seat mate! rin who you can tell is adjusting to you slowly from how he doesn't walk away when you talk to him anymore.

seat mate! rin who lends you stationery without you having to ask twice.

seat mate! rin who nudges your leg with his knee under the table to wake you up quickly when the teacher's approaching your sleeping figure.

seat mate! rin who actually starts a conversation with you on a rainy tuesday morning. all he said was a soft 'good morning' when you sat down next to him, but that was enough for you to feel like everything around you had stopped moving.

seat mate! rin who doesn't realise he's already jotted down little things you do mentally until he catches himself nearly saying your catchphrase.

seat mate! rin who when you asked if the both of you were friends replied with a shrug, but he already accepted you as one a long time ago.

seat mate! rin who starts inviting you to his soccer games, letting you sit on the stands and cheer and shout his name loudly, with his ears blaring red with embarrassment on the field.

seat mate! rin who buys you your favourite drink when anything happens. whether you're feeling down, or got a good mark on your test, you'll always find a drink box on your desk.

seat mate! rin who lets you wear his jacket during the cold days and you forget your own. when you bury your nose into the collar of his jacket, the smell of detergent and his own musky scent hitting your nose, rin feels his heart race a little faster. your own scent clings onto his jacket every time you wear it too, and when he thinks about it, his face burns so hot it feels like fire directly.

seat mate! rin who one day, as you're talking to him during a class break, gets asked by a classmate if he's dating you. he says no without hesitation, and you follow up by saying the both of you are just close friends.

seat mate! rin who noticed your face was completely red and your posture was stiff as the classmate walked away from your desks.

seat mate! rin who over thinks about your reaction. were you thinking that the both of you were dating? or maybe you were just taken off guard? and now he's suddenly thinking about dating you. yeah, he did feel like he liked you, but did he like you or like like you? and what would you say?

seat mate! rin who buries all the thoughts he had about you in the deep corner of his mind, distracting himself by working extra hard in his soccer practices.

seat mate! rin who cries in your arms after school one day, his tears soaking your uniform as he tries his best to muffle his sniffles and sobs. his arms are wrapped so tightly around you, pulling you closer and closer to him, a silent plead for you to not to leave him.

seat mate! rin who tells you about his strained relationship with his brother, all the pent-up emotions he kept for years, the pain he felt after his brother left him. his teal eyes are all tear-stained, his voice quiet and vulnerable – something you've never seen from him before. you're the first person he's ever talked about this to.

seat mate! rin who's now certain he's completely and utterly in love with you when you look at him with such a pretty smile, your features highlighted by the orange glow of the sunset outside, and you tell him how he felt that day was totally okay and that you'll be here for him no matter what now.

seat mate! rin who now tenses up when your skin grazes him even slightly, his heart pounding rapidly when you smile widely as you talk about some event that happened to you, but the words you say aren't going through his head. he's so dead focus on your sweet voice, your bright smile, your mannerisms that are just so you.

seat mate! rin who can't take just admiring you as a friend anymore. he wants to call you his so badly. but he has no idea how to confess – every idea he has is just so cringey and cliche to him!

seat mate! rin who, on graduation day, brings you to a quiet area of the school, and before you can say anything, slips off the second button of his uniform and places it on your hand.

itoshi rin.

you knew him before the world did—before the stadium lights, the tabloid whispers, the sharp interviews, and even sharper stares.

you knew rin itoshi when his voice cracked mid-sentence, when he still wore bruised knees from playing soccer and too-big hoodies. back when his turquoise-colored eyes held more silence and curiosity than steel. you were the one he walked home with after school and games, sometimes sharing earbuds between the two of you, lost in music and quiet moments.

he wasn't warm, not really. but he was constant—in the way he showed up when you needed him, in the way he listened even when he didn't know how to respond. his affection was quiet, tucked between blunt words and loaded stares. you learned to read between the lines. you learned to met him halfway.

for a while, it was easy.

until it wasn't.

the closer rin got to his dreams, the more he drifted from everyone—especially you. his world shrank to the ball at his feet and the ever-present shadow of his brother. he hated the comparisons, knowing all too well how broken things were between them. more than anything, he was determined to outshine sae.

nevertheless you still supported him in his dream of being the best striker.

even as the words between you grew fewer, you never stopped being there. every match, without fail, you sat by the bleachers, cheering him on with quiet determination.

walking home together had become a rare comfort—most of the time, he stayed behind to practice late into the evening, pushing himself harder. and though those moments together grew scarce, you were okay with it, understanding what he was fighting for.

suddenly, middle school graduation arrived, just as your dad got the opportunity to work abroad. of course, he wanted the whole family to come with him—worried about leaving you behind at such a young age.

you hadn’t told rin about it yet, but you knew you would, eventually.

one night, few days before your flight, you accidentally ran into sae.

the streets near your old neighborhood still felt familiar—dusty sidewalks, a sleepy summer breeze, your hands full with errands you half-heartedly ran before the real goodbye settled in.

he was taller than you remembered, sharper too. he didn’t smile much, but then again, neither did you. still, the silence between you wasn’t heavy. it never had been. you’d always gotten along with sae in that casual, don’t-overthink-it way. maybe because you didn’t ask much from each other. maybe because the one person between you—rin—always seemed to pull away whenever things got too close.

you made polite conversation, asked how spain was, laughed a little. then, without meaning to, you brought up rin.

