Chapter Text
Rin wakes up. That’s the first thing he notices: he wakes up.
Next is the white of the ceiling, the hum of the machines near him, the bed he is lying in.
And then the dawning realization of survival. Of course he survived. It’s a testament to his failure: to know he tried—really tried—and still couldn’t succeed.
He looks down at his arms, where bandages cover scatters of angry red lines he knows he has, skin raised in irritation. He also sees a needle inserted into his veins, connecting to an IV fluid stand. He remembers downing a bottle of pills and feeling vindictive toward himself. It’s really all been for nothing, and now everyone will know.
The thought brings him shame, the uncomfortable feeling of being perceived, but as he looks around the room, there is no one—no doctors, nor nurses, not his parents, and especially not Sae. It just makes him feel all the more alone now, feeling unworthy of anything.
He shifts on the bed, eyes aching with the heaviness of slumber, and within seconds, consciousness fades from his grasp, and he falls once again.
The next time he awakens, there’s a doctor checking his vitals, typing phrases into a computer Rin can’t make out, his vision blurred. He looks surprised when he sees Rin’s eyes open, but quickly recovers, offering a hesitant smile down at him.
“You’re finally awake, Itoshi.”
He wheels his chair towards Rin, grabbing a penlight and shining it into Rin’s eyes. The light is blinding, and Rin flinches away from it but just as it had come, it’s gone.
“Pupils reacting normally,” the doctor mutters to himself, typing into the keyboard again. He’s a short man, with brown hair graying at the tips, slight stubble, and round glasses.
“Can you tell me your full name?”
“Rin Itoshi,” he starts but then begins to cough, throat dry like sand paper. The doctor responds in kind, bringing in a paper cup filled with tap water and tilting it towards Rin’s mouth, slowly letting cool liquid down his throat.
“Easy,” the doctor murmurs. “Take small sips.”
He feels better after that, but panic lingers in his heart—the knowledge that this isn’t the end. If it was something like an accident, he could be on his merry way home, but the scabs on his arms, where he’d committed, the empty bottle of pills—they all tell a different story.
“Do you feel any nausea or pain?” The doctor asks, checking Rin’s heart rate. He shakes his head, he only really feels tired. “Dizziness?” The doctor asks again.
“No. I’m fine,” Rin mutters, trying to avoid more questions.
The doctor goes through the routine of check-up, making sure every part of Rin’s body is functioning normally. Rin can’t help but feel it was only the ticking of the clock before his impending doom.
Once the doctor is done, he smiles easily down at Rin, as if he wasn’t going to ruin his life. “A psychiatrist will come talk to you later.” He then signals to a red button, large with purpose. “Press this button if you need something before then, and one of the attending nurses will come to your aid. Also, one member of your family has been waiting to see you, so I’ll let him in.”
With that he leaves, and Rin’s blood turns to ice.
A short while after—mere seconds—Sae comes in, looking as polished as he always has, as if Rin’s attempt meant nothing but a minor inconvenience. He stands there impassively, staring at Rin as if he were a problem he had yet to solve. Then he arches a brow, voice smooth when he speaks.
“Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
It’s almost in spite that he doesn’t answer Sae, but like instinct—ever since he could talk—he finds his mouth moving before he thinks better of it.
“Why are you here?” Rin’s voice is venom, his eyes daggers, his tongue a blade.
“Who do you think found you?” Sae says, just as harshly, face almost contorting in anger, in almost fear.
It makes Rin’s gut churn, heavy with something like regret, something like guilt, but at what he doesn’t know.
“What about Mom and Dad?” Rin’s voice is smaller now, anger fizzling out. He doesn't know why he’s like this.
“They’re in Singapore right now.” Sae looks down at Rin's arms, the juxtaposition of snow-white bandages against his pale skin, before continuing. “I told them what happened, and they sent their regards. They trust me to take care of it.”
Rin turns his head away, staring at the white wall beside his bed. Of course they wouldn't be here, they never have been when he needed them—why would they now? It’s not anger he feels, not even bitterness, just plain acceptance, just as he’d accepted the knowledge he was supposed to die.
“But nevermind them,” Sae says again, and Rin closes his eyes, dreading the words that will come out of his brother's mouth. “How could you be so stupid?” His words are blunt, like Sae has always been, but Rin yearns for the times his bluntness had been filled with softer expressions, kinder ways.
