22. thick glass
rin doesn’t call sae back right away.
for weeks – months, really – his older brother’s name has sat in his notifications like a blinking warning light. missed calls. short texts. one voicemail that simply said: “rin, i swear to god if i have to fly back to japan to drag you out of whatever hole you’ve buried yourself in–”
rin had listened to that one three times before closing the app.
tonight, though, something feels different. lighter.
not fixed (not even close), but lighter in the way a storm feels when it finally moves offshore. the letter is out there now. the silence between you isn’t permanent anymore. something has shifted.
so he finally presses the call button.
the phone rings once.
twice.
then–
“about time.”
sae’s voice comes through the speaker flat and unimpressed.
rin exhales slowly. “hi.”
“don’t ‘hi’ me,” sae says immediately. “you disappeared for two months.”
“i was busy.”
“you sure you weren’t emotionally imploding?”
rin doesn’t bother arguing.
there’s a pause on the other end of the line, the sound of wind rushing faintly through sae’s mic.
“where are you,” sae asks.
“home.”
“good,” sae says. “leave.”
rin frowns. “what.”
“meet me at odaiba beach. 8:00 P.M.”
rin glances at the clock. “that’s in like 30 minutes.”
“then move faster.”
“sae–”
“no,” sae cuts in sharply. “i don’t care what you have to do. cancel something. run there. steal a bike. use your webs.”
his voice lowers slightly.
“i’m coming first in your list of priorities this time around.”
the line goes quiet for a second.
rin sighs. “… fine.”
sae hangs up without another word.
the beach is mostly empty at night.
the tide rolls in slowly, waves brushing the dark shoreline with soft, rhythmic sounds. the city lights shimmer across the water, rainbow bridge glowing faintly in the distance. the wind carries the smell of salt and cold air.
sae is already there. of course he is.
he stands near the edge of the sand, hands tucked into his coat pockets, staring out at the water like he’s been there for hours even though he probably arrived ten minutes ago.
rin approaches quietly.
“you said 8:00,” rin says.
“it’s 8:02.”
rin exhales through his nose.
sae finally glances over at him. his eyes narrow slightly.
“you look… less dead.”
“thanks.”
they stand there for a moment, listening to the waves.
then sae says, “so.”
rin already knows what’s coming.
“what the hell happened.”
rin stares out at the water. and for the first time in weeks, he tells someone everything.
ego.
the threats.
the choice.
the letter.
you.
he talks longer than he expects to.
sae doesn’t interrupt much. he just listens, the way older brothers do when they’re deciding whether to lecture you or beat the hell out of you.
when rin finally finishes, the wind has picked up slightly.
sae exhales slowly. “i’m gonna say this in the nicest, kindest, warmest, best older-brother way possible… you’re a fucking idiot.”
rin nods. “i know...”
“no,” sae continues calmly, “you’re a… special kind of idiot.”
rin glances over.
“you thought the best way to protect the girl you love was to emotionally detonate her life.”
rin winces. “... yeah.”
sae rubs his temple. “i swear,” he mutters, “our family’s emotional intelligence is a disaster.”
rin says nothing.
the waves roll in again.
sae sighs. “but i get why you did it.”
rin looks up slightly.
sae shrugs.
“you were scared,” he says simply. “you had someone manipulating you, threatening the person you cared about most, and you made the decision that felt safest.”
a pause.
“a wrong decision,” sae adds.
“i know.”
“but understandable.”
rin watches the water again. “she deserved better.”
“she still does,” sae says.
rin flinches slightly.
sae glances at him sideways. “that doesn’t mean she won’t choose you.”
rin’s brow furrows. “how do you know?”
sae smirks faintly. “because she hasn’t destroyed you yet.”
rin snorts quietly.
sae nudges a small stone with his shoe.
“did she read the letter?”
“yeah.”
“and?”
“we talked.”
sae studies him. “that’s progress.”
rin exhales slowly. “i don’t know how to fix it.”
sae rolls his eyes. “you don’t fix it.”
rin looks over.
“you rebuild it,” sae says. “slowly. patiently. without lying. without disappearing.”
the wind pushes his hair slightly.
“and most importantly,” he adds, glancing back at rin, “you stop deciding what’s best for her.”
rin nods.
“let her choose,” sae continues. “whether that’s you or not.”
the words settle heavily between them.
the tide creeps up the sand a little closer.
after a moment, sae adds casually, “also, for the record.”
rin looks at him.
