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i. bachira
In all fairness, he isn't the one who makes the decision to steal Bachira Meguru.
It's thanks to the preferences of Aryu and Tokimitsu that Rin now has to deal with this utter nuisance. It's their fault that there's someone on the field with him right now, pestering him to practice together no matter how adamant Rin is that this is meant to be his time alone in the training room.
Bachira isn't even that good. Nobody in this godforsaken facility is, so Rin has no idea what compels him to concede to this brat's pleading.
He's more trouble than he's worth, Rin quickly appraises. Bachira is loud and clingy and annoying, and Rin can't stand being within his vicinity for more than an hour at a time, so he can't imagine why exactly Isagi Yoichi seems dead set on getting him back.
If it didn't mean losing, Rin would gladly return him. But of course, Itoshi Rin does not lose, and thus he approaches their match against Isagi's team with confidence.
Of course they won't lose. Their team consists of the facility's top players, and even if it didn't, Rin alone is more than enough to take on any challenge. Their victory is practically guaranteed and Rin won’t be met with anything new.
Except the match arrives, and that particular rug is pulled out from underneath Rin twice fold.
Isagi Yoichi proves to be an especially stubborn thorn in his side. Somehow, he manages to string together a ragtag group of lukewarm players and turns them into something nearly worth Rin's time.
By force of habit, Rin is prone to rejecting the idea that he might be defeated by anyone other than his own brother–yet in this match against Isagi's team, Rin is nearly forced to confront such a reality.
It's a truly desperate thing, the way he twists his body in front of the goal to prevent Team White from winning. He almost expects nothing to come of it– the only one who receives it is the pesky brat himself, and he's been performing poorly for a long enough time that Rin has lost most of his faith in his competence.
He's the second person to subvert Rin's expectations.
Bachira Meguru bounds past the field in a hurricane of movement. He's quick on his feet in a way Rin has never seen before, unbelievably agile and suddenly fearless.
For a very brief moment, Rin lets himself be entranced. Everyone else seems just as captivated, so he doesn't think too much about it.
The only one who manages to break free of Bachira's spell is Isagi, but even then it hardly matters. Isagi blocks Bachira's shot, but it careens over to Rin in a way that practically affirms his entitlement to victory.
They win, and Rin chooses to steal Isagi. Strangely enough, nobody seems as gut-wrenchingly devastated about this loss the way Isagi had been devastated to lose Bachira.
Stranger yet, when all has been said and done, Rin sits in his dormitory and indulges in a moment of musing.
He thinks he might just understand why Isagi was so keen on getting Bachira back.
ii. glance
Bachira's laughter is too loud.
It bounces off the walls, bright and obnoxious and entirely too energetic. For the record, Rin tries his best to ignore it, but even in the large, open space of their communal dining hall, Bachira manages to make himself audible.
It really isn't Rin's fault that he keeps stealing glances.
Since the end of the Second Selection, Bachira's been more distant. He'll still greet Rin when they pass by each other, and he'll still be touchy without any regard for Rin's comfort, but the moments whenthat they interact are fewer and farther between, now.
Now, Bachira is with other people. Other friends, Rin would say, if he and Bachira were friends, but he's under no illusion that that's what they are.
Still, Rin can't help but be drawn to him. It’s a little sad, a little pathetic, the way Rin apparently still hasn’t managed to outgrow his tendency to latch onto anyone who gives him the time of day.
It’s not that Bachira has stopped being annoying, or that he’s the only one who treats Rin decently. It’s that— for someone like Rin, who’s learned the hard way the acrid sting of being abandoned— Bachira’s presence is like salve for a wound. Rin will brush him off, ignore him for the better part of all their conversations, and still, by tomorrow, Bachira will come back and try again.
He keeps trying, which is the problem, hardly ever dissuaded by Rin’s standoffishness, and maybe it’s that persistent attitude of his that makes Rin turn to the sound of his voice whenever Bachira’s presence isn’t felt nearby.
Once, Bachira meets his gaze.
It’s on a day like any other, where Blue Lock is just as busy, just as fast-paced and brutal. That’s the thing about Bachira, though— he seems to push against the tide. Where Blue Lock is all heaviness and rapidity, Bachira seems prone to lightness and buoyancy.
Rin doesn’t know what he’s laughing at, but it’s been such a long day. The training’s been more grueling than ever before; even Rin can attest to that despite how impervious he usually is.
Rin doesn’t know what he’s laughing at, but he turns to the sound of Bachira’s voice anyway.
He’s sitting on a different table, surrounded by his friends. Someone said something funny, apparently. Probably Chigiri, judging by how everyone’s eyes are on him. Well, almost everyone’s. At first, Bachira’s gaze is on him, too, but then it shifts, and before Rin knows it, they’re eye to eye.