“i haven’t said goodbye yet,” you said, pretending to browse the bookstore display beside you. “i don’t even know if he’d want me to.”

sae blinked. a beat passed. “tell him,” he said. just that. like it was the simplest thing in the world.

you smiled then, small and uncertain.

“yeah,” you whispered. “i will.”

that night, you texted rin. short and careful.

hey, can we meet at the park tomorrow around 4pm? i have something to tell you.

the next day arrived. there you were, sitting on the bench beneath the cherry blossom tree, a letter clutched tightly in your hand.

it wasn’t exactly a confession, but it carried pieces of the feelings you had for him.

you waited.

ten minutes.

an hour.

two.

the clouds drifted slowly across the sky, now painted in soft hues of orange as the sun began to set. still, you waited.

but rin never came.

you told yourself he was busy. or maybe he hadn’t seen the message yet. or worse—he had, and chose not to answer.

you never knew what happened after you left the park that night. you had no idea that sae had mentioned your conversation to rin, casually, almost offhandedly, in the quiet hallway of their home.

“i met her earlier,” sae said, catching rin’s attention.

“okay,” rin replied, his voice flat, eyes distant.

“it’s good to know you still have someone who supports you, even if you’ve been a bit of an ass to her,” sae added with a small, knowing smile. “she told me she’s leaving.”

rin, who had already been pulling away from everything— from sae, from himself, from you—felt the words hit like a sudden blow to his chest.

you told sae. not him.

rin didn’t ask for details. didn’t let himself hope.

if you wanted him to know, you would’ve told him yourself, right?

so he didn’t come.

and you left with a heart hollow enough to echo every quiet doubt and unspoken word.

neither of you knew what the other had been holding in their hands, what was left unsaid, what could have been.

on the day of your flight, despite a flood of second thoughts and hesitation, you sent rin one last message—short, careful, final—right before you boarded.

hey. this is probably going to be my last text for a while. i’m not sure when i’ll be back. i’m leaving today, and i’ll probably stay abroad for who knows how long. i was supposed to tell you in person, the day we were meant to meet at the park, but you never came. take care, rin. i’ll be watching from afar as you chase your dreams.

once you hit send, you slipped your phone into your pocket. the idea of you two meeting again hung in the air like a heavy question mark—uncertain, distant, and fragile.

years finally passed, and here you were—standing at the edge of a crowded stadium, the roar of the crowd pulsing through the air like a living thing. you had traveled far from the quiet streets of your childhood, carving your own path as a sports journalist covering international matches—a dream you chased relentlessly, even as the memories of home lingered like a quiet ache beneath it all.

while you were in a different country, you watched him from afar, seeing his name in headlines, watching him grow into the player he always dreamed of becoming. you were proud of him—truly happy. but beneath that pride was a subtle sadness, too. sadness that you never got to celebrate those victories together, the way you once did, side by side.

rin itoshi — the pro soccer player whose name once echoed with certainty and promise through your small town — was about to step onto the pitch. the boy you once knew, the one you left behind without the goodbyes you both needed.

the past brushed against the edges of your thoughts like a shadow, but you pushed it down, focusing on the moment. yet as the players took their positions, and the camera caught his familiar profile, something stirred deep inside — a mix of anticipation, regret, and an unspoken hope waiting to be found again between you.

the crowd roared, but for a heartbeat, the noise faded. it was just you and rin, years and stories stretched between you, and the fragile hope that this meeting might finally untangle what time had left tangled.

the final whistle blew, and the stadium erupted in thunderous applause. rin’s team had won—the score etched perfectly into victory. you watched as he jogged off the field, sweat glistening on his brow, his fierce expression softening for just a moment when he caught your eye in the crowd.

later, at the press conference, the room buzzed with questions about the match, the season, and rin’s performance. you waited until the chatter dimmed enough to raise your hand.

“rin,” you began, voice steady but weighted with years, “how does it feel to win this match, especially with all the pressure you’ve been under lately?”

he paused, surprise flickering across his face at seeing you. then his usual composed mask softened just a little.

“it feels like every game is a battle,” he said, his turquoise eyes meeting yours briefly. “but today... today was worth it. for the team, for the fans... and for everyone who believed in me, even when i doubted myself.”

beneath those words, you sensed what went unsaid—maybe even a quiet apology. your heart thudded as the press moved on, but rin lingered just a moment longer, like he wanted to say more but held back.

later, as you were finally packing up your things — your press badge lanyard coiled in one hand, notes half-stuffed into your tote — the adrenaline of the night had worn off, replaced by a hum of exhaustion and something quieter: anticipation. most of the other journalists had already cleared out, chasing deadlines or celebratory drinks. but you lingered. maybe on purpose.

your laptop clicked shut. your chair scraped softly against the concrete floor. and just as you reached for the zipper of your bag, a familiar voice cut through the silence.

“you still take forever to leave places.”

you looked up.

rin stood by the door, hands in the pockets of his jacket, hair slightly damp from the post-match shower. he looked more relaxed now — not by much, but enough that you noticed. there was the faintest curve to his mouth, almost a smile. the kind only someone who used to know him would catch.

