Work Text:
After Blue Lock Eleven's win against the now-former U20 team, Ego has granted them two weeks of vacation. Two weeks of not doing anything. Two weeks of resting. Two weeks from this hellhole.
Isagi and Rin, however, were too busy being passive-aggressive with each other in the locker rooms that they didn’t register the unanimous cheer from the shared hall. Thus, missing the announcement completely.
Their teammates were celebrating.
And rightfully so. They had won against the hot shit; some will be replacing them during the World Cup. It was a big, big deal, after all.
Rin was irritated. That is an understatement. His brother, after everything he's shown him, still chose to blatantly ignore him and acknowledge Isagi instead. The more he thinks about it, the more anger is pumped into his veins–like a volcano threatening to erupt, spilling all its magma onto the surface and burning anyone who makes contact with it.
That last goal wouldn’t have been possible without Rin.
What’s more infuriating is the fact that Isagi was very much aware of that. Thanking him, saying it was his goal as much as it was Isagi’s. All that stupid hero talk.
“Shut up.” Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. All this bullshitting is making my head hurt. “You’re my rival and I’ll kill you if I fucking have to.”
Isagi stands there, nothing but perplexity covering his face. It was a development and he can't find it in himself to discard it right away; going from being nothing to Rin to him acknowledging Isagi as his rival–explicitly said so, as well–was above a loss. “Alright,” he turns around, walking away. “You can try.”
Rin drops his head into his hands. There’s nothing but rage clouding his vision and he doesn’t know if he can stop it from overflowing. Isagi this, Isagi that. He’s tired.
The towel around his neck is damp from his sweat but he ignores it. He takes his water bottle and heads to his room.
~
It’s around 11pm when he hears some faint knocking on his door. Rin rubs his eyes and momentarily stares into the darkness. He doesn’t want to leave his bed, but the knocking just won’t stop.
He opens the door with force.
“Hey.” There stands Isagi, a smile on his face. He seems to be dressed warmly, a scarf adorning his neck. Rin stands there, one hand resting on the doorknob. “Why are you here.”
“There’s a night market thing close by and I was thinking of going there.”
Rin stares at Isagi. How does this exactly correlate to him?
As if Isagi read his mind, he answers. “You should come with.”
“No,” Rin’s answer is almost immediate and he’s closing the door, but it doesn’t budge.
Rin hates Isagi’s instincts with a burning passion. His quick reflexes allowed him to put his foot between the doorframe and the door at an alarming speed. “Why don’t you go ask your friends?”
“They left earlier.” All of them.
“I still don’t understand how this concerns me.” Rin deadpans.
“Aren’t you bored?” Isagi asks, that silly smile ever so present on his face. Rin wants to wipe that off his face. With force.
“No, I’m tired.” Rin pushes into the door in hopes it would force Isagi to surrender and remove the obstacle that is his foot. Alas mission failed.
“It’s going to be fun!” Isagi exclaims and it’s a little bit too loud. Rin grabs his arm and pushes him into his room. “Don’t be so fucking loud. It’s night.”
Isagi’s smugness is written all over his face and manifests itself into a cheeky smile. “I’ll take it as a yes?”
Rin runs a hand down his face but gets ready nonetheless. He throws a jacket over his pajamas.
“Aren't you going to freeze in that?”
Deafening silence follows and Isagi takes that as an answer. Right, he shouldn't have bothered to strike up a conversation.
Freeze is more of an overstatement. Yes, it is cold but winter is not coming anytime soon. Isagi wishes for spring already; to see the buds reaching their blooming state.
The conclusion is: it should be windy, a bit chilly perhaps. This should be fine.
“You’d better make this quick.” Rin says as Isagi gets in front of him, leading them. “Don’t worry, I feel like you’d like it.”
Once they sneak out–very easily as all doors were unlocked– the crisp air hits him straight in the face. Isagi shivers, as Rin manages to catch from the corner of his eyes. He's cold himself but there's no need to be dramatic. It shouldn't be too long until they get back. Until then, there's plenty of time to get warm.
He exhales, following Isagi. A white fog leaves past his lips, condensation-whatever baloney from his Biology class popping into his mind. He brings his shoulders to his ears, a half-assed attempt at protecting his neck from the sheer coldness.
