Later
Rin Itoshi x Reader
5.6k words
Summary: A missed goal. A missed call. A missed goodbye. A story about distance, grief, and two people who loved each other deeply but slowly ran out of time. If you're a sucker for pain, this one's for you.
Tags: Angst, Hurt, Grief, Mourning, Established Relationship, Breakup, Neglected Relationship, Missed Opportunities, Love/Career Conflict
The first time Rin left for a match overseas, you cried in an airport bathroom.
It hadn't been because you were worried about him, nor because you doubted his abilities. If anything, Rin had always possessed the sort of stubborn determination that made failure seem almost impossible whenever he set his mind to something. You cried because, even back then, you understood that loving someone like Rin Itoshi meant spending half your life missing him.
At the time, however, it had felt manageable.
The distance hadn't seemed so daunting when your relationship was still young enough that every notification from him made your stomach flutter and every late-night phone call somehow stretched for hours because neither of you wanted to be the one to hang up first. You used to stay awake through ridiculous time zones just to watch his matches, and afterward he would call you despite being exhausted from training, his voice rough with fatigue as he listened to you ramble about your day. Sometimes the conversations weren't even about anything important. You would tell him about a coworker who annoyed you, and he'd complain about a teammate who couldn't follow instructions. It was ordinary, almost painfully ordinary, but those little moments had made the distance feel survivable.
Back then, there had still been room for each other.
Years later, it's crazy to say how times really do change.
The apartment had become unbearably quiet, and not in the comforting way people often described when talking about home. It wasn't the peaceful silence that came from sharing a space with someone you loved, where the absence of conversation still felt warm because another person existed nearby. Instead, it was the kind of quiet that constantly reminded you there was supposed to be someone else here.
Evidence of Rin's existence lingered everywhere.
A second toothbrush still sat beside yours in the bathroom. His football shoes remained near the entrance from the last time he'd been home, kicked off carelessly before he'd rushed out again for another flight. Half the closet still belonged to him, filled with training jackets and clothes that smelled faintly of the cologne he always used. One of his hoodies had somehow found its way into your drawer months ago and never left.
Everything in the apartment insisted that two people lived here. Yet most days, it felt as though it belonged to only one.
Well, one and a cat.
Nii-chan was curled against your side on the couch, pressed so firmly against your leg that it almost seemed as though he was trying to make up for the empty space beside you. Your fingers drifted absentmindedly through his fur while the television played quietly in the background, and the moment your hand slowed, he immediately nudged his head harder into your palm as if demanding more attention.
A soft laugh escaped you. "You're clingy tonight."
The cat blinked lazily up at you before giving a quiet chirp and settling even closer.
Your smile came easily at the sight.
Years ago, Rin had shown up carrying a pet carrier that contained a kitten small enough to fit in both of his hands. You still remembered staring at him in complete confusion while he awkwardly shoved the carrier toward you without meeting your eyes.
"A cat?"
"It's not for a special occasion."
"Then why did you get me a cat?"
The memory remained vivid because of how quickly he'd looked away afterward, his ears turning pink as he struggled to explain himself. "You said you get lonely when I'm gone."
That had been his answer. Simple, quite awkward but entirely Rin.
Over the years, Nii-chan had become much more than a pet. Somewhere between the midnight feedings, the vet appointments, and the hundreds of photos exchanged whenever Rin was overseas, he had quietly become part of your little family. Even his name had started as a joke because the cat somehow reminded both of you of Sae. He was prideful, judgmental, selective with affection, and entirely convinced that the apartment belonged to him. The nickname had stuck almost immediately.
So had the cat.
Unfortunately, so had the illness.
Your smile softened as your gaze drifted toward the medication bottles lined neatly across the kitchen counter.
The diagnosis had come months ago.
At first, the veterinarian had sounded optimistic. Then cautiously optimistic. Then realistic.
The medication helped, at least on some days.
