Chapter Text
He doesn’t come down for lunch nor dinner, doesn't bother opening his door for the rest of the day, doesn't move from the confines of his bed. Sae never comes to check on him, and as the sun sets and the sky turns a dark, boundless blue, Rin knows it’s the end.
Here’s the thing, though: he’s always known this was temporary, that after everything was said and done, he would end his life, and this time, he would succeed.
It isn't a big revelation, but a constant in the back of his mind, lying behind every thought, waiting in the cusps of darkness.
He’s sweaty, palms clammy, skin suffocating, when he gains back awareness. He’s sure he’d fallen asleep sometime, curled under hot blankets, tired, always so tired.
It’s still nightfall when he pulls back his curtain, revealing the pitch-black sky. The house is impossibly quiet, stilled, like it’s just him in the whole world.
He heads downstairs, still in yesterday's sweats, and the house is shrouded in a silent type of misery, long shadows in every corner, memories he’d wish he had forgotten.
He decides he needs to leave.
It’s so easy, pushing open the front door, stepping out into the chilly night wind, letting his feet take him down the familiar road.
There’s no one but him outside; house lights dark, streets empty, and in it all, Rin is walking down to an all-familiar place.
He stops in front of a chain-link fence, the metal cold as he wraps his fingers around it. It’s been so long since he’s been back here, since he’s remembered the rush it gave him, the thrill he first felt as he kicked the ball, the thump against his foot, the feeling of the ball going into the goal.
It’s been so long since he’s remembered his big brother for what he’d been: kind. Now, the image of his brother ruffling his fingers through his hair has shattered, dissipating through his hands like smoke. It’s all gone, and no matter how Rin tries to remember, to get it back, to wonder, it’ll never come back.
It’s something he has to live with; the brother that looks at him and sees nothing, a mere stranger, someone unworthy. His grip tightens on the fence, making it creak, making the metal shift.
It’s pathetic, really, to be thinking of this now. He’s known all this time, has faced the fact countless times, and yet, every time, it still makes his chest ache, heart curling into itself, rotting away.
He steps onto the grass, streetlights illuminating the field just enough to take it in, to remember the goalposts, the white lines etched into the grass.
He doesn’t know why he came; maybe he simply wants to take it all in one last time.
He walks until he’s in the middle of it all, gazing at all around him. He doesn’t feel the same spark he’d felt when he kicked a ball, doesn’t remember the desire to destroy flooding through his veins, beating into his heart. It’s simply a game now.
Soccer just isn’t…isn’t what he wants anymore. He doesn’t know what this means, what has happened to him; everything seems so bleak nowadays, like he’s simply living because he has to, like he’s been pulled from the abyss and forced to continue on.
He sits down in the grass, cross-legged, sweatpants gathering the dampness. The coldness flows into him, bringing him back to where he is.
Everything has changed; Sae, soccer, even himself. Sae isn’t the same considerate older brother, Rin isn’t the same naive kid who thought his big brother could save him from anything, and soccer has been a passion that disappeared, fallen astray, and slipped through like water.
He wonders what Sae would think if he’d told him.
It doesn't matter, he decides, gripping the soft, moist grass underneath him, staining his hands green, letting the winds blow around him.
It honestly doesn't matter.
He goes home after that, walking through the front door, heart beating with an uneasy feeling, like Sae would be there, getting ready to scold him, to call him foolish and demand where he went, but it's the same quiet he had escaped from glaring back at him.
He heads back upstairs and waits for morning, for everything to come to its end.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t come to its end.
It doesn’t come down to anything, really. Here he is, sitting at their dining table, a small portion of miso soup and rice staring back up at him, and Sae is in the living room.
He wonders if he’s finally done it; pushed Sae onto the brink, finally has him gone. He remembers being unable to be apart from his big brother, craving all this care and attention, but when he’d had it, it just felt out of place, unbearable to stand. Maybe it’s better this way, he decides, looking back down at his food.
Near the bowl of rice, there was his capsule. He presses the antidepressant between his fingers, wondering if he should really take it. Sae isn’t watching him anymore, so he could just pocket it and flush it down the toilet, could simply hide it in a napkin and throw it away. The possibilities are endless, and he wonders if there is even any reason for him to take it anymore; it’s not doing anything, simply another step in his already taxing routine.
He pockets the pill and begins sipping at the miso soup.
