed before.
“Alright,” Bachira echoes.
And it is alright, isn’t it? Rin knows about Bachira and Isagi now. There’s a clearly defined boundary there. If Rin takes care, he won’t step over it.
He wouldn’t dare.
Rin’s moment of reckoning comes eventually.
One Friday night, a few weeks away from the end of classes, Rin happens to be studying at his desk. It’s a questionable use of a Friday, especially when Rin has more than enough time to prepare for finals in the upcoming days. But Bachira mentioned a party and Rin had no interest in joining him. So studying is his best option.
It’s strange how quickly his first year of university has passed him by. Rin doesn’t think it’s worth dwelling on, but he finds it uncanny all the same. High school seemed to last forever, but now the months blur together and the seasons change in the blink of an eye.
This time next year, Rin will be halfway done. It’s a sobering thought.
If his thoughts are taking such an existential direction, it’s probably time for Rin to call it a night. He decides to finish the unit he’s on and then treat himself to a video game or two.
He doesn’t have any plans tomorrow, so he can stay awake as long as he’d like to.
Rin is seconds away from freedom when the ringing of his phone distracts him from his laptop. He spins around in his chair and picks it up off of his bed.
There’s only one person who’d call him this late at night. In fact, there’s only one person who’d ever call him in the first place. Rin’s suspicions are confirmed when he catches a glimpse of his screen.
Rin swipes to accept the call and brings his phone up to his ear.
“Hello?”
There’s a pause and Rin can only make out the faint sound of breathing. He wonders if the call was unintentional.
But then: “I think I lost my keys, Rin.” Bachira’s voice is quieter than usual.
“What?”
“I don’t have my–” Bachira hiccups. “My keys.”
Oh. Well that’s easy enough to fix. So why does Bachira sound upset?
“Are you drunk?” Rin asks him.
Another second passes by before Bachira responds, “Maybe.”
Rin takes a deep breath. “Are you outside?” He doubts Bachira noticed the missing keys until he tried to enter the dormitory.
“Yeah.”
“I’m coming down,” Rin tells him, standing up and stepping into his slippers. “One second.”
Bachira hums and Rin takes that as a cue to end the call.
He opens his door, enters the hallway, then pauses. It’s warmer now that spring is upon them, but the wind still blows cold at night. He’s certain Bachira isn’t dressed for the weather. He never is.
So Rin turns on his heel and grabs the first sweater he spots in his closet. If he was allowed to receive a replacement key on Bachira’s behalf, he would tell him to sit down on one of the comfortable seats in the lobby and leave the rest to Rin.
But he isn’t. A sweater is the best he can do.
There’s no use thinking about what he can’t.
It’s silent in the hallways and empty in the elevator. Rin checks the time. It’s a little past three, but usually students have no respect for quiet hours. He wonders what makes today different.
Once Rin exits the elevator, he can see Bachira clearly through the glass.
He’s standing there, shoulders hunched. He looks shorter than usual. He doesn’t look up until Rin’s nearly at the door.
Bachira’s eyes go wide when he spots him. If Rin didn’t know any better, he’d think Bachira was overjoyed to see him.
But Rin had just seen him yesterday. It hasn’t been long enough for Bachira to miss him.
Rin opens the door and Bachira rushes to greet him.
“Rin. You came.” Again, Rin notices something off. Bachira’s dropped the nickname. It fills him with a strange sense of alarm.
“Yeah,” he says, resisting the urge to ask what’s wrong.
Instead, he tosses his sweater at Bachira. Bachira extends his arms to grab it, a moment too late. He looks down at his feet where the sweater landed and frowns.
Rin bites his lip to hold back a smile.
Then, he says, “Let’s go to the student center.” They’re open twenty-four seven for reasons like this. Bachira is far from the first person to misplace his keys.
But Bachira frowns, even after slipping on Rin’s sweater. “I don’t think I can walk that far,” he admits. The fact that he’s only managed to slide one of his arms into a sleeve attests to it.
Then—
“Okay,” Rin says, voice remarkably steady. “Let’s go upstairs then.”
Without protest, Bachira follows him. Rin can feel his shoulders tense up as they enter the elevator and Bachira is still eerily silent.
Only when Rin is unlocking the door to his room, does a potential problem occur to him.
He doesn’t have a spare futon. He’s never had a reason to buy one.
Rin’s contemplating their sleeping arrangements, when he realizes Bachira is still standing frozen in the doorway. Rin turns and his breath catches in his throat.
All of a sudden, Bachira seems drenched in vulnerability, like a stray dog left out in a rainstorm. His head is bowed, as if he’s surrendering to some insurmountable weight. Rin doesn’t understand. As if any burden in this universe could be too heavy for Bachira Meguru to carry.
He leaves Rin at a loss for words. Itoshi Rin is all harsh angles and sharp edges. Softness doesn’t suit him. He thinks every word that’s left his mouth until now has been laced with some sort of venom, intentional or not.
Keeping his mouth shut is the best kindness he can offer. He bridges the gap between them with a hand, instead, gently taking hold of Bachira’s wrist and guiding him inside.
He directs him to the bed, and lets Bachira go once he’s taken a seat.
“I didn’t think you'd be like this,” Rin says, desperate to break the silence.
Alcohol is a depressant. It slows brain activity and lowers inhibitions. How is it that it can reduce someone who shines as brightly as Bachira to this?
“Sorry,” Bachira mumbles. “I don’t like drinking.”
Rin feels awkward stranding over him the way he is, but can’t imagine taking a seat beside him on his tiny twin-sized bed. At least Bachira’s eyes are on the ground rather than on Rin.
“So why did you?” he asks.
“I miss Isagi.”
“Ah.” Rin doesn’t know what to say to that, so he turns to his desk and pours Bachira a glass of water instead.
He hands it to Bachira and watches him gulp it down.
“Slowly,” Rin says. He squints at him. “You don’t feel sick or anything?”
Bachira shakes his head. “Not really.”
“Okay.” Rin stifles a yawn halfway through the word and remembers how late it is.
“I’m going to brush my teeth,” he tells Bachira. “You can sleep.”
Bachira nods, but doesn’t make any move to lie down. Rin leaves him to it, grabbing his toiletry bag from his drawer, same as always.
He works through his nighttime routine quickly, dreading returning to his room. The air is uncomfortably heavy and he doesn’t look forward to sleeping on the ground.
When he returns, Bachira’s finally under the covers. His eyes are closed and his face is finally relaxed. Rin releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
He shuts off the lights and approaches the bed. Gingerly, he grabs a pillow, careful not to nudge Bachira. Then he places it on the floor, far enough that Bachira won’t trample him if he happens to awaken before Rin.
But then a groggy voice interrupts him. “What are you doing?”
Rin looks at Bachira. His eyes are open, bleary with sleep, and he’s frowning.
“Going to bed?”
Bachira’s eyes widen, suddenly gaining clarity. “What? No. Rin-chan, get up here.”
Rin gapes at him. His bed is comically small. It won’t even provide the illusion of distance.
“But–”
“Please,” Bachira says, cutting him off. It isn’t how he usually says the word. Bachira sounds anything but confident. Usually, he says it with playful certainty, like he knows Rin will always give in to his demands.
With Rin’s comforter pulled up to his chin, Bachira looks small. It tugs on Rin’s heartstrings.
With a sigh, Rin picks up the pillow and places it on the opposite end of his bed.
Still, Bachira isn’t satisfied.
“That’s a bad idea,” he warns. “I could kick you in the face.”
I’d forgive you, is the first thought that comes to Rin’s head. He suppresses a shudder.
“So you want me to just…” Rin can’t even say it.
“Yeah,” Bachira says easily. “Get over here.”
Against his better judgment, Rin does. He slides under the covers slowly, stiff and awkward the whole way. Once he’s next to Bachira, he holds his breath. If he inhales, he’s certain to brush against Bachira’s side.
Bachira laughs quietly. “I guess you aren’t used to this, huh?” Bachira says. He’s slurring his words ever so slightly.
Rin risks a glance in his direction. Bachira’s eyes are closed.
He’s right. Rin can’t remember the last time he shared a bed with anyone. If he ever had, it must’ve been with Sae, back when he was younger. Too young to recall it clearly.
“No.”
“Well, don’t worry about my intentions, Rin-chan.” Rin can’t feel any relief when he hears the honorific. Not when Bachira still sounds so subdued.
Then, to Rin’s horror, Bachira throws the covers off of his body, reaches for the bottom of his shirt, and starts to tug it upwards, an absurd contradiction of his own words.
“What are you—”
“See,” Bachira says with a laugh. There’s no humor in it. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
Rin doesn’t see it at first. It’s dark and Bachira has just revealed an expanse of smooth skin. Rin’s been in countless locker rooms but his mouth has never gone dry quite like this before.
But then he spots it. A tiny red leaf inked onto Bachira’s side too bright to be anything but a soul mark.
Rin swallows. So he was right.
He thought he’d feel something more than the restlessness that’s starting to coalesce inside of him. It isn’t like his heart has been ripped clean in two. Instead, it’s throbbing in his chest, too intact for Rin’s liking.
It’s quiet for a moment and Rin thinks Bachira has selfishly fallen asleep, leaving him to deal with the aftermath all by himself.
But then Bachira asks, “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
Rin tilts his head at the sound of his voice and finds Bachira watching him intently. His gaze burns.
Rin can’t manage more than a nod. He doesn’t even glance at the mark as he agrees. His eyes are trained on Bachira’s face.
“I hate it,” Bachira admits quietly. It stops Rin in his tracks.
Bachira sounds remarkably sober now but Rin doesn’t question him.
“I hate it because it’s just… It’s just me.”
“What?”
Bachira smiles at him. It’s the most miserable expression Rin has ever seen on his face. “I’m the only one who has one.”
“That’s not…”
That’s not something that happens to people like Bachira.
Rin’s heard of it, of course. A one-sided soul mark is rare, but not unheard of. Some call it a curse, a punishment from God himself. Most people would rather never receive a mark at all.
Rin remembers the pitying looks his aunt would get at the dinners where Rin hid behind Sae’s legs, wary of near strangers pinching his cheeks. Poor thing, everyone would say. She’s all alone.
“Can you believe that, Rin-chan?” Bachira whispers, when it’s obvious Rin’s lost for words.
“I’ve been wanting this my whole life. And it’s…”
Rin blinks at Bachira, slow and steady in the dark. Rin wonders if he’s dreaming.
“I’m alone,” Bachira finishes. He murmurs the words. If his face wasn’t so close to Rin’s, Rin would never pick up on it.
Bachira’s been wanting this for his whole life. And Rin wishes he could feel sad for him.
But if the universe has mistakenly marked Bachira as Isagi’s, then couldn’t someone else out there be marked as Bachira’s? The possibility sends a shiver down Rin’s spine. It’s a far cry from sadness. Rin fixes his eyes on the ceiling as guilt courses through him.
Next to him, Bachira is silent. It gives Rin the courage to speak up.
“But I’m here,” Rin finally breathes.
There’s no response.
“Bachira, I’m…”
Past the frantic pounding of his heart, Rin hears it. He hears the sound of steady breathing in his ear. When Rin looks back at Bachira, he finds his eyes closed.
Bachira’s asleep then.