“some things never change,” you murmured.

his gaze drifted to the badge around your neck, then to your bag, and then finally back to your face. “i saw your name on the press list days ago,” he admitted. “wasn’t sure if it was really you.”

“and when you realized it was?” you asked softly.

“i kept looking for you.” he said it like it was simple. like it hadn’t taken him years to say anything at all.

you swallowed. “i waited for you once, you know.”

his jaw tensed. that ghost of a smile faded — not harshly, but with a quiet shift that meant he remembered exactly what you were talking about.

“i know,” he said. “i found out later. about what sae said. about the bench.”

there was a beat of silence.

“i thought you didn’t want to see me,” he added, voice quieter now. “i was stupid.”

you stared at him for a moment. at the boy you once waited for, who became the man standing in front of you. at the cracks that still lingered between you — and the way he was finally, maybe, reaching across them.

“i thought you didn’t care,” you whispered.

“i did,” he said. then, “i still do.”

the weight of the years settled between you like fog. but the way rin looked at you now — open, steady, maybe even a little scared — cleared just enough of it.

“walk with me?” he asked, nodding toward the door.

you hesitated only for a second, then zipped your bag shut and slung it over your shoulder.

“okay,” you said.

and when he fell into step beside you, quiet but close, it didn’t feel like you were picking up from where you left off.

it felt like something new was starting.

rin walked beside you in silence, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket as the city hummed around you — neon signs, quiet laughter from passing strangers, the soft rush of cars in the distance. it wasn’t awkward. it just was. familiar, somehow, like the quiet between you had its own rhythm.

your footsteps slowed as you reached the entrance of the apartment building you were renting out for the meantime — a small, unassuming place tucked between a laundromat and a bakery that always smelled like sugar and warm dough.

you turned to him, keys in your hand. “wanna come in?” you asked, voice light, but your heart wasn’t.

rin blinked, just once. you couldn’t tell if he was surprised or just thinking — but he looked at you the way he always used to. like he was trying to read the parts of you you didn’t say out loud.

“yeah,” he said, quiet. “if that’s okay.”

you nodded, leading him up the narrow stairwell, unlocking the door with a click. the apartment was small — lived-in, but still temporary. a couple of your things were scattered across the coffee table, your coat draped over the couch. the space smelled faintly like chamomile tea and whatever candle you'd forgotten to blow out last night.

you slipped your shoes off by the door. rin followed your lead, stepping inside carefully like he didn’t want to disturb anything.

rin sat at the edge of your couch, elbows resting on his knees, eyes drifting across the small apartment like he was cataloging every inch of it. you watched him, back against the armrest, knees pulled loosely to your chest.

“this place,” he said after a beat, “suits you.”

you gave a soft laugh. “it’s temporary. but thanks.”

he nodded. his fingers curled slightly around the edge of the cushion, like he wanted to keep his hands busy but couldn’t figure out how.

“can i ask you something?” his voice was quiet, and you felt the shift immediately.

you set your cup down on the low table. “sure.”

he didn’t look at you right away. “there’s been… talk. around the team. the press.”

you raised an eyebrow, already wary. “about?”

he exhaled through his nose. “this model. she’s been showing up at events, tagging me in posts, getting asked about me in interviews. now people think we’re—” he broke off, jaw clenched. “it’s not true.”

“but people think it is.”

“yeah.”

you leaned your head back against the wall. “that’s showbiz, i guess.”

“i don’t want it getting worse,” he muttered. “not now. not before qualifiers. not when i need my head clear.”

your eyes narrowed slightly, unsure where he was going with this — but not disinterested.

“so,” you said slowly, “what exactly are you asking?”

he looked at you then, gaze steady but unreadable. “i want you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

you blinked.

“just until the rumors quiet down,” he added, more quickly this time. “just long enough to shut it all up. the model. the tabloids. everyone.”

you stared at him. “you’re serious.”

“it would make sense,” he continued, like he was already trying to justify it. “we have history. we’ve known each other since we were kids. the press wouldn’t question it too hard. and you’re already in media — it’s believable.”

“so that’s why you walked me home?” you asked, only half-joking. “to butter me up for a PR stunt?”

his mouth twitched, like he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or amused. “no. i walked you home because i wanted to. this is separate.”

you exhaled through your nose, considering. “you trust me to do this?”

“yeah.”

you stared at him a second longer. he wasn’t fidgeting. he wasn’t smirking. he wasn’t doing that thing where he pulled away just before things got real. he was just sitting there — quiet, steady, waiting.

and weirdly enough, you trusted him, too.

“fine,” you said, grabbing your cup again. “but i have conditions.”

his brow lifted, just slightly. “of course you do.”

“no acting clingy just to make headlines. no weird comments during interviews. and definitely no falling asleep on my shoulder during team flights.”

a ghost of a smirk touched his lips. “i don’t fall asleep on planes.”

you rolled your eyes. “just putting it out there.”

there was a pause — soft, still. the kind of quiet that settled between people who once knew each other too well.

