00. A WEEPING ANGEL.

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RIN ITOSHI KNOWS WHO YOU ARE.

He isn't sure who doesn't, especially in his school. [name], the girl who is always alone. You don't talk in class. You don't ask for help. You don't even interact with your classmates. You just sit there, pen in hand and head slumped down. He isn't too sure why.

It wasn't like people disliked you. They didn't tease you. They didn't even try to talk to you anymore—not after your first year when a guy came up to you and got utterly ignored. You keep to yourself, and it seemed that most people respected that—even if some found you a little strange or rude. Nothing seemed to bother you.

You were absolutely, in every sense of the word, untouchable.

Rin was sure that you did not know who he was. He didn't mind, because it made it a lot easier to look at you without you noticing. Every day was always the same. You would walk in ten minutes early with a piece of milk bread.

You would eat it and hide the wrapper in your bag as soon as class starts. The class would end. You would walk out of class, face still as blank as ever, and then, he would not see you until the next period. Then, after that, he would not see you again until the next period. Something Rin had realised pretty early on, is that he would only ever see you in class. He had never seen you outside of school, or even outside of your own classroom.

You truly were an anomaly. A bright dash of colour within the boring, grey world, that stuck out to him like a sore thumb, and through a sea of people, he was sure that he would find you in seconds.

This new feeling, this new sensation of being so amicably obsessed with a person was a bizarre feeling to Rin. Before this, he was Sae's brother. Then, he was a soccer player. And now, he's your stalker, a title he had begrudgingly accepted from his idiot teammates who laughed at his fascination. Teammates he did not care for, not one bit—but still tolerated for the sake of playing soccer.

This is what Rin is thinking when he watches you, sharp teal eyes and long underlashes pointed directly your way. He doesn't care for the gossip that boils behind him or the person who throws a paper ball that reflects off your back and falls to the ground. It all occurs without you ever even flinching—let alone glancing backwards.

You just sit in your chair, feet planted directly on the floor and head hung down low. You don't speak. Nobody calls on you, so you don't have to. You don't even move half of the time. You've shuffled a grand total of 2 times during 50 minutes (no, Rin isn't creepy for counting) and class is almost over by the time you've finished writing in your notebook.

He's found himself comparing you to a porcelain doll more times than he can count. It's a bad habit—to compare real, living humans to inanimate objects like that—but can he really count you as a human? Are you even a human? You certainly don't act like one. 

You don't speak. 

You don't move.

You don't really do anything.

It's like you're barely alive.

Rin Itoshi is intrigued by you—as much as he hates to admit it. Everyone knows he's become increasingly angsty ever since that incident during a snowy day—and to catch the attention of somebody like Rin didn't seem to be a good thing.

At least, not for you.

Perhaps you are a character from a book—it is a silly, fleeting thought Rin has one day while he is in class and is bored out of his mind. He idly flicks his lead pencil up and down between his index finger and thumb. Maybe a character from a thriller detective novel—where the main character has to solve a mystery regarding somebody like you. Maybe he is that main character.

No.

Probably not.

Rin Itoshi is not fit to be a main character of any kind. He is far too perpetulant.

Still, that thought does not vanish. He remembers learning about an English show—Doctor Who (he was confused at first when his father mentioned to him—asking what the doctor's name was multiple times before realising he simply had no such name) and there was a race of predatory creatures called Weeping Angels.

They would stand still as a statue whenever it was in eyeshot, not bearing to budge or move. However, as soon as the character looked away—they would take their chance to strike. Rin was fascinated with such a concept whenever they happened to appear in the odd episode or two—staring in awe at the sobbing mass of stone. 

Forever fated to be in tears, because their woes are carved into their stone skin for the rest of eternity. Rin cannot imagine being met with such a fate. He would sooner die.

Maybe that is why he is so intrigued by you. Slinking away like a fox at any chance you got, never interacting with anybody and even your face stayed hidden most days—you were so similar, yet so different to those weeping statues.

Perhaps you're actually from a book. From what he's seen—you really are like an exaggerated anime-type of personality. Like the quiet-kid stereotype taken to an extreme. He wonders just how much character development you could get in a twelve-episode anime—a life such as his could not be as interesting as to get more.

