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The cold January winds nip at his cheeks as he walks towards the address marked on his phone. He’s never been here before, never been to this part of the city really, but then again, Rin usually has better things to do than waste his nights at a bar .
Why Isagi invited him, he’ll never know.
Why he said yes, that certainly is a mystery too.
A bell rings when he pushes the door open. He steps out of the cold into the warm, slightly smoky air, and the first thing he notices is the noise. It’s mostly just talking, and the clanking of glass hitting the tables, but no music.
He exhales a breath in relief. For some reason, an irrational part of his brain thought that Isagi was going to drag him to a club, the kind with a dance floor and flashing lights of every color. He’s never been to one before, but he’s seen them in movies, the way all the bodies are forced together in a sweaty tangle, the only alternative a back against a sticky wall while he chokes down an overpriced drink.
This is just a bar.
There are tables and booths. The smell of beer is familiar the way the stadium stands are. It’s a smell that reminds him oddly of victory, even though he doesn’t really drink the stuff, but then again, he supposes if they sold the same snacks, he’d think about them too.
A match plays on five different screens surrounding the room, two on each side and one larger on the back wall next to the bathroom and an ATM machine. They’re not synced, so it almost looks like the ball is traveling across them every time it’s kicked. Rin watches for a moment and decides that just from the first formation, this isn’t going to be a game worth paying attention to.
A flash of dark blue catches his eye, and he turns to see Isagi pushing himself up out of the booth to wave to him, smiling from ear to ear, his eyes wide and bright despite the low light. He looks like a kid, and Rin clears his throat as he approaches him, grateful for some reason that he didn’t call out to him in front of all these people. He doesn’t think about how he knew he was waving at him without it.
Bachira stands up to let Isagi out, but only Isagi approaches, still smiling, his coat slung over the back of the seat.
“Hey, you came,” he says like it’s a surprise. It probably is. He reaches for his hand, the clasp casual and familiar (meaning in a friendly way, not in a way Rin is used to). He’s seen other players greet each other like this; usually they pull each other in to pat their backs, but Isagi keeps his distance. Somehow Rin gets through the motions without fumbling, although he’s never done it before. His hand feels warmer than it should. “Come on, everybody’s here all ready.”
Everybody.
Isagi leads him back to the booth, and Rin quickly surveys what kind of crowd he’s working with tonight. Each face belongs to someone he both likes and finds tolerable, and he exhales in relief. Isagi didn’t hand him over to a pack of jackals or morons.
Isagi gestures for him to sit first, and he raises an eyebrow, but it would be better to sit and get out of sight rather than stand here and risk being gawked at, not that he necessarily cares if anyone thinks he’s strange, but still, he would rather not be gawked at. Or looked at at all when he’s not playing.
He slides in, albeit awkwardly as he avoids putting his hands on the booth or table, and Isagi slides in next to him, tucking him against the wall right beneath one of the screens so Bachira can squeeze in next. It’s a tight fit, one that leaves Isagi’s side pressed against him.
Too warm, he thinks, and is only mildly annoyed to find a helpful tug when he goes to peel off his overcoat. He folds it in his lap to keep it out of the way.
Across from him is Kunigami, who looks just as unhappy to be here as he is, if not more outwardly. He keeps one hand tight on his beer, scowling at it like it knows a secret about him, and the other loose on the arm around Chigiri’s shoulder like he knows a secret about him too. Chigiri leans into him, but his attention is on everyone else, watching the conversations and contributing when he feels like it.
Next to him is Reo, who sits straight backed, looking as stiff as Rin feels. He’s the only one of them without a bottle or pint, but Rin is pretty sure he isn’t drinking water. He looks wildly out of place for someone who has always fit in with Isagi and company, as far as Rin’s aware.
Nagi looks exhausted. He apparently drew the lot that left him in a chair pulled up at the end of the table, and Rin thinks almost gratefully that he was wedged here and not forced to sit with his back to the rest of the room. Reo tugs Nagi’s hood over his head, and Nagi blinks at him sleepily, his lips pouting in a frown but eyes sparkling enough for Rin to assume the gesture didn’t bother him.
He cannot see Bachira, but he can hear him. But based on the conversation with Isagi, he really wishes he couldn’t.
This is everyone.
He expected it to be more crowded than this, that somehow Isagi would accidentally trigger a Blue Lock reunion simply because he collected every player like a trophy, but no, this is it.
Isagi’s body shakes against his side as he laughs at something Bachira says, and Rin rolls his eyes. It’s still too many people.
He doesn’t like this. Being wedged like Isagi subconsciously won’t let him leave, a suspicion punctuated by the occasional tap of Isagi’s hand on his leg. His knee. His thigh.