“if you hurt her again,” sae says calmly, “i will personally fly back to japan and drown you in this ocean.”
rin stares at him. “yeah, you can do that.”
sae grins slightly.
and for the first time in a long while, rin feels like he might actually have a chance to make things right.
the café is busy in the slow, steady way that afternoons tend to be.
not chaotic. not empty either. just the constant rhythm of customers coming and going, the quiet hum of conversation, the hiss of the espresso machine working overtime behind the counter.
you’re usually good at this part of your job.
fast. organized. calm under pressure.
today… not so much.
you reach for a cup and almost knock over the stack beside it.
“whoa,” a voice says beside you.
you glance up.
bunny is leaning against the counter, one eyebrow raised as he watches you recover the cups before they hit the floor.
“that’s the third near disaster in 15 minutes,” he says casually.
you sigh. “i know.”
he tilts his head slightly, observing you the way someone watches a puzzle they’re trying to solve.
bunny is one of those people you somehow hadn’t talked to much before despite working together for months. he transferred in during the fall semester – international student from spain, culinary arts major, university of tokyo just like you – but the café had been busy and life had been… complicated.
now that things are quieter, you’re starting to realize something.
he’s actually really easy to talk to.
“you look stressed,” he says, sliding a tray of clean glasses toward the rack.
“i’m not stressed,” you reply automatically.
he snorts. “right. and i’m actually 100% japanese.”
you laugh despite yourself.
he grins faintly.
“so,” he says, wiping the counter with quick efficient movements, “what’s going on.”
you hesitate.
normally you’d brush it off.
but bunny has this weirdly calm energy – sarcastic without being sharp, playful without pushing. he works hard, moves fast, and somehow still finds time to notice things.
including you apparently dropping three spoons and forgetting a drink order five minutes ago.
you glance down at the espresso machine.
“… i liked someone,” you admit finally.
bunny hums like he expected that answer. “past tense?”
“it’s complicated.”
“the best kind of story.”
you roll your eyes slightly, but continue anyway.
“we weren’t technically dating,” you say. “but we were… doing couple things.”
“dangerous territory.”
“very.”
bunny nods like a professor confirming a hypothesis.
“and then,” you continue quietly, “he suddenly broke it off.”
bunny pauses his cleaning for a moment. “oh. that sucks.”
you shrug slightly. “he had reasons. i actually understand them now. but it still hurt.”
“yeah. i bet.”
a small silence settles between you.
you tap the side of a cup absentmindedly.
“and now,” you add, “he’s trying to come back into my life again.”
bunny leans back against the counter, folding his arms. “ah.”
“ah?”
“the classic sequel.”
you laugh quietly. “i don’t know what to do.”
bunny studies your face for a moment. “do you… still like him?”
you don’t answer immediately. which is answer enough.
bunny nods slowly. “yeah,” he says. “that’s always the problem.”
you sigh. “anyway,” you add quickly, “i’m trying to think about it logically.”
“good luck with that.”
“hey!”
“feelings are not logical,” bunny says simply.
before you can respond, the bell above the café door rings.
bunny glances toward the entrance automatically.
and freezes.
a tall guy has just stepped inside.
dark hair.
serious expression.
eyes scanning the room like he’s looking for someone specific.
bunny slowly turns his head toward you.
“don’t,” you warn.
“that’s him,” bunny says quietly. “isn’t it.”
you close your eyes. “please don’t start.”
“i’m not starting anything,” bunny replies calmly.
you grab a tray. “i’m going to the back.”
“good plan.”
you disappear through the staff door just as rin approaches the counter.
bunny watches him walk up.
rin stops in front of him.
“hey,” rin says. “is [name] working today?”
bunny dries his hands slowly with a towel. “yeah.”
rin shifts slightly. “can i talk to her?”
bunny nods toward the back hallway. “she’s working in the back right now.”
rin glances toward the door. “can you tell her i’m here?”
bunny watches him carefully for a moment. then exhales.
“she asked for space today.”
rin’s expression shifts slightly, just a flicker of surprise crossing his face.
bunny notices it immediately.
before rin can speak, before his thoughts have time to spiral into something defensive or sharp, bunny exhales quietly and rests his forearms on the counter.
“listen, man,” he starts. not cold. not confrontational. just matter-of-fact.
rin’s brows knit slightly.
bunny studies him for half a second, reading the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens like he’s already preparing an argument.
so he adds, calmly, “if she wants to see you…” he shrugs lightly. “she’ll come find you.”
the words land softer than they should. almost familiar. like something rin himself said once, a long time ago, when he was the one deciding whether someone could get close to him.
rin goes still. just for a moment.
then he nods once, slow, understanding the boundary for what it is.
rin doesn’t go anywhere after leaving the café.
he just goes home.
the walk back to his apartment is quiet, the city already slipping into evening around him. neon lights flicker on one by one, people moving past him in small clusters, laughter drifting from restaurants and convenience stores. normally the noise of tokyo is something he disappears into.
but tonight it feels distant. like he’s watching the world through thick glass.
by the time he unlocks his door and steps inside, the apartment feels heavier than usual. not empty, just quiet in a way that reminds him too much of the weeks he spent here convincing himself he’d made the right decision.
he drops his keys onto the counter. they clink loudly in the silence.
rin exhales and drags a hand through his hair before collapsing onto the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. he stares at the floor for a while, replaying the moment at the café over and over.
she asked for space today.
it stings.
not because it was cruel. because it was fair.
he presses his palms together slowly, knuckles whitening.