Bachira is so quiet in his sleep. Rin can’t help but trace his features, over and over, taking in his rounded face, the slope of his nose, the sweep of his eyelashes. Affection bubbles up inside of him, soft and unsettling.
A soul mark is something Rin has never allowed himself to consider. If loving someone had always been unimaginable to him, a soulmate was a thing of fantasy.
But here Bachira lies, somehow within Rin’s reach. And something pounds in Rin’s chest, something hungry, something wanting.
Imagine if he had the proof etched into his skin. Itoshi Rin got attached. He put in effort on behalf of someone else. He has a heart.
Rin can’t decide if the idea is reassuring or outright nauseating. Yet somehow, the pointless thought lulls him to sleep.
Seconds before he drifts off, Rin reminds himself of his place. Bachira’s one-sided mark may mean that Rin can have him to himself. Bachira had offered him friendship, after all. But nothing more.
Rin won’t fool himself into thinking they could be more.
The last few weeks of the school year pass by in a blur.
A blur during which Rin lets Bachira get as close as he wants to be. Not that he’ll ever be satisfied. Rin thinks if Bachira had his way, he'd reach past Rin’s skin and pry his ribcage apart to make room for himself. Even then, he wouldn’t be satisfied.
Rin promised not to fool himself, but, as always, Bachira is making things exceptionally difficult. Today, it's especially hard to stick to his words.
Bachira’s exams ended a few days before Rin’s. It’s one of the perks of being a year above him. But it comes with its downsides as well.
He’s required to move out of the dorms forty-eight hours after his last exam. Right now, he’s at hour forty-five, sitting on the floor of his dorm with piles upon piles of belongings surrounding him.
While Bachira’s room always looks a little cluttered, right now, Rin’s sure it could pass for a war zone. There are two half-filled suitcases sprawled on the ground, and no matter how hard Rin tries, he can’t see the floor.
Unlike Bachira, Rin has two exams left to go. But here he is, wrinkling his nose and sorting through the disaster that is Bachira’s closet.
Rin’s in the process of picking up a suspicious looking pair of socks, when Bachira interrupts him.
“Rin-chan, no!” Bachira cries out when he notices Rin winding his arm back in preparation to throw the hole-ridden scraps into the garbage bin.
Rin stops.
“You can’t throw those away.” Rin would take Bachira’s whining more seriously if this wasn’t his fifteenth time saying as much. There are only so many things that’ll fit into two suitcases and the duffel bag Rin has so generously contributed.
“You don’t need them,” Rin says firmly.
Bachira pulls a face, making his way over to the closet. “I could?”
“Get back to your side of the room,” Rin instructs, flinging the socks aside. “We don’t have all day.”
Rin is still guaranteed housing as an incoming second year, but Bachira’s chances were slim. Rin can’t help but be unimpressed by his careless attitude towards the whole thing. When he asked Bachira what his plans for the next year were, he was met with a shrug.
As Rin turns his attention to Bachira’s alarmingly vast collection of cardigans, Bachira starts rummaging through his shelves. It isn’t what Rin instructed him to do, but at least he’s helping.
Then: “Rin-chan, look!”
Rin turns to see Bachira holding up a familiar article of clothing. Rin squints, then realizes it’s the jacket he lent him, all those months ago. He’d entirely forgotten about it.
Has it really been gathering dust at the back of Bachira’s closet all this time?
Rin thinks back to that morning. Back then, he’d found Bachira a nuisance. Does he really think any differently now?
Bachira takes a step closer to him, still brandishing the jacket, while Rin thinks. He reaches out and takes hold of one of Rin’s arms. Rin lets him. Had winter really been so long ago?
Bachira works both of Rin’s arms through the sleeves, though Rin is perfectly capable of doing so himself. Rin bears it, giving Bachira an unimpressed look.
Once he’s secured it over both of Rin’s shoulders, Bachira pats down the jacket and says, “There. I gave it back.”
Rin looks down at him in confusion. “I didn’t need it back.”
“I can keep it?” Bachira’s hands are still on the jacket, and his eyes are wide with surprise.
Rin nods.
Bachira thinks about it for a second, or so Rin assumes. All the while, he keeps his eyes on Rin’s.
Then Bachira shakes his head, smiling. “No. It looks better on Rin-chan.”
Rin can’t help it. He stiffens. It’s hard to ignore their proximity now, especially when Bachira makes no move to take his hand off of his shoulder.
It’s quiet, all of a sudden. Rin can hear Bachira’s breathing.
Is it normal to stand this close to a friend? Is it normal for two unattached people to look at each other this closely, this intently? Rin doesn’t think so. But what does he know?
Rin’s always thought of Bachira’s eyes as warm. The word seems lacking now. Bachira’s eyes are molten gold and Rin is close enough to feel his heat. Any closer and he runs the risk of burning himself.
He’ll never let his gaze drop lower, even as he waits for something he doesn’t dare hope for. Rin waits and waits and waits. And Bachira stays exactly where he is.
Rin’s hand curls into a fist at his side. He squeezes hard enough to draw blood. Move, he wants to demand. Don’t do this to me.
Bachira isn’t a cruel person by nature. Rin knows this. But is he really so blind to the effect he’s having on Rin’s foolish, runaway heart? Can he not hear it?
Finally, Bachira pulls away, while Rin’s still patiently waiting.
“Yeah,” Bachira says gently. “It suits you. You keep it.”
Bachira’s retreat is expected. It doesn’t even garner a reaction from Rin. Nothing more than a blink. He knows Bachira will never feel the way Rin wants him to. He knows and still—
Even now Rin’s waiting for touches and words that never come. That never will. But he’s quickly learning that hope is a plentiful resource. He has more of it in store than he ever realized. He can’t help but wonder when it’ll finally run dry. Will it ever? Or is he cursed to wake up every morning longing for something out of his reach, convinced it’ll be closer today than it was yesterday? Like with enough effort, enough practice, Rin will succeed, as if this is a game or a sport— or anything more certain than love.
Rin didn’t know how much of love was pointless waiting. They call it yearning.
He doesn’t dare say the word aloud. But he mouths it sometimes in the dark of his bedroom. Imagines what it would sound like on his lips.
Rin swears to never find out.
The new year doesn’t bring as many changes as Rin would have liked.
His new room is only a floor above his old one, and Sae, of all people, is the one to help him move in. It goes about as terribly as Rin was anticipating it to, but his brother manages to leave campus in one piece afterwards, a testament to Rin’s abundant patience.
Sae knew better to mention the name Bachira in person, but he still teases Rin about it over the phone. Or at least that’s what Rin thinks he’s trying to do. It’s hard to tell when his brother’s tone rarely changes.
The fact that Rin’s received multiple calls from him this month is an anomaly in itself.
Any time the conversation takes a questionable turn, Rin lies to his brother, and maybe Sae even believes him. Maybe Sae believes Rin doesn’t know his emotions well enough to be able to identify the hungry, ferocious thing inside of his chest as love.
“Whatever you say,” Sae will always say. And then he’ll change the topic and he’ll speak to Rin for at least a minute more before he deigns to bid him farewell, with some excuse about football or Shidou or something else.
Rin doesn’t know why he’s trying. Maybe their parents had put him up to it. Maybe, back in the winter, when he’d declined returning home, they had genuinely worried about him. Even though they’d never formally invited him in the first place. Not because they wanted him to stay away, but because they couldn’t care less where he went.
Rin doubts that’s changed.
This particular afternoon, Rin is entirely fed up with his brother’s goading. He refuses to take the bait.
He tells him as much. “If you don’t have anything to actually tell me, I’m gonna hang up now.”
Though Sae had spent ten minutes interrogating Rin about the casual lunch he’d shared with Bachira yesterday, he quickly changes gears.
“Wait,” he says. Rin pulls his finger back from where it was hovering over the red button, ready to cut their call short.
“Our mom wants me to remind you to book a dentist appointment. You haven’t been in months.”
Rin raises a brow, though Sae can’t see him. That’s something their mother could have easily texted Rin, if she didn’t want to go through the hassle of calling him up.
“Alright,” he says, deciding not to read too deeply into the message.
After that, Sae can’t think of anything more to say. Once his brother’s hung up, Rin sinks into his bed. He has practice in half an hour. This is his only chance to rest today.
Like a masochist, he opens his messenger app. Nothing new greets him. All he sees is his conversation with Bachira yesterday, which consists of the address of the restaurant they were meeting at and a cheerful: see u!!
Rin stares at the day old messages. He could start a conversation. Bachira has always been responsive. But it’s against Rin’s nature to reach out, especially when there's no guarantee the other person wants to hear from him. It would hurt his pride.
It’s been a few days since classes started back up, but Rin has rarely seen Bachira. Yesterday was the first time in a week.
It’s a stark difference from last year, when Rin saw Bachira every day. Then again, last year, seeing Bachira had been a matter of walking down the stairs. Now it means making sure Bachira is home, before taking a bus, and then entering Bachira’s apartment, where Rin can only afford to spend a couple hours before catching a bus back to the dorms.
Yesterday was the first time Rin had seen Bachira in a while and he was painfully reminded: he’s out of his depth.
Bachira shone so brightly across from him, animated and lit up from the inside. He laughed easily, and offered Rin more smiles than he deserved.
And try as he might, Rin couldn't pretend it was because of him.
He knows better by now.
And Rin won’t think about how dull Bachira had been before he went home for the summer with Isagi. He won’t think about the Bachira that came back to him, smiling and sickeningly cheerful, like he’d stored up enough love to keep him going till the next summer. Rin will have to watch Bachira wilt at his side during the school year, and accept that Isagi will make him bloom in the summertime. It’ll happen over and over again.
But it’s alright.
Rin’s made his peace with it.
Rin had made his peace with it, before one evening sends everything into overdrive.
They had just played a game, against Isagi’s team, their first game against their new and improved rival. Rin had heard there had been a switching of coaches, that this year they’d actually become a formidable opponent.
The rumors he’d heard were right. Rin’s team had been thoroughly defeated, their first loss since Rin had started playing with them
Now he can only stretch out his legs and think it all over again. Till the memory is ingrained into his mind. He’ll think back on it, the next time he’s out on the field.
He can’t let Isagi beat him at this too.
He spends longer cooling down than he usually does. He wonders if Bachira had been in attendance. Rin hadn’t spoken to him before the game but he doubts Bachira would miss a chance to see Isagi play. To watch his monster play, Rin thinks with a shudder. There are some things even his little crush can’t justify.
(He wonders if he’d think differently if Bachira used the title to describe him instead.)
But Rin can only drag out stretching for so long. When he finishes, he makes his way to the locker room and easily finds a vacant shower stall.
While the water is running, Rin doesn’t notice anything strange. He closes his eyes as sweat and the lingering sensation of loss run off his body and disappear down the drain.
But after he finishes his shower, he pauses. There’s an unsettling quiet in the locker room.
The quiet itself isn’t the issue. It’s rare to find anyone still here once Rin is finished with his cooldown exercises. He’s used to stepping into an empty locker room and carrying out his routine in silence.
No, this quiet is unsettling because it allows Rin to pick up on the sound of someone’s quickened breathing.
