Chapter Text
Rin didn’t know what he was doing at this Halloween party.
He usually never wasted his time on things like this, having too much of an aversion to most people to put effort into socializing. This aversion often went both ways despite the bizarre amount of people who were drawn to him, pretty privilege wearing off the moment he opened his mouth. And for all his life, he was okay with this equilibrium, though it separated him from the rest of the world like a shield of self-imposed plexiglass.
So he had a few walls up, big deal. Rin always knew he was different, so why bother pretending otherwise?
He had better things to do than stand around looking stupid among a crowd of drunk, masked college students, though Bachira obviously disagreed. He was the one who dragged the sullen film student here, insisting Rin needed to work on his social skills instead of frying his brain watching movies or staring at his computer screen all the time. ‘Who knows, it might even help you with your writer’s block,’ his roommate had sing-songed magnanimously, as if bestowing sage wisdom upon him.
Truth be told, Rin hadn’t slept in what felt like weeks. Most days, he’d come home after class just to sit at his desk with his script open on his screen, trying to come up with a solid outline for his thesis film for hours until his brain became numb. Ideas used to just come to him, and he’d build entire worlds out of them like it was nothing, launching him to the top of his cohort within his first year through unrivalled skill alone. It was clear from the get-go that he belonged behind the camera, hence why it was so soul-crushing for him to suffer from this lack of inspiration. He'd always thought amateur pitfalls like writer's block were beneath him, but maybe he’d just simply run out of things to say.
God, he could feel the dull weight of exhaustion behind his eyes, how the rest of it settled through his bones like a heavy coat of oil. But Rin knew what was at stake if he let this go on any further; the crushing weight of failure would actually kill him dead, full-stop. This dread persisted in the back of his mind with every day that passed, deadlines looming ominously in the distance.
Even now, his fingers, which were curled around a can of lemon vodka soda, itched for a keyboard, teal eyes not ceasing to search for something, anything at all, that could possibly spark some inspiration. Shutting his eyes, Rin forced himself to push all of this aside in favour of trying to at least savour the drink in his hand, if anything. Something told him his sanity hinged on a worthy distraction. If only his roommate hadn’t fucked off to who-knows-where to do god-knows-what, leaving Rin stranded in an unknown hell full of overly chatty strangers.
The only entertainment he’d managed to find so far was watching other more inebriated people make fools of themselves. At some point, he started picking two costumes at random from the bunch, and imagining in great detail the many ways their characters would kill each other.
He was halfway through a daydream about Batman pushing sexy Sonic the Hedgehog into a pit of vipers, when his eyes caught on a lithe, blue-haired figure making his way through the parting crowd, generously passing around joints from person to person.
Going by the unfastened straightjacket he was wearing and the muzzle hanging loosely from his neck, Rin guessed the guy was meant to be a casual, half-assed Hannibal Lecter. One who was apparently a highly sought-after campus plug.
Rin’s gaze trailed after him, watching as he proceeded to goad a few rowdy frat boys into gambling away their shirts over a game of beer pong, distantly intrigued by how this blue-haired Hannibal seemed to know almost everyone at this godforsaken party.
It was not because he was pretty.
Rin sipped the rest of his drink, almost choking when the guy happened to turn slightly enough to meet his gaze, very much staring right back at him. Inexplicably, he winked.
Oh. Rin’s face warmed, eyes darting away with a quickness.
“Yooo, Rin,” a voice called from beside him, saving him from having to go through a mini internal crisis. He turned to see Karasu Tabito and Otoya Eita strolling up to him in matching dumb-looking cowboy hats. Rin eyed the crudely-made Sprite bottle bong Otoya was holding and mentally steeled himself for further psychic damage.
“Didn’t think we’d find ya here. Feels like we never get to see ya around these kinds of things,” Karasu’s smile was shark-like, though his eyes were playful. “I don’t even think I’ve seen ya drunk before.”
Rin shrugged, “Bachira forced me to come.”
“Then you're probably bored out of your mind, huh?” Otoya asked, smirking. “Why don't you humour us for a bit, then, while we have you here?”
Something in Rin's gut told him he could only benefit by walking away before these idiots killed the last of his functioning brain cells.