There are decorated LED lights bedecking the lampposts and walls. The holidays are barely approaching and he's sick of seeing hallmark advertisements everywhere already. “Rin!” Isagi drags him behind him towards one of the food stalls.
If there is anything Rin hates the most, it's his personal space being breached.
Rin treasures his inner peace more than anything, and certainly, he didn’t need people sticking to him left right. His height should help him out a bit–or so he'd like to think–but, ultimately, this is a night market with the most narrow alleyways. Regardless of anything, of course people will be coming at him.
Isagi’s grip on his wrist tightens, tugging almost in desperation, and he’s sure Isagi's fingertip marks will stay there for a good minute, or two.
The second Rin finally manages to get to the place, his wrist loses the initial warmth provided by Isagi simultaneously as his nostrils are hit with the smell of okonomiyaki. He wasn't particularly hungry but he wouldn't oppose it. From a relatively short distance, he watches Isagi talk animatedly to the old lady, handing her some coins.
He can't hear anything. Even if he tried his best, Rin would not be able to listen in on the conversation. Especially with the chatter around him.
Isagi's mouth moves, his eyes crinkle, he shakes his head, he grins, he laughs. Rin doesn't understand how sociable he can be.
The granny smiles and hands Isagi the change but he refuses it, his hand pushing into hers, curling around the few pity coins, in an uncharacteristically tender manner. He nods and nods, taking the pancake in his hand as he bows and leaves, going towards Rin.
“Wanna try?” Is the first thing Isagi says. There's steam coming from it and Rin's taken aback by how it's served to him first.
“Aren't you going to try it first?” Rin finds himself asking. There's no filter; he actually does show emotions. His voice carries a lilt of confusion.
Isagi rolls his eyes. “Okay, nevermind–” Before he can seize it back, Rin grabs his wrist and snatches the pancake with his teeth, biting off more than Isagi wanted him to have. The piece hangs from his mouth and threatens to fall on the ground.
Isagi has his palm out and it falls flat on it. “I'm not eating that.” he states.
“As if I said you'd have to.” Rin counters and takes the piece from Isagi's hand.
On second thought…
“Maybe it's better you don't eat it,” Isagi says out of the blue and Rin blinks, slowly. “I held money in that hand,” his eyes travel to his right hand, indicating.
“And?” Isagi's eyes widen. “We're at a night market, you loser, there was no hygiene to begin with.” Rin does have a point. He… really does. Isagi watches him take another bite, his face not showing any signs of delight upon tasting such delicacy. But that's expecting too much from him.
Whatever, he shouldn't have been too hasty. It's his own fault.
They continue walking, mouths stuffed and cheeks red. At least the hot food helped alleviate some of the frostiness that was covering them.
“You thirsty?” Isagi asks.
Rin looks at him, his throat suddenly dry. Yeah, he could use a drink.
“Why should I be the one paying?” Isagi digs into his pocket, and by that face Rin can tell he's run out of money. Jesus.
Rin wordlessly makes a beeline towards the vending machines at the very end of the market. Isagi follows him, though with a very considerate distance between them.
Isagi can smell anything in this world; first it was goals, now it's the seething anger emanating from Blue Lock's ranked number one contender.
Rin throws the bottle of green tea at him and Isagi–despite not paying attention–catches it successfully. He lifts it, silently asking if it's truly his to drink.
Upon closer inspection, Isagi doesn't see a second bottle anywhere in sight. Guess, they'd have to share this, too.
“I know.” he says before Rin can answer. Isagi unscrews the cap and takes a long swig from the bottle. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and hands Rin the rest, cheeky smile on display.
Rin snatches the bottle from his hands and finishes it in one go. He throws it in the nearest trash can afterwards. Isagi is stood there, speechless and jaw slacked. Did he, did they–?
“Move, you slowpoke, we have to get back.”
As if waking up from trance, he moves. His hand holding the cap is secure in his jacket pocket, and he runs to Rin's side.
They're going up the stairs and the view before them is arguably one of the best they've seen.
All of the Blue Lock guys were practically imprisoned there. No way of escaping even if they tried.
Only on occasions like this was it possible to get out of that suffocating place.