It’s never assuming and never too much, but it’s strange that he’s reaching for him at all. Anyone else might reach back.
A waitress brings a tray of drinks, and they’re passed around with a bottle placed in front of Rin. He didn’t order this, but he knows what it is. It’s the same beer Sae keeps that he sometimes sips on when they’re gathered at his place. Isagi glances at him, but he turns to say something to Reo without really acknowledging it. Rin puts the bottle to his lips quietly, refusing to think about it.
It’s too bitter. He rarely drinks, preferring to have his head clear and his body in its peak condition, so he’s never really gotten a taste for it. But it’s better than soda. He hates the way it clings to his teeth and tingles against the tip of his tongue. He hates the artificial burst of energy it gives him like his veins can’t stay still, but this has the opposite effect.
He warms from the inside, but it’s not hot like liquor. It slowly eases into him, making it easier to fit between Isagi and the wall. He idly thinks he probably should have eaten before coming here, but he… couldn’t. He doesn’t think about that either.
It makes him lazy and somewhat more agreeable than he’s used to being. He talks to Chigiri more than the others, who doesn’t overwhelm him with either enthusiasm or disdain. Kunigami doesn’t say much, but he does watch Chigiri with a casual gaze. Reo joins them when Nagi falls asleep leaning on his own palm. Bachira folds a napkin into his fourth triangle in a row. Isagi’s hand touches Rin’s leg before he moves it away again.
He doesn’t hate this. He doesn’t mind it either.
Isagi may have him trapped against his will, but the press of his side doesn’t bother him. There’s no shoving or troublesome swings of his hands. It’s just a small booth, and they have no choice but to share it.
He doesn’t immediately notice until he catches the uncomfortably obvious way that Kunigami looks at Chigiri’s mouth that of everyone here, over half are part of a couple. It’s a known fact, but it’s one he doesn’t waste his time on. He doesn’t care about their personal lives. They don’t affect him at all, and he’s not interested for the sake of knowing.
But tonight it’s blatant.
He’s not good with this kind of situation. He doesn't socialize more than necessary, which means he doesn’t often date, so being able to recognize one doesn’t come easily, but–.
No, it’s just a coincidence. They’re all still Isagi’s friends, regardless of their associations to each other, and clearly, if this is what that was, there wouldn’t be him, Isagi, and Bachira sitting on the opposite side of the table having a completely different night.
It should annoy him that he has a front row seat to it, but thankfully neither couple is all that public with what they do with each other.
He then remembers the two to his left and grimaces at the last piece of the equation. Three couples. Does this make him the third wheel or the seventh? Isagi should have warned him.
But what would he have done if he knew? Said no? That was already a possibility, and so was the possibility that there would be… couples. He could have said to bring someone, not that there’s room. Not that Rin would have. His social life is limited to Isagi, who he names begrudgingly, and Bachira, who is included nearly a third of the time. And Isagi and Bachira are much closer to each other than they are with him (socially, not physically. There’s no one physically closer to Isagi than Rin at the moment).
He just didn’t realize how close until now.
But considering how clear Rin has made it that he doesn’t want to know anything about Isagi’s love, social, or personal life, it shouldn’t be such a surprise.
Isagi picks up one of Bachira’s paper triangles and flicks it at Reo, who raises an eyebrow in return.
Two bottles become the goal posts. Bets are placed upon the table in pools of condensation. Bachira whispers a familiar team chant that sometimes rings in Rin’s ears when he can’t sleep. Isagi flicks the paper, and the whole room cheers in a roar that startles the seven of them into looking up like it was for them.
It’s just the game on the screen.
Someone scored.
The referee on the screen signals his arms, and the rest of the room groans in protest as the point is immediately taken away. As it goes for lukewarm plays. If you don’t take the point from the other team—and sometimes your own—it isn’t yours.
He draws his focus back to their table and is mildly startled to see Isagi staring at him. He steels himself enough to not react, but still, his pulse catches. Before he can say something, Isagi looks at Kunigami and asks him a question, the words sounding too fuzzy to Rin’s unsettled ears to parse.
Kunigami nods and sits forward, his shoulder brushing past Chigiri’s in the confined space. He’s almost too broad for this, and Rin mildly makes a note to be thankful that neither he, Isagi, or Bachira share the same problem. Chigiri only looks a little annoyed that he has to turn at an angle to keep from shoving Reo to the floor.
They should have gotten two tables.
But then he would have been left with Isagi and Bachira, and if this is really what it looks like, he would have made for a peeved third wheel. At least as a seventh, it’s only awkward.