But before he could answer, Karasu pressed forward regardless.
“‘Cause we were all wonderin’ if ya managed to get any yet.”
Their leering stares and the inanity of the question stopped him dead in his tracks. Regrettably, he had to ask.
“Have I managed to get any what?”
“You knooow,” Otoya drawled, “have you had any hookups?”
“I bet if ya lightened up yer attitude a bit, you'd have crazy pull,” Karasu said very seriously, tilting his cowboy hat before it could fall off the side of his ridiculously spiked head.
Yeah, these guys? Exploding violently in Rin’s mind palace as they spoke.
“Die.”
“Rin’s got male manipulator vibes, for sure,” Otoya sagely observed, as if Rin wasn't within face-punching distance. “Ladies love a nonchalant film bro type.”
“I don't even know what the fuck that means,” Rin said, patience thinning at record speed.
“Sure ya don't,” Karasu grinned. “Letterboxd top four, list ‘em.”
Yet another obvious trap. But his mouth appeared to move faster than his rationality, like his autism was a sleeper cell that had just been activated by those five simple words.
“The Shining, Hellraiser, Full Metal Jacket,” Rin replied without an ounce of hesitation before pausing to think, quietly ending with, “...Grave of the Fireflies.”
“A Kubric fanboy,” Karasu snickered, shaking his head. “Why am I not surprised?”
“You usually don't get those. Most of the time, they're glazing Tarantino.”
Rin rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to comment, ‘Overrated as fuck,’ in hopes that his silence would ruin the vibe enough for them to finally leave him alone. Unfortunately, these two must have been bored out of their minds to keep on pestering the brick wall that was Rin.
Karasu suddenly turned back to him, seizing another opportunity to put him in the hot seat, “So, if you could hookup with anyone here, who’d ya pick?”
Why was he still standing here talking to these idiots?
“I don’t–”
Unfortunately, Bachira chose that exact moment to waltz back to Rin’s side, throwing a haphazard arm around his shoulders as he laughed, “You guys don't know how long I've been trying to set this guy up. I don't even think Rin’s got a type!”
Otoya blinked, dapping Bachira up after the latter unpeeled himself from Rin, “No way. Girls? Boys? Both?”
Rin gritted out, “Neither.”
Unwittingly, he thought about the creepypasta forums he used to spend hours of his time on, reading Jeff the Killer x Reader fanfiction, reflecting on how he'd stare longingly at the indie band guitarists on his childhood bedroom wall. Then, very briefly, he pictured blue hair and wide lash-framed eyes winking at him.
Ahem. Boys. Definitely boys. But these assholes didn’t need to know that.
Karasu and Otoya traded looks of mild surprise, eyebrows raised to the brims of their cowboy hats.
Then, Karasu cleared his throat, glancing between him and Bachira, “Well, to be honest, for a while we both thought you guys were datin’…”
Rin immediately recoiled, “No way in hell.”
“Riiin-Riiiiin, you're so mean,” Bachira pouted, but turned to the other two with a relenting shrug, “But yeah, that's never gonna happen. Besides, we're roommates, that’d be kinda weird.”
“What do you mean,” Otoya looked confused. “Roommates hookup all the time?”
Karasu flicked him on the forehead, “Not everyone's like us, dumbass.”
Rin grimaced. TMI, much?
“You haven't changed a bit,” Karasu shook his head, giving Rin a wry smile. “Shame. Thought you'd get bored of this lone wolf thing you've got goin’ on and actually get some for once.”
“Are you asking ‘cause you're interested in Rin-Rin, Karasu?” Bachira said with a cheeky smile. Rin felt ill.
Now, it was Karasu's turn to grimace while Otoya snorted, “Nah, but he knows someone—”
Karasu cut him off with a look before shrugging, “Just curious, is all. We rarely get to talk to our top student as it is, but here he is now, all drunk and pliable for gossip-houndin’. Hard to resist askin’ our burning questions all at once.”
Cruel and unusual punishment was what it was, though luckily it seemed to finally come to an end with Otoya dragging Karasu away by the hand, pointing to somewhere in the crowd, “Look, Tabi, some genius is taking shots out of his Michael Myers mask… We gotta do a keg stand with him.”