On others, you found yourself watching Nii-chan sleep and pretending you weren't counting every rise and fall of his chest. Those were the days you hated most because they forced you to acknowledge something you desperately wanted to ignore.
Tonight, however, didn't seem like one of those days.
If anything, Nii-chan seemed unusually affectionate.
Every time you stood up, he followed. Every time you moved into another room, he trailed behind you. When you got up to refill your water glass earlier, he'd followed so closely that you'd nearly tripped over him.
Now he was sprawled comfortably across your lap while the pre-match broadcast played on the television.
The stadium overseas was already packed. Thousands of spectators filled the stands while commentators discussed lineups, predictions, statistics, and every other detail sports analysts seemed capable of turning into a discussion. You barely paid attention to any of it.
As always, your eyes found Rin immediately. Even after all these years, they always did. He looked focused, the same way he always looked before an important match.
For a moment, you simply watched him through the screen before your attention shifted toward the phone resting beside you. The call button glowed beneath your thumb, and for several seconds you simply stared at it.
Debating.
Thinking.
Overthinking.
Lately every conversation felt like it happened at the wrong time.
If Rin wasn't boarding a flight, he was getting off one. If he wasn't training, he was recovering. If he wasn't recovering, he was attending interviews or fulfilling sponsorship obligations. Every conversation seemed squeezed into whatever tiny spaces remained between responsibilities.
Still, you wanted to hear his voice, even if only for a minute.
The phone rang twice before he answered the video call. "Hey."
The background noise told you immediately where he was. Players moved around behind him, staff members called instructions to one another, and announcements echoed faintly through what sounded like a stadium tunnel.
You instantly felt guilty. "Sorry."
Rin frowned. "For what?"
"You sound busy."
A small sigh escaped him, though there wasn't any annoyance behind it. If anything, the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Love."
The nickname settled warmly in your chest despite how many times you'd heard it.
"You don't have to apologize every time you call me."
You laughed quietly, suddenly realizing he was probably right. Somewhere along the way, you'd started treating your own boyfriend like someone you were afraid of bothering. "I just wanted to wish you luck."
His expression softened immediately. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, and for a moment he looked less like a world-class striker preparing for a match and more like the boy you'd fallen in love with years ago. "Thanks."
A brief silence followed before his gaze drifted away from the camera. Then, quietly, he admitted, "I wish you were here."
The words hit harder than you expected.
Because you already knew he was disappointed.
You'd tried to get the time off. You really had. But your own career came with responsibilities now, and the promotion you'd worked years for wasn't something you could simply walk away from whenever you wanted.
Meetings.
Deadlines.
Projects.
People relying on you.
The same way people relied on him.
The same way soccer relied on him.
"I'm sorry."
The silence that followed wasn't angry.
Just heavy.
"I know."
You looked down at Nii-chan, who had lifted his head as though sensing the shift in your mood. "I really wanted to come."
"I know."
Someone called Rin's name in the background.
Then another voice followed.
And another.
You could practically picture the chaos happening around him.
The pressure.
The expectations.
The weight of an entire match resting on his shoulders before it had even begun.
"We haven't talked much lately." The words slipped out before you could stop them.
Immediately, something changed.
Neither of you spoke right away. Finally, Rin rubbed a hand across his face. "Yeah."
That one word carried more honesty than any explanation could have, because it was true.
You hadn't.
Not really.
Text messages weren't conversations.
Five-minute phone calls weren't conversations.
Video chats squeezed between meetings weren't conversations.
They were updates.
Status reports.
Fragments of a relationship.
Not the relationship itself.
Someone called his name again, louder this time. Rin closed his eyes briefly. You recognized that expression immediately. The one he wore whenever too many things demanded his attention at once.
"Can we talk about this after the match?" His voice was gentler than you'd expected. "I want to actually talk, not while I'm trying to get on the field."
The words should have reassured you. Instead, they hurt, because lately everything happened later.
After the match.
After the flight.
After training.
After work.
After the meeting.
After.
After.
After.
Still, you nodded. "Okay."
