thinking about watching rin practicing football by himself, and you decide to ask him to teach you how to shoot a proper goal. it’s just you two on the outdoor pitch, and it’s a little cold. the kiss of winter is tickling your cheeks, and you know it’s not long until it’s fully upon you. rin’s wearing his long sleeved jersey, black gloves covering his fingers, and his puffer jacket is draped across your shoulders because you didn’t bring your own jacket.
“teach me.”
he huffs. “but why?”
“why not?”
and he does, because it’s you. he stops the motion of the ball with his foot, raising a brow at you.
“hurry up, slow poke.”
rin gently passes the ball to you, and lets you take a shot by yourself. it’s clumsy, of course it is, but he doesn’t laugh or get annoyed at you — never. you pout when the ball skids off the grass and pathetically rolls into the back of the net, and he sighs, jogging back and forth to you with the ball.
“try it like this.”
and his fingers find themselves grazing your waist, traveling down to your hips, gently pressing you as he rotates you in a better position to shoot. he’s standing so close behind you, his chest is almost touching your back, and rin is absolutely cursing himself for wearing his gloves today when it’s not even that cold.
you take your shot.
and the ball gracefully curves through the air, landing neatly into the middle of the net.
“oh my god, rin! i did it!”
rin smiles.
he’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t even a little bit proud of you in that moment.
(he’d also be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t absolutely smitten with you.)
featuring: star crossed lovers, an earth shattering collision of two souls, the inevitable, all consuming love, and the angels sing across the heavens at our union… 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘.
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 & 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 & 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊
𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐘𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 (inactive)
featuring: scared to love and be loved, the beauty of life and growing together. sitting by the shoreline, passionate kisses in the rain, and the softest and deepest kind of love that never falters… 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘.
𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊: 1 / 2 / 3
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 & 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: mornings together / a night in together / a knight!toji moodboard / angel au ft. tengen /
𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐘 (inactive)
featuring: full of yearning, and “i don’t like anybody else but you”. the boy who always runs ahead, but turns to wait for me. strawberry blush cheeks whenever our fingers brush, stolen kisses on the field, and the warmth of home in teal blue eyes... 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘.
𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 & 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: a celestial gift from tea / another celestial gift from natty / prince!rin thoughts from auphie / rinlily ft. kaiser / primal play thoughts from cora / pirate!rin thoughts / celestial rinlily piece / childhood friends to lovers / a seaside date / attending a gala / making rin a lunchbox /
𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐘 (inactive)
featuring: the unexpected kind of lovers. introverted meets extroverted, coming out of one’s shell, and lots and lots of laughter. dancing in the kitchen, wonderful and hearty food, softly flashy elegance, the kind of kisses that take your breath away... 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘.
𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 & 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: a little ode to him / university au / a doodle gift from kyra / a cheeky moment / a reason why i love him /
happy birthday to my star boy 🤍 | sfw and fluff! | childhood friends to lovers (f!reader & rin are 18+) | previous part |
it’s tuesday.
the 9th of september.
and all itoshi rin wants to do for his birthday is spend time with you.
you’d shown up at his door at nine o’clock in the morning cradling a small bento box cake in your hands, a singular baby blue wax candle in the middle burning with a tiny orange star.
“happy birthday, rin!”
the way you were smiling at him made rin’s cheeks hurt.
so, he looked at the cake instead.
it was store bought, but he didn’t mind that. you weren’t a baker, and rin knew that well. you’d spent countless nights together attempting to make delectable sweet treats exactly the way you’d seen them in pictures online, but it never surmounted to anything extraordinary. it would usually end up with flour dusting over the tip of your nose, and a powdery white pout playing on your lips, while rin would just sigh and shake off the flour that was somehow clinging to his hair.
no, what was really bothering him about the cake, was the fact that you’d had to have woken up at least two hours ago to go and get it from the bakery when it opened.
you’d woken up so early in the morning — just for him.
the thought made his chest twinge.
“make a wish!”
and he did.
the very same one he’d been making for years.
(what is a star to do when
it wants something so very much? why, it makes a wish on another star.)
he let you come inside from the cold, and you excitedly told him that you had already planned out the whole day for the two of you. you would make breakfast, and you’d both sit outside because it was a nice day, and pretty soon it would be far too cold for you to to that. then, you said you’d made a dinner reservation for two at six this evening at a restaurant along the seafront, and that you could also come with him to his football practice in the afternoon because your schedule was utterly wiped and free for him.
