Chapter Text
Blue lock’s facilities were never open all hours of the day.
The fields were available 6AM-7PM because 24/7 maintenance would be a bitch to deal with. That’s what Shidou tells himself, at least. There were several instances in which Ego had proved he couldn’t care less about the health of his players, so overexertion wasn’t a viable reason. Regardless of the real explanation, there were only so many hours a Blue Lock player was allowed to exercise. The gyms and training rooms had a similar schedule, 5AM-7PM.
Each team in the Neo-Egoist League has a curfew to return to their respective stratums by 7:30PM each night, the physical gates to each other opening once more at 5AM. Trying to work around it seemed more trouble than it was worth, and Shidou wasn’t fond enough of anyone else to sneak out to see them, anyway, so he never tried his luck.
From 12AM-4AM, the cameras and microphones for BLTV were disconnected. That time frame was so minuscule and pathetic, Shidou figured it was the way Ego could placate the parents who cared enough to worry about their children's unexpected live broadcasts on TV. At least they’ll get four hours to themselves, while sleeping. He would roll his eyes into the atmosphere if it were possible.
Speaking of, the personal curfew was 11PM. It was generally advised that players sleep from 9PM-6AM, but only the uptight rule followers really abided by that one. There was nothing wrong with adhering to that advice, but they were teenagers. Who was going to bed at 9PM by choice? Shidou couldn’t be arsed to figure it out— he slept from 11PM-7AM. He woke up in time to do an hour of cardio, shower, then eat breakfast before the cafeteria closed until lunch hours, so that sleep schedule worked perfect for him.
Unfortunately, it was 10:37PM and a fight with Rin from earlier in the day had left him with a scolding from Loki and another round in the “Correction Room”. His entire schedule was thrown off just because he gave the Boy Wonder of Blue Lock a split lip. Instead of winding down in his bed, staring at the wall blankly like a purposeless husk, he had just been released from the prison of flickering lights and white walls he’d visited multiple times by now.
An important detail of his 11PM bedtime was that it was the personal curfew. He couldn’t be seen outside his room after then, lest he get punished. It was a mild consequence compared to the straitjacket— Karasu got his side dishes revoked for a day after he snuck out to see Hiori in the Bastard Stratum, and breaking Stratum curfew seemed to be worse than personal— but Shidou wasn’t sure he wanted to push his luck with Ego’s tolerance of him. If he was feeling argumentative, which was often, he’d offer that putting him through the same just-barely-legal torture methods with zero behavioral improvement called for a change in tactics. But if Ego was that sensible, Shidou supposes Blue Lock wouldn’t exist in the first place.
The point is Shidou had a bedtime for a reason. It wasn’t born out of routine, but an agonizing sense of loneliness he could only acknowledge when he was lying in bed, nothing to keep his head busy. It bothered him, and he could admit that, but he would not outwardly show it. Sulking didn’t mesh with the sort of person he was. So, when he felt the overwhelming urge to curl into a ball and cry himself to sleep, he had the comfort of knowing he could freely roam his teammates’ presences until his established sleeping time. Most of them slept later than him, except Nanase, who was one of the players who took all of Ego’s words as monk-like wisdom, and Loki, who was suspiciously well-adjusted for a 17 year-old in his position. But tonight was ruined for Shidou because of Ego’s dickery, so he’s outside Rin’s door to stave off the impending collapse of his mental state. He had an excuse to talk to him, even if he quite disliked the younger boy. It’s not like he would open up to him, not a chance. Yet, the simple presence of someone else always did him more good than his own company could.
“Hey, Rin-Rin, Jules is making me apologize for hitting you,” Shidou barges into Rin’s room with a bored drawl, smacking the door open and spreading his arms out like a bird whose wings were sore from disuse. They technically were, considering the seven hours he spent tied down. His gaze lands on Rin, who is trembling, head whipping up to meet Shidou’s eyes.
“Woah,” is all Shidou gets out when he takes in the scene of Rin’s pale thighs streaked in blood. He remembers the cameras and microphones that line the hallways— Ego barely had enough sense to give the players their own rooms to themselves, another privacy condition Shidou was sure Ego only met to keep lawsuits away— and immediately shuts the door behind him. No ears to listen, no eyes to watch, no spectators to pry.
“Rin…”
“Get out,” Rin seethes.