A small smile appeared on his face. "I'll call afterward." Then his gaze shifted downward. "Nii-chan behaving?"
You laughed. "He's currently glued to me."
"Sounds about right."
The cat lifted his head at the sound of Rin's voice.
─ ⊹ ⊱ ⊰ ⊹ ─
Hours later, you found yourself curled beneath a blanket with Nii-chan asleep in your lap while the match played across the television. Rain tapped softly against the windows, and the only light in the apartment came from the glow of the screen.
Rin looked incredible even from thousands of miles away. Every movement was sharp. Every decision deliberate. Every play calculated.
And yet something felt off.
As the game continued, the frustration became increasingly visible. You could see it in the way his jaw tightened after missed opportunities and the way he ran a hand through his hair whenever a play fell apart. The expression was familiar enough that you could practically predict what he was thinking.
Beside you, Nii-chan stirred. Your attention immediately dropped to him. The cat was awake now, staring up at you rather than the television, his green eyes unusually soft as he shifted closer and pressed himself against your chest.
You smiled and scratched gently behind his ears. "What?"
Nii-chan responded with a quiet sound before settling even closer.
As close as possible.
Your fingers continued moving through his fur, and your gaze flickered briefly back toward the television. "Your dad's getting frustrated."
The cat let out another weak little sound. This time, however, something about it made your smile fade. You frowned.
His breathing seemed different. Subtle, but noticeable.
The knot in your stomach tightened. The match continued playing in the background, but suddenly your attention wasn't on the television anymore. It was entirely on the cat resting against you.
The knot in your stomach tightened as you watched Nii-chan curl closer against your chest.
At first, you tried convincing yourself that you were imagining things. The vet had warned you months ago that there would be difficult days and easier ones, days where Nii-chan would seem almost normal and others where the illness would remind you exactly how fragile his condition really was. Maybe tonight was simply one of those bad days. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he wasn't feeling well.
Maybe it wasn't what you were afraid it was.
Still, your attention remained fixed on him long after you stopped paying attention to the match.
The commentators continued speaking excitedly in the background while the stadium roared through the television speakers, but the game had slowly faded into white noise. Your hand moved carefully through Nii-chan's fur, absentmindedly scratching behind his ears while your eyes tracked the rise and fall of his chest.
Something felt wrong, wrong enough to make your heart feel uneasy.
Across the world, the match was entering its final minutes.
The scoreboard read 3-2.
Rin's team was behind.
The pressure inside the stadium was almost tangible, even through the television screen.
Every player looked exhausted. Every pass seemed heavier than the last. The crowd reacted to every touch of the ball with desperate anticipation, knowing that time was running out.
Then the opportunity came.
A perfectly timed pass split through the defense and landed directly in front of Rin.
Your attention snapped back toward the screen immediately. The stadium erupted. The commentators practically shouted.
Even from your couch, your breath caught in your throat.
Everyone knew what this was.
A chance.
The chance.
The equalizer.
The goal that could save the match.
The goal that had Rin Itoshi's name written all over it.
For a split second, everything seemed to slow.
Rin controlled the ball.
Adjusted his footing.
Created space.
Shot.
The entire stadium held its breath.
The ball flew forward.
Then... struck the post.
The sound echoed throughout the arena. A sharp metallic crack that seemed impossibly loud. The ball ricocheted away from the net.
Gone.
The opportunity vanished. And so did the match. The final whistle blew moments later. The opposing team's supporters erupted into celebration while players flooded onto the field. Cameras immediately found Rin standing motionless on the pitch, staring at the goal he should have scored.
The goal he normally would have scored.
The goal everyone expected him to score.
The goal he expected himself to score.
Your chest ached at the sight.
You knew that expression.
You'd seen it before.
The disappointment.
The frustration.
The self-blame.
The way he always carried losses personally no matter how many people told him not to.
You wanted to call him. You wanted to tell him it was one match. You wanted to remind him that missing one shot didn't erase everything he'd accomplished.