“… if you’d like me to,” you’d added, a strange touch of shyness on your lips.
“tch! don’t be dumb, you don’t need to ask,” was all rin mumbled, his ears reddening by the second, followed by a breathless, “i need to shower.”
it was like you’d read his mind.
rin couldn’t have hoped for better.
when he was finished showering, there was a faintly smell in the air. warm, faintly sweet. he followed the scent and found you next to his stove flipping pancakes with that little furrow in your brow that meant you were focused. outside, you’d already set up two plates on his fold-up table that was just big enough for two. there was glistening, fresh strawberry jam and fluffy fresh cream piled high like clouds in bowls, with his birthday cake sitting proudly right in the center of the little table.
“cake for breakfast?”
you’d only laughed sweetly, a bit of pancake mix on your fingers. “it’s your birthday!”
then, you’d pulled out a a small box wrapped in blue paper with a gold, sparkly bow taped to the top.
inside it was a little silver owl charm.
rin already had it hanging on his bag.
afterwards, you’d walked together to the pitch. the gulls were loud today, like they were squawking at rin to pluck up the courage today and say what he had to. there was a cold bite in the air, and so he had given you one of his scarves to cover your exposed neck while you were sitting. he’d wrapped it around you twice, loosely, his fingertips brushing your skin, and rin really didn’t know what to do with himself then at all. you’d then sat at the seat closest to the pitch, a warm takeaway cup of tea in your hands and the brightest smile on your face.
rin didn’t know why, but today felt…
different.
you’d come to some of his practice matches before, so maybe it was the fact that it was his birthday today. or maybe it was something else, something electric moving through the air, making his skin tingle and his toes itch inside his socks. the other boys kept stealing little glances between you and rin with barely concealed interest, like you were both puzzle pieces with jagged edges they couldn’t quite fit together. were you together, or weren’t you? rin could hear them murmuring between themselves, the weight of their assumptions and gossip breaking like a wave against his back.
that happened far too often for rin’s liking.
he cleared his throat loudly. “eyes on me, or i’ll give you something else to look at.”
but you were otherwise oblivious to it all.
oblivious to how flustered rin felt on the inside. how much his chest felt like bursting open and his heart felt like leaping out and straight into your hands, and to how much he wanted impress you and show off a little for you today. every time he heard you gleefully clap your hands after a neat kick or clean dribble well, rin had to bite down hard to try and fight the rose-pink blush that threatened to seep over his cheeks.
his birthday dinner was a relatively simple affair.
the food was good, and the restaurant was situated so close to the shore that he could see the waves kissing the sand through the window. they also served pretty decent ochazuke, much to his surprise, and rin realized that it was probably the only reason why you picked this place for dinner.
but rin really wasn’t thinking about the food anymore.
or even his birthday.
his focus kept straying across the lines and grooves in the table to watch the way your eyes were softly sparkling, and the way you were giggling about anything and everything, your laughter loosening from the sake you were drinking. the way your knees were knocking against each other underneath the table, and that there was that familiar knot tightening and twisting inside his chest.
and now, you’re both walking along the beachfront.
you’d wanted to walk off your tipsiness, and rin obliged you like he always does. not that he minded, he needed the walk too. the night was cool, the wind was a little blustery, carrying salt and twinkling stars along with it like a kiss from the sea and sky. this part along the beach was quiet, the lull of the waves rolling on like a fever dream, and rin felt the knot in his chest loosen.
just a little.
he watched you skip a few steps ahead, veering sharply towards an empty playground. the metal swings glint with silver like the moon winking at you, and you plonk yourself onto a rubber seat. rin’s scarf slips a little from your shoulders as you turn to look back at him and ask.
“push me?”
and he does.
his palms find your back, and he gives you the smallest of nudges. forwards, backwards, forwards again. the chains creak loudly, and your laughter spills from your lips like teal seafoam. rin keeps his eyes fixed on your shoulders, the back of your head, at the gentle curve of your neck. eventually, when you make a little sound of discomfort, he slows the swing down for you. you hop off, wobbling a little, and pad over to the beach just beyond the playground.