“thanks,” he said, eventually. not loud. not heavy. but honest.

you nudged his knee with your own. “don’t make me regret it.”

and in the silence that followed, there was a weight you didn’t name — not yet. a shared understanding. not quite longing. not yet something new. just... a beginning, disguised as a favor.

rin stayed the night. not in any romantic sense — there was no pretense of it between you, not yet — but because it was late, and the conversation lingered long after the agreement had been made. you’d both fallen quiet, comfortable in your own corners of the room, as the clock ticked past midnight and into the haze of almost-morning.

he stretched out on the couch after you handed him an extra pillow and a folded blanket, the fabric worn but warm. you didn’t say much, just told him the bathroom was down the hall and to not break anything, and he gave you a small, noncommittal grunt in return.

you watched him for a moment as he adjusted the blanket over himself, long legs half-hanging off the edge. he looked out of place in your tiny apartment — all sharp edges and seriousness, dressed down in a hoodie and sweatpants, but still carrying that quiet intensity like it was stitched into his skin.

“you good?” you asked from the doorway to your room.

“yeah,” he murmured, already turning on his side, back to you. “goodnight.”

“night, rin.”

when you closed your door, you leaned against it for a moment, listening to the soft creak of the couch and the hush of the city outside. and for reasons you didn’t want to dig into just yet, you slept easier that night.

the next few days passed in a blur of coordinated appearances and low-level press chaos.

your name started popping up in whispers on twitter threads and comment sections. a photo from the match night — you and rin leaving the venue side by side — had been picked up by a few gossip sites. nothing official. nothing confirmed. but it was enough to get people talking.

“this her?” a staff member asked during one of the team’s post-practice cooldowns, glancing at their phone.

rin didn’t answer.

you met him outside the training grounds that afternoon, wearing a pair of sunglasses and your most neutral expression. he barely glanced up when you approached, just offered you a bottle of water and kept walking, letting you fall into step beside him.

“you know,” you said as you unscrewed the cap, “we probably should’ve clarified our fake dating backstory. like, when we got together. where.”

“does it matter?” he asked.

“to the internet? yes.”

he gave you a look, then muttered, “fine. you moved back, we reconnected, it just happened.”

“that’s lazy.”

“that’s believable.”

you couldn’t really argue with that.

the day ended with a brief stop at a local café where you let yourselves be seen — just enough. no hand-holding, no dramatic gestures. just coffee, casual conversation, and proximity. close enough to start rumors, but distant enough to keep people guessing.

rin paid. didn’t even ask. just handed over the bills like it was second nature, then stepped aside so you could exit first.

“you’re kind of good at this,” you said once you were outside again, the late afternoon sun casting a soft glow over the sidewalk.

he glanced at you. “being seen with you?”

“playing the part.”

he didn’t smile, but his voice lost a bit of its edge. “maybe because it doesn’t feel fake.”

you didn’t know what to say to that. so you didn’t say anything.

you dropped by his place a few nights later. not planned — just a shared understanding after a long day of media noise and carefully placed moments.

his apartment was cleaner than you expected. minimalist. dark wood, gray accents. very rin. he handed you a drink when you stepped in, sat beside you on the couch without a word.

you scrolled through your notifications idly, then held your phone out to show him.

“they’re starting to call me your mystery girl.”

rin didn’t even glance at the screen. “better than the other one.”

“you mean the model who’s definitely still posting passive-aggressive captions about you?”

he exhaled. “exactly.”

you leaned back against the cushions, letting the quiet settle.

“you ever think about how weird this all is?” you asked eventually.

“pretending to date someone you used to wait for in the rain?”

you nudged his shoulder. “low blow.”

he let the corners of his mouth twitch — not quite a smile, but close.

“it is weird,” he said finally. “but not in a bad way.”

you nodded. let your head tilt until it barely rested against his shoulder.

he didn’t move away.

lowly, eventually, you start to feel like pretending wasn’t really pretending anymore.

there were moments — subtle, passing things — that slipped past the boundaries you were both supposed to keep. like when his hand brushed yours during interviews and didn’t move away. or when he started remembering how you liked your coffee, ordering before you could even reach the counter. or the way he’d glance over during team dinners just to check if you were still at the table, like part of him always wanted to know where you were.

and you hated the fact that the feelings you buried after the park incident — when you’d waited too long to speak, and he’d pulled too far away to reach — were starting to grow again. not all at once. not dramatically. just... steadily. quietly. like they had time now.

you kept telling yourself it was just the proximity. the pretending. the way he was treating you like something real. even if it wasn’t.

but then there was that day — the day that made it harder to lie to yourself.

you were on set for a pre-season documentary shoot, something meant to highlight the league’s younger stars. you were there to assist with coverage, shadowing the film crew for an article you were drafting. it wasn’t your first time around the players, but you made a point to stay professional — polite, distant, uninvolved.

but not everyone was good at that.

one of the newer players — tall, bright smile, sharper jawline than sense — started hovering near your corner of the shoot. nothing dramatic. just little comments here and there, lingering glances, a laugh that carried a little too far.

“so, you’re the one they’ve been talking about,” he said after the third take break, handing you a bottled water unprompted. “Rin Itoshi’s girlfriend.”

you blinked. “allegedly.”

he laughed, leaning against the lighting rig like he did this often. “rumors don’t always lie.”

you gave a polite smile, ready to brush it off, but before you could, a shadow crossed between you and the lights.

