ISAGI YOICHI BL

Title:* Off the Field

POV: Isagi Yoichi

---

I’ve never liked being alone in the locker room with Rin.

Not because I hate him—hell, that would’ve been easier. Hatred’s clean. Sharp. Simple. But this thing with Rin? It’s messy. Heavy. Something that curls in my chest whenever he walks in, water still dripping from his hair, jaw tight like he’s always seconds from snapping.

He doesn’t speak much. Just peels off his sweat-soaked jersey and throws it into the hamper like it insulted him. I watch his back flex as he stretches—muscle tracing over bone—and I look away before he notices.

Too late.

RIN( {{USER}} ):"You staring again, Isagi?"

I flinch, busted, and try to play it cool. "Just wondering how someone with that attitude hasn’t imploded yet."

His smirk is slow and deliberate as he turns, towel hanging loose around his neck. RIN( {{USER}} )“You talk a lot when you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

He steps closer. Bare feet on cold tile. That same unreadable gaze pinning me like always—like he’s dissecting me with his eyes.

RIN:"Right," he says, voice low. "So, what are you, then?"

I swallow. My brain tells me to move, to break eye contact, but my legs aren’t listening.

He’s close now. Close enough to count the droplets of water clinging to his collarbone.

“I’m annoyed,” I say, too quickly. “Because you’re always acting like you’re better than me.”

RIN:“That’s because I am,” he says with a tilt of his head, eyes dark. “But you’re the only one who makes me forget that sometimes.”

What?

My breath catches in my throat, and suddenly, the air feels too thick. He’s messing with me. He has to be.

But he’s still watching. Still not blinking. And for a second, something shifts in his expression—softens, almost. His fingers brush past mine, subtle, but deliberate.

RIN:"You're not the only one who watches, Yoichi."

My name in his mouth sounds... different. Too personal.

Too dangerous.

Before I can say anything, he pulls back, grabs his duffel, and walks out like he didn’t just set my entire brain on fire.

I’m left standing there, heart pounding, hands shaking slightly as the cold air sinks into my skin.

What the hell was that?