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Bachira shifts in his dozing, head lolling onto Rin’s shoulder. The weight and warmth of him is distracting. Rin shifts uncomfortably, jogs his shoulder a little so Bachira will get the hint, but he’s slipped too far into sleep already. He makes a soft noise and nuzzles his head into Rin’s neck. Rin cranes to look down at him and thinks, idiot.
He goes to irritatedly brush away a stray curl from where it’s twisting toward his face. The hair is soft. He can smell Bachira’s shampoo. Bachira huffs as he does so, and Rin’s breath inadvertently catches in his throat, and just like that—all at once he knows the truth.
Ah, Rin thinks, and then: fuck. He can feel his own heart pounding in his chest, heavy and desperate and damning. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.
He imagines a procession to its beat. He imagines a funeral dirge.
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There had been a time when he would’ve killed for a chance to give Sae a piece of his mind: to pin him down in a private moment and demand an apology, demand he acknowledge Rin’s growth and ability, admit he was wrong, grovel at Rin’s feet. He would’ve done anything to achieve irrefutable victory over Sae. Back then, Rin had been so angry.
The thing about anger is that it demands too much. Eventually the weight of it is greater than the fuel it gives you. Eventually you have to lay it down.
Rin isn’t stupid. He’s always been smart. He knows that Bachira doesn’t consider him anything more than a friend, and he’s known since the day that he walked in and saw Isagi standing in Bachira’s kitchen that this foolish daydream of his never had a chance.
Rin has gotten good at recognizing the signs of a dream destined for death. This dream, at least, is one that Rin can take ownership of. He can destroy it with his own two hands.
Or so he’d like to believe.
Bachira taps away on his phone as he attempts to order them some food that they can both keep down, but Rin can tell from the way he’s worrying his lip and his eyes occasionally dart around the room that his thoughts are otherwise occupied. Rin wonders if, now that Bachira is engaged, Rin will stop noticing things like that. He wonders if it’ll ever get easier.
Rin watches a droplet of water roll down the outside of his glass and pool at its inevitable destination. Maybe he can understand why Sae had let himself be content with becoming a midfielder. Maybe a part of growing up is learning to take what you can get.
perfect in every way. love it when a fic with rin also serves itoshi brothers. one of my favorites.
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Rin won’t admit it, not anymore, but he knows what the seagulls are saying. Out by the pier, with the whole slow-rocking ocean in front of them, they scream and call to him.
They tell him, “Go! Go! Go!”
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Just one of those amazing writing pieces, a work of art truly
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ouhhh :(
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me rompe el corazón, pero esta tan bien escrito que por este fic me vuelvo masoquista.
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*sobs*