“you done?”

rin’s voice was flat. low. not cold, but close.

the younger player blinked. “huh?”

rin’s eyes didn’t shift away. “we’re needed for the next scene.”

the guy straightened slowly. “right. of course.”

he tossed you a look — amused, maybe a little smug — before walking off, a slow swagger in his steps.

you didn’t say anything at first. just stared at rin.

he hadn’t moved. was still standing too close, jaw tense, eyes on the player’s back like he was waiting for an excuse.

“he wasn’t doing anything,” you said quietly.

“he was flirting with you.”

you tilted your head. “is that a problem?”

his gaze flicked down to meet yours. unreadable, steady. “you’re supposed to be dating me.”

“Supposed to.”

there was a pause.

long enough for the background noise to fade a little. long enough for you to hear your own heart in your ears.

he didn’t answer. not with words.

just exhaled through his nose, gaze sharp as ever, and turned back toward the set like the conversation hadn’t just shifted something heavy between you.

you didn’t know what to make of it.

it could’ve been the act — the same way he adjusted the script of your fake relationship whenever it was convenient.

or it could’ve been real. a flicker of something unspoken, pushed down the same way you’d been pushing your own feelings.

but when he brushed your hand again later — when his fingers lingered just a second too long — you didn’t pull away.

and he didn’t either.

the sponsorship gala was another moment that blurred the lines further.

the room buzzed with low conversations, clinking glasses, and the soft pulse of music as the city’s elite gathered under the sparkling chandeliers. rin moved through the crowd with ease, a confident smile fixed on his face, but when he reached you, the way he took your hand felt different — less like part of the act, more like something he wanted.

the model everyone had been whispering about was there too — elegant, poised, flashing that practiced smile as she floated through the guests. she approached rin with a confident grace, the kind that demanded attention without even trying.

rin didn’t hesitate. stepping forward, he slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you close just enough so there was no mistaking whose side he was on.

“this is her,” rin said, his voice low but clear enough for the small circle around you to hear. “my girlfriend.”

the model’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a subtle shift in her eyes — a flash of something sharp, almost calculating.

rin glanced at her briefly, then back at you, his expression unreadable but firm.

there was no hesitation, no awkwardness in his tone. no trace of the fake that had underpinned the agreement when you first said yes.

it was real.

the guests around you exchanged quiet murmurs, the cameras flashing subtly from a distance.

rin squeezed your waist just a little tighter, as if to say: this is who i choose. this is where i stand.

and in that moment, standing under the soft golden light, surrounded by the hum of the gala, it wasn’t pretending anymore.

it was something else entirely.

after that sponsorship gala, it was like rin finally got a taste of his own medicine.

calls and texts started coming in more often—sometimes persistent, sometimes hesitant—but you found yourself dodging most of them. on some days, you told him you weren’t feeling well, hoping he’d back off. when he insisted on coming over, you quietly refused, not ready to let him in.

rumors began swirling. tabloids whispered about a possible breakup, painting pictures of a mysterious rift between you two.

but honestly, none of it mattered. you were too caught up in the mess between the two of you to care about what strangers thought.

what were you two, really? pretending lovers? old friends forced back together? or something neither of you had the courage to admit?

every missed call weighed heavier than the last. every unread message felt like a question left hanging.

deep down, you knew this wasn’t just pretend anymore. but neither of you seemed ready to say it out loud.

rin was frustrated — more than he cared to admit. the questions swirling in his mind clashed with the pounding in his chest. what were they, really? was this just a game to him, or something more? and if it was more, why did he keep pushing her away, leaving her wondering if he was playing with her feelings? he found himself slipping on his coat, the tension twisting in his gut as he stepped out of his apartment. his feet moved on their own, carrying him through the quiet streets, straight toward her place.

he stood hesitantly in front of your door, his knuckles tapping softly against the wood, hope threading through each knock—that you were home, that you’d answer, that you’d let him in.

you were too overwhelmed to even glance at the peephole, a risky choice, but the weight of everything made it hard to think clearly.

so when you finally opened the door and saw him standing there, breath uneven, a flicker of surprise crossed your face.

“rin.”

he stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, closing the door gently behind him. his eyes held a mixture of frustration and vulnerability as he looked at you.

“why are you avoiding me?” he asked, voice low but steady. “is it because of what happened in the past?”

you hesitated, the memories pressing down on you. “no,” you whispered. “it’s not that. i just need time... time to sort through everything inside myself.”

he took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “then tell me,” he said softly but firmly. “don’t keep me out. i want to understand. i want to be here—for you.”

the room felt smaller, the space between you charged with everything unsaid. for a moment, words failed you both, but the silence spoke volumes—of longing, regret, and a hope that maybe, this time, things could be different.

“please talk to me,” he begged, his voice raw with desperation.

his hand reached out, gently taking yours, fingers intertwining as his turquoise eyes locked onto yours—searching, pleading, hoping for answers he wasn’t sure he deserved.

damn it.

tears welled up suddenly, blurring your vision.

“rin,” your voice shook, heavy with hurt, “what exactly are we? am i just someone you keep around when it’s convenient? or are you really here, really with me?”

he swallowed hard, the weight of your words settling between you. “no,” he said firmly.

“then what?” you demanded, your breath catching. “are you here because the press said we broke up, and now you want to fix that?”

he looked away for a moment, then back at you—vulnerable, honest. “i’m here because i can’t stop thinking about you.”