“let’s sit,” you murmur.
you’re already plopping yourself down, sand be damned. rin follows, lowering himself beside you, the cool grains slipping underneath his fingernails. above you, there’s a harvest moon glowing a fond silver-gold smile down on you both. you lean over, slipping against his chest like molten gold, a ring slipping onto a finger in a perfect fit.
rin’s breathing stutters.
this is the longest time you’d ever had such close contact with him.
he doesn’t know how to get his heart beating normally again. can you hear it? he’s biting the inside of his cheek, worried that you can, or at least feel it thumping wildly against his ribcage. you’re so close that rin can smell himself on his scarf that you’re wearing.
fresh linen, a twist of a lime zest.
he’s drowning in it, in you.
rin digs his fingers into the sand, feeling the way they rub against his skin. he think about when you first met. when you were just a girl who moved in next door when he was five years old, who just wanted to play with him and his older brother. he thinks about sharing his toys with you, and the way you didn’t mind when he broke them and tried to put them back together for him. when you were in school together, with him sitting behind you, carving your initials and his and his brothers into the grooves of his desk. when he noticed just how pretty you were at your high school summer festival, and how much you were both growing up. when he realized the extend of what he felt for you the day he left for blue lock, and what it all really meant that day when he walked you home.
and—
“i love you.”
the words tumble off the edge of his tongue, escaping out into the vastness of the world, and rin knows it’s never coming back. he feels your breathing still, and the way your cheek rubs against him as you look up at him.
but rin can’t look at you, not now.
“i’ve loved you my whole life.”
it’s like the words refused to be swallowed down any longer.
“and you don’t have to feel the same way i do, because it’s fine if you don’t.”
it wasn’t.
not really.
rin thought he might seriously die a little inside if you didn’t return his feelings. he most definitely would if you sent him away, or cruelly cut him from your life with blunt scissors the way that sae did. but he had to tell you it would be. rin would rather break both his legs and never play any sport again than subject you to something you didn’t want.
even if it meant himself.
his heart began to beat again, and that knot in his chest tightens itself together in a great big ball of yarn — tangled, endless.
“i just… needed to tell you that.”
why weren’t you saying anything?
who stays quiet when someone says they love you?
rin dares to take a peak at you.
“you…” you whisper with starlight softness. “you beat me to it.”
…
what?
(the sky giggles sweetly,
for the stars never seem to know just how loved they really are.)
your words tug on the knot in his chest.
and his heart and lungs go tumbling out onto the sand.
he just stares at you, lips parted and salt-dried, far far too stunned to speak. not a single sound comes out of him. rin doesn’t think he could produce any sort sound even if he tried. then, your hand finds his closed fist half-buried in the sand, fingers brushing and gently coaxing his to open and relax against yours. his shoulders slump a little, his forehead touches yours, and there’s hardly a heartbeat of space between your lips as his lashes flutter and he whispers to you.
“is this okay?”
you hum in agreement.
and itoshi rin’s first kiss goes a little like this.
with the swings creaking faintly behind you, the waves falling again and again against the shoreline, and your lips meet together.
trembling, inevitable.
you taste like mint, a little sake on your tongue, green tea on his lips. he’s struck with just how it natural it feels to slip into this — into you. into this quiet certainty of a chapter of his life with you. it’s clumsy and sure all at once, like leaping across to the other side of a deep canyon, or reaching for your hand and jumping into the constellation of your initials in the sky that the angels had transcribed from a wooden desk sitting in an elementary school.
you’re so soft.
softer than he ever dreamt of.
one hand finds the back of your head, the other cradles your left cheek, and the kiss deepens. oh, you’re so precious. you’re the most precious thing in the whole world. rin doesn’t want to let you go. he doesn’t think he ever will. he’s holding the only wish he’s ever made in his very hands.
a late night phone call with itoshi rin goes a little something like this | sfw and fluff! | this piece is written entirely with dialogue | childhood friends to lovers, pre-confession (rin & reader are 18+)
“you know i am really concerned about you sometimes, rin.”
“why?”
“because it’s two in the morning, and you’re watching some demon movie like it’s a bedtime story.”
“tch! who says i’m going to bed?”
“well… fair enough.”
“this one’s good. the storyline isn’t half-baked.”
“and so you decide to analyze the plot like it’s football?”
“why not? fear is logical, actually. there’s a structure to it, just like how to score a goal.”
“uh huh.”
“think about it.”
“it’s 2 a.m., rin.”
“so?”
“so, i am not capable of forming thoughts about the metaphorical structure of fear right now.”
“if you want me to explain it to you, just say that.”