Itoshi Rin is many things. He always thought confrontational was one of them, but perhaps it isn’t. Or maybe it’s that the weight of Bachira’s direct gaze is too much for any normal person to hold.
Rin turns away immediately, paying little consideration to how Bachira might take his avoidance. It was only a split second, but it was enough to make Rin’s heartbeat stutter, enough to make him choose to keep his distance.
It won’t kill him not to have Bachira’s company. It certainly won’t kill him not to have Bachira nearby.
It might be a bit annoying not to look his way, though, especially when every so often Bachira will look back, almost like he’s granting Rin permission.
iii. touch
For the holidays, Reo decides to invite everyone to his family's winter lodge.
Everyone is wildly enthusiastic, of course. It isn't every day that people get invited to such a prestigious place by the heir of the Mikage corporation himself. The excitement only grows tenfold when they all actually get there and see just how prestigious it actually is in person.
With polished wooden walls, velvet-carpeted floors, and a dazzling Christmas tree at the very centre of it all, the lodge has everyone buzzing with delight upon entry.
Rin isn't nearly as impressed. The moment Reo informs them of their room assignments and the staff hand them their keys, Rin immediately rushes to his room and throws his things on the bed.
He sits down next to the messy little pile of duffel bags. Then, he sighs, deep and tired. He doesn't quite feel like sleeping yet, but he slumps back anyway, his back hitting the bed with a soft thud.
For a while, he just lays there, looking up at the ceiling and ignoring the fact that he willingly chose to come here. He doesn't want to be here, to be absolutely clear, but it certainly beats staying home for the holidays when his brother had informed them he'd be bringing someone home.
It wouldn't take a genius to guess who Itoshi Sae's new boyfriend is, and Rin would prefer staying in a cabin in the woods over the impending headache of being at the dinner table with his parents, his brother, and the fucking demon spawn that is Shidou Ryusei.
He stays like that for a while, resting his eyes and trying to wipe his mind clear of things that would stress him out. Then, suddenly, his stomach rumbles.
Rin tsks. Dinner is more than an hour away, and he really doesn't want to go downstairs, with all the annoying people and their disgusting holiday cheer. He didn't avoid one headache just to succumb to another, after all.
He thinks for a second– he did overhear some of them say they wanted to go skiing, and the rest had joined in, so there's little chance of him running into that many people downstairs.
His stomach rumbles again.
Groaning long-sufferingly, he gets up and makes his way downstairs.
The lights are so bright that they hurt his eyes, and the decorations are so gaudy and vibrant that it takes a second for Rin to realize someone else is in the main hall, too.
Rin squints.
It's Bachira, hunched over the fireplace with his hands hovering above the flames.
Rin weighs his options– would he prefer to starve or get a headache? Either way, it's a pain. He calls out, "Don't put your hands so close to the fire, idiot. You could burn them."
He tries his very best to make it come out as harsh as possible, but given the way Bachira turns over and grins when he sees him, Rin doubts it worked.
It never seems to with Bachira, who gets up and skips over to Rin, bouncing with each step. When he's right in front of Rin, he says, "Aw, I knew you cared, Rin-chan!"
Rin scowls. "I don't."
Bachira just laughs at him again, which makes Rin scowl harder.
Insufferable hellchild, he thinks. Annoying piece of shit. Wasn't the lobby supposed to be emptied out?
Rin asks irritably, "What are you even doing here? Isn't everyone supposed to be skiing?"
"You weren't skiing," Bachira points out, but when Rin's eyes glint in a way that screams murder, Bachira says, "I got too cold, so I went back inside to ask for a warm drink. The people here are super nice! They gave me a cup of hot chocolate, and even some snacks to go along with it."
Rin can feel himself get hungrier at the mention of food, but he tries not to be too obvious. He makes an effort to keep his face still, ensuring that no expression bleeds through, but none of that matters when his stomach rumbles one more time.
Traitor, Rin thinks as he watches Bachira's eyebrows raise.
"Oh, you're hungry, Rin-chan?" Bachira says, grabbing his wrist and pulling him forward. "You should have said so! Come on, let's eat while the food's still warm."
Rin could shrug him off, and easily at that, but he considers the alternative of having to ask the attendants here for food himself. Knowing how little energy he has for conversation right now, he ultimately decides that it's worth shedding some of his pride to take a share of Bachira's snacks instead.
It's petty revenge for all the times Bachira has annoyed him, Rin tries to justify, but he realizes that it’sstupid reasoning. No revenge could ever amount to every time Bachira has annoyed him.
