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Rin knows this feeling.
The first time this had happened, Rin was younger, fourteen, maybe, give or take a few months. He doesn’t remember much, really.
Sae had come back from Spain, and told Rin things he never thought he’d hear from his brother. At one point, Rin remembers being alone on that field again long after Sae had left him there.
It was past dark by now, but Rin couldn’t bring himself to move. He’d felt his eyes sting, brimming with tears that he refused to let fall. His heart hammered audibly in his chest.
There were too many questions, and he was overwhelmed.
He remembers the way his breathing quickened as if the air was being forced out of his lungs. Rin remembers the nausea after, as well, because it was the least pleasant sensation of everything else.
When he’d gotten home, sometime past midnight, he went straight to his room. He wasn’t going to bother to look for someone who wouldn’t search for him.
He remembers that just weeks later, he’d found out what, exactly, caused his breakdown. Something neurodivergence, something emotional regulation, his doctor had said.
Rin wasn’t weak, so after, he made a promise to himself.
He would never let anyone see him like this.
Now,
The pain in his chest comes in sharp, rapid waves, as if all the hurt he hadn’t allowed himself to feel was hitting him at once.
As he stands there on the field, the game still going on around him, he wonders how he looks to everyone else. They probably think he’s crazy. It’s not far off, exactly, because when he feels, it’s always like this. Sudden and hard-hitting.
Rin clutches at the fabric of his jersey near his chest, trying, physically, to stop this from happening. His heart hurts, begging to be let out of his chest so he can be the person everyone sees him as.
That’s why he prefers to keep things bottled up. In the absence of the dramatics, Rin does feel. He isn’t emotional about things, but he’s certainly not heartless.
His head is spinning and everyone’s voices sound like they’re underwater, distant and distorted.
In his moment of weakness, he thinks, I wish Sae were here, and that serves to make it hurt worse; to make the symptoms more severe.
Rin falls to his knees, still clutching his chest, his attempts to stop the pain only worsening it.
The only thing he can hear is his erratic breathing as everything else grows further and further away. He thinks he hears himself release a sound dangerously close to a whimper, but he’s too out of it to determine whether or not it came from him. He doubts it. He isn’t weak, this is simply just a lapse in control— he’ll be back to scoring goals before anyone notices his slip up.
Or so he thought. Unfortunately for Rin, it just so happens that people do begin to notice— or at least one person, in specific. Isagi. Of-fucking-course it’s Isagi, Rin thinks, because it’s always him.
He hears Isagi shout his name, albeit distantly, and offers no response.
Rin squeezes his eyes shut as if it will make everything go away, or make him invisible. Still, Isagi, because he is himself, persists. Someone crouches in front of him— too close— hands on his shoulders protectively. It’s odd, the way it feels so similar to Sae’s hold on Rin, all of those years ago.
He hates it.
He craves it.
Hands rub up and down his arms, his neck, moving up to cup his cheeks. Somehow, it does help the ringing in his ears stop, Isagi’s voice coming in clearer, intelligible. His hands are warm, and Rin is cold, and that is the only reason why the touch grounds him. Not because it’s Isagi. Rin hates Isagi.
“—Rin,” somehow, Isagi sounds relieved, and Rin silently wonders why, “are you okay?”
Rin finally looks at the face in front of him, average and bland, and he hates that face. “Bastard,” he mutters, then responds, “I’m fine.
Isagi’s lip quirks up in a half-smile, and it’s the ugliest thing Rin’s ever seen.
It’s warm, though, and it feels familiar in a way Rin can’t bring himself to acknowledge.
“We were worried— or, I was, I guess— because you just.. stopped,” Isagi says, “I’ve never seen you like that.”
Rin realizes that Isagi is still touching him, and his cheeks burn, so he pushes him away with all the force he can muster in his current state. Stupid Isagi.
“Shut up. The last thing I want is for you to pity me. You’re my rival, not my friend. Stop feeling sorry for me and get back to the game.” Rin insists, his stern voice not matching the look in his eyes.
To his dismay, Isagi laughs.
It’s short, a huff that can hardly be considered laughter, yet Rin feels his heart squeeze. He wonders if maybe he's having another panic attack. But, no— it’s just Isagi— it’s always him.
“Yeah. You’d better get up, too. I mean… unless you wanna fall behind me, number one.” Isagi jokes as he stands up, reaching a hand down to help Rin up.
Rin smacks Isagi’s hand away and pushes himself off the ground, declaring, “I thought you would’ve learned not to underestimate me by now, Isagi.”
Isagi laughs again, and Rin hates that sound. Isagi follows after Rin, because he always does.