“…”
“because it’s okay if you don’t get it.”
“shut up! i completely get it.”
“right.”
“i do!”
“of course you do.”
“…”
“…”
“it sounds really gorey…”
“hmm, a little.”
“must be a lot then if you’re agreeing with me.”
“tch!”
“what’s happening right now?”
“you really want to know?”
“yeah, you’re right. i don’t, i won’t sleep.”
“hmph, i know.”
“…”
“…”
“eesh! i can hear the demon voices!”
“don’t listen then.”
“i can’t help it! you always have the volume so loud when you’re watching that stuff!”
“...”
“oh, you didn’t have to lower it.”
“it’s fine.”
“i’m sorry.”
“don’t be, i don’t mind.”
“…”
“are you making something to eat right now?”
“yeah!? how did you know?”
“i know what your microwave opening sounds like.”
“ah, well… damn.”
“why are you trying to hide that?”
“because!— i don’t know actually.”
“don’t be dumb. you know i don’t care.”
“yeah, yeah. i know.”
“…”
“mhm, two minutes… an—hey! remember when you took the blame for stealing snacks from your kitchen?”
“tch! yeah, we were eleven.”
“you were so good to me, even then.”
“you were hungry.”
“hehe, well i still appreciated it.”
“mhm.”
“…”
“well, what are you having?”
“guess.”
“do i really need to?”
“you’re no fun…”
“noodles?”
“no, actually!”
“really? did you run out?”
“yeah, i forgot to buy some when we were out yesterday.”
“okay, i’ll go buy that brand you like after practice tomorrow.”
“aww! you’re so good to me, rin.”
“yeah, well... obviously.”
“…”
“ahem! so, what are you having?”
“just some leftover rice. i’m going to put some butter and a little soy sauce over the top.”
“that’s it?”
“i can’t be bothered making anything else right now.”
“sounds plain.”
“it’s not plain!”
“it is.”
“…”
“…”
“mmm! it’s not bad!”
“…”
“you want some?”
“sure.”
“okay, i’ll make some fresh rice and put it a bento box for you tomorrow.”
“…”
“uh, you’re welcome!”
“thank you.”
“do you not… want me to make you a bento?”
“no! i–ahem!– i do. please.”
“okay then, i’ll swing by your place in the morning.”
“i’ll be here.”
“well, yes. it is your house.”
“tch! shut up…”
“heh! you’re so easy, rin.”
“whatever.”
“ok, hold on. i’m just gonna wash the dishes before bed, i’ll just be on mute for a bit.”
“okay.”
“…”
“…”
“okay, that’s me back!”
“you in bed now?”
“yep!”
“…”
“is this movie going to be a new favorite?”
“do not be thinking about that right now.”
“why not?”
“because you will not sleep.”
“i’ll be fineee.”
“…”
“rin!”
“what?”
“just admit you liked the movie!”
“the ending could have been better.”
“have i ever told you how stubborn you are?”
“probably.”
“…”
“i know you’re tired.”
“not even a little bit.”
“i can hear it in your voice.”
“oh, so now you’re an expert in analyzing how my voice sounds?”
“i always have been been.”
“…”
“…”
“rin…”
“just sleep. i’ll stay on the line.”
“you promise?”
“i promise.”
“because, what if something gets me? and you’ll never know because you hung up too early.”
“and you said you were going to be fine.”
“rin!”
“nothing’s going to get you.”
“really?”
“yeah.”
“how can you be so sure?”
“because this isn’t a movie.”
“that’s true.”
“and because i’m here.”
“hmm, my lucky number ten, itoshi rin. always there to look after me.”
“something like that.”
“yeah?”
“mhm.”
“…”
“…”
“rin?”
“what?”
“we’ve known each other our whole lives, isn’t that crazy?”
“this is only hitting you now?”
“no, but like… i dunno. it’s just so beautiful, don’t you think?”
“… it is, yeah.”
“like, you know me and i know you.”
“you do.”
“rin?”
“yeah?”
“thank you for sticking by me for so long.”
“it’s me who should be thanking you for that.”
“oh, rin…”
“no, i mean it. you’re the only person who’s wanted to stay around me.”
“…”
“and as long as you want me, i’ll never leave you.”
“rin!”
“yeah?”
“oh… you’re just so sweet.”
“sometimes.”
“sometimes.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“just with you, though.”
“you promise?”