Rin tries to ignore it as he wraps his towel around his hips and steps out of the shower stall. He makes his way to the benches and gets dressed as quickly as possible. He can feel the hair on the back of his neck start to bristle as the sound doesn’t taper off.
When Rin’s irritation gets the best of him, he decides to investigate. He slings his duffel bag over his shoulder, and makes his way to the source of the noise. He rounds the corner, deliberately careless with his steps, in case he’s about to disrupt something illicit. Who could possibly–
Oh. It’s him.
Him being Nagi Seishiro, a teammate Rin has never paid any particular attention to.
Rin can make out the sight of his back and the name emblazoned on his jersey. His white hair is also a dead giveaway. He doesn’t move, even when Rin draws closer.
Maybe he fell asleep in the middle of changing. Rin wouldn’t put it past him.
But then Rin sees that he’s looking at himself in the mirror. His eyes are comically wide. Not asleep then.
“What’s with you?”
Nagi doesn’t acknowledge the question.
And that would be cue for Rin to leave it alone. There are only so many words he’s willing to waste on people like Nagi Seishiro; people who are selfishly lazy and incapable of putting in real effort.
Then again, today had been out of the ordinary. Today, Rin almost swore Nagi was fired up.
But just as Rin is about to turn around and head to a bench to change, he notices it. A flash of blue. He takes a step closer in curiosity, and then he freezes. There’s a mark on Nagi’s chest.
That would explain a lot, actually.
“That’s new,” Rin says dryly. So Nagi’s newfound motivation had a cause all along.
But Nagi is still lost in his own world, entirely unresponsive. There’s something dead behind his eyes, Rin’s always thought. He’s further convinced of it now.
All of a sudden, Rin thinks of the boy Nagi’s always draping himself over, the perpetually smiling Mikage heir. Rin doesn’t pay particular attention to Nagi, but he isn’t blind. The fondness in his eyes is unfortunately hard to miss.
The team makes a point of teasing him whenever they spot a flash of purple in the stands, which happens to be every game. It’s worse whenever Reo stops by the locker room and dotes on Nagi, like he isn’t an athlete over six feet tall. It’s nauseating actually.
But now Rin feels a flicker of sympathy at the thought. Clearly, he’s weaker than he used to be.
“Oh,” he says. “You don’t want it, huh?”
Finally, Nagi’s eyes flick to Rin’s in the mirror. He looks at Rin like he couldn’t care less what he has to say, like he isn’t even processing the words. Rin can’t help but notice him clenching his fist, again and again, squeezing till his hands turn white.
“Not now, Rin,” he warns, but his voice comes out weak. And Rin realizes he’d better leave.
It would be kind of him to afford Nagi the dignity of falling apart in private. But he’s overcome with the strange urge to meddle. Maybe Bachira is rubbing off on him.
“Is it really that big of a deal?”
Nagi turns to him, tilting his head in abject confusion.
“That mark doesn’t mean as much as you think,” Rin says easily. “”Stop moping.”
“But it’s—”
Rin doesn’t let him finish. “Your boyfriend is head over heels. It’s disgusting.” Then, harsher, he says, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
Some of us don’t have the luxury of someone loving us , Rin doesn’t say aloud. Some of us—
And, like second nature, Rin’s mind turns to Bachira. Doesn’t this mean he—
There’s something like hope beginning to light up Nagi’s dead eyes, but suddenly Rin couldn’t care less.
“Isagi?” he asks Nagi frantically, his stomach sinking as he connects the dots.
Nagi nods, confused again by the concern that’s probably written all over Rin’s face. It’s all the answer Rin needs.
Without a word, Rin leaves Nagi to mourn, and makes his way out of the locker room. His heart is racing. He brings a hand up to his throat without thinking, as his other fumbles for his phone.
There’s a boy with a head of purple hair sitting outside, practically bouncing in his impatience. Speak of the devil or whatever they say.
Rin can’t offer Mikage Reo more than a cursory glance as he walks by, finger hovering over the call button on his phone.
What is he meant to say? There’s no guarantee that Bachira’s worst fear has just come true, not when Nagi’s mark could be equally flawed, could be just as unreciprocated. But what are the chances of universe fucking up twice? And who is Isagi Yoichi to have two people destined to pine after him, to leave four broken hearts in his wake?
No, Rin is practically certain the marks formed correctly this time. For better, or for worse, Isagi Yoichi has met his match.
And now Rin has to break the news to the boy who loves him. The boy Rin might—
He’s my best friend.
Rin pauses. This isn’t his story to tell, is it?
He has no right.
Rin has always been on the sidelines of this whole affair. No matter what he feels for Bachira, he can’t forget his place.
Though every part of Rin wants to do something, to say something, he pockets his phone. Then he retrieves it and powers it off for good measure. Rin is many things, but he isn’t lacking in self-control.
That night, he waits patiently for Bachira’s call.
Bachira usually steers clear of the topic of Isagi, unwilling to burden Rin with his childish worries. Even though he bothers Rin with all else. But Rin knows he’s the only one Bachira has to turn to now. The satisfaction he feels at the thought is second only to his guilt.
He watches the clock change painstakingly slowly. Eight turns to nine turns to ten, and Rin is still waiting.
When midnight comes and goes, Rin finally puts down his phone. He knows better than to expect a call now.
In a strange way it’s a blessing. Rin’s never been one to comfort other people. He wouldn’t know what to say.
And Rin wonders, if heartbreak can even guide Bachira to solitude, hasn’t he been doing something right all along?
Really, why did he let Bachira so close in the first place?
So, instead of reaching out to Bachira first, Rin calls it a night. Some sleep will do him good, after all.
And it does, until the following evening, when Rin gets a phone call.
Rin nearly drops his phone in his haste to answer it. He spins his chair around, leaving the game he was playing unattended.
Immediately, he hears, “Rin-chan,” in a raspier than usual voice. Still, it’s upbeat as always. It puts Rin on edge.
“Yeah.”
“I guess you heard, huh?” Bachira asks.
“Yeah,” he repeats flatly. If Bachira knows, Rin’s suspicions were correct. “Then Isagi got one too?”
“Yeah,” Bachira echoes.
There’s a beat of silence following his answer. Rin braces himself, then opens his mouth and asks another question. A riskier one.
“How are you?”
“I’m okay.” Rin is skeptical, but he doesn’t even get a chance to interrupt. “Really. I knew this would happen eventually.”
Rin bites his tongue. The false cheer in Bachira’s voice is grating on him.
Then: “But poor Reo-chan,” Bachira says sadly. “He’s having a horrible time.”
Like you’re not? Rin doesn’t ask. Bachira doesn’t need the reminder.
Reo, huh? So those two hadn’t worked things out, despite Rin’s meddling. Perhaps Rin had entirely misread the situation. Oh, well. He doesn’t have it in him to care right now. Right now, he needs to uncover what Bachira’s actually thinking.
“Do you…” Rin hesitates. He isn’t used to asking for things like this. “Do you want to get something to eat?”
“Is Rin-chan going to buy me ice cream?” Bachira teases. “You’re gonna cheer me up?”
Rin isn’t foolish enough to believe he’s capable of that. But at least, he can put a smile on Bachira’s face. Make him laugh for real, however long he’s in Rin’s presence.
“Yeah,” Rin says awkwardly. “Hurry up before I change my mind.”
Bachira laughs quietly, and once again, Rin finds himself hoping. Maybe today he’ll see Rin in a new light. Maybe tonight, he’ll finally be within Rin’s reach. It’s improbable, but Rin’s heart is full to bursting with the idea of it.
And that night, Bachira is quiet. Different. His eyes linger on Rin longer than usual. Rin doesn’t like seeing him in pain, but most of all, he doesn’t like the hope.
To Rin’s relief and equal disappointment, the hope dwindles away slowly.
As winter gives way to spring, Rin watches the people around him change, all from his place on the sidelines. Nagi Seishiro somehow becomes quieter than he already was. The team gives up on teasing him. Mikage Reo stops holding his head high. Rin sees him in passing sometimes, but averts his eyes, out of both pity and respect.
To Rin’s relief, he rarely sees Isagi, who must know better than to show his face where he’s inadvertently left things in ruins.
But the only change Rin really cares about is Bachira’s radio silence. By now, Bachira goes days at a time without speaking to him.
Rin tries not to let it bother him. But it’s hard to go from spending every waking moment in someone’s company to rarely seeing them at all. A chasm had opened between them after Bachira moved out of the dorms, and Bachira’s heartbreak has only deepened it.
The last time they spoke, Bachira apologized to him.
“I’m not really feeling up to it anymore. Sorry, Rin-chan.”
They were meant to see a movie. It had been Bachira’s suggestion in the first place.
But Rin let the matter slide. He tucked the tickets into his bedside drawer rather than tear them up. And, without saying as much in words, let Bachira know it was alright.
But right now, Rin feels far from alright.
He’d made the mistake of trying to clean up his room, for the first time in weeks. Now that midterms are over, he has no excuse not to.
But while he’s sorting through the contents of his cabinets, he uncovers something he’d all but forgotten about. Among stacks of lined paper, countless pens, and Rin’s collection of water bottles, sits an oil painting, on an eleven by fourteen inch canvas.
It had been a birthday present.
Rin hadn’t known what to do with it.
Bachira had handed it to him, uncharacteristically shy, and Rin had traced every brushstroke with his eyes, imagining how Bachira’s hand traveled across the painting’s surface. He’d imagined him rubbing sleep from his eyes, working into the night, all to create something for Rin’s sake. Something for Rin alone.
Rin holds it up now and stares at it anew.
Last year, when Bachira used to join Rin on his morning runs, he loved leading them towards the outskirts of campus. They’d pass a certain clearing almost every day. The same clearing Rin is looking at now.
There’s a canopy of trees blocking out most of the sky. Sunlight spills into the scene from between their branches, illuminating the dirt trail Rin and Bachira used to run along. If Rin blinks rapidly, he can nearly envision the sight of Bachira’s back as he pulls ahead of Rin. He’s always been out of reach.
The walls of Rin’s room are blank. They always have been.
But now, he’s overcome with the desire to decorate them. Or, at least, one of them. Quickly, Rin opens his bedside drawer and searches for anything he could use. Tape wouldn’t be strong enough to bear the painting’s weight. Nailing a hole in the wall would get him in trouble.
Then he catches sight of an unopened packet of command strips. That might just do the job.
Rin cuts them out of the plastic packaging using his only pair of scissors, and carefully places them on top of his desk.
As he meticulously scans his walls, searching for the best possible place to hang Bachira’s gift, Rin wonders if he’s going crazy.
Why would he want a reminder of Bachira’s existence here? It would be the first thing Rin would see upon opening his eyes, the last thing he’d picture before drifting to sleep. He’d be left with no escape from the feelings that have been plaguing him since last winter.
Rin’s eyes widen. Since last winter.
It’s been over an entire year. Rin’s been like this for over a year.
Hastily, Rin puts down the scissors and picks up his phone.
And then he does something strange.
Rin isn’t sure what possesses him to call his brother. He knows that Sae is out of town for a game, that he’s busy with his grown up life, the kind that doesn’t have a space for Rin.
Rin is an adult, sure, but he’s a sorry excuse for one. He’s studying psychology because, out of all of his options, he thought he’d hate it the least.
