44. ITOSHI RIN

note: hehe. fanservice chapter. sorry guys (not really)

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YOU

take a seat beside the bed Rin is currently sitting on. You peer at him through your lashes—over your shoulder with a solemn expression, "Keep your head pointed upwards, otherwise you'll lose too much blood and feel light-headed."

No longer does he snark back a sassy quip or even call you mediocre (or any variant), he simply does what he is told and it gives you immense satisfaction. But it's still not enough. Not enough for you to forgive him for this whole stunt he's pulled, anyway. That part... really pissed you off.

A manager will be chosen to represent Blue Lock... and if that manager isn't me... Your eyes narrow. I'll have no one to blame but them.

You type on the computer harder than you should—fingers smashing into each letter like it insulted your mother and your jaw taut shut. It's so obvious (oblivious to yourself only) that even Rin gives you a strange stare from how his head is awkwardly turned upwards, long lashes almost covering the teal of his eyes.

"You and Shidou..." You finally spit out, when you finish up the report after about ten minutes. Your posture is completely rigid and you can't stop glaring when you finally turn to him, "Are fucking lunatics. Even worse. You ought to be locked up with him."

Rin clenches his teeth but immediately regrets that decision when a blaring, white-hot pain shoots through his nose at the action. He instinctively clutches his nose in retaliation, which makes you scoot your chair over and sit in front of him.

In your shared room—now, only shared between you and him for the prospect of your own safety around Shidou—Rin sits on the edge of the blue bed while you sit right in front of him, perched on a chair like a cat.

You lean forward, looking at his nose and inspecting it carefully. Rin almost feels embarrassed from how close you two are together—your eyes focusing on his face like it's art. A strange feeling wells up in his stomach, which confuses him, because he's never felt about you like this before.

You finally look away, only to appear back with gloves on your hand. You reach your hand up towards his face—only for Rin to slap it away with a glare, "What do you think you're doing?"

You glare right back—maybe as a fighting threat, who knows—with fury burning in your eyes. Even angrier than those soccer players Rin's so used to, you practically spit the words at him, "I'm. Helping. You. Because it's my job. Now, if you want to walk around with a potentially broken nose—you do you."

Rin digs his fingertips into his palm, but doesn't say a word as you start poking and prodding at his nose. Pain shoots through his system, but he doesn't dare flinch, and absolutely not will he wince. Whatever shambles are left of his pride and ego fuel this desire to not let you see him in pain—for whatever reason.

You look at it for a few minutes longer, before removing your hand and sliding off your disposable plastic gloves. You turn back to your computer and type in a few more things on the blank document that's slowly being filled with letters, "Well, good news, he didn't break your nose. Bad news, it might be a little tilted to the side from now on. You can probably fix it with surgery, but I'm not qualified for that."

The joke you make does not fly over Rin's head like you expect, rather, he snorts, but it feels rather condescending. Of course, you're not a surgeon—look at you! are exactly what you believe his thoughts are at this moment.

You roll your eyes and shake the thought away. Rin's nose twitches when he sees you pour a solution of some kind into a cup—then dip a cotton swab into the solution, and soak the material thoroughly. "This might sting a little because of the blood. You shouldn't have broken any skin, but this is just to make sure."

Sting a little—Rin almost laughs, and he would've if this fucking alcohol didn't hurt so goddamn much. He clenches his jaw hard at the burning pain, seething groans escaping through his teeth. Fuck. This hurt really bad.

You seem to have at least a little empathy left in your husk of a body because, with your free hand, you grip his own tightly. You're not sure if it works—but it does. Rin's face suddenly feels hot against the cool alcohol, and he wonders if maybe all that blood rushed to his head.

"Sorry," you mumble out, barely audible—but the room is so quiet he can hear you with perfect clarity. You finally dip that horrible cotton swab away from him, tossed behind you haphazardly (he's sure you'll spend thirty minutes looking for it later) and scoot away to dig through your first-aid kit again.

Rin sits on the bed, tapping his fingers against the covers from time to time. Once. Then twice. Then once more. Then twice again. The sheets are cottony and not very soft—but it doesn't bother Rin. He shuffles his feet back and his skintight, standard Blue Lock uniform suddenly feels too suffocating. It doesn't help that his nose still feels like it was scalded by boiling water.

You finally come back, multiple items in your arms. A pink cream, a bunch of tissues, tape and a large, thick plaster. You drop them all on your lap when you sit. Apart from the cream, Rin's seen all these items scattered around Blue Lock before. 

The budget really is low.

You slid open the lid on the pink cream—when Rin squints hard enough at it, he can make out the words Numbing Ointment—and dip your pointer finger into it, swirling around until you have your desired amount. "This will be cold," you inform quietly, before running your fingers over his nose once more and spreading the sweet feeling of numbness all over.