Sae looks at him like he can’t fathom whoever is sitting in that hospital bed is Rin. “Did you really try to kill yourself to get me to notice you?” He says it like he finally understands, like all the puzzle pieces fit. And for Rin just like that the fleeting feelings of childhood nostalgia run out, leaving only cold, empty bitterness.
Rin wants to be angry, to shout and yell curses, to make Sae understand that he knows nothing at all. But the temper he knew had been there doesn't come, and with Rin’s silence, Sae confirms his theory is the truth.
Neither of them talk after that; both mulling over different things. Before long a knock is heard, followed by a feminine voice. “I’m coming in.”
Then, a woman with shoulder-length black hair, a clipboard and pen in hand, wearing a casual dress shirt and black pants, steps in. She’s young, smiling at both Sae and Rin. “I’m Dr. Sasaki and I’d like to spend some time talking with you today, Rin.” Her smile turns apologetic, directly looking at Sae now. “I’m going to have to ask you to step outside for the moment.”
Sae goes without complaint, figuring he’d learn all about Rin’s mental state later.
The conversation had been a short thing—questions answered with one or two word responses, just giving enough. Rin doesn't see the point to this. Yeah, obviously he’s fucked up. He literally just tried to kill himself not even three days ago.
Does she really think everything has changed just because he’s failed?
Nothing has substantially changed; he’s still the same person who wanted to die, but now everything’s been brought to light, unveiled, and he’s being seen for the mess he truly is. If anything, he wants to die more now. It's a pathetic thought, but really, that’s what brought him here in the first place.
After their talk—more like interrogation—Sae is let back in the room. He stares at Rin, eyes almost begging for something, but ultimately he stays quiet.
If Rin closes his eyes he can almost forget about Sae’s eagle-eye gaze and pretend this is all just one huge nightmare he'll wake up from.
He doesn’t regret it—that’s the harsh truth—but he’s so ashamed of surviving. If he had to do a do-over he’d pick a better plan: down the bottle of pills and chuck himself into the ocean, get on a train far away and find a tall ledge to jump off of, hoping days pass before he’s found.
Maybe he’ll try again once he’s out of here. He's been awake for less than 24 hours, and he already can’t stand it.
In the evening, the doctor comes back to check on Rin before he goes to bed, and soon the sky turns dark, shadows loom, the night air blows, and Sae is expected to leave and come back tomorrow if he pleases.
They don’t say goodbye; Sae simply casts one last glance at Rin before walking out.
Rin contemplates what will happen next; he’s definitely not passing with flying colors on the mental assessment. The anxiety makes his heart thump; the uncertainty of what will happen, of what he’ll have to face, prevents his racing mind from sleeping.
He almost asks one of the nurses for sleeping pills; it’s better not to think of anything rather than have his head spin in useless circles, knowing that whatever happens tomorrow will be out of his control.
In the end, his own exhaustion takes hold of him, surrounded by the gentle hum of machines, it lulls Rin to sleep, never forgetting what comes tomorrow.
The doctor reads out his psychiatrist’s notes, naming all the diagnoses Rin supposedly has. “The psychiatrist he was assigned to believes he has Major Depressive Disorder, along with a concern for suicidal thoughts, putting him at high risk.”
Sae listens to this all impassively, nodding along like it all makes sense. Which, well, yeah–Rin guess it does. Why else would he do this?
“We’d like to keep him in the hospital for a few more days,” the doctor continues, “to monitor his symptoms and observe how he responds to fluoxetine, the antidepressant we’ve started him on.” He pauses slightly. “If he experiences side effects, or if it isn’t the right medication for him, we can adjust the treatment plan accordingly.”
He then hands Sae a piece of paper. “This is information about the medication Rin will be taking. It goes over the dosage, along with possible side effects. If you have any more questions, please ask me.”
Sae looks up from his reading. “Will Rin be taken to a psychiatric hold?” The question is blunt, so much so that it startles Rin out of his stupor, bringing him back to the present. Will he be taken in and forced to live in a ward? He doesn’t want to. He refuses to. He’ll kick and scream, not caring about the other patients. He’d rather jump out of this building right now, than go there.
The doctor smiles, almost sheepishly. “Ah, no. In Rin’s case we can form a homecare plan for him, as long as there is someone to take care of him, and be by his side—making sure he takes his medication and doesn’t try to commit again—he can go home.”