As far as football, well. Sae plays football because he’s the best of the best. Rin plays because he doesn’t recognize himself outside of the sport.
Football is Sae’s future, but to Rin, it’s a relic of the past. The past that he hasn’t been able to let go of, no matter how many years it’s been since he played at his brother’s side.
Rin is a kid, in every way that matters, and Sae’s long outgrown him. Rin knows this, and still–
To his horror, while his thoughts are still racing, Sae actually picks up. Rin brings his phone up to his ear slowly, dreading the sound of his brother’s voice.
“Rin?”
Rin swallows. “Hi.”
“Hi,” his brother says back dubiously. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah,” Rin says. “Everything’s fine.”
When it’s clear Rin won’t say anything more, Sae dares to ask, “How were midterms?”
“Fine,” Rin says again. He isn’t lying. His exams were easy, and he’d already half completed most of his papers long before their deadlines.
“Good,” his brother responds stiffly. Then he’s silent.
Rin realizes he isn’t going to get anywhere like this. There’s a reason he called his brother. His stomach churns at the thought of asking him the question he has in mind, but when Sae takes a breath, probably preparing to bid him farewell, the words leave Rin without permission.
“How did you figure out you loved Shidou?”
Immediately, he’s met with silence. Rin bites his lip.
Then, Rin hears Sae inhale across the phone. His brother must not have expected to hear such a personal question from Rin. Rin hasn’t asked him anything of this nature before.
“I…” Sae starts, trying to find his words. Rin is surprised he’s planning on answering him seriously. His brother is good at a lot of things, but talking about his feelings has never been his forte.
“I didn’t wake up one day knowing I loved him.”
Rin frowns. That much he expected.
“I just like having him beside me,” Sae says. “It’s as simple as that.”
If that’s Sae’s criteria, what is Rin meant to make of the vicious thing in his chest, that dares to hope, even when he hasn’t spoken to the object of his affection in weeks?
“Huh,” Rin says. “All of the time?”
“Most of the time,” Sae corrects.
Rin hums. He can’t imagine wanting to be in Shidou Ryusei’s presence for any period of time. But maybe he understands Sae’s point, just a little.
“Why do you wanna know?”
Rin backtracks immediately. “No reason.”
“Hmm.” Sae’s pause makes his disbelief evident.
Before Rin can defend himself, he says, “I heard what happened from Shidou.”
That doesn’t tell Rin anything at all. How much does Shidou even know?
“He’s smart enough to infer why Isagi’s mark might’ve upset Bachira this much.”
Oh. So maybe Shidou does know something.
“That’s–”
“I don’t think waiting around like this is healthy, Rin,” Sae interrupts. Once again, he sounds like he’s above it all, like he somehow has the right to criticize Rin’s decisions.
“What would you know about healthy?” Rin starts, suddenly frustrated.
Before he can question his brother further, Sae’s voice goes cold. “Well, I won our bet, didn’t I?”
Rin freezes.
How cruel can his brother be, bringing up something like that right now? And how is Rin meant to respond to him?
He could tell him the truth, or he could deny it once again, the way he does every time his brother asks him. Rin could offer his brother a secret, free of charge, or he could retreat, leaving the careful boundaries he’s drawn between them untouched. Undisturbed.
Rin traces the edges of Bachira’s painting with his finger and shakes his head. He called his brother for a reason, didn’t he?
So Rin swallows his pride, just a little.
“Yeah,” he says.
Sae is quiet. Rin takes a breath. It was much too easy to tell his brother the truth. That scares him more than anything.
Then: “Good. I have something in mind.”
Rin wrinkles his nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
And just as unflinchingly as ever, Sae says, “You’ll find out.”
The answer comes a few days later, in the form of a text message from Shidou.
rinrin!
Upon receiving the message, Rin contemplates blocking the number entirely. His and Shidou’s previous text history is brief. The last time Rin texted him, it was to ask if Shidou was over at Sae’s place, before Rin made the mistake of stopping by. Shidou had answered yes, and Rin wasted no time canceling his plans.
Now, Rin stares at his phone in disgust. He’s always hated Shidou’s nickname for him.
What the fuck do you want?
Rin fires off the message without hesitation. There’s more he’d like to say but he won’t waste his breath on the likes of Shidou Ryusei.
See, the reason Rin can’t stand Shidou is this:
He’s the living embodiment of all that separates Rin from Sae. He’s a persistent reminder that Sae will always have more than Rin. That Sae will never need Rin. That Rin is lesser than his brother, in everyone else’s eyes, in every way that matters.
Sae gets to have someone like Shidou beside him, but more importantly, he gets to have all of him. That’s something Rin can’t afford. Bachira’s affections are free of charge, more than Rin deserves, and still Rin is unsatisfied.
He’ll never receive anything brand new. He’ll forever get Sae’s hand-me-downs, like the legacy he’s saddled Rin with, like their parents' emptied-out love. Rin will never have anything of his own.
And Rin is certain Sae and Shidou are soulmates. One day, Rin will have to watch the universe hand Sae that too.
But Shidou has no respect for Rin’s justified hatred. He responds with:
this is on behalf of sae
Immediately, Rin feels wary. This must be Sae cashing in on their bet. Rin doesn’t know his brother well enough to know what he’ll ask for.
u know mikage reo, yeah?
Rin feels a sensation much like dread as he affirms that, yes, he does.
When Rin dares to kiss Mikage Reo, the other boy bursts into tears.
Rin backs away immediately, stutters an apology, and puts his hands in the air. He hadn’t anticipated anything like this. He’s never kissed someone before, but even he knows this is far from a typical reaction.
He’d held back earlier, even when Reo’s face had been so close to his. Rin hadn’t lied about the eyelash caught on Reo’s cheekbone, but he had definitely gone out of his way to notice it.
Rin can’t deny that this date has been pleasant. And it’s common knowledge that Reo is easy on the eyes. They’d fallen into conversation so easily, Rin nearly wondered if some cosmic force was pulling at their strings.
So maybe he’d let himself get carried away. Is it really his fault for speculating when Reo spoke to him so kindly, tried so persistently to make Rin open up and enjoy himself? Is it his fault he may have a thing for bright, sparkly people? People like Mikage Reo will always be out of Rin’s reach. He shouldn’t have dared to try in the first place.
It certainly feels like his fault as he takes in the tears shining on Reo’s face. Reo is shaking his head, trying to explain himself, but Rin understands plenty.
See, Rin gets it now. He isn’t meant to be with anyone like this. His skin will probably stay blank forever.
“No, I’m sorry,” Rin says hastily, when Reo tries to apologize. “I shouldn’t have–”
But like the kind soul he is, Reo doesn’t look at him in disgust, or horror. Just devastation.
Rin wonders what could possibly cause so much distress. What on Earth could rattle Mikage Reo this badly?
It couldn’t possibly be—
“No, it’s not you,” Reo says with a wretched look on his face.
Reo mustn't realize the kind of expression he’s wearing. It’s the kind of expression Rin will never be the subject of, no matter how many people he meets, no matter how many years go by.
Reo is yearning. It’s written all over him. He’s thinking about someone else, someone he loves. His eyes are soft with affection, and heavy with hurt. He’s overflowing with love and Rin can’t bear to look at him.
Reo continues explaining himself, looking through Rin the entire time. He means what he says. Rin knows he isn’t a liar. He just doesn’t realize he’s left Rin behind.
It doesn’t quite click until Reo says, “I’m trying to get over someone.”
Of course. This is Mikage Reo. Half of him is Nagi Seishiro. There’s no likelier someone.
All this time, Rin assumed shame had bowed Reo’s head, but now Rin can see it clearly. Reo wears heartbreak better than him, but there’s no mistaking it.
Somehow, the least impressive person Rin knows has broken Reo’s heart.
Reo continues to apologize, and Rin feels cloying guilt catch in his throat. He can’t handle any more of this.
So finally, Rin asks him, “You think you’re the only person trying to get over someone?” He never intended to reveal so much of himself, but Reo’s apologies have put him on edge.
Reo’s eyes go wide instantly, considering Rin carefully. “Rin?”
“I’m just as guilty as you are,” Rin tells him. Reo deserves to know, he figures. More than Sae, or God forbid, Shidou.
He never thought he’d confide in Mikage Reo. But he might be the only person capable of understanding Rin’s situation. He handles his heartbreak gracefully. Maybe Rin can learn a thing or two from him.
Reo asks him to be friends right before he leaves and Rin easily agrees. He knows the words are empty, a way for Reo to assuage his guilt.
He won’t hold it against him. At least Rin, miraculously, had fun today.
“Get home safe, Reo.”
He’ll put the conversation and Reo entirely out of his mind on his walk back home.
(Rin nearly drops his phone in astonishment when his phone lights up with a text from the boy in question the following morning.)
Rin hadn’t intended on running into Bachira the evening of his eventful date.
But, like fate, he stumbles into him on his way home. He makes the mistake of ducking into a corner store, a few streets away from his dormitory, suddenly craving a snack or two.
Rin makes his way to the far side of the store. He catches a glimpse of blond-streaked dark hair as he passes by an aisle full of drinks.
He tries to duck out of sight and continue towards the frozen food, but he’s been caught.
“Rin-chan?” comes a puzzled voice.
Rin takes a step backwards, reentering Bachira’s line of sight.
“Hi,” he says awkwardly.
Bachira raises a brow, scanning Rin from head to toe. Rin brings a hand up to his throat. The turtleneck he’s wearing is suddenly stifling.
“What are you doing?” Bachira asks him.
“Buying chips.”
“Oh. Of course” Bachira continues to squint at him, despite accepting Rin’s answer.
If anything, Rin should ask him what he’s doing. Bachira lives farther from campus now and he rarely stays at school this late.
At least, that used to be the case. For all Rin knows, Bachira could be a model student now.
Bachira must sense the tension between them. He purses his lips then asks, “How were your exams?”
“Fine,” Rin says, crossing his arms.
“Great.” Bachira gives him a strained smile. “Mine too!”
It’s quiet. Rin watches Bachira’s eyes flick towards a package of cookies on the shelf beside Rin. He’s obsessed with the brand. Rin has some sitting around in his dorm room for that very reason.
Rin takes in Bachira’s longing expression and feels himself soften. So what if he hasn’t seen Bachira this month? He seems to be the same as ever.
So, feeling unusually generous, Rin blurts out, “You told me you wanted to know more about my life.” Granted, Bachira had said as much before Isagi got his mark and he’d all but forgotten Rin’s existence.
“Well, I went on a date today,” Rin tells him. “So don’t complain about me leaving you out of the loop.”
Bachira blinks at him, uncomprehending for a second. Then, the tight smile on his face falls away, replaced by a genuine grin.
“Really? Rin-chan, on a date?”
“Yeah.” Rin keeps looking at Bachira, even when the joy on his face becomes too pronounced to ignore.
“I didn’t think you were into those,” Bachira says, tilting his head.
And it’s true. In all the time Bachira’s known Rin, he hasn’t expressed interest in anyone. Rin wonders if Bachira ever considered what the reason could be.
Rin doesn’t have an explanation, but Bachira leaps ahead. “Wait, how was it?”
Finally, Rin can be honest. “It was alright,” he says quietly. “I don’t think it’ll go anywhere though.”