Karasu saluted the both of them as they walked off, “Have a great rest of yer night, kids!”
Rin flipped them off with both hands, though their fringed backs had already turned, minds obviously set on attending to more serious matters.
“Wonder if we can do shots out of our cowboy boots…”
Relieved to finally be granted a moment of peace from whatever the fuck that was, Rin promptly turned to Bachira, who was teetering precariously on unsteady feet. His lipstick, which had been painted across his mouth into a Glasgow smile, was smudged beyond belief. Rin wisely declined to point this out, not having the strength to entertain yet another awkward conversation, and instead opted for the obvious, “You're drunk.”
“Yeeeaah, maybe a little,” Bachira didn't even try to deny it, giggling as he nodded. “Someone brought jello shots! What was I gonna do, say no?”
“We should go home.”
His roommate pouted fiercely, “Fiiiiine. I just gotta say goodbye to a few people and then we can leave, okay?”
Rin rolled his eyes, knowing he was going to be stuck in this godforsaken place for at least another half hour at this point. Normal Bachira was already chatty, but Drunk Bachira was on another level of yap.
“I’m gonna have a smoke. After I finish, I'm leaving, with or without you.”
“Okay, thanks, Rin-Rin! I'll be super quick, promise!” Bachira shouted as he happily disappeared back into the crowd of costumes, waving at him until his figure was swallowed up by the masses.
Rin sighed, giving him a few minutes of a head start before heading out into the cold.
He made his way to the side of the building, right below several flights of fire exits, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket along with his lighter. Hand coming up to shield it from the biting wind, he managed to get a spark going after a few tries, lighting up the end of his cigarette with a smoldering red.
He took a drag, letting the smoke wash over him and smoothen out the sharp spike of cortisol he'd gained from that conversation from hell.
What was he worrying about again? Oh, right, his thesis—
“Havin’ fun?” A soft, accented voice sounded from beside him, close enough to startle him.
Exhaling smoke, he straightened up, shoulders tense as he looked to the side, eyeing the moving shadows there, untouched by the yellow lamplight above his head. This person had likely been watching him for some time, only now making themselves known to him.
Once his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out a familiar pair of wide blue eyes, so bright they almost seemed to glow.
“You,” Rin said, unwilling to acknowledge how breathless he sounded then. Gritting his teeth, he barked, “What the fuck is your problem?”
“Easy,” The blue-haired stranger stepped out from the shadows to hover closer to him, a faint curve to his dripping red mouth, face and clothes now spattered heavily with what looked to be fake blood. Rin blinked. A last minute costume touch-up? “You’ll have to forgive my starin’ habit. Guess we both got that in common, hm?”
The words pierced him like an arrow, all sense of anger deflating as the other man levelled his stare with a knowing look. All at once, he felt the unfamiliar tendrils of embarrassment swarm his flushed face.
Rin shrugged coolly, like he wasn't internally mapping out a beeline for the nearest ledge to jump off of, “...Then let's just call it even.”
The stranger gave a noncommittal shake of his head, looking at the lighter in his hand, “Well, actually I was just thinkin’ about what to say to get you to let me bum off ya.”
Of course. Should've seen that one coming.
“Need a smoke after dinner?” Rin asked flatly, gesturing to his freshly blood-stained look.
Blue eyes lit up, “Somethin’ like that.”
Any other instance, Rin would tell him to rot. But he was feeling generous this evening, so he only furrowed his brow, begrudgingly reaching out with his lighter in silent offering.
A soft giggle made him pause, “Very kind of ya. It’s just that… Well, I don't have any smokes of my own, ya see.”
Rin resisted the urge to sigh deeply. He hated smoking with other people for this exact reason. No one ever brought their own light or their own pack.
“‘Course you don’t,” he grunted, fishing out his pack from his pocket once more to flip open its lid. Empty. Oh, that's right. Somehow he'd forgotten he was smoking his last one.
The stranger stepped forward to see for himself, face near enough to his for Rin to notice how much prettier he was up close. Baby-faced, but with a sharp edge to him that Rin could see appealing to someone who’d listened to copious amounts of My Chemical Romance in their formative years.