The flavours don’t hit particularly hard; it's a simple dish, one he’s had hundreds to thousands of times. Still, the warm liquid soothes his empty stomach, filling it up, but even now, he doesn't bother touching the rice.
Footsteps are heard, and Sae looks back at him, his eyes glancing at the untouched rice, the miso soup that still remains in the bowl, but he doesn't point that out. Instead, when he speaks, he addresses something far bigger. “Did you take the medication?”
Rin feels the burning in his pocket, like it’s a dirty secret, and he can’t look into Sae’s eyes, so he averts them, looking at the clock on the oven. It’s almost ten a.m. now, later than he usually awakens, later than his usual routine, but he hasn't been following it for so long, so it doesn’t matter.
“Yeah,” Rin finally answers back, mustering a false nonchalance, waiting for Sae to uncover his lies, waiting until Sae finally leaves.
But Sae has never been one to listen to anyone, so he keeps staring, burning a hole into Rin’s wandering eyes, his own aqueous green staring back. It’s quiet and awkward, and Rin wants to run away, to forget the loud display he'd acted out yesterday, to go back in time and do himself right.
“Okay,” Sae eventually says, footsteps retreating, and in the end, Rin feels worse.
Rin was much too aware of the ever-present drawl that is living.
It’s a cycle of melancholy; to live on repeat, every day doing what you're made to do: to wake up, to eat, to play soccer, to sleep. Everything blurs in, and he can only distinguish between himself and endless days. He doesn’t want to stay like this forever.
So here he stands, in the bathroom, the pill swirling in the clear water and going down the drain and into the sewage system, losing any meaning that tied it to him.
Nothing is getting better. It's a plain, simplistic truth, he thinks, now in his bedroom, staring through his window, watching everyone else live their lives.
Couples hold hands, dogs are barking, walking through the street, children laugh, living carefree, kicking a ball around, like it isn’t life and death for him.
It’s in the happiness they all bear, the feeling of enjoyment running through their veins, making their hearts beat as they smile at mundane things. Maybe Rin was once like this too, but not anymore, not ever again, he decides.
He opens his phone, lying on his bed, scrolling through his feed. It’s all football. Scroll after scroll, the same game stares back at him. His other football-obsessed mind wouldn’t have cared, but now he can’t take the constant reminders, the knowledge that it really amounted to nothing.
He clicks his phone off, the black screen staring back, then he rolls over, staring at his ceiling, wondering about the absence of everything.
It’s like this for days, a silence waiting to be broken. Every word spoken to each other is another form of torture, another form of waiting for the inevitable breaking.
Sae’s movements are almost strained, like he’s hesitating, like he doesn’t know what to do, and Rin doesn't know what to do about himself either. He glances at Rin every time they are in the same room, stares at his face like he’s trying to see something, and Rin doesn’t know why. Maybe he’s waiting for Rin to say something, maybe he’s waiting for him to stop being such a burden.
Mealtimes are more often skipped than not, and he knows his body is thinner. It’s in the way his hoodie slides down his shoulder, the way his thighs seem slimmer when he sits down, the way the bones in his wrists bulge. His bones begin hollowing out, scooping his flesh until he feels every protruding part of himself, until he has nothing left to hide, and it’s disgusting.
Everything inside him is telling him to eat, but once the taste of food hits, it becomes a chore, another part of the endless cycle of his life, and he can’t let it win, so he stops, grazing at meals, letting hunger sit in his stomach until he feels sick.
He’s dizzy with it as he sits on the couch, watching reruns of some horror anime he hasn't paid enough attention to remember the name of. The screen blackened, then turned red as a jumpscare appeared, blood gushing from a body, but it doesn’t register in his head; he’s mindless as he stares at the TV.
Sae had forced him to come out, spewing shit like he couldn’t stay in his room all day, that he needed a change of scenery, and Rin couldn’t take the constant pestering, so he came down.
And here he is, sitting on the leather couch, putting on the first thing he’d found, with Sae on the other side, scrolling on his phone, not bothering to hide the surveillance he has on Rin.
Sae turns to look at Rin again, but this time, he speaks. “Do you want to watch something else?”
Rin startles, looking at Sae, at the calmness of his demeanor, the way he's still so composed. At Rin’s apparent confusion, Sae amends his sentence. “You haven’t been watching, just staring, so I thought you were bored.”