Bachira wilts in disappointment. But then: “Do I know them?”
Rin pauses. There isn’t really any point in hiding it, not when Bachira is close friends with the person in question.
“Yeah,” he says dryly. “Mikage Reo.”
Bachira’s mouth falls open in surprise. It’s a treat. Rarely does Rin get to see him genuinely off guard.
“But Reo—”
“Is in love with Nagi, yeah.” Rin has no trouble saying the words. There’s no use being disappointed over something like this, something he’d barely hoped for in the first place.
“Oh, Rin-chan,” Bachira says quietly. “I’m sorry.”
If only you knew, Rin thinks bitterly. He tries to chase the thought away. He can’t hold his feelings against someone as unknowing as Bachira.
Bachira, who’s hesitantly reaching for Rin’s sleeve. He catches the edge of it and tugs. “Well,” he says, with a little laugh. “Welcome to the club.”
This is how Bachira always closes the distance between them. He balances his need for touch with Rin’s standoffishness. He’s always taken Rin’s general demeanor to mean he detests physical contact, and Rin has never corrected him.
But now, staring up at Rin, with his hand on his sleeve, Bachira is painfully close. I want to hold your hand, Rin thinks. He feels his face grow warm. What a childish thought.
Instead of saying something incriminating, Rin raises a brow, silently asking Bachira to explain his earlier sentence.
“You’ve had your heart broken now!” Bachira sounds a little excited by the prospect, but Rin knows he means no harm.
And Rin doesn’t correct him, because he isn’t entirely wrong. Instead he watches Bachira’s eyes soften, trained on Rin like he’s looking at something he holds dear. Like Rin’s pain hurts him too.
“You’ll be fine though,” Bachira promises him. “It’s my turn to console you.”
And despite Bachira’s ambitious words, he looks in dire need of consolation himself. With his gaze alone, he’s pleading with Rin.
Rin looks back at him, just as carefully. He thinks of the painting sitting on his desk, not quite on display, but always in sight. He thinks of the jacket hanging up in his closet, the jacket he’d neglected to wear all winter. He thinks of Bachira’s peaceful face, sleeping soundly in Rin’s bed after pitifully confessing, “I’m alone.”
I just missed you. That’s all.
And silently, Rin forgives him. So what if Bachira has treated him to a month of radio silence? Obviously he’s hurting. Obviously he’s had more important things to worry about lately.
And wouldn’t Rin be a hypocrite to take offense? He’s done the same to Bachira before.
“Alright,” Rin says. It’s the final nail in his coffin.
Because now Rin knows he’s in love. Because Reo Mikage mistakenly made him feel wanted, but Bachira Meguru has this uncanny way of making him feel needed. And Rin has never been needed by anyone before.
As Rin stretches his legs, he can feel a pair of eyes boring into him.
It’s been a little over a week since his date with Reo, and while the two of them are somehow on good terms now, Reo’s shadow has yet to leave him alone.
Rin won’t admit as much in words, but he enjoys Reo’s company. Reo has a strangely optimistic way of looking at things— at least things outside of his own life. He tends to overshare whenever Rin goes quiet for too long, which happens too often for Reo’s liking. Rin doesn’t mind; it’s always therapeutic to hear about someone else’s problems. Reo happens to have many of them. It’s a welcome distraction from the chaos of Rin’s life.
Then again, chaos might be an overstatement. Recently, it’s been too calm for Rin’s liking.
Though Bachira had promised him consolation, Rin hasn’t heard from him since that evening. The two of them ended up buying a plentiful assortment of snacks, most of which violated Rin’s self-imposed diet. Then, Bachira followed him home. They gorged themselves on cheap food, while Rin played through a horror game, with Bachira gingerly watching over his shoulder.
Bachira happens to be strangely resistant to jumpscares. Rin knows that very well by now. Still, every time something eerie appeared on screen, Rin wondered if Bachira would hide his face against his shoulder. He nearly hoped for it.
He got his wish eventually. Later into the night, once Bachira tired of holding himself up, he let himself slump against Rin. Rather than dig the sharp point of his chin into Rin’s shoulder, he tilted his head, and gently placed his cheek against it.
Rin stiffened, but immediately forced himself to relax so Bachira wouldn’t pull away. He kept his eyes locked onto his screen, even as his heartbeat echoed in his ears, probably loud enough for even Bachira to hear.
But Bachira stayed put, oblivious to it all, or secretly knowing, his breath hot against Rin’s neck. Rin was glad to have something to do with his hands. If they weren’t on his keyboard, they’d hover over Bachira’s hair, never close enough to touch. In the dark of his bedroom, Bachira was finally within Rin’s reach, but somehow still painfully far.
And that was it. When Bachira left, far too late at night for Rin’s liking, Rin saw him out the door.
Bachira gave him a pleasant smile, said, “Thanks for having me, Rin-chan,” and slipped away.
Rin was left standing in the doorway, waiting to hear the end of a sentence Bachira never began in the first place. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Maybe he thought he’d receive a hug, or something more substantial, too caught up in a fantasy where Bachira cared about him the same way he did.
That was last week.
Since that night, Bachira’s only texted Rin a handful of times, about trivial things, like the assignment he’s scrambling to finish, or the game Rin’s team is playing next week.
It’s wreaking havoc on Rin’s sanity. Had Bachira meant anything he said that night? Has he forgotten Rin’s existence again, or is his silence intentional? Could he possibly have figured out that Rin—
Rin can’t let himself consider the worst.
If things weren’t frustrating enough, Rin also has to deal with the nightmare that is Nagi Seishiro.
“Can I help you?” Rin asks, full of disdain, when Nagi’s gaze becomes impossible to ignore.
Furrowing his brow, Nagi tells him, “No.” He’s standing a few feet away from Rin, not exactly encroaching on his personal space, but too close to ignore.
Rin rolls his eyes.
Throughout the game, he felt Nagi looking his way, even when Rin wasn’t in possession of the ball. The idiot nearly tripped over his feet, again and again.
When Rin stayed behind to stretch, Nagi joined him, rather than head to the locker room with their other teammates.
So far, Nagi hasn’t done much stretching. Just staring.
He keeps opening his mouth, then shutting it. It’s obvious that he’s burning with curiosity about something, but refuses to let the words escape him, whether out of embarrassment or apathy.
Rin assumes it’s the latter. This is Nagi, after all.
There’s only one reason for Nagi’s sudden interest. He must have heard about Rin’s date with Reo. While Rin expected a somewhat awkward atmosphere, he hadn’t anticipated gaining a stalker.
He has no idea what to make of Nagi’s demeanor. Does it bother him that Rin went on a date with his best friend? Is this an intimidation tactic?
Truthfully, Rin doesn’t understand anything about Nagi and Reo’s relationship, not even in light of his newfound friendship with Reo. Reo refuses to elaborate and Rin refuses to prod. But Rin knows Nagi has a soulmate, one he’s chosen above Reo. Shouldn’t he be more worried about Isagi then?
Rin continues to ponder, even as he finishes stretching and begins to make his way to the locker rooms. He’s curious, but not curious enough to speak with Nagi Seishiro. Still, even as he walks away, he can feel the same heavy gaze on him. Rin isn’t scared of Nagi in the least, but he can’t deny it’s a little unnerving.
In the locker room, he works through his post-practice routine quickly. His hair is still a little wet, but it isn’t cold enough outside for it to pose a problem. He rubs a towel over it once more for good measure, then folds it back into his bag.
Rin’s only just grabbed his duffel bag and taken a couple tentative steps outside, when the ring of his phone stops him. It’s Sae again.
He wonders what his brother wants from him today.
Rin answers the phone, about to demand an explanation, but Sae interrupts him. Rin listens to his brother speak, and pauses. It’s as if his brain has ceased to function. Sae isn’t done talking but Rin processes none of it, still stuck on his brother’s first sentence.
When Sae finally falls silent, Rin offers him a hum of acknowledgement, hangs up, and then pockets his phone. His body moves on auto-pilot to guide him home afterwards.
He enters his dorm room in silence, tosses his keys onto his desk, and sits down before his legs give out on him.
Days later, he’ll only remember one set of words.
“Ryusei and I are soulmates.”
Late at night, Rin stares at his ceiling and lets the words replay in his head, over and over again.
Of course. Rin was right all along. Sae and Shidou’s soul marks were bound to appear one day. He wonders what mark his brother bears now. Oddly enough, the thought burns. Rin should feel satisfied, more than anything. He predicted this, so why does his chest feel so uncomfortably full?
Sae had delivered the news bluntly. He didn’t waste time leading up to it. He’s grown up to be a tad careless. There’s barely a trace of the boy who used to bandage Rin’s scraped knees and piggyback him home.
Is Rin meant to be grateful that Sae deigned to share the news with him? He was bound to find out eventually. Rin wonders if their parents know. He doesn’t know how much Sae shares with them, but he hopes not. He hopes Sae told him first.
Now what? Is he meant to be happy on his brother’s behalf?
All Rin feels is heaviness. It weighs on his chest, pins him to his bed and squeezes all the air out of his lungs. It’s like he’s sinking.
His brother has a soulmate. He has a fated match, a person just for him.
He’s got what Rin’s always wanted.
Rin rolls onto his side and grabs a fistful of his bedsheets. He’s suddenly desperate for something to hold onto, like if he doesn’t grab on tight, he might float away, like an apparition, or a ghost, or someone who never existed in the first place. Rin isn’t tied to anyone. No one in this universe can ground him. No one would dare to take on such a rotten task.
Rin has to take care not to let go. There’s no one around to catch him if he does.
He squeezes until his fingers go white, and the lack of feeling forces him to let go. As the blood rushes back into his hand, Rin feels something unfamiliar bubbling up in his stomach, something blistering hot.
It’s anger, he realizes. Rin’s nearly forgotten what it feels like.
He’s sick and tired of the people around him. Nagi received his soul mark in full view of Rin and acted like it was the end of the world. Curled up in Rin’s bed, Bachira complained about being alone, nearly in tears over the mark on his skin.
Both of them are tied to other people permanently. What right do they have to be so ungrateful? Do they not realize that Rin has nothing?
Rin grits his teeth and wonders if he should call Reo. But even Reo, without his soul mark, is incapable of understanding the overwhelming anger Rin feels. Reo has friends who care for him, has his nagging mother on his side, has the love of his best friend.
He isn’t like Rin.
So rather than pick up his phone, Rin stews in his resentment until his mind exhausts itself and sleep is his only option. As his pulse steadies out and rationality sets back in, Rin decides he’s alright like this.
He’s managed nineteen years. He can handle the rest.
To his relief, his sleep is dreamless.
Eventually, it all clicks into place.
Nagi’s agitation, Bachira’s silence, Isagi’s absence; Rin understands it all in just one moment.
He’s sitting in a cafeteria with Reo one day, half listening to him ramble about his biochemistry professor, half wondering what to do about the steady influx of text messages he’s been receiving and neglecting to answer.
They’re all from Bachira.
He’s been texting Rin about trivial things again, but this time Rin’s ignoring him. He doesn’t want anything to do with shallow, meaningless messages that Bachira must only be sending to appease him.
Granted, the last few have been along the lines of: Can we talk?