“yeah,” he mutters to himself. “you deserve that.”
this is the weight of it. not some dramatic punishment. just consequences.
every word he threw at you two months ago still exists. every silence he forced between you still matters. if this is how things are going to be for a while – distance, hesitation, uncertainty – he’ll carry it. even if it hurts. especially if it hurts.
he leans back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling, letting the quiet settle around him again.
then–
knock knock knock.
rin’s head turns toward the door.
he waits a second. maybe he imagined it.
knock knock knock.
he stands slowly and walks over, unlocking the door without thinking too much about it.
when he opens it, you’re standing there. still in your café clothes. black pants, simple top, your hair slightly messy from your shift. the only thing missing is the apron.
for a moment neither of you speak.
rin just stares.
“hi…” you say finally.
his brain takes a second to catch up with reality. “you came.”
you shift your weight slightly. “i finished my shift.”
rin steps aside automatically, the door opening wider. “do you… want to come in?”
you nod once.
and just like that, the distance between you shrinks by one small, fragile step.
rin closes the door behind you.
the quiet in the apartment shifts immediately, the kind of silence that comes when two people are standing in the same room with a hundred things unsaid between them. you take a few steps inside, glancing around automatically even though you’ve been here many times before.
the place hasn’t changed.
same couch. same desk. same quiet, careful order.
but the atmosphere is different now.
you exhale slowly, rubbing the back of your neck like you’re trying to decide how to begin.
rin watches you. carefully.
“that guy with the scar told you i came by?” he asks.
you nod once. “yeah.”
a small pause.
“he told me you left.”
“i did.”
your eyes flick toward him. “sorry, i needed a minute.”
rin nods. he doesn’t push. doesn’t ask what you thought during that minute. that restraint doesn’t go unnoticed.
you glance down at your hands before speaking again. “i started an internship yesterday.”
rin’s brows knit slightly. “where?”
you hesitate just long enough for him to notice.
“under jinpachi ego.”
the change in his posture is immediate.
not explosive. but sharp.
his shoulders straighten. his jaw tightens.
“… what.”
you look at him carefully. “yeah.”
the room feels smaller all of a sudden.
“i didn’t know you were working under him,” you continue. “no one mentioned it when i got accepted.”
rin exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. “i was going to tell you eventually.”
you shake your head slightly. “you didn’t have to.”
rin looks up.
and that’s when you drop it.
“i already know.”
silence. thick. heavy.
“what do you mean…” he asks quietly.
your eyes meet his. “i heard you.”
rin goes still.
“yesterday,” you continue. “i got lost trying to find the bathroom on the second floor.”
his stomach drops.
“and i heard ego talking.”
your voice tightens.
“i heard you talking.”
rin’s chest feels like someone just tightened a vice around it.
you take a step forward. “i heard him say he released the radioactive spider.”
rin doesn’t interrupt.
“i heard him say he’s been monitoring you since the beginning.”
another step.
“and i heard him say you’re spider man.”
the words hang in the air.
rin exhales slowly. “… okay.”
that’s it. no denial. no defensive reaction. just acceptance.
you watch him closely. “you’re not even going to argue.”
“no.”
“why?”
“because it’s true.”
you shake your head in disbelief. “rin, that man is manipulating you.”
he nods. “i know.”
“he’s watching you.”
“i know.”
“he’s threatening you.”
“i know.”
your voice rises slightly. “then why are you still letting him control your life?”
the frustration finally spills over.
“he literally engineered the thing that turned you into spider man and now he’s using it to treat you like some kind of experiment!”
the words bounce off the apartment walls.
rin doesn’t snap back. doesn’t shut down. doesn’t try to control the conversation the way he used to.
he just… stands there. absorbing it. every word. every ounce of anger you’re throwing at him.
you notice. your frustration stumbles slightly against the lack of resistance.
“say something,” you demand.
rin exhales slowly. “… you’re right.”
you blink. “that’s it?”
“yeah.” he runs a hand down the back of his neck. “i thought i could handle it.”
“handle it?” you repeat incredulously.
“manage it,” he clarifies quietly. “balance everything.”
you scoff. “ego isn’t someone you balance. he’s someone who manipulates.”
