02. ONE LAST TIME, THEN I WILL FADE INTO THE SOFT WIND AND LEAVE THE WORLD CRYING BEHIND ME.

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It's been a day since you two shared that particular class together, and you have not spoken to him (and by extension, that means to anybody) since. In fact, if he paid close enough attention—he would've been sure you were actively avoiding his presence. He's never seen you skip a class before today.

Weird.

Did he say something weird? He doesn't think so. Or does he? Maybe you found it weird he only said a grand total of two words to you yesterday. Maybe it made you uncomfortable.

Maybe his general demeanour just freaked you out. It wouldn't be anything new to Rin-he didn't look like the most approachable young man in the world—as he has scared off multiple little kids with just his face (and he really does hope it's not because he may appear ugly like a beast—he's seen enough shows to know where that goes).

It would be ten times worse with you, then—if he tries to talk to you, you may run away like a frightened stray and then his life would get all messed up because people would think he had done something to the poor, silent woman and since she's so silent she won't say anything about it and then—

Ugh.

Rin's face falls flat into his hands and—being all alone while the rest of his classmates are all out to lunch—he groans. Loudly. His teacher gives him a stark look—but other than that, he receives no reaction.

Great—now you have him overthinking, too. Rin has a case of RBF and chronic sassy-man syndrome—but he was also cursed with the disease of overthinking. Sometimes he wishes he were just a robot or something—so that he could just shut his brain off with the flick of a switch and power back on later so he could leave all his problems to a misfortunate, future version of Rin Itoshi.

You make Itoshi Rin's life ten times more interesting and difficult simultaneously. He didn't think he would ever become so (normally, and not at all strangely) infatuated with somebody like you—but the world works in strange way, and Rin is no stranger to that fact.

There's no point in waiting around, right?

(He did so with Sae—and look how that turned out.)

He might as well just go for it.

...Right?

Right.

Not right. Wrong, actually. It's the complete opposite of right.

After lunch ended and he found his way to his next class, he gathered up all the figurative balls he had and decided to ask you, straight-up, like a man.

(He did not end up going up to you and took the easy route out with a note.)

Looking back on it now—Rin thinks he should've just talked to you face-to-face instead of sending you a measly piece of paper because as soon as you had taken one good glance at it—you tossed it into the bin behind you with scarily perfect accuracy.

You flat-out ignored him in the middle of class. Him—Rin Itoshi. He doesn't want to sound conceited, but he knows how many chocolates he receives on Valentine's Day. He saw the look of vivid disappointment on that girl who sat beside you's face when he whispered to give it to you—her perky pigtails deflated comically as she did so in despairing silence.

Rin thinks he might have just gotten unintentionally rejected, even though he did not ask anybody out. This is what rejection must feel like, he thinks.

He does not have any plans to ask you out—but hey, at least he knows where he stands with you. On a steaming hot pile of trash. Maybe he is slightly above that boy who teases you about your math scores after each test—but he surely cannot be too high in the [name] rankings. What a bummer.

Anyway, Rin is feeling pretty dejected from that face-palming interaction. It's not the greatest thing to experience in the middle of Geography—especially when his teacher has been going on about how the economy is failing for an hour now (though, they're supposed to be learning about water supplies. What a world).

And it was pretty embarrassing. He thinks the perky-pigtailed girl beside you thinks you just rejected him. If she gives him one more pity look he just might jump out the window. He's damn near close to it—he could make it happen. His teacher is so wrapped up in their political views he's sure they wouldn't even notice. They would only be alerted by the stupid whoops and cheers that would surely come along with his reprehensible behaviour.

With that thought—the bell churns in his ears and he finally finds himself free from this prison of a class. Except for the fact his teacher says, very loudly, "Excuse me, the bell does not dismiss you, I do!" Leaving this room has never felt more relaxing. He thinks a weight has been taken off of his shoulders like he was bench-pressing, squatting—or whatever the workout was called.

He slings his bag over his shoulder and grabs the papers he was supposed to be working on during class. Things got a little off track when their class's resident slacker asked about a topic they knew their teacher was a little bit too passionate about.

He sighs.

Rin's really tired. He didn't get much sleep last night. It had nothing to do with you—though, he isn't too sure why he feels the need to specify that—he just forgot to do the homework, and if his grades dropped too low, he would be kicked off the soccer team.