“rin, please, just stop,” you whispered, your voice fragile and trembling, heavy with exhaustion and frustration. “i don’t want to keep going like this — caught in a constant tug-of-war between what we feel and what we’re afraid to say. it’s tearing me apart, and i don’t know if i can keep pretending that everything’s okay when it’s not. just… let me breathe for a moment, please. i need space to figure out who i am without this weight crushing me.”

but before you could finish, rin’s hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. his turquoise eyes searched yours, raw and desperate, silently begging you to understand. then, slowly, his lips found yours — soft at first, tentative, like testing the water — but soon deepened into something urgent and unyielding.

the world around you faded into nothingness; the hum of the city, the ticking of the clock, even your own frantic heartbeat seemed to slow, caught in the gravity of that moment. his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you — no room for doubts or fears.

in that kiss, there was an unspoken promise: that he wasn’t just here because of the past or the press, but because he wanted to fight for whatever this was — messy, complicated, but real.

when he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, breath mingling as his voice barely rose above a whisper.

“please don’t push me away. not now.”

his lips softened as he kissed your tears away, each gentle brush a quiet apology. “please,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with emotion, “please don’t shut me out. i’m right here. i’m not going anywhere.”

his hands cradled your face like you were the most fragile thing in the world, and for a moment, the space between your fears and his hope felt almost close enough to touch.

“i know i’ve made mistakes,” he whispered, “but i want to be better. with you. for you.”

“rin…” your voice barely a breath, filled with a mix of hope and pain.

he swallowed hard, eyes searching yours like he needed you to truly understand. “you know, i was so angry when i heard from sae that you were about to leave. but fuck, my pride got the best of me. i didn’t know how to say anything — how to stop you.” he shook his head, frustration clear in his voice. “and then, when i got your last text that day… i wanted to punch myself. i was so confused by everything i was feeling — guilt, regret, something i couldn’t even name. i realized then how much i’d been pushing you away, how scared i was of letting myself care.”

he took a shaky breath, voice softening. “that’s why when i saw your name on the list of the press, i was so happy — but at the same time, scared. scared because i didn’t know how you’d feel seeing me again. scared that maybe you’d moved on, or worse, that you’d be angry.”

his hands tightened gently around yours, steady and sure, like a silent vow. “and then… i was just going to let the rumors clear themselves up. i was going to ignore all the dating rumors — pretend it didn’t matter. but i don’t know what came over me with that whole fake dating bullshit. maybe it’s because i finally got the chance to be with you again, even if it started that way.”

he looked down for a moment, voice dropping to a low, raw confession. “everything i did, all my actions towards you — they were real. even the jealousy, i hated the thought of some other guy hitting on you. because the last thing i wanted was to lose you again. i didn’t want to fuck up another chance.”

he lifted his gaze back to you, eyes burning with a desperate hope. “please. let me prove it to you. let me show you i’m here, not just for the cameras, but for you.”

you looked up at him, heart pounding in your chest, the weight of everything he said settling deep inside you. without thinking, you closed the small distance between you, pressing your lips gently to his. his lips were warm and hesitant at first, like he was afraid to break the fragile space you were both holding. but then his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, grounding you in the moment.

when you pulled back just a little, your breath mingling with his, you whispered, a soft smile breaking through your tears, “you’re such an idiot, you know that?”

rin let out a quiet, relieved laugh, the tension in his body easing. he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “yeah, but maybe i’m your idiot.”

you stayed like that for a moment, just holding each other, letting everything you’d both been holding onto for years start to unravel. “i was so scared,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “scared you didn’t want me anymore.”

“never,” he said firmly. “i just didn’t know how to say it.”

the silence that followed wasn’t empty — it was full of everything left unsaid, the weight of missed chances and hopes for a new beginning.

rin reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, then leaned in for another kiss—this time deeper, more certain, as if he was making a promise with every touch. and for the first time since he’d walked through your door, you believed he meant it.

So you only have one option, really. You’re not a coward, so it can’t be b, and you’d rather choke on your fancy steak tonight and die then ever let a man think he played you and got away with it. 

“Cool,” you say. “I’ll let Kaiser know he has your permission.” 

You’re joking, but you don’t think he is. 

“Cool,” Sae replies, but he’s so disinterested that you think he didn’t even hear the last half of your sentence. 

Dinner is great even though Sae is an asshole because he somehow still makes it fun to be with him. Your friends all ask you why you want him. They don’t see what you see; they think you’re just after the football fame, the fortune, the model like beauty. 

You’re a little more twisted than that. 

When you press your patent heel up against Sae’s calf, he doesn’t even flinch. He takes a long, slow draught of water - because he doesn’t drink alcohol, which is deliriously sexy to you for some reason - and raises an eyebrow at you. Everything about him is cool and collected, even when you inch higher and higher until you’re practically right between his legs. 

His hand slips under the table, grabs your ankle, and repositions it on his lap. He doesn’t spare a thought for how your dirty shoes are on his nice slacks. When you try to retract your foot because this is dangerous, this is not what you expected, his hand locks you in place. 

He holds your eye across the table. You wanted this, his eye contact says. Be good and take it. 

Sae is hard to read. 