But before you could even reach for your phone, movement against your chest pulled your attention away from the television.
Nii-chan.
The cat shifted weakly in your arms.
Your stomach dropped.
Immediately.
"Nii-chan?"
His breathing had changed. This time there was no denying it. No pretending. No convincing yourself it was nothing. Fear surged through your entire body.
You sat upright so quickly that the blanket slipped onto the floor. "Nii-chan."
The cat blinked slowly. His body felt lighter somehow. Fragile.
Your hands began shaking. "No."
The word escaped your mouth before you could stop it. "No, no, no..."
Within seconds you were grabbing your keys.
Your phone.
His medication.
Anything.
Everything.
The television remained on behind you as the opposing team celebrated their victory, but you never saw any of it.
You were already out the door. Rain poured heavily outside as you rushed toward your car with Nii-chan wrapped carefully against your chest.
Your hands trembled so badly that you nearly dropped your keys trying to unlock the door. "It's okay."
You weren't sure whether you were talking to him or yourself. "It's okay."
The engine started.
You drove.
Too fast.
Much too fast.
The entire drive blurred together beneath streaks of rain and tears. One hand remained on the steering wheel. The other never left Nii-chan.
Your phone sat beside you, and instinctively, desperately, you called Rin. You had to.
The line rang.
No answer.
You tried again.
Voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
Across the world, Rin sat in a locker room that felt suffocating.
Nobody was speaking much. The disappointment hung over the room like a storm cloud. A few teammates stared silently at the floor. Others sat with towels draped over their heads.
No one wanted to discuss the match.
No one wanted to discuss the miss.
Because everyone knew, everyone had seen it.
The equalizer had been there.
Right there.
One shot away.
And it had slipped through their fingers.
Rin sat motionless.His jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. All he could see was the replay.
The angle.
The strike.
The post.
The sound.
Over and over.
His phone vibrated beside him.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Four.
Five.
Your name filled the screen repeatedly. Normally that would've made him smile. Normally he would've answered immediately. But right now he couldn't even think straight.
Media obligations waited outside.
Coaches were discussing the match.
His teammates looked devastated.
And worst of all, he couldn't stop blaming himself.
The phone continued vibrating.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Something inside him twisted, because you never called this many times, not unless something was wrong.
Immediately he stood and answered. "Love?"
The concern in his voice arrived instantly. The second you heard him speak, the tears you'd been holding back finally broke. The veterinary clinic parking lot blurred behind your vision.
Nii-chan lay motionless in your lap.
The veterinarian had already spoken.
Already explained.
Already apologized.
Yet somehow you still couldn't accept the words.
You kept waiting for him to move.
To wake up.
To complain.
To do something.
Anything.
Instead, he remained still.
And hearing Rin's voice shattered the last bit of composure you had left.
A sob escaped your throat.
Then another.
Then another.
"Hey." Rin straightened immediately. His heart dropped. "Love?"
You tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
Your chest hurt.
Your throat hurt.
Everything hurt.
"It's..." The words dissolved into crying.
Rin ran a hand through his hair, concern flooded through him immediately. "What happened?"
You looked down at Nii-chan.
Still motionless.
Still warm.
Still there.
Gone.
"It's Nii-chan..." The words came out broken.
Barely understandable through your sobs. "He..."
Rin closed his eyes. The locker room noise suddenly felt unbearable.
His teammates.
The coaches.
The media waiting outside.
The loss.
The miss.
Everything was pressing against him at once. "Love, slow down."
You tried again. "He..." Your voice shattered completely.
Rin's chest tightened. He knew something was wrong, he just couldn't understand what.
Not through the crying.
Not through the noise.
Not through the mess inside his own head.
For a moment he pressed his hand against his forehead.
Exhausted.
Overwhelmed.
Drowning.
"I'm sorry." The words left him quietly, immediately regretful, immediately guilty, but honest. "I'm sorry, I just..."
He swallowed. His voice sounded broken. "I can't right now."