That's only if he ended up being the main character, of course. Surely, it would be somebody else. Maybe the old lady who lives down the street with her three cats and visits her late husband's grave every Sunday. She probably has some interesting stories to tell. Maybe it would be his science teacher from grade school—he always rambled on about one thing or another, and even though Rin was young, he was old enough to know what a marriage affair was. (Not old enough to know what divorce entails, though.)

Maybe it would even be you. You must have some sort of interesting sob story to go with your personality—or perhaps a better way to describe it would be—with your lack of it. Maybe it would not be as drastic as both your parents died in a car crash when you were a baby and you were abused by your foster mom ever since (or maybe it would be, who knows?).

Or maybe Rin is just wrong—and you were just born like this. It'll look pretty bad if he just automatically assumes you have some sort of tragic past just because you're quiet and keep to yourself—but who knows? Not somebody like Rin Itoshi.

All Rin knows is soccer, and maybe a little bit about those Weeping Angels he was so fascinated about when he was little—when he would sit on the couch with Sae (so long ago—when Rin's feet wouldn't even touch the floor if he sat) and curl up for the latest episode his father downloaded from some (probably illegal) website.

Rin doesn't know a single thing about you. That is something he can pointedly say, and the world would agree. He isn't sure anybody knows anything about you.

All they know—all he knows—is the you that sits in class and does not flinch, does not talk, and at some point, he's sure you do not breathe.

You are the silent icy mystery that has caught Itoshi Rin's eye.

It feels like a novel. One hundred per cent. Maybe he's trying to distract himself from everything with Sae, or maybe he's trying to immerse himself in the world of fiction to stop thinking about soccer—whatever the reason is, Rin feels like he's a cliche character written in a novel right about now. It's an uncanny feeling.

Maybe it would end up being one of those thriller detective novels where something crazy happens and his life gets flipped upside down—or it could be a niche romance book where there are no interesting plot points or anything to hook in readers—just a slow-paced, mildly boring story about two highschoolers getting together.

Rin scoffs, quietly, and places his pencil down on his desk. What a joke. That is so cringe.

No way he seriously just thought that. Maybe the lack of soccer is really getting to his head. He hasn't shown up to practice since... his birthday. Five days ago. When he did not even receive a birthday text from Sae—he flipped out, and his teammates had to deal with the brunt of the anger, because it's not like he could scream at a soccer ball and expect it to solve all his problems.

No shot Rin Itoshi will ever experience such a cliche romance. No freaking shot.

Rin slumps down on his wooden table desk, and his chin slams into his book harder than he'd intended—the noise draws little attention, but it's easy to ignore it in favour of focusing on not letting the painful throbbing of his lower jaw show on his expression. He has to be mysterious—that's his whole schtick.

When the last person grows bored of analyzing Rin's deadpan expression, his eyes trek slowly back to your figure. You sit in a very convenient spot for him to have a good angle to see you, without looking strange. He's eternally grateful to this teacher's stupid seating plan—even if the others around him complain like they were seated on seats of spikes.

He could care less, honestly. Itoshi Rin does not care about most things. He only cares about three things, really.

Soccer. Beating Sae. Those shows he and Sae used to watch as young kids.

He thinks the whole Weeping Angel thing fits into the last category, by extension. Rin can see a sliver of your nose from behind your hair, and looking down at your lap—he sees something strange. You are staring at your phone, but it is not turned on. It's just a black screen with a few cracks running through the glass screen.

What are you even looking at? Whatever it is, you're staring at it like it's news of the devil reaching Earth. He's never seen you so jittery. Maybe you aren't just staring at a black screen—maybe you just have a really, really good privacy protector on your phone.

Who knows? Rin certainly does not. He isn't too sure he should care all that much, either.

You're pretty similar to those Weeping Angels, with your whole thing of never seeing you move, or do anything, ever, he's deducted. You are like a storybook character. He just doesn't understand you—but it's less of a him problem when nobody else does either.

But then again—it is just a silly, fleeting thought.