Eventually, they're settled on a sofa pressed against one of the room's corners. Beside it, on Bachira's side, is an end table where plates of different snacks are placed alongside a ceramic mug.
Bachira takes the mug in his hands and picks up a plate of cookies to hand over to Rin. While Rin isn't very fond of sweets, he doesn't really hate them either, and with his stomach feeling so empty it borders on painful, he takes a couple chocolate chip cookies from the plate.
"They're good, right?" Bachira says casually.
Rin doesn't deign to respond, though he does scarf the first one down and takes a big bite out of the second. Bachira laughs beside him, not minding his silence, and hands him the entire plate. Rin sets it on his lap, finishing the second cookie.
Then, he turns to look at Bachira, who's taking a sip out of his hot chocolate. When he pulls the mug away from his lips, there's a smear of chocolate on his upper lip.
It's so bothersome. Must Bachira act like a child in every situation? Annoyance surges through Rin suddenly, and before he can think about what he's doing, he tsks, setting aside the plate of cookies to wipe the chocolate off of Bachira's mouth.
Instead of being surprised by this, Bachira reacts by saying, "Ah! Rin-chan, your hand is so cold."
Rin takes a tissue from the side table and wipes the chocolate off of his fingers, and it's only when he's satisfied with how clean they are that it registers to him what Bachira just said.
"It's winter," Rin flatly points out. He knows his hands would actually be cold no matter the season, so he doesn't know why he bothers justifying himself.
"It can't be helped, then," Bachira says.
Rin grunts, internally grateful that Bachira leaves it at that, but then Bachira leans over and takes both of Rin's hands in his own. His fingers are shorter than Rin's, so he can't exactly hold his hands properly, but he runs them up and down in a way that makes warmth spread all over.
"Doesn't that feel better?" Bachira asks, but Rin doesn't respond.
For a moment, he's transfixed on the sight of Bachira's hands on his, his mind wiped clean of any token protest in the face of Bachira's earnest determination to make sure his hands aren't cold.
Lukewarm, Rin had called him once, but Bachira isn't, because back then Rin had meant mediocre, and right now Bachira is anything but.
He's warm. Just nice and warm, like a summer day under the sun, flooding Rin's senses with a pleasant coziness that he will never admit to craving. Then, Rin looks up and sees how Bachira's face is set in concentration, his tongue sticking out from the side of his mouth.
Like this, he almost looks… cute.
It's that thought that has Rin glowering and snatching his hands back.
"That's enough," he says, and he wants so badly for it to sound stern, but it only comes out weak.
Lately, he's been weaker for Bachira than he cares to admit.
"Okay," Bachira says, leaning back. He doesn't seem put off, "If you want, you can have my gloves. They're upstairs, though, so you'll have to–"
"There's no need," Rin mutters. "I'm–"
Maybe it's karma for cutting Bachira off, but Rin is unable to finish his sentence on account of the front doors opening.
"Bachira!" Isagi yells, walking in with Chigiri and Kunigami behind him. "You said you'd come back out soon."
"Has it been that long already?" Bachira says, slowly rising from the couch. “I didn’t notice.”
"Clearly," Chigiri says, not unkindly. He walks towards Bachira and grabs his wrist, pulling him towards the rest of the group. It's a little reminiscent of how Bachira himself had pulled Rin along earlier, and Rin wonders idly if it's a habit he's rubbed off on his friends. "Come on, now. You can't avoid the cold forever."
"But Chigiriiin," Bachira whines, though he lets himself be dragged along by Chigiri anyways. "It's so nice and warm here. And besides, I was hanging out with Rin-chan!"
At that, three pairs of eyes turn to look at Rin, who stares back impassively. He isn't really sure what to say to that; they were hardly hanging out, but the fact remains that they were sitting together. What is Rin supposed to say? Oh, Bachira was just warming my hands up, that's all.
He's saved from having to say anything at all when Kunigami pipes in, "Stop bothering him, Bachira. Let's go skiing already, Isagi's been waiting for you for half an hour."
"He–" wasn't bothering me, Rin is suddenly, uncharacteristically inclined to say, but the rest of the words die down his throat when Bachira turns to look at him too.
Bachira has a way of looking at people like they're at the center of everything. Rin thinks it should make him feel unsettled, but somehow it only serves to make him feel cared for. It makes sense, because Bachira cares quite a lot, and it bleeds out of everything he does: playing football, spending time with his friends…
Warming Rin's hands up when they get cold.
Rin is struck very suddenly by the thought that he doesn't actually want Bachira to go just yet. It's been a while since Bachira's presence has bothered him, and recently he's come to find it tolerable. Right now, though, he grows numb at the realization that he's starting to crave it, too.
