Chapter Text
Wind, it tickled. It danced around him in gentle patterns, like a paintbrush handled by a master of arts, maybe even like thread - carefully passing through an old woman's hand.
Rin loved it, revelled in it, ached for that soft touch. It calmed him, grounded him - swiping away his clouded mind and bringing sun even if it was for a moment.
A moment he always clung onto, peace in his brain, muffling thoughts and upholding serenity. Taking him away from his reality for just a moment, weaving through the docile air like a bird.
But reality would always ink back, like a slow moving wildfire.
Rin couldn’t hear.
Ever since he was born, sound was non existent to him. It was as foreign as a meteorite way past the Oort cloud, as foreign as French fries in Sae’s mouth - it was alien.
A whole world shut away from him.
With friendships also paying the price.
In his younger years, children couldn't understand him and his difference, so for the most part they ignored him, casting him to the side in favour of more fun individuals - even if Rin also liked to play football; enjoyed the same series, the same movies, the same games - they didn't care, if they couldn't talk to him verbally, he wasn't there in their minds.
And his premature mind couldn’t understand why those children ignored him, why they excluded him - he just knew it felt wrong due to the funny pulsing in his stomach.
He did have Sae though, but since he was older, he wasn’t there for him most of the time, walled away in the upper classes. But he still was there. And that’s all that mattered to his young self. An older brother to lean upon, play with and trust.
Who needed friends when you had a pillar to hold you up, show you the heights of the world whilst standing firm.
However, it didn't last.
Once middle school came around, Sae was leaving for Spain - a football trip, the one of his dreams.
Rin was excited for him of course: he’d ask for photos, souvenirs and autographs from all his favourite players; wished him good lucks, goodbyes and ‘never forget mes’.
But ever since that plane left the ground, his heart was thrown into a pool of thick, dense liquid.
And it was drowning, slowly, each day sinking deeper.
That feeling of loneliness, of having no one left.
The only time people paid attention to him was for under the breath comments, someone to single out, make fun of.
And the images of pointing fingers, covered mouths, and venom scribbled on notes were all ingrained in his preteen mind.
That’s how most of middle school was.
Him being shunned, whispered about and always separated by a fine line of audio in society.
Now in highschool, he retained that closed up personality, a protective layer. He absorbed all emotions from his exterior, locking them in his bones, cementing them with lead.
Loneliness became symbiotic, his heart sank so deep it became one with it. Friends now nothing but just a distant echo of a child’s dream.
And maybe that was just the life that was set in stone for Rin; a lone crusade.
——
Second Year, April.
New classes, new seats, new teachers. Always a daunting time, equivalent to a skirmish, the hustle and bustle of new students, assemblies and introductions - and it dragged on, painfully.
The only thing prancing on Rin’s mind was his pre-prepared trigonometry notes, and his secluded football practice after school.
But he also lamented, complained to himself that this was just a massive inconvenience and waste of time for him; that he could be jotting down more maths equations rather than staring blankly at the head teacher and some purple haired moron .
The morning ceremonies stretched out, causing lunch to blitz past - ushering in the last few periods of the day with a whiplashed student body.
His class was on an upper floor, overlooking the school’s field, which looked like as if it were the only thing that was there, its large greenery surrounding everything - but if you squinted, aligned your focus above the trees, the ocean was visible too, azure and alive: breathing, moving.
With his seating place secured, a double table right next to the window, Rin brought his focus to the board.
Mathematics: Further Trigonometry.
Just as he expected.
It was methodical, completely studying the lesson plans of all his subjects and compiling them into designated areas in his mind, just so he was prepared for any and all topics throughout the entire school year.
A systematic, thorough approach. No loose ends, and everything under control. A stable routine. One which never failed.
And it paid off. He was on top of the class, always. A silent achiever, his grades and notes making up for the lack of social ties - which he was content with, as for him school wasn't an area to converse, nor for anything other than learning .
So, he never really paid attention to anyone at school, they were just bystanders, moving shadows, props - he couldn’t care less about them, all just lukewarm nuisances who sat and stared blankly at the easiest questions ever written.
It pissed him off, everyone pissed him off. Any stoppage in class, any change to his routine, pissed him off.
It was like running straight into a brick wall anytime anything changed.
Rin hated it. Change was erratic, unpredictable - his mind always veering off course, short circuiting into anger, wasting energy on useless things that could’ve been avoided if everything stuck to a single plan.
But the world was filled with entropy, and disorder always plastered reality.
So what Rin hoped would finally be the start of class by the joyous expression on the teacher’s face, would actually be something completely different, and infuriating.
A welcome for a new student joining them.
Great.
Another delay, for another nobody.
Another sacrifice of time he could be using for solving theta.
But interest piqued, and he slowly drifted his eyes to the door, curiosity overcoming his desire to remain unbothered by this disturbance.
He was faced with a boy of medium stature, dark navy hair, a backpack too large for his own good and a small lobster keychain hanging off of it.
Childish.
He could tell the boy was nervous, eyes darting side to side, hands clasped tightly around his bag, head tilted down.
And it couldn't be more evident than in the way how he sheepishly entered the class, almost tripping over a stray pencil.
After saving himself from that disaster, he slowly ebbed towards the blackboard, swiftly slicing his name onto it and bowing politely.
Isagi Yoichi.
Hmph.
He rose up and scanned the room, very carefully, like a predator observing its domain, analysing every spot and every nook as if he were searching for gold.
And his eyes landed on the seat right next to Rin. This sacred spot of nothingness and breathability - it was about to be filled by a person, an unwelcome presence, suffocating and distracting.
And Rin couldn’t do anything to stop it. It was like a thundering wave, he could only wait and observe, and try to intimidate, bare his cold shell on full display like all the times before, to ward this boy off, to signal that he isn’t welcome here - not next to him.
But it didn’t work.
The vibration of the chair moving sealed his fate.
A small lobster pencil case thudded onto the desk, filled to the brim with new highlighters and other stationery, which was followed by a book and water bottle.
And Rin, although hesitant, turned his head towards this monster who was defacing his area.
Midnight eyes and a kind smile.
That’s all that met him.
The chair vibrated again and the lesson began.
And as Rin wrote down the title of the topic he knew off by heart already, his mind kept rewinding that moment that occurred only seconds ago.
He stood correct, change was infuriating. And this was no different.
His organised mind was being sabotaged by a gesture, a tidal wave smashing itself in between the double angle formulae he reviewed for this lesson and the routine he had planned for today. He had nowhere to store it, it was a source code error, a trojan horse invading his mind, ready to wreak havoc.
And this is why he kept away from people.
They were unnecessary data taking up space for precious equations and knowledge; parameters which needed attending to; and again, they were completely uncertain and paralysingly untrustworthy.
Rin wanted this year to end already, as his pen just began to glide over the fresh paper.