Your entire body froze. The words weren't cruel. That somehow made them worse, because you knew he wasn't trying to hurt you.
You knew exactly what kind of night he'd had.
You'd watched it happen.
You'd watched him lose.
You'd watched that shot hit the post.
You'd watched the disappointment on his face.
And somehow that made it harder to be angry.
"I'm sorry," Rin repeated softly. "Can I call you later? Please."
You stared down at Nii-chan resting in your lap. Then quietly whispered, "Okay."
You hung up first, not because you wanted to, but because if you stayed on the line any longer, you were afraid you might finally say the words.
Nii-chan died.
And somehow saying them out loud would make them real. So instead, you sat alone in your car outside the veterinary clinic, one hand buried in Nii-chan's fur while tears blurred the windshield, and wondered how it was possible to feel so desperately alone while loving someone so much.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, Rin stared at the ended call and felt guilt settle heavily in his chest without understanding why.
Neither of you realized that night would become the beginning of the end.
─ ⊹ ⊱ ⊰ ⊹ ─
Rin’s flight was scheduled just past midnight, one of those red-eye departures that always seemed to blur the line between days, as if the world itself couldn’t decide whether to move forward or pause. It was the kind of timing you used to joke about when things were easier, when your schedules somehow aligned just enough to make the distance feel survivable, but lately it only felt like another cruel coincidence layered on top of everything else. By the time he was meant to land, you would normally just be getting off work, tired and half-dissociated from a long day, already thinking about going home to the apartment where Nii-chan would be waiting in his usual spot, as if nothing ever changed.
But things had not been normal for a while.
Grief didn’t announce itself in clean, organized ways. It didn’t arrive neatly, nor did it respect timing or convenience. It spilled into everything instead, quietly reshaping the way you moved through your days, the way you looked at familiar spaces, the way silence now felt heavier than it used to. Rin had already known about Nii-chan before his flight, because you had told him days ago during one of the calls that neither of you had wanted to end but also neither of you had known how to continue. You had tried to explain it properly, though the words never quite came out the way you wanted them to, breaking and stalling in places where you needed them to be steady. He had gone quiet for a long moment after you told him, and then his voice had softened in a way that didn’t quite fix anything but didn’t make it worse either, and that had been enough for that moment.
Nii-chan was at the apartment. You bring yourself to prepare him a quiet wake in the only place he had ever truly known. Not formal, not organized, just something small and intimate and unbearably personal, the way grief often forces itself into domestic spaces. You had not yet decided on everything that came after. You knew, logically, that you would need to bury him properly, or at least figure out something more permanent, but the thought of doing it alone made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t sit with for too long. You had already thought, more than once, that maybe it would be better if you did it together, when Rin was back, when the world wasn’t pulling both of you in opposite directions at full speed.
So you waited.
And when the time came to pick him up from the airport, you did, even though your body already felt like it had reached its limit days ago. You told yourself it was fine, that being with Rin might actually make things feel a little lighter, even if only temporarily, because that had always been something he did without trying. He didn’t fix things in dramatic ways, but his presence alone had always been enough to steady you in moments where everything else felt unstable. So you went, even with the exhaustion sitting heavy in your bones, even with the emotional weight of everything still unprocessed, because part of you still believed that being together meant you could at least carry it side by side.
The airport was quiet in that late-night way, the kind of silence that only exists when most of the world is asleep or leaving. When you finally saw him, it didn’t feel like a reunion so much as a release, like something in your chest finally loosened at the sight of him standing there after everything. Rin looked tired too, not just physically but in that deeper way that came from pressure that never fully left him, the kind that followed him even off the field. Still, when his eyes found you, something softened immediately, and the distance between you disappeared in a few steps as you met halfway and pulled each other into a hug that lingered longer than either of you probably realized.
For a moment, neither of you said anything. There wasn’t a need to. It was just the familiar weight of each other, the quiet confirmation that despite everything happening separately, you were still here in this moment together. Rin’s hand rested briefly at the back of your head before he pulled away just enough to look at you properly, his expression shifting slightly as he took you in, like he was trying to read something that wasn’t being said out loud.