“pft! don’t be dumb now.”
“hehe.”
“…”
“…”
“…hmm?”
“nothing, go to sleep.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“you’re asleep.”
“…”
“… aren’t you?”
“…”
“yeah, you are.”
“…”
“there’s so many things i want to tell you.”
“…”
“but it’s not the time now, i know that.”
“…”
“i’ll wait just a little longer, i think. i hope you don’t mind.”
“…”
“but just… stay like this with me. please don’t tell me to go away too.”
“…”
“goodnight.”
“…”
“… yeah, goodnight.”
(as the stars sigh in the midnight sky, they will tell you that —
i love you.
one day.
it will spill out from me in an inky mess, and i’ll stain my fingers trying to hold it all within myself.
but i will spell your name out
in letters written by angels, and i will find myself not wanting to hide anymore.
one day.)
a/n: ahhh i’ve always wanted to try writing something written only using dialogue! it was fun! i would really appreciate feedback on if this was vibey enough 🤍
rin sees you wearing his jersey pre-match | sfw, fluff! childhood friends to lovers (rin & f!reader are 18+) | part 1 | divider |
it’s quiet in the locker room when you walk in.
rin doesn’t even notice you at first. he’s too focused on tying his laces as tight as they’ll go, and on the rumble of the restless crowd sitting above his head. the camera clicks and flashes, the crack of lightning thundering through the stadium and in his chest when he inevitably scores and thinks of you. he’s not nervous, he never is.
itoshi rin is above feeling things as silly as fear.
until he looks up, and nearly chokes on thin air.
because you’re standing there in his jersey, with his name on your back and his number 10 boldly displayed across your chest.
he doesn’t know why he’s so shocked.
of course you would be wearing his jersey, why wouldn’t you be? he’s your best friend, and he’s the brother you chose long ago. but there’s something about the fact that it’s his shirt and that its touched his skin before and now it’s touching yours. it’s not just cheap fabric to him anymore, it’s a claim. a wordless vow woven into the seams to you, his name stitched over the skin of the only person he’s ever wanted.
and rin is painfully, hopelessly aware of it.
it’s also the way it hangs loosely on your frame, and that the shade of blue brings out the color of your eyes. the way the hem is a touch too long for you, and the tips of your fingers are peeking out from it. it reminded rin of a little fluffy bunny peeking its head out from a burrow.
say something, dammit!
“looks good on you.”
you smile, and rin’s tongue isn’t his own. it feels like a clod of earth sitting heavy in his mouth, sinking beneath layers upon layers of dust and dirt-filled rain. he looks away, so you can’t see the rose dusted across his cheeks, pretending to tighten his laces — again — because anything is easier than facing you when you’re looking like that.
“aw, thanks! by the way, i thought you might want this before the match starts.”
you’ve got an orange sports drink in your outstretched hand. rin swallows thickly, avoiding looking at your eyes and your face as he takes it, and tries to ignore the lightning that dances between your fingers as they brush together. you drop beside him, close enough that your bare knees are touching. rin’s heart starts to beat to the pulse of the stars in the sky above the stadium.
you nudge him playfully.
“soo… you feel ready?”
(as are the stars in the sky
that are ready to alight, to implode in a brilliance of azure love that is yours.)
“i always am.”
of course he is — he’s itoshi rin. his blood is ichor made from the grass of all the stadiums of the world, and the strength of his body alone is enough to shatter men and their dreams. there is victory woven into his bones and running through his sinews, setting fire to his nerves in a blaze of blue and gold. he is always ready for anything and everything.
am i?…
rin looks at you.
you’re talking about something, but he doesn’t really know what. he’s far too busy staring at your lips and the way they move. at just how pretty they are, and the way they’re perfectly glossy with whatever lip balm it is you’re wearing today, and that you smell like sugary sweet vanilla and something a little like him. and oh my god your knees are touching and your shoulders are touching an—
you stop talking, and tilt your head.
“rin?” you ask, and you’re wiping the sleeves of his jersey on your cheeks. “is there something on my face?”
now?
you’re going to tell her now?
his fingers twitch.
rin opens his mouth.