Shidou’s fingers twitch, “What are you trying to do?”
“What does it look like, you ugly bug?”
Angry, and not at the insult, Shidou stalks over towards Rin and grabs what he presumes to be a razor blade from his left hand’s thumb and index finger. It was jagged at the edges and was the only sharp object he could think of having access to in the facility. He didn’t get a good look at it because he threw it onto the floor, but not before the sharp edges sliced his own hand open a bit. He grasps both of the younger boy’s wrists, his eyes wide with that manic look that Rin recognized uncomfortably well. Every time, it caught Rin off guard, because Shidou had been completely subdued up until the moment he pounced on him. His heart started beating faster in preparation for what that gaze typically meant: a fight. Those feline slits expanded slightly, taking in the sight of what had to be dozens of jagged lines marring the top of Itoshi’s thighs.
“That’s not what I meant— …I know. Damn, bottom-lashes, I know.” He growls, then continues, “If you’re that eager to be bloody, I could’ve handled that.”
“It’s no concern to a cockroach like you,” Rin responds, yanking his hands away.
“Tch,” Shidou clicks his tongue and can’t tear his gaze away from the mess on Rin’s thighs. “What do you want me to say? Seriously.”
Shidou was acting true to himself because he honestly didn’t know what to say. He was pissed off, seeing the tiny-toshi in such a state.
It made him uncomfortable.
“Is this your poor attempt at playing nice?” It is.
“I came here to apologize.” He did.
“And?”
“I’m… sorry.”
“For what, exactly?”
“For hitting you,” Shidou breathes out irritatedly, “and it’s only fair if I take care of the wounds I gave you.” He breaks away from Rin and grabs a box of tissues off the nearby nightstand, plucking out several of them before pressing them against the bleeding wounds of Rin’s legs. Rin is non-responsive but clearly disturbed by the predicament.
“…You chose a good spot. Top of the thighs where nobody could see from the pitch, even if your shorts rode up. The only risk would be the locker-room, but nobody would suspect a thing when you change in a stall since you’re naturally a loner who hides away from everyone, anyway.”
“This is a shitty apology. And you said you’d clean the wounds you gave me,” Rin complains aimlessly, trying to distract himself from how humiliating the situation felt.
“However much of the fault lies with me… I just know it isn’t zero. So, I’m taking responsibility.”
“You busted my lip, that’s it,” Rin clicks his tongue.
“You’ve got a small bandage for it. Unless you want me to kiss it better, Rin-Rin?”
Rin’s nose wrinkles and his head cringes from Shidou, “Disgusting.”
Kissing Shidou was not a thought he’d ever imagined, but it made his mind drift to someone who has done such a gross act. That’s right. It had to be why Shidou was poring over his cuts acting like he was his friend. He cups his mouth like he might throw up, feeling sick.
“I’m not that ugly, am I?” Shidou sulks, putting pressure on the worst of the wounds to stem the bleeding.
“Get off me!” Rin yells, shoving Shidou away. At the sudden display of aggression, Shidou was vulnerable and fell from his kneeling position on the bed, knocked onto his ass.
“Hey, hey, I was kidding around, I’m not–” Shidou starts, eyes wide. His mind began darting between the possibilities of why this particular joke made Rin so uncomfortable, connecting it to the cuts on his thighs. Did someone…? He assumes the worst but shakes his head. If that’s the case, he has to let Rin know he’s safe as priority one.
“Get out. This won’t get you any cookie points with Sae. He’s not gonna fuck you just because you’re cleaning me up.” Rin unintentionally answers Shidou’s internal questions without being asked, and an unsatisfying sense of relief washes over him.
So, that’s what the outburst is about. Not as bad as Shidou initially thought, but dealing with Rin’s brotherly issues was a different beast that he was, weirdly enough, a lot less mentally prepared to handle. Truthfully, Sae hadn’t crossed his mind once since opening the door.
He thinks better of cracking a joke– it popped into his head more as an intrusive thought than anything– about Sae probably wanting to fuck him more if he told Rin to continue.
“I’m not doing this because of him,” he grumbles instead, truthfully, dusting himself off and standing up. Rin backs away by scooching himself to the wall his bed is pushed against, and the older boy crosses his arms.