Rin manages to pace himself for one drink, a feat he prides himself in comparison to the others’ flushed cheeks and tired eyes as the night comes to an end.
Well, not all of them. Isagi and Bachira both seem to be carrying enough energy to recharge a small battery, one of them restless and the other… nervous? Rin frowns. It isn’t often he sees Isagi like this, not anymore at least. He doesn’t ask, but he does ponder it the way he ponders all things he finds abnormal.
So most things involving Isagi.
The rest of the night passes without anything miraculous happening.
The seven of them stand outside of the bar in some kind of a necessary parting ritual. He considers leaving now, but he stays at Isagi’s side as if he’s been attuned to it by sitting against it for almost an hour. It wasn’t comfortable, and yet.
It’s cold tonight, and he thinks about the warmth of a body slotted against his, and then he forces himself to think of his apartment, where he should be.
Kunigami and Chigiri leave first, their arms hooked together at the elbows. Their voices fade in the distance, and their steps are relaxed. They’re going home together. Rin should leave too.
“Alright,” Reo says before stretching his arms over his head. “We’re leaving.”
“Okay, thanks for coming out,” Isagi says. Nagi manages a small smile before he’s heaved up onto Reo’s back, who sloughs off with him in the opposite direction. Rin raises an eyebrow at that, but he doesn’t comment.
“Guess it’s just us,” Bachira says with a grin that reaches from ear to ear. Dread pools in Rin’s stomach that this is suddenly going to be a thing, that he’s going to get dragged around by them while they– whatever.
He should have left when the first pair did. That would have been much easier.
But Bachira and Isagi don’t lead him off, and the conversation the three of them have isn’t annoying. They talk about their thoughts about other teams from around the world and who they think will be the biggest contenders next season and who will drop off. Isagi agrees with half of Rin’s opinions, and the rest of him might just be contrarian for the reason that water is wet. If the two of them agree on everything, hell might freeze over. But some of Isagi’s points, Rin admits he has to consider.
And then a car pulls up to the sidewalk, and Bachira’s eyes light up like stars. A man gets out of the driver’s side and walks towards him and is met with a jump and crash, Bachira’s legs going around his waist with ease. Rin’s eyebrows raise.
And then he’s introduced to Bachira’s partner from over his shoulder, a photographer he vaguely recognizes from the press pit. His face is usually covered by the heavy camera body and the long lens, so Rin has never paid too much attention to him. It seems Bachira has.
Rin glances at Isagi to see how he feels about this considering Rin was sure until five minutes ago that Isagi and Bachira were there together, but he’s smiling like not only was he expecting this, he’s relieved it happened.
“How much did he drink?”
“I’m not drunk,” Bachira protests, and Isagi laughs as Bachira’s… photographer raises an eyebrow.
“I guess that answers that,” he says. “Alright, let’s get you home. Night, Isagi. Itoshi.”
Rin nods in acknowledgment. Isagi opens the door to give the poor bastard a hand. Bachira was perfectly fine five minutes ago, but what does Rin know?
They drive off in a blur of headlights, and Rin rubs one of his eyes.
“And he wasn’t invited?” Rin asks as if he cares.
“He was, but he had to work,” he says.
“How long has that been a thing?”
He still doesn’t care, but he can’t help but wonder if Isagi is nursing a wound, if Rin was just brought here to avoid being their seventh wheel.
Isagi frowns in thought. “Uhhh, about six months now?”
Rin’s eyebrows raise in surprise despite himself. “Really?”
“Yeah, you’ve been out of the loop, Rin,” he says with an easy smile. “Times are changing.”
“You make it seem like the world is different.”
“It’s not, but you never know,” he says. “It could be.”
He watches him for a moment without saying anything before he realizes that the two of them are the only people left. Isagi has to keep his chin up to hold eye contact, a fact that Rin’s never paid as much attention to as he is now.
It’s freezing. He should care.
But despite the cold, he feels surprisingly good, like the only part of him that can register the brisk air is his cheeks.
It’s dark out, the sun long set in the waning winter sky, but the lights from the nearby shops and bars are enough to keep Isagi’s face fully illuminated. Street lights reflect in pools on the street. It must have rained earlier, but he didn’t notice. He didn’t notice much of anything outside of their booth.
Isagi shifts his weight, not necessarily in an effort to leave, but not standing confidently in a way that suggests he plans to spend the entire night on the sidewalk.
Rin could leave now. End the night here, go home, grumble about being dragged out in the first place, but he doesn’t.
He can’t.
Why can’t he leave?