CLANG! BANG!
and he jumps to his feet.
his teammates are all rabid animals, pushing and shoving their way into the locker room. they are all rowdy laughs and jittery nerves, because not everybody is itoshi rin. but still, they are men in their prime, and they are ready to dig their heels into the ground and win, practically frothing at the mouth with a rabid anticipation. a few of them notice him, and a few of them don’t care to at first, but then their gazes settle onto the smaller frame sitting down on the bench.
and then they’re staring at you.
no.
rin moves before he can think.
he immediately places himself between their gazes and you, shielding you with his back, tossing glares over his shoulders like assassins daggers. his heart is thrumming, bumping against the bars of his ribcage like he’s preparing for war. his body is remembering how to fight, the mechanics of it all, while his brain is unable to catch up to just how unreasonable he’s being right now, and his pulse is screaming mine, mine, mine.
can’t they all see that you belong to him?
you’re wearing his name and his number on your skin — that means something.
you stand slowly, shyly rubbing your arms, shrinking a little under their stares. he can tell that you have retreated into yourself a little, trying to hide beneath the folds of his jersey.
“well, i should go,” you mumble.
rin hums, and sticks closely beside you, his hand finding your lower back and gently guiding you towards the exit.
(a reverent touch, always.
as the soft anchor of the roots are to this mother earth.)
the boys standing in your way part to let you pass. they’re not so dumb to not have seen the barley concealed murder in rin’s eyes, or his hand on your back, or just how close he’s walking behind you. rin shoulders his way between the other boys, a rough nudge to push them out of the way. still, it doesn’t stop them from passing comments.
“ohh, rin! a girl, huh? since when?”
“who is that? is that his girlfriend?”
“she’s super cute! nice one, rin!”
he ignores them.
rin opens the door for you, his chest brushing your back as he does, and he feels he might just explode. you hover at the door, tucking his jersey halfway into your jeans. there’s that soft and silken smile on your lips, it makes him melt. itoshi rin — pure butter slipping between your fingers and over your skin, kissing your knuckles with golden lips that only exist in his dreams with you.
“good luck, rin.”
he smiles back, glancing at the floor, and squeezes your hand.
“i’ll win.”
for you.
but rin doesn’t say that.
instead, he swallows it down his throat, and it fights against him. it’s rough, scratching and trying to claw its way back up his windpipe, manifesting into an uncomfortable cough he has to play off like it’s nothing at all.
you laugh.
and then, you’re gone.
it’s quiet for a heartbeat, and then someone stupidly brazen asks, “so, you gonna tell us who she is?”
rin turns slowly, murderously, his eyes ablaze.
“i’m going to mangle every single one of you.”
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rin walks you home after practice, and he can’t seem to understand what it is he’s feeling. | sfw, fluff! childhood friends to lovers (reader & rin are 18+) | divider |
it’s a soft summer afternoon in july the day itoshi rin walks you home.
there’s sea salt in the air, seagulls in the endless sky. you’re walking up on the raised barrier that separates the footpath from the beach, and he’s holding your hand to make sure you don’t fall over. it’s not weird, he tells himself, you’ve known each other since you were kids. you’ve shared his toys with him as you both sit behind the net, watching sae turn from a boy into legend like an achilles reborn. it’s not weird, because you were there with him at the airport when his big brother left, and his arm was around your shoulders as you sniffled and big fat tears rolled down your cheeks.
it’s not weird.
it’s not weird at all.
and you’re utterly oblivious to the thoughts jumbling and tumbling around in his head.
rin feels like he’s sixteen again. you’re only holding hands for god’s sake, and he’s only doing it for your safety. it doesn’t even mean anything at all in the grand scheme of the earth rotating on its axis and the universe expanding forever and ever.
(but it does.
the same way the salt kisses your lips and your eyelids. the way the wind brushes your lower lashes and says i love you, i love you.)
rin hopes you can’t feel how sweaty his palm is getting. he hopes that you think he’s still just grimy from practice, even though he’s already had a shower and his hair is still wet and sticking to his forehead. his eyes drop to the footpath, and he counts the lines of every brick he steps over.
one.
two.
three...
get it together.
“how was practice today?”
he jolts a little at the sound of your voice. you’re not looking at him, you were quite focused on where you were stepping, your other arm stretched out beside you for balance. rin smiles to himself. he thinks of when you were kids and you ran along this very same stretch of beach. when the world was still rosy-pink and you were both untouchable with the invincibility of youth.
