„𝙎𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙩 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠.“
𝘳𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘩𝘪 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 - 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 - 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 - 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵
Rin Itoshi is not good with words.
You learned that early on, before you even got close to him. He’s sharp-tongued, brutally honest, and doesn’t care about sugarcoating anything. But when it comes to feelings—his feelings—he shuts down completely.
It’s frustrating sometimes.
Like right now.
“You’re unbelievable, Rin,” you huff, crossing your arms as you glare at him.
He’s standing in front of you, hands stuffed in his pockets, gaze unwavering. That stupid blank stare of his, the one that drives you insane because you can never tell what he’s thinking.
“What did I do?” he asks, voice as flat as ever.
Your jaw tightens. “You really don’t get it, do you?”
Rin exhales sharply through his nose. He shifts his weight, glancing to the side. “If you have something to say, just say it.”
Your fingers curl into fists at your sides. He’s so infuriating. You’re trying to get something—anything—out of him, but he’s acting like none of this matters. Like you don’t matter.
And maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you’ve been reading into things too much. The lingering touches, the way he always looks for you after a match, how he listens when no one else does.
Maybe you were stupid for thinking he felt the same way.
“Forget it,” you mumble, turning on your heel.
You barely take a step before you feel it—fingers wrapping around your wrist, firm but not forceful. Rin pulls you back just enough to stop you from walking away.
Your heart stutters.
When you glance over your shoulder, his eyes are sharper than before—something intense simmering beneath the usual cold exterior.
“You’re mad because I don’t say things,” he states, voice quieter now.
You don’t respond. You don’t need to.
Rin exhales, like this is physically painful for him, like dragging the words out will kill him. But then—
“I like you.”
It’s blunt. Honest. Completely Rin.
Your breath catches. You turn fully to face him, but he beats you to it. His fingers slide from your wrist to your hand, lacing them together with a rare kind of hesitance. His grip is firm, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go.
He doesn’t look away when he says it again.
“I like you, okay? So don’t walk away.”
Something in your chest tightens—because this, right here, is the closest thing to a confession Rin Itoshi will ever give. It’s not dramatic, not poetic, but it’s real.
You squeeze his hand, lips parting, heartbeat loud in your ears.
And then you say the only thing that matters.
“I like you too, idiot.”
For the first time that night, Rin smirks—just slightly.
“Say it again.”
“Shut up.”
But you don’t let go of his hand. And neither does he.