“You’re still bleeding, stop moving around so much, your sheets will be stained.” It was a valid point on Shidou’s part. As much as Rin hated that Shidou knew, it was better than the questions he’d be asked if someone else found out his bed was stained with blood. He reaches over to grab one of the less bloody tissues and dabs it against the running streaks.
“I don’t want your help. I get it, I’m your boyfriend’s pathetic little brother. What, am I a charity case now? Hoping to get on the Christmas card?” He spits, pride as cut up as his thighs. It was silly to think he even thought Shidou may have been doing this out of care for Rin, himself, in the first place. For a moment, he had an inkling that maybe he wasn’t as unlikeable as he felt. But it always came back to Sae. Everything. Every pass was Sae’s style, every praise was Sae’s influence, every goal was Sae’s technique. Even the crimson despair leaking from him was Sae’s.
“That’s what you think,” Shidou sighs, tired.
“It’s true. You have no interest in me, you try to kill me almost everyday,” Rin huffs, eyes narrowed in skeptical grief.
Shidou’s eyebrow twitches, and he once again gets in Rin’s personal space. He presses a sharp nail into Rin’s chest.
“Listen, Boy Wonder. I don’t give a damn that you’re Sae’s little bro. When I look at you, I see an obsessive loser who doesn’t know when to quit. Your plays are undeniably expert, your field expertise and soccer IQ are off the charts, and your shitty attitude makes it look good.” Shidou lists off, showing a level of respect he was always reluctant to admit. “And those times we play together, where we clash and argue and fight… you know who I’m pissing off? Rin Itoshi. Not Sae’s little brother.”
“What?” Rin scowls, taken aback.
Shidou rubs the back of his neck, aware his rambling may not even make any sense, “My point is… I see you as a person. The only ‘pathetic’ thing about you is that you’re the only one who can’t see yourself as anything but Sae’s little brother. If you treat yourself like you are, that’s how people will see you.”
“Then… why do you see me as my own person?” Rin asks. His voice is usually quiet, but the typical annoyance and boredom it was laced with has been replaced by a childlike nervousness, as if he was asking whether dogs go to heaven or not.
“‘Cause no matter how much you attach your existence to him, you’re still so different. I’m…” Shidou pauses, considering if the embarrassment of the thought he was about to speak was worth it. Then, he decides. It’s for Rin, and from the looks of it, he really needs to hear what Shidou has to say. Maybe that itself was a first step, hanging onto someone else’s words that weren’t Sae’s.
“I’m in love with your brother. But you piss me off to no avail,” he laughs shortly, “You two have almost nothing in common with your personalities. Sure, you both have a gloomy look all the time, but that’s just resting bitch face. On the inside,” Shidou studies the glossy sheen over Rin’s turquoise eyes, “You guys are leagues apart.”
When the glistening look in the bottom of Rin’s irises manifests into teardrops, Shidou carefully approaches with a new, unused tissue, “And that’s okay. You may not see it yet, but you’re still someone without him. Your value isn’t tied to him. You may not believe anything I’m saying, but I don’t care. I just need you to hear it so you can at least consider the possibility somebody sees you. Your explosions on the field are so bright they could blind a stadium, but they seem to blind you, too. That’s your leg kicking the ball, your brain calculating the play, your heart hurting.”
When Shidou holds the tissue to Rin’s face, he caves, burrowing his head into Shidou’s shoulder. He couldn’t look at him while he cried, but his sobs made his distress obvious. Shidou took his free hand and petted the taller boy’s head, awkwardly comforting him.
Several minutes pass before Rin detaches from Shidou. His crying ceased much earlier, but he didn’t want the demon to see how destroyed he looked, so he took his time composing himself before pulling away.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” he mumbles and shifts to stand up and throw away the bloodied tissues.
“We still have things to talk about, Rin,” is the reply he receives. It’s weary, and Rin feels his stomach furl in guilt.
Shidou could be silent, sometimes. There were spans where he wouldn’t say a word, and it wasn’t uncomfortable or indicative of a special mood, but the way he is acting now made Rin realize he had no middle ground. He either said what he thought proudly, or remained still; but, never quiet. Uncertain, Rin concluded. The guilt simmered while an odd sense of comfort poured in next to it. A man who seemed to despise everything he did felt this way about him hurting himself. Shidou had answered a cry for help and Rin hadn’t even realized his mouth was ever open.