“So, uhhh, thanks for coming out,” he says, unusually unsteady. Rin hums. “They’re not so bad, right?”
“They’re fine,” he says without needing to lie. Of all the people Isagi has collected, those five are the most tolerable.
Isagi’s mouth widens into a smile. “See, I knew you’d have a good time.”
“I don’t think anything I’ve said should imply that.”
“Yeah, but if you didn’t, you would’ve left.”
“You had me cornered.”
“Because we were sitting together,” Isagi says, and Rin almost points out that no matter how irrelevant that is, he could have sat where Bachira did instead, and then they still would have been. He doesn’t, though.
He stands with his arms crossed as Isagi moves in front of him, shifting his weight easily and comfortably, more relaxed than he’s used to while somehow being too restless to really be. He’s like this when they play sometimes. When he’s nervous. When he’s thinking too much.
What reason for that would he have now of all times?
“What are you thinking about?”
“Huh?” Isagi says, his eyebrows rising briefly. “Oh, nothing. So, you got any plans later?”
“Why would I have made more plans after this,” he asks.
“I don’t know,” he laughs. “I don’t know your life. Maybe you’re busy.”
“If I was busy, I wouldn’t have come here.”
“I guess that’s true,” Isagi says. “You just seem busy all the time.”
“It’s because I practice more than you do.”
“It’s because you have to.”
Rin’s eyebrows twitches, earning a smile. “Do you really want to have that conversation?”
“Right now? No.”
“Are you going to try to make small talk with me?”
“I’m not that stupid,” Isagi laughs again, and Rin just watches him until his demeanor settles. Isagi looks at him with a thought Rin can’t read. “You wanna talk to me, Rin?”
“Not really.”
Isagi hums and nods before looking off. “Thought so.”
Somehow it feels like he said the wrong thing, and an uneasiness grows in his stomach. It’s a careless fumble he can’t easily get back, not without running in the opposite direction faster than anyone else.
If he wants to, that is.
If it matters.
It seems like it does.
“I don’t really want to talk to anyone,” he says, immediately feeling stupid for the effort. He should have just let it go, let Isagi keep that look on his face. What does it matter to him?
“Yeah, I get that,” Isagi says. “I mean, I know you don’t. It’s okay.”
Rin exhales. “Why did you invite me here? I’m not like them..”
“I know you’re not.”
“I mean I’m not– fun,” he says. God, he’s going to be sick. What does it matter?
“So? Can’t I want to invite you places?” Isagi says. Rin frowns. “Was it too much? Did you have to do anything you didn’t want to? Did you have to talk to anyone you didn’t like? I mean, you could have just said no. It would’ve been fine, it’s not like I can’t handle it. We’re friends, I know how you work.”
“We’re not friends,” Rin says. Isagi doesn’t so much as flinch.
“Yes, we are,” he says.
“Don’t be stupid.”
Isagi laughs. “Right, I’m stupid. That’s why you came here because we’re not friends.”
There’s nothing he can say to that.
Isagi sighs and waves him off. “Forget it. I’m glad you came out.”
“Still?”
“Yeah, I mean, it’s good to see you out of a uniform,” he says. Rin quirks a brow. “You clean up good, by the way.”
The statement catches Rin by surprise, but not nearly as much as the sudden look over him, like Isagi’s taking him in. He should say something like you’re drunk, but he happens to know that Isagi had just as much as he did and his head is perfectly clear.
At least he’s pretty sure it is, but maybe it’s not.
He feels light, lighter than usual and… unwound like he’s been released from a tightly bound coil, but Isagi on the other hand looks like he’s having the opposite problem, like if Rin were to pluck the wrong string, he would explode.
But he’s exerting a great deal of effort to make sure that Rin doesn’t see that that’s the case.
Unfortunately for him, Isagi has always been… annoyingly easy to read.
“It wasn’t so bad, though, right?”
“I said I didn’t mind them,” Rin says.
“I meant with me,” he says, and Rin can say nothing to that. “But that’s weird, right? I mean, I get it. If i would’ve asked–, but I thought since you seemed cool with them, it would’ve been… easier.”
“So you thought I wouldn’t have come if you hadn’t invited other people. Did you want to come alone?” Isagi nods, and Rin frowns. “Why?”
He laughs, but the humor in it is brittle. “Isn’t that pretty obvious at this point?”
Rin’s frown deepens until he’s all but scowling because the implication is something that is not obvious. It’s not even on the table. If it was–.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“I’m not looking at you any differently than I usually do.”
“Yes, you are,” he says. “Your eyebrows do a thing when you figure something out, and I just need you to not be smart right now. Like, please just be a little stupid.”