“good.”
seriously?
that’s all you have to say?
rin mentally kicks himself.
but you just giggle, and rin’s heart stutters, because it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard in all his life. why you still stuck around him and his gloomy moods, rin doesn’t know. you’ve been there for everything. you were there the day he got the letter to join blue lock, and you were jumping for joy for him, even though he couldn’t have cared less. because that place — and everyone in it — was just a stepping stone to him, and he told you as much. the only thing he cared about was surpassing his brother, because if sae was to be achilles, then rin would become heracles, and that was just the way it is.
(that’s a lie.
you care about more than the fame and eternal glory of it all, but you do not know how to admit it to yourself.)
you’d only smiled at him.
maybe a little sadly.
rin knows that you had once hoped him and sae would repair what they once had. that the three of you could be together again and hang out the way you used to, with you sitting on the bleachers and watching them while they kicked a ball between each other. but those days ran away from you all the day that sae got back from spain. when he said those cruel words to rin and told you that you were no better for being stuck in the same place as his little brother. the day you both got on a ship and sailed away from the boy you both used to look up to, and never looked back.
that was the day that you chose rin.
and he would never forget it.
he figures he owes you everything until the day he died for sticking by him. and ever since that day? every goal was for you, every win was for you.
all of it was for you.
“did that isagi guy annoy you again?”
rin scowls. “he always annoys me.”
you laugh again.
and the tips of his ears turn a beautiful strawberry red.
there’s that strange flutter in his chest. the one that happens whenever rin has done something to make you laugh. he decides he likes this feeling, maybe even a little better than the feeling he gets whenever he scores a goal. rin wants to be able to pull those sugar-coated laughs from your lips as easily he’s able to score.
but he can’t.
he can’t even string together coherent sentences around you lately, never mind think of jokes that would make you laugh. all he can do is send you memes on his phone and imagine the sound of your laugh as you react with a laughing emoji. you’re his best friend, and he doesn’t know why he’s so unbelievably pathetic when it comes to you.
“you play so well together, it’s hard to imagine that he does get on your nerves so much.”
he hums. “i guess.”
“i wonder if you’re just pretending i don’t annoy you too.”
“you never annoy me.”
he’s quick to say this, too quick.
you pass by the set of traffic lights just beyond the beach, and rin knows that you’re only a few minutes away from your house now. he knows that he’s going to have to let go of your hand soon, but he doesn’t know why the thought fills him with so much dread, or why he wants this stretch of beach to go on for another hundred miles.
you stop suddenly.
and you’re squeezing his hand so tightly that rin’s heart feels it’s about to burst. you’re about to hop off the ledge and back onto the safety of the footpath. he grips your hand a fraction tighter, holds his arm out more for you, his muscles tightening.
he is so unbelievably ready to catch you.
a part of rin feels a little guilty for wanting you to lose your footing and fall into him. you bend your knees slightly, your body tipping forward. your feet hit the ground and carry you a step closer than either of you expect. rin’s other hand shoots out before he can even think about it, catching your other free hand, steadying you.
suddenly, you’re right in front of him.
and there’s barely any space between you both.
rin’s pulse roars in his ears.
for a moment, this is all there is to the world. you two standing there with your hands clasped together, the waves crashing behind you like a thousand and one fans in a stadium. and you’re here and you’re real and your hands are so wonderfully soft to the touch. the way you’re looking up at him is making his knees weak. like you might be feeling that fluttering feeling in your chest too, that spark of gold between your interlocked fingers.
rin parts his lips, and he thinks he might finally say something, anything — everything. that this, and being with you, definitely isn’t weird at all.
(no.
it’s the most natural thing in the world. inevitable, the sigh of the sea as it strokes the curve of the shore.)
he blinks.
and the moment shatters.
you’re the one to let go first.
a sweet smile is playing on your lips, all cotton candy and marshmallow softness. the two of you fall back into step. rin knows the way back to your house like the back of his hand, could trace the lines on a map to and from your place to the pitch in his sleep. but the way feels different today, heavier. he doesn’t know if he’s imagining it, or if you had really just shared a moment a minute ago. but before he can think of another thing to say, your house appears around the bend, and you’re standing in front of your house. you climb the three steps to the door, pause and look over your shoulder at him.
“thanks for walking me home,” you say.
rin nods stiffly. “anytime.”
you go in.
the door clicks shut behind you.
and itoshi rin just stands there for a moment, his hands tingling with golden dust, a soft summer wind tousling his hair and kissing him with salt.
(you know.
you’ve always known what it is that you feel.)
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