Rin almost lets out a breath of relief, but then, with suffocation he remembers his parents are in Singapore, leaving him unattended. His heart almost stops beating. What is he supposed to do now? But just as the rush of anxiety came, it dispersed with Sae’s words.
“I’ll stay with him.” Sae’s voice rings out, drowning everything else in comparison, along with Rin’s panic.
He wasn’t expecting Sae to care, to step up and take that responsibility. He’d always assumed Sae would stay apathetic to his death, but now seeing him here, in this very hospital. The act fills his heart—and crushes it all the same.
The doctor nods. “This would be the best option. We can discuss a plan later, but for now, I’d like for Rin to get some rest. Notify a nurse if you need anything.”
With that the doctor leaves, stepping out the door and away from the awkward air that overtakes the room.
Sae breaks the silence first. If it were Rin he’d let it sit—clogging their airways until they choked, until Sae couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him—but Sae does speak. “Are you hungry?”
It's a silly question; too normal, too much like before. And this is what Rin’s wanted, right? So why does he feel so nauseated?
“No,” Rin mumbles, tongue heavy around the word.
It’s silent again–-unbearable and stifling. The sheets make his skin clammy, and the machine's hum makes his ears ring.
He doesn’t know how he’s going to survive being under Sae’s care once he’s discharged.
On the third day of his hospital stay, when Sae has stepped out to get food, Rin hears a voice—annoying and all too recognizable.
“Rin-chan!”
And before he knows it, Bachira hurls himself toward the bed, followed in by Isagi who is smiling sheepishly back at Rin, like he had tried to stop Bachira from rushing in–but it’s Bachira. What can you do?
“Rin-chan, I was so worried!” Bachira’s golden eyes are teary, face contorting into sorrow. “I thought you were gone for good!”
Rin doesn’t know what to say; he's not good at comfort, won’t even bring himself to try.
“I’m fine now, Bob-cut, so get off me.” Is what he settles on, pushing Bachira away. He feels embarrassed to be seen like this, exposed for all his flaws. It makes him want to hurl.
Exaggerated sniffles leave Bachira’s mouth, but he stops trying to hold onto Rin like a lifeline. Rin then looks up, seeing Isagi’s expression. It’s unnervingly serious, like he’s trying to piece Rin together. Then his face changes; expression softens and he looks vulnerable, eyes wide with a want to understand.
“Rin,” Isagi starts and there's almost a hesitance to his motives. “You’ll…you’ll be ok now, won’t you?”
And Rin looks at him—so open and gentle, and wanting for the truth so badly. It makes him sick, so he doesn’t nod. He can’t bring himself to lie, so instead he says, “I’m fine, Shitty Yoichi.”
It’s the same words again and again. He’s fine now—alive and kicking, no longer on the cusp of death. He’s just not sure he can bring himself to continue being fine. Nothing particularly bad has happened, but nothing good either. It’s a sort of detached apathy, and it’s all he’s been feeling these days.
Isagi and Bachira both accept the answer, not wanting to push.
After that, they talk about nonsensical things, like what they’d been doing over the break, new TV shows coming out, and how Blue Lock will commence soon. Bachira babbles on, while Isagi lightly tries to direct the conversation, and once in a while, they reel Rin in, asking for his opinion.
It goes like this until Sae steps in, then just as his presence commands, all conversation halts.
He looks bemused when he spots Isagi and Bachira, but quickly accepts it for what it is, striding to Rin’s bedside and dropping an Onigiri into his hand.
“They didn’t have the pickled plum flavour so I got you grilled salmon, but if you want, I also have the tuna mayo flavour.”
Sae then waits for Rin to decide, and it’s the same flat voice he uses for everything, but Rin feels oddly touched by the words, yet frustrated with the lack of everything else. It's embarrassing having so many eyes on him, treating him with delicacy, awaiting his every move.
“Salmon is fine,” he mutters out, cheeks heating at the attentiveness. Sae then nods simply, moving to sit on one of the chairs at the back, unwrapping his convenience store bought onigiri, and biting into it like he didn’t just alter the atmosphere of everything around him.
Bachira recovers first. “Wow, Rin-chan, is pickled plum onigiri your favourite food?”
He’s almost shy when he answers. “No,” he unwraps the plastic just as Sae had done, just as Sae had taught him. “I like ochazuke with sea bream.” He doesn’t know why he’s being so honest. Maybe it's the fact that there’s nothing more damning than his attempt—that every other not-secret fails in comparison.