“I’m not,” Rin says back too quickly, turning away and scowling at the wall, making it the target of his glare.
Sae doesn’t speak for a beat, then, as tensions run higher and higher, suffocating them both, he replies with just one word. “Okay.”
Rin’s still in the living room, sitting on the couch, with Sae on the opposite corner, staring at a screen full of dead bodies, and he wants to scream.
It goes on like this until the rolling credits begin, and he stares at multitudes of white names against the black background, letting the hum of the soft music drown his thoughts, waiting until he can go back upstairs.
But Sae has always been unpredictable.
If it wasn’t for the way Rin was so conscious of Sae’s presence, he wouldn't have noticed him leaving as soon as the anime ended, wouldn't have heard the soft shuffle of his footsteps as he returned with two steaming cups of tea, and wouldn't already be staring back at Sae as he held one out toward him.
Rin almost doesn't want to take it, wants to throw a tantrum at Sae, to let anger and frustration win, but Rin is tired—has been tired for a long time now—so he takes the cup and lets the heat seep into his hands.
Sae sits back down, blowing at his tea, and goes back to scrolling on his phone, occasionally taking a sip.
It’s silent, uncomfortable, smothering as Rin takes a sip, and the soothing liquid burns his throat after every gulp.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” Sae had asked, looking into Rin’s eyes, giving nothing away.
Indignation flares in his gut, the urge to make him stop pretending everything was fine, the want to say so many cruel things, but ultimately, he doesn’t.
“No,” Rin almost whispers, tucking himself deeper into the couch seat.
It’s quiet as Sae keeps staring at him, almost waiting for something, but it never comes, and he nods, letting the moment wash over him, turning back to his phone.
Rin hates so much, and so many things, but he thinks he hates this the most.
Once, when they were younger, Sae would drag Rin with him, and he would follow with obedience, kicking a ball together, getting popsicles, and eating them by the shore, but now he lets it all go, and Rin does, too.
It’s childish, the way he wanted more, the way he burned his own bridges down, the way he still wants to go on that walk.
Soon, Sae gets up, leaving one last look at Rin before he heads to the kitchen, and Rin closes his eyes and pretends he isn’t drowning.
He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but in front of him is Sae, hand outstretched, like he was moments from touching Rin. Now the hand lingers awkwardly in the air, waiting for something, like they can go back to simpler times, times where touch was just instinct.
Rin can’t do this anymore.
“I’m going to bed,” Rin finally speaks, almost springing off the couch and past Sae. His steps are hurried, and Sae’s gaze is on his back the whole way up.
It all comes to a head one night, and Rin knows it was only a matter of time until Sae grew tired of it all, of having to care for his useless younger brother.
“Do you really think you can keep doing this?” Sae had asked, watching Rin shove his plate of fish away, barely touched. He pushes the plate back at Rin, gaze impenetrable, staring at the skin around his eyes. “You're going to eat that whole meal.”
“Since when have you cared?” Rin asks back, venomously, because Sae hadn't cared before, and now, just because Rin had tried to kill himself, he waltzes back into his life to make a mess of it and leave just as he had before. No, Rin won’t allow it, won’t fall for the pity acts.
Sae sighs like Rin is stupid, like he just isn’t getting it. “Do you think I can just sit here and let this happen?”
Rin wants to snarl something cruel out, like, "Isn’t this what you’ve done before my attempt?", just to make Sae remember, but he can’t; they're stuck in his throat, lying on his tongue, unable to be pressed out, to be spoken aloud. He knows he’s only waiting for the inevitable, for this all to explode in his face, for this fickle relationship to break apart.
Sae continues, unperturbed by Rin’s silence. “Do you think you can keep this up?” And his voice just grows louder, just like that night, harsher. “You're going to end up back in the hospital, and they're going to take you to a psych ward if you don't get your head on straight. They'll see the skin and bones you've become, and they'll take you away without a thought, and this time, I won't stop them.”
It feels like a judge's hammer, like his fate has already been decided, and Rin knows he's guilty.
“Maybe they should,” Rin yells, almost manic. The chair screeches hard on the wooden floor as he gets up, stumbling out of his seat. “Maybe I’ll be better without you!”
He wants to shut up, but everything is pouring out of him, like water, like blood. Then, almost as a confession of all his sins, Rin screams again. “I’ll just end up killing myself anyway, so it doesn’t matter!”
