"It's okay, it's okay, you're okay!"
⤷ Rin Itoshi angsty headcanons mixed with a drabble...
(a/n: another itoshi brothers post!! rin is such an interesting character, there's a lot to consider with him!!)
Rin had always been different.
He saw it in the way his parents glared at him after the teachers recommended counseling because of his lack of friends. He saw it in the way other children looked at him when he talked about his interests. How his classmates avoided him, even as he got older. But to him, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, other than getting better at soccer and being a striker with Sae.
And soon, even with his two oh so simple requests placed in the hands of destiny, one was crushed in the goddesses cold fist.
The night after Sae returned from Spain, Rin cried more than he ever had in his life. He desperately tried to convince himself his feelings were stemmed purely from anger at his brother— that his animosity was directed solely at his sibling for giving up on their dream, for becoming a pathetic shell of himself. He kept telling himself that the real Sae, his Sae, would hate who he’s become.
That’s what he tells himself. What he wants to be true. But he knows in his heart, with whatever of it is left, that he’s angry with himself. He hates himself. If he had just been better, trained harder, maybe, just maybe he would’ve been him. Maybe he would’ve stayed. Maybe if Rin just hadn't been so fucking different.
“Dude, have you seen him recently?”
“Yeah, weird. I hear his grades dropped and stuff.”
“The only time I see him is on the soccer field.”
Words fly around him like snowflakes in the breeze, insignificant but continuous. The lights buzz above him, unrelenting as they burn into his retinas. Bodies press down around him as he fights through the end of school crowd to the front door. His skin crawls where people touch him. It’s too stuffy in the hallway, too bright, and too loud. The feelings close around him, dulling yet sharpening his senses as he tries to maneuver through the crowd.
The cool air as he steps out the door greets him lovingly, and he doesn’t even realize he was panting until his stride evens out into a steady, unhurried pace as he walks home. To him, the whole notion of school is ridiculous. Why would he need anything else when he has soccer? When he has this burning desire for revenge perpetually pooling in his stomach?
His house is quiet as he unlocks the door, the silence only broken by the door clicking shut behind him. A note lies on the table, unread and addressed from his parents. He learned a long time ago to stop reading them and to spare himself the disappointment that comes with yet another instance of his parents leaving him home alone for the week. Their work trips, once sparingly scattered throughout the year increased when Sae left. He doesn’t need anyone to tell him why. He knows that the only reason they continue to stand him is because they barely see each other. He isn’t their golden child. He’s the broken one. The defective product. The one only tolerated by Sae.
At least, tolerated once.
He can remember vividly throwing a tantrum as a six year old when his mother switched him to a new school after another bad report from his teachers. He remembers the terror, how he shut down at the terrifying idea of an entirely new schedule, an entirely new social ecosystem to learn. He remembers breaking his mothers favorite vase while screaming and running around, and most of all, he remembers that the only reason the fury directed at him ceased was because Sae had come home from practice, swept him up in his arms and taken him to his room to color. But he could still hear the sound of his parents screaming, their words echoing even from rooms away.
Different. Strange. Abnormal. The words meant nothing to him. The diagnosis 'autism' had been loosely thrown around by teachers and counselors alike, but his parents had refused to get him officially tested. No son of mine, his father had screamed at him one night when they returned home after another lackluster parent teacher conference. His mother had avoided his eyes as the words ripped through the air.
"Why couldn't you just be normal?"
But he remembers that oddly enough, he didn't care. Why did he have to be normal when he had Sae, who loved him for all his quirks and differences?
The reason had become astoundingly clear in the weeks after the night that changed his life. People avoided him, cast sidelong glances at him in the halls, whispered about him as he walked by. He was isolated from social groups, and he worked alone in class. He drowned himself and soccer. Training before school. Training after school. Training during lunch. An endless motor of obsession perpetually whirred inside him, reminding him to focus, to not get distracted from his goal. He didn't need people. People were unnecessary and difficult. He needed results. It was the only way to beat Sae.
And perhaps his obsession was the reason he didn't notice the smaller things. He lost weight-- his skin began to cling to his muscles and bones too tightly, and he started feeling lightheaded at practice. Dark circles appeared under his eyes from a lack of sleep he didn't even remember. His hands shook when taking notes during class. He began to lash out when people touched him even slightly, cursing the crawling of his skin whenever anyone got close. The world slowed to a blur around him as life began to feel like an obligation rather than a purpose with a goal.
On a morning when his parents were out of town, he awoke late. It was 4pm, and yet his body felt like lead. His phone buzzed beside him, alarms and messages flooding the screen, but he didn't reach over. His eyes were sore as the evening light flooded the room, and the unstoppable force that had been pulling him out of bed and forcing him out onto the soccer field every day was gone with an aching void left in it's wake.
He didn't want to do anything. Be anything. Feel anything. He was just so, so tired.
Welcoming darkness enveloped him again as he closed his eyes, and the world felt blissfully still, the endless cascade of expectations and thoughts silencing as he considered going to sleep again. This isn't so bad, he thought. I'm just going to stay here for a while.
He laid in his bed for days. Lost count of the hours. Slept, and slept more with no desire to do anything else, and when the restless force of hunger in his stomach became too much to ignore, he finally slipped out of bed, dressed, and ate. Nothing had changed, he kept telling himself. It was rest, a deserved one too. It wouldn't become anything major. School went on. The field felt the same beneath his feet every day. It was a one time thing. It meant nothing.
But he knew, as the familiar feeling of exhaustion, of hollowness tugged at his bones, that it did. He had a taste of the tempting, comforting arms of nothingness, of living yet existing as a shell, and he knew, deep down, that he would return back into the embrace again.
It was an addiction. A dangerous one. One that could ruin everything he'd worked for, yet some tired, childish, different part of him, didn't care anymore.
you've lived a million years, you'll make it through the day!
considering turning this into an ongoing ff about sae returning? saw a real good one on ao3 and now i yearn for them to reconcile...