“Really? My favorite food’s canned pineapple. It’s sour and juicy at the same time. Ah, you’re making me crave it.” Bachira then turns to Isagi. “What about you, Isagi? Tell me your favorite food.”
He jumps on the balls of his feet like a little kid, endless energy in his being, and Rin almost envies it.
Isagi rubs the back of his head, expression bashful. “Ah, I like kinstuba the best.”
They keep making conversation as Rin nibbles away at his onigiri, flavours filling his mouth. Even if it’s store bought, Rin can’t help but enjoy the taste. It’s especially better than the hospital food he’d been served.
Time passes, and soon Bachira and Isagi have to leave.
The air becomes stifling again as Bachira looks down at the bandages covering his arms, where platelets have formed and begun to peel away. He worries his lip, then looks up, eyes steady and expression solemn. “Don’t do anything like this again, Rin-chan.”
Isagi speaks up then. “He’s right. Talk to us if you're ever feeling down. We’ll be there for you.” Then Isagi smiles—genuine, and eyes full of unbridled determination. “Besides, I need to beat my rival in top form if I’m ever going to become the number one striker.”
Rin almost feels dizzy, scoffing. “In your lukewarm dreams.” But his words are more rehearsed if anything—a script he needs to play—and he’s not sure why.
Bachira gives a tiny smile, eyes caring. “I know you’ll be back.”
Rin stares, and stares, and then they leave, shutting the door behind them, leaving him with Sae, who has been scrolling on his phone.
He remembers Bachira’s teary eyes, Isagi's worried ones. They don’t know how hard they’re allowed to dig, how to uncover the reasons why he did what he did, or how to bring attention to what he’s been chasing.
Rin doesn’t even know how to describe it; all he feels can’t be contained in such a small box. It's label-less, massive, and overpowering in size.
He doesn't finish the onigiri.
It’s always been like this; he’s never had anyone but his brother, and when he disappeared, it was like his only source of companionship did too.
The other kids thought of him to be too weird, too aloof, so he’s always sat alone, always played alone. Over time he’d gotten used to the fact nobody was there, but sometimes he couldn’t stave off the unbearable loneliness—the knowledge he really had no one left in the whole world.
It’s a thing that sucked everything in his heart, a black hole—open and yawning, consuming all it could until he was left empty.
He pretended it never bothered him, distancing himself from everyone, but deep down, he’s always hated the crushing loneliness it brought him.
Now he’s here, standing outside Blue Lock, waiting for his taxi to come and take him home.
He can’t help but watch the small group that’s formed. Isagi, Bob-cut, the Redhead, along with Purple hair and that White-haired sloth—even the damn cockroach is laughing with them. He can’t force himself to break their calm, can’t make himself move.
Isagi's eyes find his own, and he smiles, waving his hands as a gesture of goodbye and heading towards Rin.
Isagi looks straight at him. “Well, I’ll see you soon, you damn genius.”
Rin scowls, “Don’t tell me what to do, Shitty Isagi.”
Isagi smiles like he didn't expect anything different, then he turns away.
Companionship doesn’t fix loneliness, Rin thinks, watching Isagi’s back recede, heading into his parents’ embrace. Then, as simple as that, they drive off, parting ways.
Footsteps are heard behind him, and he turns, facing Bachira.
“I’m going to miss Rin-chan’s–”
Bachira must see something on his face because he abruptly stops the teasing.
“Rin-chan,” Bachira starts again, face in something akin to understanding. “It’s okay to feel sad sometimes, but you should talk to someone about it.”
Rin knows it’s what he should do—it’s what’s always been recommended by doctors, by mental health professionals, by teachers and parents alike—but Rin is different. He can’t stand the thought of someone uncovering him for all he is, looking at the blackened state of his heart, seeing all the misery that makes him up. So instead he scoffs and turns away, walking anywhere else his feet will take him. Disgusting, lukewarm thoughts.
Besides, something he’ll admit only to himself: he’s afraid he’s too much and if he keeps giving out his heart—pouring it into the cusps of others' hands—soon they’ll grow tired and leave, knowing the storm inside him is too great, too uncontrollable, and much too tiring.
Sitting in the back of a taxi, he thinks of a noose—hanging, hanging, hanging—waiting, waiting, waiting.
He shouldn’t dwell on it.