Itoshi Rin

You’d always known Rin kept to himself. That quiet, clipped answers in class, a look that kept people at arm’s length, and a voice that could cut straight through any unwanted conversation without raising its volume. He wasn’t rude, not exactly. He just didn’t offer pieces of himself the way others did.

And most of the time, he didn’t like noise, didn’t see the point in small talk, and didn’t have the patience for people who couldn’t keep up. Most classmates kept their distance without being told to. He didn’t care for group projects, politely ignored invitations to hang out, and made it clear without ever needing to say it, that he preferred solitude. He was cold, people said. After that snowy night when Rin and Sae reunited for split minutes just to get stomped on by his own big brother and left alone again, really left a huge impact on him.

But somehow, over time, you’d fully slipped into his orbit. Maybe it was because you didn’t try to force your way in. With you it started somewhere quiet. A shared seat at lunch when all the others were full. Study sessions where you worked and he didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t listening to your rambling thoughts. Little moments, unremarkable to anyone else, where you kept showing up and making sure he wasn’t left out, which he didn’t show but was somehow calm with having company other than himself and soccer ball. You just… stayed. Sat next to him when no one else would. Talked to him even when he barely responded, knowing he listened and filtered the information anyway. Noticed the way he liked his water ice-cold and how he only listened to music when he was falling asleep. And slowly, without either of you acknowledging it, you became the exception to all the walls he never let anyone climb.

You weren’t sure if you’d call it friendship, exactly. And Rin in his turn, never treated you with anything close to warmth, but there was something in the way he’d pause to wait for you after school, or how he’d mutter a dry comment under his breath just to make you snort when you were in a bad mood. His expressions rarely shifted, but when you were around, his silences felt less sharp. A little more breathable.

That afternoon after classes, you were in his room by some small miracle or another, helping him with mini-model of house we had to finish for your shared last-minute school project in crafts. It was rather peaceful. The only sound was the scissor blades cutting the paper and the occasional rustle wooden sticks while Rin sat cross-legged nearby, wordlessly cutting and shaping the sponge to make a tree model.

He stood up to get something from the other room, muttering stern:

“Don’t touch anything on the desk.”

At first you took it fully respectful, not wanting to let your curiosity take guard or snoop. But eventually you needed glue gun to stick all the pieces together. Not finding it placed or hidden somewhere on his neat desk, you decided to take minor risk and quietly open the lower shelf, guessing u would find something similar down here. Perfectly organized stacks of papers from school works, soccer magazines, reports and monotone thick notebook with leather cover, which was only one in all space. Even though you found the glue gun but it was already forgotten, all attention drifted on that notebook. It’s looks, the opposite, was absolutely nothing special to dive deep in or overthink what it might be, meant to be blended into other books background, alas that curious glint got better of you and your fingers reached for it before your thoughts caught up.

The first page was dated months ago. His handwriting was clean and calculated, the kind of penmanship that came from someone who never rushed, who always meant what they wrote. And at the very top of the page, your name.

07:29 AM. Monday They texted me at 2AM before school because they couldn’t sleep. Sent me a photo of their cat curled up like a croissant and added “goodnight :p” with a little heart emoji. I couldn’t fall asleep after that. I kept looking at the message. I never reply to texts that late. I replied anyway. I don’t think they realized what that meant anyways.

13:36 PM. Wednesday They drew a star on my hand in pen. Said it was for so called protection because I looked stressed. It’s still faint after washing. I didn’t scrub it off. I looked at it during practice. It helped. That’s dumb. It still helped.

11:02 AM. Thursday They braided part of my hair. I said they were annoying. They said “you let me though.” That’s true. I did. It wasn’t bad. I didn’t take it out until I got home. It was a little messy by then. I stared at it for a while before undoing it. I think I liked how their hands felt.

14:48 PM. Friday I despise seeing that fucking annoying cockroach named Shidou next to them. Desperately trying to charm or drag a laugh out of them. Didn’t know they had such lukewarm taste. Pathetic.

After reading these you could help but feel warm feeling spread inside your chest. These were the things he never said out loud, exactly every page had a little something about you. A moment you had forgotten that he had quietly memorized.

After finishing reading these notes he left behind till this present moment, you saw small transparent bag with zipper with random stuff secured inside.

Tucked into a neatly folded pouch, tied closed with the drawstring from an old jersey, were objects so ordinary, so small and random, but ones that it took you a second to understand them.

A hair clip. Yours. You’d lost it in his room weeks ago.

A note he has forgotten or didn’t get the chance to pass to you: “Don’t forget to eat your nutritions, idiot.”

The receipt from the first café you ever dragged him to, circled with your messy handwriting: “Rin’s first sweet drink – he didn’t hate it!!”

A dried flower. Not pressed, just... gently dried and wrapped in tissue. You gave it to him on a walk home once, stuck it in his pocket and called it his “emotion support flower.”

Neatly folded sticky note with you both drawn in cartoonish style with stick arms and legs. Your scrabble you did during last week’s math class, which u remember trying to throw in his direction carefully but ended up throwing directly into his hair, making it get stuck. Of course you remember.