It really doesn’t. All this time, every day, every hour, every minute, there’s been an anvil on his chest, waiting until it finally crushes him, until he can just stop.
Sae’s eyes widen, the sheer force with which he gets up makes his chair topple to the floor, but he doesn’t pay it any mind, moving towards Rin, reaching out his hands, to hold, to stop him—Rin doesn’t know. He ruined their calm, escalated the situation beyond restoration, and he just can’t anymore.
“Rin!” Sae yells, desperation coating his voice, and Rin staggers out of reach, out of the dining room, feet moving before he can think.
He’s unable to look at Sae’s face any longer, at the no longer concealed shock there, his chest heaving with heavy breaths, like he’s dying. His ears ring with his pulse, and every word Sae speaks after is like mush, like he’s been submerged underwater, like he’s been drowning all this time.
His speed picks up as he enters the hallway, making his way out the door and into the cold night, ignoring the urgent shouts of Sae, the footsteps that are following, that grow closer.
Then he runs.
He runs and runs and runs. The wind in his hair, lungs burning, anything that helps him get away, past the lined-up houses, past the park where they’d play soccer, past the field where he’d first learn to kick a ball, past the convenience stores where they’d bought the blue popsicles. He runs past it all, burning, meeting a ruinous end, running until he finds it.
He doesn’t know where he is going; aimless and without purpose, not until Sae gives him that direction—in soccer, in life, in everything they've done—and even now, he knows he’s doing this all because of Sae. He doesn’t know where he’s going, what he’s going to do; he’s always been aimless, lost as he followed his big brother. It’s always been the same: follow their dream, follow him to defeat him. Sae’s right; he’s really just using his big brother as an excuse to play soccer.
His feet hurt under the pressure, the sheer weight he's landing with each step. The shoes he'd slipped on weren't meant for running at this speed, but he needs to get away, to keep running, to never stop.
The wind rushes past his ears, his cheeks chilly, the tips of his ears burning hot, and he thinks:
A low self-esteem won't do him any good.
That's what everyone says—the doctors, the nurses, anyone who's ever felt down will tell you that—but sometimes he wonders if Sae's words hold any truth.
Am I really worthless, big brother?
It sits heavy inside him, soaking into his heart, corroding his lungs, and it's in the indifference he can't muster. In the hope that still resides in his chest, aching with want, aching, always aching.
He keeps running.
He runs until the hard concrete is replaced by a softer sensation, and he looks down to see sand, to see an ocean in front of him.
His chest aches from exertion, his gaze captivated by the body of water, taking in it all for what it is. It’s so dark, the murky waters looking bottomless like this, like they could swallow him whole, like he could drown in them forever. Then, like he’d been lured in by a siren, he begins moving towards the thick, choking waters.
He doesn’t want to acknowledge how he could be like this forever, and maybe that’s why he lets himself be taken away, the water swaying around his ankles. It rushes into his shoes, and he feels the chill reverberate through his entire body, letting himself grow numb with it, but feelings aren’t that easy to turn off.
A tidal wave of feelings crashes into him as the water submerges to his shins, but he’s always been drowning, even now, as sobs spill out, choking on his own lungs. Still, he doesn’t stop, has never stopped running towards a foreseeable end.
The water sways at his thighs now, pants sticking to his skin, feeling heavier than ever, yet he still walks deeper, wanting this, wanting something to end.
Ever since he tried to kill himself, ever since he awoke in that hospital, the dam of his feelings has just been growing and growing. It’s unbearable being this alone, this jagged, and still having no one to turn to, to say what he really feels, and let the words be heard.
There’s a hole inside of him, gaping and screaming for something to fix it, to bring him peace. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be normal; he just doesn’t want to live like this anymore.
He doesn’t know what he’s been waiting for: someone to save him? To end his torment, the pain he keeps bottled up? It seems no matter what happens, nothing will change for Rin. He’s getting what he wants: attention, friends, someone who cares about him, but it’s not helping. Why isn’t it helping?
Could it just be that Rin was beyond it all, had fallen too deep?
His chest heaves, heart cold as the water laps at it, and still he goes deeper, the smell of salt flooding his nostrils, the moisture of the air in his mouth. He’s so cold, almost numb, and he feels impossibly heavy, like even another step is too much.
And as the water licks at his chin, he lets his head fall under, submerging himself fully.