“Are you really calling me stupid?”
“No, but it would be a huge favor to me if you could pretend to be,” Isagi says.
“No.”
“Please.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Rin.”
“Isagi.”
Isagi breathes out an exasperated fuck as he rakes his fingers through his hair.
“It’s okay,” Rin says.
“What is?”
“I don’t know,” he says.
“And what if it’s not?”
“Then it’s not,” he says. “When has that ever stopped you?”
Isagi laughs weakly. “Yeah, but it would be really cool if it was.”
“It might be,” he says, and Isagi shakes his head. “Then you’ve decided too much on your own without giving me the option to agree or disagree, and that doesn’t interest me.”
“Then tell me, Rin. What does interest you?”
His jerk reaction is to say nothing, but his mouth doesn’t open enough to try. Isagi sighs and looks off in defeat. “This was fine.”
Isagi looks back at him, confused. “What?”
“Coming here,” he says. “It was– fine.”
“I’m not talking about that,” he says.
Obviously.
“Next time you don’t need to invite the others,” he says. “If you don’t want to.”
Isagi blinks. “Oh.”
What the hell is he saying?
“Actually, I would prefer that you didn’t,” Rin says.
“Really,” he says, unsure.
“The table was too small for seven people.”
“Oh, yeah, it was.”
“You spent the entire night in my lap,” he says. “If it was anyone else, I would have killed you.”
“I wasn’t in your lap.”
“Yes, you were.”
“I was not.”
“You were–.”
Rin’s argument is suddenly cut short by a move he… honestly never saw coming. Isagi pushes himself up on his toes to press a kiss to Rin’s lips that makes all of his blood run both hot and cold at the exact same time.
They’ve never done this before, never once teased the idea, and yet he kissed him, is still kissing him, stiff lipped and determined.
He pulls away almost just as quickly, eyes searching Rin’s for a reaction, absorbing and calculating. Rin doesn’t give him one. He can’t give him one.
Isagi laughs and shoves his hands in his pockets, flushing so deeply that Rin wonders if he should call for help, if this is what a heart attack looks like.
If so, he must look just as flushed as Isagi does.
“Oh god, sorry,” Isagi says, putting his head in his hands. “That was so stupid.”
“Why did you–?”
Kiss me, he can’t say.
He kissed him.
Of all the improbable ways to end a night, Isagi kissed him.
“I don’t know, I wanted to? Forget it, it’s not–.”
This time Isagi is the one who gets cut off. Rin grabs him by the unzipped portion of his coat and pulls him in as he leans down to reconnect the kiss. If Isagi were to ask him the same question Rin just did, he wouldn’t be able to answer either, but the kiss ended before he could decide how he felt about it, how he still feels about it.
Where Isagi was frozen by his own impulse, Rin is the exact opposite, but he’s always been this way. When he’s not calm, nothing about him can be, and so Isagi is all but consumed by it as he seeks.
The air is cold, but his lips almost burn, and with a sudden impulsive and unruly tilt of his head, he has Isagi’s tongue against his. There’s the faintest taste of beer from the ridiculous bar and this ridiculous night out, and Rin shouldn’t chase it but he does.
Kissing him feels… better than expected, better than he’s ready to think about, and yet still, his mind moves too quickly to think about anything but.
Isagi makes a sudden noise that snaps him out of it, and Rin pulls away, unable to blink, but he does manage to shut his mouth, albeit by pushing his chin up with his hand until his teeth click together.
He looks at Isagi, who is looking anywhere but at him while his breath clouds around his mouth in quick, shallow puffs.
He should say something.
What is he supposed to say?
“Isagi,” he says because that’s easy.
He doesn’t say he’s sorry because he’s not.
Surprisingly, he’s not.
Isagi looks at him, his eyes as wild as Rin’s, and then he laughs, genuinely enough that a part of Rin relaxes while another part bristles.
It’s hard to hate someone and not hate them at the exact same time.
But he probably doesn’t hate him, does he?
“So,” Isagi says, and thank god one of them can. “We, uhhh, didn’t catch the rest of that game.”
“It wasn’t good,” Rin says. “Both teams were mediocre, and it would have ended by now.”
Isagi’s face drops slightly. “Ah yeah, you’re probably right.”
But Rin isn’t stupid, not when it comes to him.
He turns and walks back to the bar, and the bell chimes as he pulls open the door. He can tell that it’s warmer in there, but his face is still too hot to tell.
Isagi follows him in.
Their booth is taken.
Isagi takes his hand and leads him back out, but he doesn’t say to where.
Rin doesn’t ask.
It doesn’t matter.