He can be so apathetic, so indifferent to your words, and then draw warm, lazy circles on your pulse with his thumb. He looks mildly amused when your brain short circuits in the middle of your sentence, every neuron redirected to the feeling of his hand on your ankle, soaking in heat from his palm. 

You want to pull him apart and see what makes him tick. For you, love is almost like dissection. You want to be able to know him so intimately no one else will ever be able to say they come close. 

Although he apparently doesn’t feel the same about you. 

Knowing Sae is a rare privilege all in itself. You thought you were content. When you first met him, that’s all it was: fun. You liked pulling him apart and putting him back together, figuring out which parts of Sae were real and which were a front. But now, after a few months, you’re hooked. It’s become more than a game. It’s an addiction. 

The more he rejects you, the more you want him. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this pathetic in your life. You’ve never chased anyone the way you’ve done for him. 

It’s killing you to think about the numbers he’s done on your reputation. Your friends already think you’re whipped. 

You’re afraid to admit they’re right, and that’s the real reason you’re upset about what he said earlier. You never thought you were dating but you thought - 

Ugh. You don’t know why you expected him to care. 

Sae is, if an asshole, also a gentleman, so he pays for dinner and sends you home in an Uber on his card. 

You smile pleasantly until you get into the car and then you’re practically tearing your hair out. You need to make him regret this. 

So obviously the question now is who would make Sae the sickest to find out you got with? Who would have that man holding his stomach in tears? 

Shidou is too obvious and also you doubt that Sae would care. In a funny way, Shidou is the least you can do to him. 

Oliver? No, he’s too much of a slut. This needs to be a hit and run, an attack, but targeted. Aiku is just too easy to make Sae feel anything besides mild annoyance that you fucked his captain. 

You’d have to butter Kaiser up before you even got near him, and besides, Sae didn’t even react when you brought him up earlier. 

Your brain flinches away from Rin’s face when it pops up in your brain like you touched a hot stove, a solid rejection you don’t even have to think about. 

No. 

It hurts too much. You’re angry but you still care about Sae. This is- 

You want to piss him off, not hurt him irrevocably. Dating Rin right after not-dating him would be something the two of you couldn’t come back from. 

Even if Sae likes to pretend he’s not sensitive when it comes to his little brother, you know better. 

Back to the drawing board. 

The most important part is that Sae can’t know you’re trying to make him jealous, so it has to come up organically. You’re aiming for a teammate because you need someone who will talk about it in Sae’s locker room, someone who can get it to Sae without making it too obvious. 

All paths lead to Oliver Aiku. 

Unfortunately. 

You don’t even know if this is going to work. 

“Just so you know,” you tell him, “you weren’t my first choice.”

“Aw, why?” He asks. “You don’t think I’ll get Sae mad enough?” 

“Are you kidding me? If anything, he’s going to think I’ve lowered my standards! He’s not going to regret losing me, he’s going to think that I’m so pathetic his little rejection sent me off the deep end!” 

“But then he’ll be right,” Oliver says. “Considering he did lower your standards and send you off the deep end. You’re standing in my living room right now, aren’t you?” 

You squint at him. “And I can walk right back out, so don’t test me.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Oliver purrs. “I’m great at making men jealous.” 

“I’m not sure that’s something to be proud of.” 

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I’m going to take you somewhere your man couldn’t even dream of taking you.” 

“Oliver, this is a Wendy’s.” 

“Sae would never dream of taking you here,” he shrugs. “Wow, good bite! You’re great at eating.” 

“Okay, one, that’s a weird thing to say, and two, I’m going to go find someone else if you can’t help me. I know you can’t help yourself but since I’m your friend, I thought at the very least, you would try not to waste my time.” 

“Yeesh, calm down-“ 

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” 

“My bad,” he says cheerfully. “Trust me, I have a plan.” 

“I don’t trust you,” you say pointedly, narrowing your eyes at him. 

He ignores you. “What makes a man angrier than thinking you moved on?” 

“Moving on with his rival?” 

“Close. Thinking he never had you. See, Sae takes you on these fancy dates to high end restaurants and museums and what not. But you know how he is. He’s with you but he’s not really with you. You gotta beat him at his own game. Let him think that you were just indulging him when really this is what you want.” He scoots his chair closer to you until you can practically feel the warmth of him radiating through his thin shirt. His cologne smells like jasmine, a strangely delicate scent for him. “Make him feel like he never really knew you, because I’m the one who does.” 

You breathe in the scent of his feminine cologne, stalling. It would be so easy to listen to Oliver. It would be so easy to let him in your heart. He knows what to say and when to say it. 

In a way, he does know you. 

Familiarity is unavoidable with time, and you’ve been friends of circumstance for ages. 

“You just wanted an excuse to take me to Wendy’s,” you say with a fake laugh that is so perfected, you can only pick up the stilted quality of it if you really, really listen. 

He pulls out of your space a little, a smile playing on his lips. “You know me so well. That too.” 

Oliver knows you a little too well. He says the right things at the right times because he’s telling you what you want to hear. 

Are you destined to be toyed with by beautiful football players? 

In the car on the way back to your house, Oliver texts you. “Get him back for me, playa.”  

In the locker room, Oliver doesn’t start the conversation because that would be too obvious. He’s a respectful man, he doesn’t kiss and tell. It would be out of character for him to start bringing up last night’s exploits and Sae would catch on instantaneously. 