Already, the pain has become far more tolerable, and Rin feels like he can breathe again. You shake the leftover remnants of the cream off your finger with a tissue before you stuff one up his nose without warning. He jolts back, eyes narrowed in a sharp glare, but you don't give him the satisfaction of returning it.

You place the plaster on his nose and instruct him to, "Hold it there." He almost looks mad at being bossed around—but he's smart, you deem, so he listens to you. You pick up the roll of medical tape and tear off a few pieces with your teeth. Then, pressing down once more on the plaster (that was more similar to a roll of fabric), you tape it down to his face.

It takes a little while of Rin sitting in an awkward (and rather uncomfortable) position, but you eventually finish, and the end product is not as bad as he expected—catching his reflection in the metal door behind you. You finally lean backward, a satisfied smile on your lips—but when you realise you are smiling, it immediately drops and you turn back to your computer once more.

Now, Rin is left sitting there, with a numb nose and a frown formed on his lips.

What can he even do now?

Apologise?

Rin Itoshi apologising is a joke in your mind that you laugh at every time. You don't even consider the nothing short of conflicted look on his face at that moment when you snort at your thought.

"You should rest for a while and make sure nothing touches your nose." Your fingers fly across the keyboard faster than Rin's ever seen—but he simply scoffs and turns his head away before he finds himself staring for too long.

"This is all Shidou's fault, anyway. Lukewarm idiot."

You tilt your head back so you can see him—but the only sight you get is the back of his head. "Don't place all the blame on Shidou. You both started it."

"Excuse me? Why are you defending him?" Rin gives you an offended look—something you don't understand, because you don't think it wasn't that big of a deal, especially not big enough to warrant a reaction like this from him. 

You spin your chair so you're facing him, brows furrowed and lips turned down, "I'm just being honest. Just because I'm not the biggest fan of him doesn't mean I'll listen to you blindly. I'm not just your manager, Rin—Shidou's my obligation too."

Rin isn't sure why the words make his teeth grit and his heart churn down into his stomach. He clenches his fists—hard—with narrowed eyes, "Right, because you have to baby him, too?" 

What is he even saying? What's the point he's trying to get across?

Even he's not sure.  But he is sure that his words have successfully ticked you off—with the way your posture turns hard and rigid once more, and you stand up—stomping in front of him and looking down, "Excuse me? Did you seriously just say that? Just because Shidou smashed your nose in doesn't give you an excuse to talk to me like that."

Your voice is threatening and warning—but Rin doesn't take that warning, standing up straight too and looking down at you with a sneer, "I'm right, aren't I? You give what—a shock or two to Shidou, and expect everything to be fine? Obviously, it's not fucking helping."

Just shut up. Be quiet.

What am I saying?

Your teeth grind down together and it takes whatever's left of your self-control to not sock him right in the jaw—because then, you would definitely lose your job (if you haven't already). Your nails dip sharply into your palm—it hurts—but you can barely feel it from how angry you are right now.

Who are you to tell me what to do?

You're the fucking worst.

"Shut up," you finally manage to say, voice shaky and it's so very clear you're holding your anger back. "You don't know shit. Do you want to tell me how to do my job? Then you do it. Tell me, Itoshi, what the fuck is a better way to deal with Shidou? You don't know, right? Because you lack people skills, obviously, since you get into a throwdown with Shidou every single time you two see each other!"

You're getting heated. You need to cool off before you say something you'll regret. You're already cursing yourself out of the words that fall off your tongue—but you're so pissed you can hardly stop yourself.

"I lack people skills?" He scoffs, as if what you said was a bad joke. "You're the idiot manager who doesn't know how to do a simple job properly. If you did know, I wouldn't be here with a fucked nose!"

He raises his voice significantly, and god, two can play that game.

"Me, an idiot manager?" You repeat his words even louder, nose scrunched up and you have half a mind to actually fracture his nose. You scream in his face, glaring daggers, "If it weren't for this idiot manager you would have your skull cracked in half! Consider yourself fucking lucky that you're still standing here right now! Shouldn't you feel pissed that you owe your brains to this idiot manager?!"

Rin is silent. He doesn't say a word. He only looks down, fists clenched so hard that his knuckles turn a milky white, and his bangs cover his ridiculously beautiful eyes. You push on his shoulder—as if trying to start a fight—and lean closer to his face, maybe to get a glimpse of what his expression is—"What? You don't wanna fight anymore? Well, guess what, Rin, I got a lot more where th—!!!"

You're abruptly cut short, and your voice dies in your throat at what Rin has suddenly done. He reached his hands up, faster than you could react, and leaned down—crashing his lips into yours faster than you could blink. You don't react for the first couple of seconds—everything just feels far too surreal.

Is this really happening? Are you really kissing Rin at this moment?