Is he even on it, anymore? It sure doesn't feel like it. He has still not shown up since the last time you and he talked. He can't tell whether he hates it, loves it, or both—love is such a fickle thing that Rin wants nothing to do with it—not anymore.

Rin walks out of the room and finds himself on the rooftop. He doesn't eat with anybody. He doesn't really have any friends, but it doesn't bother him. The people at his school are all gross slugs, anyway.

He pauses, staring up at the clear blue sky. Thought, he thinks, he doesn't think he'd mind sitting with you. You're quiet. More silent, really—but it still counts. You're neat and organised—apart from when he would see you on your phone, shaking and jittering like you had just received news of a nuclear air strike.

You're okay. He guesses.

He wished you would bother to interact with him, though.

Rin looks down at his bag. Then, he pulls out a container of food. It is a sandwich. With white, crustless bread, spam and pickles—it looks absolutely vile. Still, he puts it in his mouth and begins to chew. He doesn't have anything else. Might as well eat what he was given. Sometimes he wishes his mother had a bit more of a culinary taste—but he couldn't complain. It wasn't like he was any better.

The cook in his family was always his dad and Sae.

He bites down hard on a slice of pickle and the juice tastes salty on his tongue—but not nearly as salty as his facial expression with the mere thought of the redhead. Rin groans—a drawled-out sound that reverberates through his throat—and throws his head back. It bumps against the hard white wall that he is leaning on.

Rin gets another mouthful of pickle juice when he chews and he feels like he wants to die. That mouthful of pickle juice makes him rethink, actually.

I'm so sick of pickles. I fucking hate pickles.

His incredible soccer aim comes in handy when he balls up the gross lump of food inside its aluminium covering and tosses it straight into a garbage bin that was several metres away from where he sat. Rin swallows his last bite with difficulty—his whole body convulsed and he thinks it's going to come back up any minute now—but he chokes down the food like a champ.

He shivers in disgust when it finally slides down his throat. Disgusting. They're disgusting.

The pickles make him think. It's a comical statement—but true, nonetheless.

Is he really going to wuss out?

If Rin could swallow those pickles, he could do anything.

This is his mindset as he stands up—long legs stretching out in front of him in long strides when he begins walking across the school rooftop.

You're here somewhere. He just knows him. He can feel it in his bones (which is not creepy at all, of course).

His bag bumps against his hip with each step he takes. It's mildly annoying, but Rin is far too focused even to notice menial things like that. He doesn't know when the next time he'll feel motivated to do this will be, so he might as well take advantage of the chance his mental him is allowing him to feel.

It does not take too much effort to spot you. Spending a good third of class just staring at you allows him to notice you with ease. It sounds a lot more stalker-ish than he had envisioned in his head.

You're sitting alone, per usual, with a container of food on your lap and a blank expression on your face. You're noticeably farther away from the nearest group of people—really pushing into the whole loner stereotype to a tee.

You don't even glance up at him until he's standing above you, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed downwards. He looks like a bully. It draws a few whispers, but those people couldn't care less about you.

Rin suddenly feels incredibly awkward staring down at you while your tired eyes are pointedly looking up at him. He stares at your face for a few, hot moments.

You have a little scar above your lip. It shifts with each time you chew your food. And you have pretty long eyelashes. Your face is a little uneven but barely noticeable and you have pierced ears, but no jewellery decorating them.

"Can we work on the project?"

Though he intentionally tried to make his way of saying words a little more people-friendly, and even though he tried to phrase it like it was nothing like a harmless question—Rin really does feel like a bully with the way he's glaring down at you with his irritated tone.

You do not look the least bit bothered by this, again. You really do weird him out.

"Okay."

Your voice is quieter than he remembered, and he finds himself instinctively staying quiet himself if only for the chance to hear you say something else—all it does is breed more awkward silence. God, Rin really does want to die.

"... Where do you want to do it?"

You halt your chewing for a second to answer him. "Local library. After school, tomorrow."

Rin takes a step back away from you so that he isn't practically pinning you against the wall. How embarrassing. "Okay. Bye."

He turns around on his heel and abruptly leaves before he has the chance to make an even bigger fool of himself.

His stomach churns uncomfortably and he suddenly feels sick. He clutches his torso with a beating heart.

Maybe that pickle did more to him than give him the mental fortitude to go up to such an inhuman being like you.