He waits until Sendou, not subtly, tries to ask him who that pretty girl he posted last night was. 

“Are you sure that was a girl? Aiku never posts who he’s with. It was probably his sister.” 

Oliver doesn’t see who said that, but he doesn’t take offense. Again, he doesn’t kiss and tell. Whoever he’s with is a secret. 

He lets them simmer for a little bit more before he casually drops your name, saying it was just a friendly meal. Out of the corner of his eye, Sae stops putting on his shirt. 

“I’ll say,” Sendou says. “You took her to Wendy’s? That’s foul even for you.” 

“Maybe she likes Wendy’s,” Aiku says. “You don’t know her.” 

Although that last part isn’t really directed at Sendou. 

It’s rare for Sae to willingly open social media, but here he is, scrolling through Oliver’s story. Your face is never in any of the pictures, but he can tell. You’re- 

His brain stutters to a halt. 

You’re wearing the necklace he bought you on a date with another man.

There’s only one picture left in Oliver’s stories from last night, but of course that demon would’ve saved the best for last. It’s a simple shot. You’re sitting outside somewhere, under the stars. His hand is holding yours from across the table, your arm stretched out towards him. It’s the only one with a sliver of your face in it, the edge of a sweet, tender smile. 

Sae doesn’t fight. He’s not the type. But over you? 

He fights the only way he knows how. Through football. 

When Sae calls you after practice, you fumble your phone so hard it drops out of your hands and into the sink. You had fun with Oliver last night, but deep down, you didn’t really think Sae would care, as much as you wanted him to. It’s just the way he is. 

By the time you fish your phone out, it’s making strange noises and unable to return Sae’s call. You don’t feel like going out today after your wild night - crying onto Aiku’s shoulder through mouthfuls of French fries - so you resolve to pick a new one up tomorrow. 

Sae will wait. He’s very patient. 

Sae shows up on your doorstep within thirty minutes of your denied call. He lives twenty minutes away, if he speeds. 

Now he’s sitting in your living room, drinking water from your favorite mug while you squirm uncomfortably. He, on the other hand, seems content to sit in silence. 

“You hung out with Aiku last night,” he says. 

Now that he’s actually in the room, you feel like you did something wrong. It’s insane how much influence Sae has over you. He hurt you, but retaliation somehow feels like getting caught with your hand in a cookie jar. 

“Yes,” you mumble. 

“Hm? Speak up.” 

“So what if I did?” 

Sae raises an eyebrow. “Nothing. I don’t mind who you hang out with.” 

“Fine,” you say. “Guess I’ll hang out with him again. Since you don’t care.” 

His mouth curls into a smile behind his mug. That motherfucker. It’s ticking you off. He’s so in control of himself, so smug and pleased and - 

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” 

“You know, since you care so much- huh?” 

“Do you want to start dating?” He rephrases patiently. 

You stammer for a bit before you’re able to reply coherently. “I thought you didn’t want to.” 

“Did I say that?” 

“Yes,” you hiss. “You made it very clear.” 

“I don’t remember saying that,” he says and sets his mug down. When he stands, terror rises in you. He’s coming over. He’s sitting back on his haunches in front of you on the couch, eye to eye. “I just said that we weren’t dating. But I’d like to.” 

“You only want me because I was with another man,” you say faintly. You’re trying to act cute, playful, but you’re not sure it’s working. There’s not enough blood going to your brain. 

“You want me to beg, don’t you?” 

You can’t deny how excited that makes you. Part of it is the way he says it, his voice slow and measured, deepening near the end. Part of it is just hearing ‘beg’ come out of Sae’s mouth. 

“Okay, then. You don’t like Wendy’s.” 

God, you hate men. Who cares about Wendy’s? Why do they always argue about this? Oliver and Sae both-

“You like the places we go. You like,” he tugs lightly on your necklace in a way that stops just shy of stinging. “The way I spoil you.” He pushes you back onto the couch and leans over you. “You like the way I know,” his nose brushes over the carotid artery in your neck, “what makes you feel good.” 

“So I can beg if you want me to.” He’s all in your space, filling it up. All you can smell and feel and see is Sae. You feel paralyzed by his eyes. Devoured whole. “I can get on my knees for you and let you put a leash around my neck and promise that you can have anything you want from me. But let’s not pretend that you want anyone else but me.” 

Okay. So maybe you do care about Wendy’s. 

“Aiku thinks he knows you,” Sae says, his voice calm and easy. It’s like he’s laying out a mathematical formula instead of confessing his love, but it’s so Sae. “He doesn’t. I know you.” 

You whimper. 

Sae laughs dryly. 

You don’t sleep in your own bed that night. Sae drives you both back to his apartment, insists on brushing your teeth for you with the toothbrush he bought for you, and does your skincare routine before he tucks you into bed. 

You’re half asleep when he says, “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” 

“Huh?” You mumble, facedown in his pillow. It smells like him. 

Sae leans over so he can kiss your forehead. When he whispers, it’s directly in your ear. “You think you tied me down, huh?” 

You’re wide awake now. “Obviously,” you snap back, annoyed that he’s still trying to play these games. You know he’s not indifferent to you, you just wish he would- 

“No, dear,” Sae says. The pet name sends chills down your spine. “I trapped you.”