Yes, they did sign up for it but it doesn't invalidate their feelings any less; the stuffiness, the pressure of becoming the best, all within those confines. About time someone would go crazy in there.
Rin leans against the railing and lets the wind tousle his hair to its liking. He throws his head back and closes his eyes. This is nice.
Isagi looks at him.
His eyes seem to long for something. Maybe something unreachable. Something far, far from his grasp. He’s at ease, however; shoulder relaxed, head tilted back.
He's not the Rin that donned frowns every time Isagi saw him, or whose forehead creases and furrowed eyebrows indicated nothing but concentration, worry or anger.
None of that.
Isagi redirects his gaze to the sky: pitch black but stars bright and clear. He could trace some constellations if he tried hard enough. The picturesque washes over the city in colors and blur. He's confused, dizzy, but it's pleasing to his eyes.
The air up there is a bit chillier and he visibly shivers, teeth almost chattering, despite trying his utmost not to. It's getting late, the sky darkening each minute, and they need to get back before they get caught. Or freeze to death.
Isagi walks towards where Rin is and outstretches his hand in an informative manner, ready to vocalize that they should leave now. Rin's cold hand catches Isagi's equally cold one and pulls him towards himself. Before Isagi's brain can catch up to what the fuck just happened, he's pulled into an embrace.
His face plants into the side of Rin's neck and he furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “What–”
“Stop fucking talking, I've had enough of seeing you shake.”
Isagi tenses up.
“Relax,” Rin says barely above a whisper, looking ahead of him. Isagi wouldn't look up even if he desperately wanted it.
Now that they're close, he can't make out any scent. Perhaps the smell of okonomiyaki they had earlier, or even all the food stalls combined. His senses are currently going haywire.
Isagi moves his face away from Rin's neck because it feels illegal to be that close. He rests his head on Rin's shoulder instead.
And… progressively… melts into the embrace.
Moments later, a small but very significant semblance of warmth is formed between them and Isagi holds onto it for dear life. Something shifts behind him, as if Rin's locked his hands around him.
Rin, too, seems to have loosen up, his chin almost on Isagi's head.
They stay like that for a while. Isagi muses about the irony of it all; why have none of them attempted to get away from the other?
He wants to ask, to know, but decides against it.
Rin straightens up and Isagi catches himself encircling his arms around Rin’s torso. In response, he shifts his hands on Isagi's shoulders. From this moment alone Isagi was certain Rin had no ill intentions.
His palms were merely resting on them.
Isagi makes the mistake of looking up. He had never been good with eye contacts outside the field. Prying, questioning, curious gazes, eyes—he made no effort in differentiating them for they were all the same: piercing through him whether he liked it or not.
And there they were. Those damned turquoise eyes.
Isagi never dove into studying Rin’s eyes but deep down he’s sure he’d be able to find a sliver of curiosity in them, a child-like spark igniting upon processing new information.
Rin doesn’t look away. If anything, it’s almost as if he was challenging Isagi to a staring contest.
Shades of pink slowly color his cheeks and fuck, this is definitely not caused by the weather.
Rin blinks. And then…
Oh.
Oh.
He pushes Isagi away with force. Isagi thanks the Heavens that he doesn't trip.
“Sorry,” Rin murmurs. What? “Let's go back.” He doesn't give Isagi any time to think twice about the situation; it's already weird as it is.
Isagi wordlessly follows.
~
“Itoshi,” Ego greets Rin at the entrance. “Isagi,” he acknowledges Isagi the second he catches up to Rin.
“Mind telling me where the both of you were?”
Isagi and Rin exchange glances—they’re not knowing; they scream we’re fucked and you’re the one who’s going to pay for it.
“Well—” Isagi starts, scratching at his nape. There’s no excuse for this. He could say: but we won and you granted us weeks of free time. But both him and Rin had missed the announcement and thus, missed the bus that was supposed to bring all of the contenders home.
The only thing left is: waiting for anyone–their parents, legal guardians–to pick them up.
Ego enters the premises and motions for them to follow.
“This is your fault, Isagi.” Rin mumbles under his breath, hostility woven into his voice.
Ah.
Isagi’s mouth quirks up.
He's back.