Still, Rin wants to give Bachira a taste of his own medicine. Bachira can’t treat him to two weeks of absolute silence and then act like nothing ever happened. Rin isn’t pathetic enough to allow that.
In hindsight, it’s funny Rin’s mind is on Bachira right before it happens.
Reo is mid-sentence when Rin hears a giddy laugh, a sound he would know anywhere.
His eyes find Bachira with ease. There he is, sitting at a table in the corner of the cafeteria, smiling from ear to ear.
Though Rin’s first instinct is to look away and avoid drawing attention to himself, he finds himself unable to move. Because sitting across from Bachira is Isagi.
And no matter how hard Rin blinks, the image in front of him is unchanging. Bachira has two arms flat on the table in front of him. Isagi’s mirroring him.
Their fingers are laced together.
Both hands, Rin notes vaguely. One hand must not be enough. Not enough to satisfy Bachira’s desire for touch, not enough to equal the affection he feels.
Rin would’ve been satisfied with just one.
“Bachira?” Rin barely registers the sound of Reo’s voice.
He keeps staring at Bachira’s hands, as if he’ll think up a likelier explanation if he looks close enough.
“What the fuck…” Reo trails off. Rin doesn’t spare him a glance.
When Isagi places a gentle hand on Bachira’s face, and Bachira’s eyes flutter shut, Rin finally looks away. He thinks he’ll permanently burn the image into his mind if he looks. That isn’t something Rin’s prepared to live with.
But before Rin can think of an excuse to leave, Reo is standing, his hands clenched into fists by his sides.
Uh-oh, Rin thinks, with the slightest hint of bitter amusement. He reaches for Reo’s arm but he easily slips out of his hold. “Reo–”
But Reo is already storming towards the other table, and Rin can’t think of anything to do but follow him there. Reo’s shoulders are tense. Rin’s sure he’s wearing a furious expression.
Reo seems angry, but Rin doesn’t know what to feel. It’s almost like he’s in a dream.
“Reo-chan, is—” Bachira says. His voice sounds faint to Rin, nearly overpowered by the ringing in his ears. Then: “Rin-chan too?”
Rin looks at him and Bachira’s eyes immediately flicker away.
Bachira and Reo continue speaking but Rin can only stand there, shell-shocked. It’s one thing to see Isagi and Bachira’s linked hands in front of him. It’s another for Bachira to look away from him. Bachira has never shied away from his gaze before, no matter how unapproachable Rin’s tried to be.
Isagi is speaking too now, but Rin is still reeling. Rin’s thoughts are in disarray until Isagi explains it all in one moment.
“Me and Bachira are seeing each other,” Isagi says. He says the words so naturally, as if they only make sense, as if Reo and Rin are the odd ones out for not knowing.
Rin feels his stomach drop to his feet.
Immediately, his eyes find Bachira’s. And this time, Bachira doesn’t evade his gaze. He stares back at Rin, eyes full of guilt.
Rin is the one to look away this time. He makes the mistake of looking at the table again, then feels something in his chest burn when he catches sight of Bachira and Isagi’s hands. A little too late, Bachira tries to retract his hand.
It’s the slightest movement but Rin notices it. His own hands curl into fists, his nails cutting into his palms.
He’d overestimated his importance in Bachira’s life, hadn’t he? He’d been foolish to think Bachira would tell him something like this.
Rin takes a steadying breath and lets Reo do the talking. He can’t afford to react in full sight of all of these people. In front of Bachira.
But then Bachira says, “Reo, I promise I would’ve told you. I thought you knew.”
And what about me, Rin wants to scream. He holds back at the expense of his palms, which are probably a mess of fresh blood and torn skin.
Take another breath, Rin instructs himself. And another.
Not here. Anywhere but here.
Isagi is explaining himself to Reo, but not to Rin. Because he doesn’t see the need to, because there’s no reason Rin should be upset.
Don’t be upset, Rin tells himself.
“Reo,” Rin manages to say, once he’s gotten a hold of himself. “Let’s sit down.” He understands enough now, and it would be best if Reo doesn’t say something he’ll regret later.
They’re leaving and Rin is so close to safety, painfully close, when Bachira opens his mouth again. “And, Rin-chan, stop ignoring my messages.”
It’s a throwaway comment and Rin feels himself seethe. There goes his precious self-control. Rin knows if he turned and saw Bachira’s face, he’d lose it. A retort is already on the tip of his tongue.
Unknowingly, Reo saves him.
When Rin catches a glimpse of the expression Reo is wearing, he freezes. He looks close to toppling over.
So rather than unleash the storm brewing inside of him, he puts a gentle hand on Reo’s back and guides him towards their table, away from Bachira and Isagi. Away from the source of Rin’s frustration.
Even away, Rin can’t breathe any easier.
“Calm down, Reo,” he says, when he takes in the death grip Reo has on his phone. The words are meant for himself as much as they are for Reo.
“I need to see Nagi,” Reo practically pleads.
Rin shakes his head immediately. “Just give it a second. Don’t talk to him while you’re angry.” Reo gives him a frustrated look so Rin explains himself. “The two of you can barely communicate as it is.”
“Don’t include me in this,” Reo says. “I’ve been nothing but honest with him.”
Out of the corner of Rin’s eye, he sees Isagi move. He’s been stubbornly avoiding glancing their way, but this time he can’t help it.
It’s the briefest of kisses, but Rin catches it. Mostly because Bachira is still leaning in, and his eyes are blinking back open in disappointment. Even in that split second, Rin could sense Bachira’s eagerness. Could sense his urgency.
Rin thinks back to his first and only kiss.
Reo had kissed him tentatively, with so much hesitation. Rin faintly wonders what kissing Bachira would be like. It isn’t something he’s allowed himself to dwell on before.
This isn’t the place to start.
Somehow, Reo doesn’t follow Rin’s gaze. He’s still glaring at the floor. “Why wouldn’t he tell me?”
The thing is, by now, Rin understands exactly what Nagi’s problem is. Everyone must understand it by now. Everyone except Reo, of course.
And Rin could very well explain it all to him. But he won’t.
He doesn’t want to do Nagi such a huge favor. He isn’t benevolent enough to guide people towards what he’ll never have. No, Nagi can pull himself out of this mess himself.
So Rin simply says, “You know how he is. Lazy till the end.”
As Reo tries to calm himself down, no doubt agitated by Rin’s lightheartedness, Rin glances at the corner of the room again.
They’ve withdrawn from each other a little, perhaps mindful of where they are. But their hands haven’t moved. As if it would kill them to let go, Rin thinks bitterly. He tries to focus on the feeling of disgust, rather than the creeping sensation of hurt.
But to Rin’s dismay, it’s all starting to feel real. He can feel himself slipping out of his carefully practiced apathy. Shouldn’t he have acclimated to this by now. Why is every glance more painful than the last? If Rin is trying for exposure therapy, it’s failing horribly.
To his horror, there’s a lump in his throat. He swallows, blinks rapidly.
Just a while longer. Just hold it in a while longer, Rin tells the thing wailing in his chest.
“Rin.” Suddenly Reo sounds alert and nothing like the hysterical mess that needed Rin to guide him back to his chair. Rin meets his eyes and feels his stomach sink for the nth time.
Fuck. Reo is looking at him, really looking at him, and Rin knows he’s been caught.
Reo’s always been too nice to him. He worries like it’s second nature, even keeps tabs on silly things like how little sleep Rin gets. But Rin can’t handle his kindness right now.
“Why do you look like you’re about to cry?” Reo asks, as softly as Rin was anticipating.
“Fuck off,” Rin says. It’s pathetic how strained his voice is.
He knows that Reo is smart. He won’t have trouble putting two and two together. But how is Rin meant to face him when he realizes?
He doesn’t even get a moment to prepare. Reo’s eyes find Bachira and Rin watches as realization crosses his face.
The pity is almost too much to bear. “Oh, Rin…”
“Don’t say anything,” Rin interrupts. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“But you—”
“Stop.”
Reo does as he’s told and Rin takes a second to breathe. If he tilts his head, he can still see Isagi and Bachira, in their own corner of the world.
Past Isagi, past his anger, he can clearly make out Bachira’s smile. That soft smile that’s reserved for Isagi, the kind that Rin has never been a recipient of. And, all of a sudden, Rin feels a pang in his chest.
“You know he’s been unhappy as long as I've known him?”
Rin thinks of the Bachira who searched for him desperately every time they quietly studied in Rin’s room. He thinks of the Bachira lying in Rin’s bed, downtrodden, practically resigned to a life alone. He thinks of the Bachira who smiled at him every frigid winter morning, a smile for Rin’s sake more than anything.
“You probably couldn’t tell. That idiot never stops smiling.” Rin couldn’t hide the fondness in his voice if he tried.
“He was unhappy. But now…” Rin stops, then quietly says, “I’d be a horrible person if I wanted him to stay like that forever.” And Rin doesn’t want to be a horrible person, he realizes. Maybe if he tries to be kinder, he’ll actually—
Reo blinks at him for a moment, processing Rin’s words. But quickly he says, “I don't think so.”
Rin stares at him. Reo smiles back at him, sad but honest.
“You would just be a regular person in love,” Reo explains.
Rin tenses. “Don’t call it that.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re… You’re probably right…” Rin won’t say the words aloud. He promised himself he would never. Agreement is the most he’ll allow himself.
But in the privacy of his thoughts, Rin can admit as much.
He’s in love. And it isn’t fair. Not in the least.
It’s Rin’s first love. Isn’t he meant to feel giddy? Aren’t there supposed to be butterflies? All Rin can feel is this overwhelming uneasiness, like something is tearing him up inside.
It’s not fair.
Rin ignores the pressure building up inside of his chest as he tries to change the subject. “Well, you have a chance now, don’t you?”
It’s for Reo’s sake, not Nagi’s. It’s the only assistance Rin will provide them. He just needs to keep the attention off of himself.
Even then, Rin’s chest is rapidly tightening. He feels so fundamentally wrong; he’s never felt so out of place before. As Reo responds, Rin unfurls his fingers and takes in the sight of his palms.
Like he expected, he finds neatly spaced crimson indents marking both of them.
If Rin focuses on the sting, he’ll be alright.
And he is. Until Reo has left for home and Rin has nowhere to go.
He refuses to step foot in the dormitory. The place is rife with memories and Rin isn’t delusional enough to think he’s immune to nostalgia.
He made it out of the dining hall in one piece by some miracle, and now he’s walking aimlessly. The late afternoon is pleasantly warm, but to Rin, who’s been boiling inside of his skin since his confrontation with Bachira, it’s sweltering.
The walk was meant to clear his head and chase away his anger. But Rin feels his frustration multiply with every step he takes.
He stubbornly keeps his mind off of Bachira, by whatever means necessary. He starts off reciting his lecture notes under his breath, and when that fails, Rin goes as far as to hum. What a ridiculous picture he must make.
He can’t even hold his head up. He keeps his eyes firmly on the ground, and fights to keep his breath from wavering.
Only when the street signs start to become familiar, does Rin realize where he is. How long has he been walking? And why in god’s name have his feet led him here?
Rin finds himself in front of his brother’s door of all places.
He stands frozen in front of the door, like a little kid, unsure if he’s allowed to ask his brother to play with him. Afraid of being turned away, or being left behind.