God, he was red all over. Even his teeth were blood-stained. Briefly, Rin considered asking how he got the blood to look so real, filmmaker brain taking over.
The guy hummed, stepping back, “Ah. Don't worry about it, then.”
Without thinking, Rin stammered out, “I don't mind sharing.”
…What the fuck.
Weirdly enough, the stranger didn't seem all too surprised by this offer, grinning at him like a cat who'd gotten the cream, “Is that so?”
Rin rolled his eyes, taking the cigarette out from the corner of his mouth to be held in his outstretched hand, willing his heart to resume its normal pace instead of the irregular lukewarm mess its beating had currently turned into, “Whatever. Don't mention it.”
“Many thanks,” the stranger took the smoke from his fingers to put to his own lips, taking a slow drag that Rin watched a bit too closely for a few seconds before averting his eyes. The filter was now stained an indelible red. “Name's Hiori, by the way.”
“Rin.”
“Nice to meet’cha,” Hiori smiled, breath all smoke, wisps caressing Rin’s face in gentle waves. He held the cigarette between his fingers as he gave him a once-over. Rin resisted the urge to squirm while those blue eyes raked over him. “I take it yer in film, as well?”
“Yeah,” Rin raised a dark brow. “I don't think I've seen you before, though.”
“That's ‘cause I don't go to this school,” Hiori huffed out a laugh. “Technically, I'm an actor.”
That explains it, then. He probably acted on the set of one of his classmate’s projects, no doubt charming them enough to be invited to parties like this. Rin wrinkled his nose. When did his imaginations get so favourable?
“You any good?” He couldn't help but ask, filmmaker mode activated once more.
“I think so,” Hiori answered without any hint of shame, taking another drag. No arrogance, either. A simple, straightforward assessment of his own skill. Suddenly, his demeanor shifted into one of hesitance, sucking in a breath before speaking, “I have somethin’ to confess, Rin-kun.”
Rin narrowed his eyes, the honorific catching him off-guard more than he'd like to admit, “Go on.”
“The truth is, I've actually been a fan of yers for some time, now,” Hiori said breathlessly, shyly looking up at him with his head bowed. “I only pretended not to know ya ‘cause I didn't wanna scare ya off, but I've seen all of your films and projects. Even the ones ya only DP’ed, though they’re all so obviously inferior compared to yer own stuff. Yer style’s so distinct, I’d recognize your work anywhere…”
Upon hearing those words and before actually processing what they meant, Rin’s tunnel vision zeroed in on, “I’m sorry, every film? Like… even the ones from highschool?”
Instinctively, he cringed as he recalled the amateur stop motion shorts that he used to be so proud of, the attempts at recreating old school kaiju films with building blocks and clay figurines he’d crafted by hand.
Hiori nodded eagerly, “Of course! I couldn’t skip a single one, not when they’re so clearly informative to the development of yer creative voice! Everything ya make is so amazing, I’d kill to take a look inside yer mind, dissect yer brain and all just to know everythin’ about ya…”
Rin felt conflictedly flattered and confused, among many other weird unknown emotions that he didn’t have much bandwidth to dig too deeply into, because Hiori’s voice seemed to take on a frenzied quality just then, and Rin was stunned speechless enough to stay stock still as the other man backed him up against the brick wall, bloodied hands on either side of him, leaving him with no room for escape.
“Don’t ya think I deserve that, bein’ yer biggest fan?”
Hold on. What in the actual hell was happening?!
It was only then did he register the very real life or death situation he was in, that he was being cornered by a literal stalker. What were the chances of survival? Though Hiori almost reached him in height, he looked decently frail enough to overpower. But then again, he also looked quite harmless upon first glance, which was very obviously not the case. Who knew what this psycho was capable of?
With no conceivable idea of how to react in this situation, Rin could only stare dumbly into Hiori’s bright blue eyes like some kind of hypnotized prey animal. Glowing… they were glowing, weren't they?
Like what he was looking at wasn't human at all.