But it doesn't take you long before god—you're feeling everything too much all at once that you just—

You grab ahold of the skintight suit he's wearing and tug him forward—he has to bend down to accommodate your tugging—and you kiss him with so much ferocity that you wonder if it's even you who's controlling your body at this moment.

It's messy—it's more teeth than tongue and you feel disgusted—but you just can't get enough. It's like you're trying to convey all your thoughts and insults towards Rin in this kiss—you're sure he feels it, he just doesn't care. He groans into your mouth and you're really fucking embarrassed that the first thing you think of when he does, is that you'd like to hear it again.

Rin crashes onto the bed behind him when you push him back—but he refuses to let go of the hand around your waist, so you fall on top of him. It doesn't deter nor stop either of you from continuing, however—panting into his mouth like you're nothing but a damn, drooling dog.

This is so fucking gross.

I want to vomit.

If there's one thing you're sure of—it's that you really don't like Rin Itoshi. You're sure he doesn't like you, either—so that's why, when when you entangle your hands into his hair to jerk his face forward, you tug harder than you need to—eliciting another groan from the man.

This was nothing like the kisses you shared between Chigiri and Nagi—those felt loving. Sure, Nagi was a little intense, but it was nothing like this. You couldn't feel an ounce of love or fondness from this kiss—it was like he was trying to devour you whole so he never had to hear a word from you again.

Rin was pissed. Lightheaded, sure, and his heart might be beating a little too quickly for kissing somebody he supposedly hates, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care if you can feel the beat of his chest underneath your palm, nor does he care when you whine—sweetly—into his mouth when he bites down on your bottom lip (as a petty form of revenge—since you tugged his hair so hard).

Rin also doesn't want to admit that this feels way better than he expected. Usually, when he got mad (which, let's be real, was pretty often) he would usually just sit in another room and meditate until he either found himself focused on something else, or just becoming careless of whatever situation he was wrapped up in. 

But ignoring the problem at hand, or even just focusing on another, lesser problem instead—did not feel nearly as good at this. Maybe, he thought while gripping your hips so hard he's sure it'll leave marks, he'll have to rethink his methods of sorting out his anger.

The room feels scalding hot now, and he's sure the temperature's risen by at least fifteen degrees. His face is red, he's sure. But he can barely focus on it when you kiss him so violently—so unlike you—that it makes his hands shake.

Rin's always found you easy on the eyes, though he's never really brought it up or thought about it too hard. He's sure everybody in Blue Lock does—and that's why he's also sure it was a big part in why his first instinct to get you to shut up, was to kiss you. It's irrational, and plain stupid—but Rin's never been known for his rationality outside of football (really, even during it, too).

He's lost his breath and his words. You're so close to him that he thinks that you might fuse together. You grab ahold of his face with one hand—tugging his dark locks in the other—and bring his head back, so you can finally catch your breath. Rin isn't sure how long the two of you were going at this—but the way you pant against his lips hotly, he's sure it's been a while since the two of you had parted.

Your lips are glossy and have reddened from kissing him—Rin hates how much it makes him want to kiss you more—but you wipe it away quickly, eyes narrowed at his own, moist mouth. "Fuck," Is the first thing you mumble, face burning hot. Your stomach won't stop twisting, and you almost regret what happened.

But really, you can't bring yourself to.

Besides, it's not every day that you get to see somebody like Rin look this pathetic—cheeks burning red, scrambled on his bed in an awkward position, chest rising and falling erratically and an expression fitting a loser like him—he looks almost sad to see you move away.

Loser. You know now. Rin Itoshi is a huge loser. His only saving grace is how good he is at kissing, you guess.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, and Rin quickly sits up in a less exposing position. You turn your back away and slip your slippers onto your bare feet. You think your heart might just beat out of your chest if you stay here any longer. You speak once you've caught your breath—in a huffy tone—you say, "You need to watch your mouth."

You hear Rin scoff from behind you, "You need to stop getting on my nerves."

You roll your eyes—even though he can't see, and only has an eyeful of the back of your head—and walk away, not wanting to put up with his shit any longer. Rin Itoshi is a huge loser, that's what you determined today. 

Rin watches you leave, and walk out that door until you're no longer in sight. He watches a little longer than he should've—looking at where you had disappeared, and he suddenly feels the urge to go after you. But he doesn't, lest his pride eat him alive.

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, then winces, slapping his hand over the lower half of his face. He now feels just how fucking hot he's grown, and he can't stop the way his heart threatens to rip out of his chest when he thinks back on how animalistic you felt, "Fuck." He says, to nobody.

"Fuck."

 He looks down, blunt nails digging into the clothing of his thigh. I really hate you, he thinks, face red hot and fingers trembling.

Rin Itoshi is a huge loser, you discovered, but he's also a big, fat liar.

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