#stop waiting

NO

“𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠”

a/n: AH I LOVE YOU, TAKE THIS RIN ONESHOT 🤍 also for my lovely gf @nensi

i could win, i could lose, but that’s a look i can’t refuse

(ac goes to Haoy57332364 on X!)

you see rin itoshi again on a wednesday, the kind of grey afternoon that feels like a bruise. the sky is low. the wind is cold. your coffee is lukewarm and too bitter, and then, there he is. standing at the edge of your life like he never once shattered it. 

he doesn’t say anything at first. he just stands across from you at the small café table his friend dragged him to, looking like silence in human form. you don't breathe. not really. you just watch him, cataloging every feature you thought you’d finally forgotten – his long lashes casting soft shadows under his eyes, the slight twitch of his jaw when he’s unsure, the way he still wears his sleeves pulled over his hands. it’s been almost a year. and yet, it takes nothing, nothing, to bring the ache of him back. like a song you didn’t realize was still in your bones. 

you don’t speak much. not at the café, not after. but when he asks if he can walk you home, you say yes, because your heart is still stupid enough to hope. 

the walk is cold and quiet and full of all the words neither of you said when it mattered. the ones that rotted in your throat when he started slipping away from you, slow and steady like he wanted to disappear. 

the memories creep in – how he used to touch your wrist gently when he passed by you in the kitchen, how he'd mumble you’re here. okay. with me. after a hard day like your presence alone was enough to anchor him. how he looked at you like you were a soft place to land. and then one day, he stopped looking. or maybe you stopped being soft. 

“i missed you,” he finally says when you're standing outside your apartment, and it hits you like a wave crashing into everything you spent months building back up. “even when i tried not to. even when i said i didn’t.” 

you want to scream. you want to ask him why he let you drown in the silence he gave you, why he made you feel like loving him wasn’t enough, why he let you become a stranger to the boy you once memorized like scripture. but all you say is, “you left.” 

his eyes flicker. and for the first time, you see it – the regret. the weight. the ache that mirrors yours. “i didn’t know how to be close to you without losing myself,” he whispers. “and i didn’t know how to tell you that i hated myself for it.” 

you swallow around the lump in your throat. god, you had loved him. still love him, probably. despite everything. despite the breaking. despite the long nights where you curled around his absence like it could keep you warm. 

you don’t say anything. just turn the key in the door. he steps back like he’s ready for this to be the last time. 

but then, softly, barely louder than the sound of your heart breaking, he says, “can we try again? not the same way. just… something new. something gentler. i want to earn it this time.” 

and that’s what undoes you. 

not the apology. not the years of missing him. but the fact that he’s still rin, awkward and quiet and honest in the way he only knows how to be when he’s terrified. 

so you nod. once. small. fragile. hopeful. 

and maybe this is what forgiveness looks like. not perfect. not easy. but honest. and maybe, just maybe, it’s enough.