All of Rin's claims about him being lukewarm notwithstanding, Bachira has an infectious cheer and a comforting warmth that just draws people in. Bachira belongs with other people, deserves to bask in their plentiful affection. Rin knows it's something he can't give. Bachira's better off with his friends.
It's so unfortunate for Rin that he's been drawn in, too.
"You should go skiing," Rin finally says, and it's easy to keep his voice neutral, to ignore the impending sense of dread inside him. "We're going to be having dinner in less than an hour, anyway, so you won't have much time to do that before it gets dark."
Bachira looks at him strangely for a second, then he offers him a smile. "Okay, Rin-chan."
With that, Kunigami and Isagi head for the door, Chigiri trailing behind them with Bachira's wrist still in his grip. Rin thinks that's the end of it, but before they can step behind the threshold, Bachira turns back one more time and tells Rin, "I'll see you at dinner!"
Then they're gone, and Rin is left with himself and a growing sense of hope. It's terrible what Bachira is capable of with so little. Just a simple promise of meeting again, and suddenly Rin feels himself palpitating.
His hands are growing cold again, but his heart beats at a rabbit's pace inside his chest, making warmth flood through his body.
iv . kiss
Drinking is ill-advised, for a large number of reasons.
For one thing, they’re still active professionals; even if it’s the off-season right now, he’s still being irresponsible, knocking back one shot after the next. For another, he knows a searing headache is waiting for him the moment he wakes up tomorrow. It’s just as well that they chose to do this in Rin’s apartment.
His mind feels like mush, but Rin downs another drink, because the one offering it to him is Bachira Meguru. He'd busted into Rin's apartment, alcohol in hand, despite the fact that he should be far away in Barcelona. And Rin, against his better judgement, had taken up his wordless offer.
Rin shouldn’t get this drunk when Bachira is so close, but he can’t help it. The alcohol makes his mind hazy, weak for Bachira’s whims.
It makes him especially vulnerable to the way Bachira pats his hair down when Rin gives up on balance and lays his head flat on the table.
“Aw,” Bachira coos at him, like he’s something worthy of adoration. “We should probably cut you off, huh, Rin-chan?”
”Don’t want,” Rin grumbles, quite childishly. But if acting like a child gets him to be spoiled like one, it’s hard to complain.
Here is Bachira’s attention, soothing and gentle, in stark contrast to the thunder storming behind Rin’s eyes. All mine, Rin thinks so, so childishly. It should make him feel pleased, but instead it just makes Rin’s mind turn to maudlin places.
People don't really notice Rin. Not usually, or at least not in any way that matters.
That seems wrong, because he was the star player of the Blue Lock facility. He wasn’t at the heart of it like Isagi Yoichi was, but he stood on top of the rankings consistently enough that his presence was undeniably domineering.
Brilliant Itoshi Rin, so skillful and beastly. Now a god among pro-athletes, a monster on the field. A force to be reckoned with by any opponent that dares to face him.
But, really, what even is he outside of that?
A hollow thing, so worthy of being left behind.
He still thinks about that snowy night, with Sae looking down at his pathetic, writhing form on the ground. Years have passed since then. They're professional athletes now. Rin has a job and a home, and he should, for all intents and purposes, be over it.
He isn't.
Maybe it's no wonder that he's become so closed off, that he’s become someone who's prone to hiding himself away. Be private. Be secretive. Don't let anyone in so nobody sees the emptiness inside. Keep your secrets to yourself, that way they'll be safe.
But tonight, Bachira looks at him, eyes alight with mirth from the childish way Rin is acting. Bachira throws his head back, peals of laughter escaping him so freely, and Rin is so, so tired of pretending he isn't in love.
He shoots up suddenly and gives Bachira a kiss, capturing Bachira's laughter in his mouth. He's drunk now. Maybe, in hindsight, he'll realize it's a shitty thing to do, because it isn’t like Bachira himself is sober.
Rin still does it, though. The act feels almost unbidden, because Rin doesn’t think he’s the one controlling his body anymore. It’s as if his heart had lurched out of his chest, pulling him forward into Bachira’s space, making it so he can press his lips against Bachira’s own.
Bachira’s eyes are wide. Rin knows, because his own eyes are open, too, as if to commit this sight to memory, so that even if by tomorrow everything has gone wrong, he'll always have tonight, this moment, this feeling that he didn't earn but is in his hands all the same– a thief through and through.
i. heart
“Ah, Rin-chan, you shouldn't have done that,” Bachira says, and Rin feels his heart stop.