Rin’s sick and tired of being afraid. There’s a reason he’d held onto anger for so long. Anger comes easily, makes him feel powerful for however long it lasts.
He harnesses it now, knocking at Sae’s door with ferocity that surprises even him.
After a moment, he hears footsteps. He straightens his shoulders in anticipation, finally tilting his head up.
When the door opens, Rin realizes he doesn’t know what to say.
But it isn’t a problem. Because his brother isn’t the one standing in front of him.
It’s Shidou.
His eyes widen in surprise at the sight of Rin. Then that awful, smug grin makes a reappearance. “Rinrin!” he starts, probably with a quip at the ready.
Rin doesn’t let him finish. “Let me in,” he says quietly.
Shidou tilts his head, then steps closer, purposely blocking the doorway with his body. “What’s the magic word?” he asks.
Rin doesn’t hesitate to shove past him, using all of his body weight. Caught off guard, Shidou stumbles, ever so slightly. “I’m not in the mood for this today,” Rin warns.
Either unwilling or unable to take the hint, Shidou turns to him again. “Today especially?” he drawls. “I don’t think you’re ever in the mood for—”
The words leave Rin without permission. “Why the fuck are you always here?!” He pins Shidou with the most venomous glare he can muster, hoping to convey the sheer rage he feels with his eyes alone.
Shidou’s own eyes widen at Rin’s abrupt change in volume. “I—”
Unsatisfied, Rin barges ahead. “He’s going to get sick of you if you keep hovering around him like this,” he spits at Shidou. Soulmate or not, Sae can only tolerate so much.
The playfulness leaves Shidou in an instant. There’s a hard glint in his eyes as he stares down at Rin and his voice goes low and cold. “What did you say?”
Rin’s all too happy to say it again. “I said Sae’s going to get sick of you!”
Shidou watches his face carefully. He swallows, then ever so calmly says, “Like he got sick of you?”
Rin’s vision whites out. The anger he’s been tucking away this past year rears its ugly head. Before he can even think about what he’s doing, his hand has shot out and caught hold of Shidou’s collar.
He tightens his grip when Shidou opens his mouth to speak. Rin’s sure he looks like a man possessed. Shidou hasn’t seen this side of him in ages.
Shidou blinks in surprise as Rin uses his hold to pull him closer, staring up at him with eyes full of resentment and some twisted form of courage. “I’ll—”
“Ryusei?” It’s quickly followed by a puzzled, “Rin?”
Rin turns his head to see Sae. His brother stands there, late to the scene as always.
He wears an expression of absolute confusion. His eyes land on Rin, then on Shidou, then back on Rin, where they stay.
Sae blinks. Rin and his brother look different in every way imaginable. They bear practically no resemblance to each other. But their eyes have always been the same.
Rin’s own teal eyes stare back at him.
And the pathetic child inside of Rin wins out somehow. His fingers go limp around Shidou’s collar, as the weight of the whole day, the whole year, suddenly falls upon him. His pleading eyes meet his brother’s.
“Nii-chan,” he says, a ghost of a word.
Sae stares at him, visibly aghast.
Eyes still on Rin, he says, “Ryusei.”
Shidou, who had already taken a step back when Rin let go of him, looks back at Sae, uncharacteristically serious.
“Get out,” His brother says. It’s said softly, but it isn’t a request. It’s a demand.
Shidou gives in without a word. He offers Sae a nod, grabs a set of keys from off of the counter, and sees himself out the door. It closes with a thud, and Shidou’s footsteps echo down the hallway.
It’s Rin’s last straw. When he blinks, his face feels hot, and Sae’s grows pale.
“Rin…”
Rin brings his hands to his cheeks in bewilderment. But there’s no mistaking the beads rolling down his face, or the damp trails they leave behind.
It had sounded ridiculous when Reo had suggested it earlier. Itoshi Rin, about to cry?
This isn’t something Rin does. It’s something he forgot he could do. But here he is, crying like a little kid.
In full view of his older brother, no less. Rin feels like he’s on display as Sae’s eyes frantically dart from Rin, to the floor, and back again, like he doesn’t know where to look.
Rin opens his mouth to take a steadying breath and a pathetic noise leaves him instead. This is where he dies, he thinks, with his innards exposed to his brother and his dignity in pieces on the floor.
“Do you want to sit down?” Sae finally asks, so quietly, like Rin really is his kid brother again.
“I—” Rin tries to speak but another hiccup leaves him again.
His brother takes a step closer. When his hand presses on Rin’s shoulder, Rin allows himself to be pushed into a plush couch.
He sits there for a moment, tears silently running down his cheeks.
“Do you…” It’s obvious that Sae is struggling. His hands are hovering over Rin awkwardly and his eyes are still flickering from place to place. “Do you want a glass of water?”
Rin will take anything that results in Sae leaving and saving him from embarrassment for a few precious seconds.
He nods, and his brother wastes no time walking to the kitchen and filling up a glass.
He returns to find Rin roughly swiping at his eyes, and stubbornly avoiding Sae’s gaze.
Sae hands him the glass and Rin takes it and practically pours the water down his throat.
“Slowly,” his brother says.
For some reason, Rin listens to him. He sips at the remaining water, and Sae takes it as a cue to sit down on the couch, an awkward distance away from Rin.
Once he feels more composed, Rin says, “Bachira’s dating Isagi.”
His brother’s eyes widen, either from the statement or Rin’s unprompted honesty.
“Ah,” he says. Then, ever so slightly, he inches closer towards Rin on the couch.
“He didn’t even tell me,” Rin continues, closing his eyes firmly at the memory of today’s humiliating conversation. “He didn’t…” Rin cuts himself off with another little sob, but tries to finish anyway. “Do you— Do you think he knows?”
A frown pulls at Sae’s lips. “Rin, I can’t understand you,” he says. It isn’t as cold as Rin has come to expect from him.
“Do you think he knows?” Rin chokes out, as clearly as he can manage. His voice still cracks on the last word and Rin decides that’s enough speaking for now. He’s made himself vulnerable enough.
But his brother refuses to make it easy for him. “Knows?”
“That I—” Still, Rin doesn’t want to say it. But Sae finally seems to understand.
“I don’t—” he starts, frowning deeper. “I don’t know.”
“It’s not fair,” Rin says, ignoring Sae’s answer entirely.
And then, on his brother’s couch, with tears still drying on his face, the words leave Rin naturally. “I love him,” he says. “And he doesn’t— He won’t—”
Sae inhales in surprise. “You—”
Rin doesn’t let Sae interrupt him. “He likes me,” he says frantically. “Do you know how rare that is?”
His brother’s eyes suddenly bore into him intensely. Sae’s brows are furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Are you playing dumb? People don’t like me, Sae.” The name is awkward on his tongue, but Rin isn’t sure if he’s allowed to address him otherwise. He had a moment of weakness earlier. He won’t make the same mistake twice.
His brother shakes his head resolutely. “That’s not true.”
“You don’t even like me,” Rin says petulantly.
Sae moves over by another inch. They’re finally sitting next to each other. “You’re my brother. Of course I like you.”
When Rin stares at the carpet, rather than look Sae’s way, his brother sighs. He sounds disappointed, and even now, Rin hopes it isn’t directed at him.
“Lots of people like you, Rin. Reo does, Bachira does, hell, even Shidou–”
“No way,” Rin interrupts, turning his head so Sae can see his disbelief.
Sae blinks. “Well he doesn’t hate you,” he finally says. “I could never date someone who hated you.”
Rin keeps looking at him, examining his brother’s face carefully for any hint of a lie. But to his bewilderment, Sae seems entirely honest.
See, Rin looks for deeper meaning in every one of Sae’s expressions, finds clear disdain behind every word he’s said to him. But maybe there was nothing there. Maybe—
“You—” Rin starts wiping at his face harshly again, unsure what to say. Sae hasn’t spoken to him in this tone in years.
“Stay the night,” Sae tells him firmly. Rin only now realizes it’s dark outside. “I have a couch.”
“I don’t think—”
“I’ll put on your favorite movie,” Sae interrupts. His face is impassive but his words are careful.
Still, Rin frowns at him. “You don’t know what my favorite movie is,” he tells his brother flatly.
“So you can tell me,” Sae says. “And we can watch it.”
Rin stares at him but his brother’s expression doesn’t change. And for some reason, he can’t think up an excuse to turn him down.
“… Alright.”
So, ten minutes later, Rin watches in astonishment as his brother queues up The Shining, with the same laser focus he uses to do everything. There’s a bag of freshly microwaved popcorn sitting in Rin’s lap.
“I don’t have any soda,” Sae had explained after handing it to Rin. “So, water or a protein shake, it’s up to you.”
Speechlessly, Rin had passed his brother his empty glass. It’s sitting on the coffee table now, refilled with tap water.
Even as the movie starts, Rin can’t help but keep glancing in Sae’s direction. His brother is acting unusual and it has him on edge.
Is Rin really so pitiful? Or was Sae being serious every time he asked Rin to stay back and watch something with him and Shidou?
Rin mindlessly chews on popcorn and tilts the bag in his brother’s direction every time he extends a hand. It’s like he’s in a dream.
Then: “How can you watch this shit?” Sae asks unimpressed, only half an hour in.
Rin breathes a sigh of relief. His brother hasn’t been replaced by an alien then. “It’s a classic,” he insists. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Why, because I’m not in college?”
Rin shakes his head, then says, “No, because you have bad taste.” His mouth twitches at the offended look on his brother’s face. It’s nearly a smile.
Maybe he’ll be alright.
(Rin doesn’t mean to fall asleep halfway through the movie, but the familiarity makes it all too easy. He wakes up to the smell of freshly cooked breakfast. There’s a crick in his neck and his eyes are swollen, but when Sae asks him how he wants his eggs, Rin can’t help but smile for real.)
At coffee with Reo the next day, Rin finally spills his guts. It’s long overdue.
“Well, I would definitely still be your friend,” Reo says to him, after patiently listening to Rin’s long winded explanation.
If there was no Nagi in the picture? Rin can’t help but doubt him. Half of his and Reo’s friendship is based on mutual heartbreak. Even though Reo’s heart is anything but broken now.
But Reo doubles down. “I know I would,” he promises.
There’s no way to confirm Reo’s theory. There’s no way for Rin to know with certainty. But part of him wants desperately to believe it.
As Reo leans back in his seat, satisfied with Rin’s acceptance, Rin takes a good look at him.
He’s beaming. Rin doesn’t even know if he realizes it. He’s at ease in a way Rin has never seen before, even back before Nagi ever received his soul mark. His eyes are sparkling again. The confidence looks good on him.
Rin can’t deny he still finds him pretty. But Reo is out of his reach, and Rin’s never allowed himself to believe otherwise. He’s different from Bachira then. Reo is safe.
Instead, Rin asks, “It’s a good thing for you, isn’t it, Reo? Not having a soul mark?”
Reo raises a brow.
“You found someone that’ll love you without one.”
Reo smiles shyly for a second, likely thinking about the someone in question, before he realizes what Rin’s getting at.
His face falls, but rather than give Rin a pitiful glance, he addresses him firmly. “People love you, Rin.” There’s no room for argument in his tone.
Rin looks away in embarrassment but Reo isn’t finished.