“I just can't believe I’m actually talkin’ to ya in person after watchin’ you for so long… Let me take ya home and study ya some more, hmm? Since you've been so generous already.” Hiori’s smile turned serrated, “If not, then I'll have to put this knife in my pocket to use…”
“I… uh…”
Very epic of his brain to choose this moment to turn into mush. Rin was so fucked. Never in a million years had he expected to be the kind of person to die first in such a cliché horror sequence.
Soft laughter broke him out of his trance, and only then did he realize that Hiori had placed his cigarette back between Rin’s open lips.
“And… scene,” Hiori drawled, no longer shaking with obsession like he'd been just mere moments ago.
Once he felt the adrenaline start to drain from his body and his nervous system had finally recovered from its factory reset just enough to let him function, Rin roughly shoved the other man away, pissed beyond belief.
“Why,” he gasped out, eyes twitching, “the fuck would you pull that shit on me?! You got a death wish?!”
“You asked if I was good,” Hiori shrugged, looking composed as ever, even as he stumbled backwards. “And ya just seemed like you'd be fun to mess with.” His hands came out of his pockets to reveal… Nothing. No aforementioned knife, just a few crinkled rolling papers, an eyebrow-raising band of cash, and—
“You fucking liar,” Rin snarled, glaring at the electric blue lighter in Hiori’s grasp, cursing every stupid tiny Pac-Man sticker that decorated it. Of course a stoner wouldn't leave the house without a lighter. Obviously.
“Oops,” He flashed a wicked grin, waving it in front of him like a taunt, “Figured you were a secret bleedin’ heart, and I was right. Didn’t ya know you’re kinda easy to read?”
Something in that statement made Rin light up with pure, unadulterated rage, reminding him of a particularly infuriating piece of feedback his professor had given him during one of their early check-ins.
“You're very talented, Rin. But lately your projects have all been showcasing the same skills we’ve already seen from you. A ‘once you've seen one, you’ve seen them all’ kind of deal. It’s restricting your growth as an artist,” Four-eyes had said bluntly, staring at him over the pages of storyboards he'd handed him. “I'm going to need more from you for your thesis film, and less low hanging fruit. Perhaps seeking out more varied subject material would do you some good.”
Hiori had taken him for a fool, reading him like a one-note script he’d easily predicted the ending of. And Rin hated that thought more than anything. He’d carved out too much of himself to be seen as something so mediocre.
“Fuck you.”
Well, this was one hell of a way to challenge himself. A million thoughts raced through his head just then, yet only one prevailed among the sea of roaring expletives. Something so insane to even consider after the bullshit he'd just been put through, spreading wildly through his psyche like a forest fire. This guy obviously had some wires crossed, but maybe Rin was even crazier for being unable to look away.
L’appel du vide.
He couldn't help but voice it out loud, if only to wipe that smug look off this bastard's face.
“I want you to be in my film.”
Hiori’s eyes widened with genuine surprise, making Rin feel like he’d won something, an invisible tally mark drawn in his favour. He resisted the urge to smirk. Yeah, bet you didn’t see that one coming, did you, motherfucker?
“Hm?”
“Phone,” Rin said impatiently, hand outstretched. Hiori blinked at him owlishly. Then slowly pulling out his unlocked phone, he placed it primly in his expectant palm. Rin quickly punched in his number and handed it back to Hiori with a shove. “Text me. Now.”
Without much protest, Hiori did as he was told, pale eyebrow raised. Rin’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he grunted, satisfied. He glared one last time at the other man.
“When I call, you’ll pick up immediately. Understand?”
A few seconds of more stunned silence passed before Hiori finally gave a feeble nod of confirmation.
“But I—”
The other man’s protest was cut off as Rin turned away without another word, back stiff as he stormed back inside, leaving Hiori in the cold, staring hopelessly after him.
Fishing a very drunk Bachira out of the crowd to drag him away, Rin headed home, relieved to finally put an end to this headache-inducing night. While walking, he pulled out the last of his cigarette to hold in his mouth for a relight, when all of a sudden, he stopped in his tracks. He took the cigarette out. Stared at the red staining the part of the filter where Hiori’s lips had been, while Bachira whined somewhere behind him.
The taste on his tongue, Rin realized, was a bit strange.
There was no trace of the usual corn syrup, like he’d expected. Only the distinct taste of copper, sharp and real, weighing like lead in his mouth.