Work Text:
everyone says Rin Itoshi doesn’t care.
they call him cold and aloof. in their eyes, he’s too nonchalant, a man of few words and even fewer facial expressions. some people would go as far as calling him an emotionally constipated asshole, saying it as if they actually know him.
though to be fair, first impressions are everything. it is a somewhat accurate description of Rin, you’ll admit.
but they’ve never seen the way he looks at you.
(maybe they have — the briefest of glimpses, here and there — but they never truly see it.)
they don’t see the way he sometimes holds his chin in his hands to gaze at you like a fool in love, the way his eyes soften when you talk, the awkward way he tries to hold your hand: reaching awkwardly, hesitant but undeniably gentle.
they don’t see how he saves the last bite of his snack for you, even though he always pretends it’s because he’s full. they don’t notice the way he listens to you like every word is worth memorizing. they don’t know that when you text him late at night, he replies instantly, even if it’s just a single emoji or a short “can i come over??? miss u.”
they don’t know that when you actually do show up at his door, half-asleep and shivering in a hoodie two sizes too big, he lets you in wordlessly, pulls you onto the couch, and wraps you in a blanket and his hoodie and his arms — and says nothing, because you don’t need him to.
you already know; you’ve always known.
i love you.
and god, you wouldn’t have it any other way.