“And someone’s going to love you the way you want, soul mark or not.”
Softly, Rin says, “But not Bachira.”
Reo graces him with a kind smile. “No,” he says, just as quietly. “But he does love you, Rin. Not the way you want him to, but he does.”
And that’s what hits Rin hardest. Bachira loves him. Bachira had felt guilty for not telling him. Bachira had tried to reach out, no matter how pathetic his attempts were.
Rin has neglected to mention the dozen messages he’s received since yesterday, all begging him for a face to face conversation.
Bachira might know Rin’s dirty secret, but he loves him anyway.
“Yeah.” He takes a sip of his drink and lets the lukewarm coffee linger on his tongue before swallowing. With practice, the bitterness is easier to stomach.
And then, for the first time in a long time, Rin turns on his phone and messages a familiar number.
In all the time that Rin has known Bachira, he’s never looked quite so small.
He’s shrinking into his seat across from Rin, like he’s afraid of facing him, even though Rin has always reserved the gentlest version of himself for Bachira. Rin tries not to take it to heart.
Bachira had responded to his text within seconds, asking to meet up as soon as possible. Rin, all too aware of his still swollen eyelids, had asked for some time. So here they are, two days later.
And so far, all Bachira has said is, “How are you?” He winced when Rin simply replied, “Fine,” and said nothing else.
The quiet is unbearably awkward. Rin misses the comfortable silence they used to share before Bachira closed himself off. Before Rin made no attempt to fix things.
Well, here he is, trying to do just that.
When Rin starts fiddling with his phone to distract himself from the unbearable tension, Bachira finally clears his throat.
“I tried to tell you,” he says.
Rin immediately tenses up. Rin will accept the blame for many things, but not that. If Bachira wanted, he could’ve—
“I didn’t do a good job though,” Bachira continues, still looking at the table instead of Rin. “I’ve just felt… Horrible.”
Rin swallows, a little nervous all of a sudden.
“I was sad and miserable… And I stopped talking to you. I know you like me best when I’m happy.”
I like you either way, Rin doesn’t say.
“I didn’t know how to talk to you again, Rin-cha— Rin. I didn’t know how to tell you about Isagi, or anything.”
Finally, Bachira’s wide eyes meet Rin’s. “But I feel awful about it.”
Even now, Rin is silent. He’s been processing Bachira’s words, unsure what to make of it all. By now, his anger has thawed. In place of it, there’s a bone deep weariness.
Bachira’s shoulders start to slump but Rin still can’t formulate a response. He doesn’t know what to say, or even how to feel.
Bachira’s guilt makes something obvious to Rin, something he’s failed to consider. Bachira isn’t an angel. He isn’t as good as Rin thought he was. He’s only human, after all.
Maybe Rin’s expectations were unfair.
“It’s…” As Rin’s thinking of something to say, he realizes he can’t hold a grudge against Bachira. It wouldn’t be fair. Not when Rin’s done the same to him before, not when he neglected to reach out or confront Bachira over his silence.
“It’s fine,” he finally manages to say.
“No.” Bachira shakes his head, stubborn as always. “It’s really not.”
Then: “I’m sorry, Rin.”
Bachira always swallows his pride too easily. Rin isn’t accustomed to apologies. Rather than acknowledge the words, he says, “Don’t call me that.”
“Rin?”
Rin glares at him.
A hesitant smile creeps across Bachira’s face. “Sorry, Rin-chan.”
“It’s fine,” he says, firmly this time.
“I’ll make it up to you. I’ll tell you everything from now on.”
“That’s excessive.” The relief filling Rin’s chest is at odds with his words. Finally they seem to be returning to normal.
Bachira’s grin widens, before his tone becomes serious once more. “I wouldn’t blame you for not believing me,” he starts, leaning in to meet Rin’s eyes. “But I think of you as my best friend, you know?”
Rin sucks in a breath. The echo of the two words, of the two syllables, sends something like a chill down Rin’s spine. He wouldn’t be surprised to find goosebumps littering his skin. Rin has never been graced with such a title before. He doesn’t know what to make of it.
“I thought that was Isagi?” Rin says, once he’s sure his voice will come out steady.
Bachira shakes his head. “Isagi is something else.” He says it matter-of-factly, all too casually flipping Rin’s world on its axis.
Bachira must take his silence as disbelief. “Just wait. I’ll prove it to you.”
And Rin could ask him how. He could ask how Bachira is planning to make up for weeks of silence, ask him how he can call someone he hasn’t spoken to in a month his best friend.
There must be something wrong with Rin. Because Bachira’s words should have torn him apart, should have had him short of breath or close to tears— but more than anything, Rin feels pleased.
His best friend, huh?
Rin looks over the table at Bachira. The gold in his hair catches every last bit of sunlight pouring into the room. If Rin looks closely, he’ll see the freckles scattered over his cheekbones, and the tiny scar marking the underside of his chin. Seven-year-old Bachira had taken a particularly hard stumble, Bachira Yuu had fondly explained.
Bachira seems to be waiting for Rin’s response patiently, but Rin is sure he’s swinging his legs back and forth under the table.
Rin is so glad to be his anything.
He’s never been someone’s best friend before. Isn’t it fitting that Bachira takes another one of his firsts? First friend, first love, first heartbreak. Rin’s all too happy to give them away.
“Alright,” Rin says, looking Bachira in the eye. “Do your best, Bachira.”
It’s Bachira, not Meguru. That’s something Rin will never be allowed. It’ll take some time to make peace with it, but Rin thinks he might just manage to.
And when Bachira gives him the brightest smile Rin has ever seen from him, Rin can’t regret any of it.
Does Bachira know about his feelings? Rin doesn’t think so, but he has no way of knowing for sure. A confession would do the trick, but Rin doesn’t want to put that weight on Bachira’s shoulders.
Oh, who is he kidding? Rin isn’t that selfless.
A confession would be mortifying. Even now, Rin wouldn’t dare.
Maybe one day, he’ll look back on it all and laugh. But today, Rin looks over at his best friend and graces him with the closest thing to a smile he can manage.
There’s possibility here. Rin stopped believing in those a long time ago.
But on this particular spring morning, Rin’s world unfreezes— his life moves ahead, slowly, but surely. He wonders what summer might bring.
He hopes for the best.
One summer afternoon, Rin is tapping his foot impatiently, waiting for the bus to pull up in front of the stop he’s been frequenting too often lately.
There’s sweat dripping down the back of his neck, a consequence of the harsh midday sun, and the brisk pace Rin had set for himself on the way over here.
He wasn’t quite rushing, but when he checked his phone and found himself fifteen minutes off schedule, he couldn’t help but walk a little faster.
It’s his own fault for staying up so late. But after Sae had shown him such an awful movie, Rin had no choice but to cleanse his eyes with something more tasteful. Though, as always, Sae had no appreciation for Rin’s carefully picked choice.
Rin will make a horror fan out of him yet.
To add insult to injury, Shidou of all people, had shown up during the second half, and avidly watched along.
Now Rin wants nothing to do with the movie at all.
Crashing on Sae’s couch was also a poor choice on Rin’s part. It always takes him a good while to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. He probably passed out sometime after three last night.
So, upon waking up this morning, a lot later than he had planned, Rin could only shove a piece of toast in his mouth, tie up his shoes, and offer his brother a mumbled, “Bye.”
He’d ignored Shidou’s bright, “See you later, Rinrin!” Rin doesn’t mind staying over at his brother’s place, but Shidou has yet to become more bearable.
At least they steer clear of physical affection when Rin is around. If Rin has to see his brother kiss his soulmate with his own two eyes, he’s transferring to a university at least two cities away.
Now Rin can’t help but peer down the street, as if wishful thinking will make the bus appear any faster.
Ordinarily, Rin wouldn’t mind the lateness. But he’s meant to be meeting Reo and Nagi today, and Reo has always been strict about timing. It’s most definitely a consequence of his pretentious upbringing. It rarely shows itself, but it’s hard to miss when it does. It baffles Rin how Reo manages to deal with Nagi’s inability to be on time to anything.
As if sensing his impending tardiness, Reo sends him a text.
You’re still coming, right?
He isn’t even late yet. Rin sighs and types up a response.
Yeah
But I’ll be late
Reo sends him a frowning face and Rin really has nothing more to say to him.
By the time he steps out of the bus, he has two missed calls from Mikage Reo. Rin rolls his eyes when he checks his phone. Reo is older than him, and somehow still an impatient brat.
He also has a single text from an entirely blank contact, with no picture or first name: wru?
Do you care? Rin texts back, never willing to waste an opportunity to make fun of Nagi Seishiro.
Maybe Nagi is finally warming up to him. Rin doubts it, but if so, the feeling isn’t mutual. Rin might actually even prefer Isagi Yoichi’s company to Nagi’s.
As if determined to prove Rin correct, Nagi’s aggravating response arrives.
The message just reads:
reo does
Rin suppresses the urge to gag. He can practically hear Nagi’s voice saying Reo’s name, sickly sweet as always.
The one positive about having to see Nagi is that Nagi will hate it even more than him. Rin wonders if Reo really wants the two of them to be friends or if this is some kind of twisted revenge for being forced to hang out with Nagi and Isagi— back when he thought they were together.
Reo’s head over heels in love, but Rin wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that.
Rin swipes out of their conversation and picks up the pace. His eyes flicker to the conversation below, evidence of his and Bachira’s upcoming trip to Bachira’s home. Apparently Yuu has been dying to see him.
The last time had been in the winter, and Yuu had promised to stock up on a greater selection of tea for Rin to try, despite Rin’s insistence that she spare herself the trouble. According to Bachira, she asks about Rin frequently, overly concerned about her son’s friend who can’t stand to be home for the holidays. Rin appreciates her more than he can put into words.
By now, Rin can stand to be alone with Bachira, even in his childhood home. He looks forward to it, in fact.
The ache has subsided. It’s more of a phantom pain than anything now. Sometimes it rears its head when Rin least expects it, and sometimes it’s quiet, even when Rin is faced with direct evidence of Isagi and Bachira’s happy relationship. Still, he refuses to go out of his way to see the two of them together. Rin’s confidence in football is justified. His feelings are still somewhat of a landmine. Rin has no desire to challenge himself so soon.
Bachira Meguru is Rin’s biggest what-if, but also his closest friend. He can be both at once. Rin will make sure of it.
Rin is so absorbed in his phone, he almost misses the thud of something hitting the ground. Almost.
Rin’s hand immediately pats over his back pocket. He finds it alarmingly empty.
He turns around, quickly scanning the ground. He finds his wallet lying farther behind him than he’d expected, a consequence of his long strides. He takes a step in its direction, then pauses when he notices someone who had been walking behind him.
That stranger bends at the waist and easily grabs Rin’s dropped wallet off the sidewalk, before looking up at Rin, face kind and open. “I think you dropped this.”
An outstretched hand meets Rin’s. “Here you go.”
This time, the word leaves him of his own volition. Clear and steady, Rin says, “Thanks.” He takes back his wallet, and offers the stranger a polite expression. It’s not quite a smile, but it’s far from his usual frown.
The stranger smiles back at him, and responds, lightning quick. “It's no problem.”
And unbeknownst to Rin, the thing that’s lain dormant in his chest all this time awakens with a yawn.