Rin had pulled away for the sole reason that he'd needed to catch his breath. If he had it his way, he would've kept kissing Bachira forever, but clearly they aren't on the same page.
There's an apology caught somewhere in his throat. He feels stone-cold sober all of a sudden, clarity flooding his once-cloudy mind. He wants to say it, I'm sorry, but he can’t.
Rin can't bring himself to apologize, because the sad, damning truth of the matter is that he isn't sorry. Not really. This night could happen a thousand times over, and Rin would still make the same choice again and again and again.
It's a good thing Bachira never shuts up, always runs his mouth. He looks Rin in the eye as he says, “It's not good to lead people on like that, you know.”
Rin feels his heart stop for a second time, for an entirely different reason. His eyes widen, jaw clenched. All the clarity in his vision has been rendered cloudy again, foggy with the haze of incredulity.
“Who's leading who on?” Rin says, almost accusatory. How dare Bachira imply that this is anything less than what it is?
Bachira chuckles, low, quiet. So unlike him, so bereft of amusement. “...Why did you kiss me, Rin?”
Rin. Not Rin-chan.
It occurs to Rin, very abruptly, that Bachira hadn't pulled away.
In lieu of answering him, of giving him an acerbic response like, why do you think, you idiot, Rin surges forward again, pressing his lips against Bachira's, because if there's one thing he's learned from Bachira's company, it's that sometimes you need to go for what you want.
His hands are clammy, shaking with the weight of the situation, the utter heaviness of how he feels. The audacity Bachira has, to think that Rin would be so half-assed as to kiss him and have it mean nothing.
Rin feels a buzzing against his lips, and it takes him a second to realize what's causing it: here it is again, that laughter that makes Rin's skin tingle with sunny warmth.
Bachira tastes unbearably sweet, saccharine in a way that Rin has never had a taste for, but he just can't bring himself to pull away.
He kisses Bachira like he wants to devour him whole, and Bachira just lets him, pushing back into him like he wants to be closer. Before Rin knows it, Bachira has crawled into his lap, but he keeps pressing forward, like he would tuck himself into Rin's skin and make a home for himself there.
Rin doesn't see the need for it–there's already plenty of space carved within him just for Bachira– but he lets him do as he pleases.
Rin rests his hands on the small of Bachira's back, firm but not bruising. Some time ago, he would've gripped hard enough to hurt; it's interesting to witness the softness that Bachira wrings out of him.
He's running out of air, light-headedness threatening to overwhelm him, but he still doesn't stop.
Bachira does it for him this time, pulling back with a smile on his face. It's unlike any look Rin’s ever seen on him, but he decides very quickly that he likes it.
“You didn't answer my question, you know,” Bachira informs, stumbling over his words. At first Rin thinks it's the alcohol, but he quickly finds that it's because of how much Bachira is smiling, giggles overlapping parts of his statement.
Rin replies with a question of his own. “Why are you here?”
What Rin is actually asking is: Why do you keep doing these things? Why do you keep approaching me, choosing me, even when I keep my distance? Especially then?
“Because I like it when I'm with you,” Bachira says plainly, and Rin can't help himself.
The words slip past his lips. “Why me?”
“Why?” Bachira echoes, like Rin's question is laughable. “Because you picked me, remember? During the Second Selection.”
Rin tilts his head, confused. They must look ridiculous right now, Bachira still perched haphazardly on Rin's legs. Still, Rin reminds him, “My teammates picked you. I wasn't that kind.” Rin wrinkles his nose, considering. “I'm still not.”
Bachira laughs. It's a sound Rin doesn't think he'll ever grow tired of. “You think so? I disagree.” Bachira shifts in Rin's lap, hands trailing to cup the sides of Rin's face. “I'm not talking about when your team stole me. I'm talking about the first time we played one-on-one. You called me lukewarm, but you still played with me, didn't you?”
Rin feels his breath hitch at the memory. Maybe he's been weak for Bachira from the very beginning.
Bachira tells him, “Kindness goes a long way, you know?”
And Rin can't find it in himself to disagree. After all, in return for all of Bachira's efforts, Rin's heart has jumped out of his own chest and fitted itself snugly between Bachira's palms.
How about that, Rin thinks. Maybe he's not the only thief here.
“It does,” Rin concedes. It feels natural to do so, like it's the next bullet point on a growing list of concessions. He'd let Bachira into his apartment, let himself be coerced into more than a few drinks. What's a little more, at this point?
Bachira smiles, delighted, and it makes Rin's chest feel light.
Of course his chest is light. It's empty now. No wonder Bachira had let Rin get away with so much. He gets as good as he gives, it seems.
Just another concession on Rin's end. It's one he finds he doesn't mind so badly.