“i know.”
you stare at him for a moment, trying to find the old rin – the one who would’ve turned this into an argument, the one who would’ve deflected or shut the door emotionally the second things got uncomfortable.
he doesn’t. he just lets the discomfort sit there. with him.
you exhale slowly. “fine.”
rin watches you carefully. “fine?” he repeats.
you cross your arms slightly, thinking. then you say something that makes him freeze.
“why don’t i help you take him down.”
rin blinks. “what.”
you step closer, serious now. “ego.”
you gesture slightly with your hand. “what he’s doing isn’t just manipulative. it’s illegal.”
rin’s brow furrows.
“releasing a genetically altered spider in a controlled lab environment without authorization? monitoring someone’s movements and activities without consent? using experimental technology on a civilian?”
you shake your head.
“that’s not just unethical. it’s criminal.”
rin stares at you. “you’ve been thinking about this.”
“all afternoon.”
a beat passes.
“i know someone,” you continue. “his name is tabito karasu.”
rin recognizes the name faintly.
“law major. really smart. really annoying about ethics.” a small smile flickers across your face. “he’d love this case.”
rin processes that slowly. “you’re serious.”
“completely.”
you meet his eyes again.
“ego thinks he has control over you because he thinks you’re alone in this.”
your voice steadies.
“you’re not.”
rin doesn’t speak right away. he just looks at you. really looks. trying to understand what you’re offering.
not forgiveness. not romance. something else. something bigger.
finally he asks quietly, “why?”
you shrug lightly. “because what he’s doing is wrong.”
a pause. and then–
“and because no one deserves to be controlled like that.”
the room goes quiet again.
but this time, the silence feels like the beginning of a plan.
ego doesn’t review security footage personally most days.
he has systems for that.
algorithms. alerts. pattern recognition software that flags unusual activity long before a human needs to intervene. efficiency is the entire point of the lab – why waste time watching hallways when machines can do it faster?
but tonight something catches his attention – a small notification blinking on one of the side monitors.
irregular corridor activity – floor 2.
ego glances at it almost absently, fingers still moving across another screen filled with crime analytics.
then he clicks it open.
the camera feed loads. grainy. silent. timestamped from the afternoon before. the hallway appears empty at first. white lights. sterile walls. then a figure enters the frame.
ego leans back slightly in his chair.
ah.
he recognizes you immediately. the intern. communications and psychology major. the one who asked thoughtful questions in his lecture.
he watches the footage carefully now.
you walk down the hallway slowly, scanning the doors.
pause.
step closer to one door.
ego’s eyes narrow slightly.
you glance around once – then lean your ear against the wall beside it.
the video runs for several long seconds.
you listening. still. motionless.
ego’s fingers stop moving entirely. he watches until you step back from the wall. until the realization hits your expression. until you look up – directly toward the camera.
the footage freezes on that frame. your face tilted upward. eyes wide. because you’ve been caught.
ego exhales softly through his nose. “… interesting.”
he leans forward again, replaying the clip once. twice. three times.
on the third viewing, he pauses it right at the moment your hand presses against the wall. the moment you were listening. the moment you learned something you weren’t meant to know.
ego sits back slowly in his chair. his expression doesn’t change much. but there’s a new calculation forming behind his eyes.
“so,” he murmurs quietly to the empty room.
his gaze drifts to another screen nearby. a performance chart. spider man’s activity line. rin’s. still strong. still climbing.
ego folds his hands together beneath his chin. “the variable has expanded.”
your face still stares back at him from the frozen security frame.
ego smiles faintly. not angry. not surprised. just… intrigued.
because experiments rarely become truly fascinating – until the subjects start interfering with the design.
© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢
masterlist | ch. 21 | ch. 23
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @rosesanddiaries @byzantiumhollow @lylisimps @n0tbelle @xoxolalia @fairyofprose @anastasiatheloveofyourlife @burekforsatoru @alonelyartist1432 @adidistupipi @beepbopzlorp @kazumei-claude @angelin4ssss @iqxatlantic @ranzess @yumerinns @timble-tumble @wishmerin @mihyas-dieehefrau @mayscrumbs @v1kt3l @x3nafix @t0r4s @silkiziuu @thenightsflower @yuunishin @simpingmyassoff @elliehenry24 @getoslefthairstrand @cocoloveswhip @vikaamor @toasteddbreadd @haiqyu @livelaughlovekuni @noyamlv @danhoneyyy @foz-eya @piccolos-slut @maeviees @starrydreamers304 @v4mp-carm1ne @ohio-gyatt-mega-sigma-rizzler @ibyobi @jellychee @leabeedaria @xxxanimesimpxxx @jellyfish1a @schourei @unknownowlbokutoswifeyy @penpennie
dividers from: @sister-lucifer 🖤