The drive home came naturally after that, as it always did. You were the one who drove, hands steady on instinct more than anything else, while Rin sat beside you, leaning back into the passenger seat with a tired exhale as the city lights passed in blurred streaks outside the window. At first, the conversation was small, scattered updates about travel, about things that didn’t require too much emotional weight. It almost felt normal in a distant way, like a version of your relationship that still knew how to exist in simple moments.
At some point, the conversation shifted, almost inevitably, toward the match.
“I don’t really want to talk about the match,” Rin said, voice flat but controlled, looking out the window instead of at you. “It’s done.”
You glanced at him briefly before returning your focus to the road, your tone careful when you replied. “I’m not trying to start something, I just wanted to know how you felt about it.”
He exhaled, leaning back into the seat a little more. “I missed,” he said simply, like that should’ve been enough. “That’s it.”
You hesitated, fingers tightening slightly on the wheel. “Rin, you're acting like I'm a reporter. I’m just asking you.”
That finally made him turn his head slightly toward you, though his expression stayed tired rather than soft. “And I’m telling you I don’t want to talk about it right now,” he said, more firmly this time, still not raising his voice but closing the space between you instead of opening it. “It’s not something I want to keep replaying.”
You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. “I just want to understand you. That’s all.”
Rin let out a quiet breath, running a hand through his hair before letting it fall back into his lap. “That’s the thing,” he said after a moment, voice lower now, more strained than sharp. “It always turns into that. Like I come back and I have to explain everything I did, everything I felt, everything I messed up, and I don’t even get time to breathe first.”
Your jaw tightened slightly, but you kept driving. “That’s not what I’m doing,” you said, quieter now, but firmer. “It's not like that, okay? I just care, Rin.”
He gave a short, humorless breath at that, not quite a laugh. “I know you care,” Rin replied, finally looking at you properly now, though there was no warmth in it, just exhaustion. “But I also just lost a match. I missed a goal that could’ve changed everything, and I’m still sitting here trying to process it while being asked to talk about it like I’ve already moved on.”
You shook your head slightly, still focused on the road, your voice tightening despite your effort to stay calm. “I’m not asking you to move on. I’m just trying to be here with you.”
Rin looked away again almost immediately, gaze dropping toward the window. “But it doesn’t feel like that,” he said quietly. “It feels like I’m being pulled into another conversation before I’ve even had space to deal with my own head.”
That stung more than you wanted it to.
You let out a slow breath, your grip tightening just slightly on the steering wheel. “And what about me?” you asked, softer at first, then a little more fragile as it came out. “Do you think I’ve had space lately? Do you think I’ve had time to process anything either?”
Rin went quiet for a second.
“I know about Nii-chan,” he said finally, more carefully now, but still distant. “I know that’s been hard for you.”
Your throat tightened at the way he said it like it was something acknowledged, not something shared.
“So that’s it?” you asked quietly, glancing at him briefly. “You know, but we just don’t talk about it?”
Rin exhaled again, leaning his head back against the seat. “That’s not what I mean,” he said, slower now. “I just… I don’t know how to be everything at once right now. I can’t switch from that match, to this conversation, to… whatever else I’m supposed to fix.”
You looked back at the road, voice lower but sharper now from exhaustion rather than anger. “I’m not asking you to fix anything.”
He turned slightly toward you again, his expression tightening. “Then what are you asking me to do, exactly?” he asked, not aggressively, but blunt in a way that made it feel heavier. “Because every time we talk lately, it feels like I’m either not saying enough or I’m saying it wrong.”
That made you pause.
Your fingers flexed slightly on the wheel before you answered, voice quieter now. “I’m asking you to be here,” you said. “That’s it. Just… here. With me.”
Rin didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looked out the window again, jaw tightening faintly as silence filled the space between you once more.
“I am here,” he replied. “But I’m also tired. And I feel like no matter what I say, I’m already behind in this conversation.”
You opened your mouth slightly, then closed it again, because something about that hit harder than you expected. Not because it was cruel, but because it sounded like he genuinely believed it.
And that scared you more than anything else.
The car continued forward for a few more seconds before slowing. The apartment building came into view through the windshield.
The car was already still, engine idling softly in the dim glow of the apartment parking lot lights, neither of you moving to step out yet as if there was an unspoken understanding that once you did, something would shift permanently.
You leaned your head back against the seat slowly after shifting the gear into park, your hands still resting loosely on the steering wheel for a moment longer before you finally spoke, your voice softer than before but carrying something steady underneath it. “We can’t keep being like this, Rin.”
That made him turn slightly toward you immediately, his brow faintly furrowing, not in anger, but in confusion more than anything else. “What are you saying?” he asked, voice low, still tired, still carrying the weight of everything from earlier, but now edged with something more alert.
You didn’t look at him right away. Instead, you exhaled slowly, eyes fixed forward on the windshield where the faint reflection of the parking lights blurred slightly in your vision. When you finally spoke again, your voice was quieter, but clearer in a way that made it harder to dismiss.
“I mean… we keep doing this,” you said, pausing briefly as if choosing the words carefully even though they had been sitting in you for a while now. “You’re always gone, or exhausted, or about to leave. I’m always trying to catch up to you when I can. And when we finally do talk, it feels like we’re just… missing each other even when we’re in the same conversation.”
Rin frowned slightly, shifting in his seat to face you more fully now. “That’s not true,” he said immediately, though not sharply, more instinctively than defensive. “We’re just going through a rough time. That’s all.”
You finally turned your head toward him at that, your expression tired in a way that wasn’t emotional anymore, but deeply worn down, like something that had been stretched too long for too many months. “Rin,” you said quietly, and just hearing his name in that tone made him pause. “It’s been a rough time for a while now.”
That landed heavier than either of you wanted to admit.
He went quiet for a moment, jaw tightening slightly as he looked at you, searching your face like he was trying to figure out where the conversation had shifted without him noticing. “So what are you saying?” he asked again, slower this time. “That we just… stop?”
“I don’t think we’re… working the way we used to,” you said finally, your voice steady but low, almost careful. “And I don’t think we’re fixing it. We’re just… surviving around it.”
Rin’s expression changed slightly at that, something tightening in his face that wasn’t anger yet, but discomfort. “That’s not fair,” he said quietly. “We’ve both been under pressure. I’m not choosing to be like this.”
“I know,” you replied immediately, softer now, and that was what made it worse, because there wasn’t blame in your voice. Only exhaustion. “I know you’re not choosing it. I’m not either.”
“Then what do you want me to do?” he asked, not defensively anymore, but honestly. “Because I’m trying, I just.. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to fix first.”
“I don’t think this is something you fix by trying harder,” you said softly.
That made him still. You finally looked at him again, and your expression wasn’t angry. It wasn’t cold. It was something far more final than either of those things.
“I think we’ve just… been holding on to something that keeps slipping,” you continued quietly. “And I think we both know it.”
Rin stared at you for a long moment after that, like he was waiting for you to take it back, or soften it, or turn it into something easier to swallow. But you didn’t.
And that silence was answer enough.
His voice came out lower than before. “You’re serious.”
It wasn’t a question. You nodded once, slowly.
“I don’t want to keep hurting like this, Rin,” you said, and your voice cracked just slightly at the end, but you didn’t stop. “And I don’t think we know how to stop it anymore.”
Another silence.
This one's different.
Final.
“So that’s it,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “After everything.”
You closed your eyes for a brief second, then opened them again, voice barely above a whisper. “I think we already lost it before we even got here.”
──── ⋆.⋆˚꩜｡ ˚ ──── ──── ⋆.⋆˚꩜｡ ˚ ────
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
got inspired by rin missitoshi and this fat cat I've been seeing on my fyp as of late ><
part 2 soon? 👀