Archive of Our Own

Isagi Yoichi, 6 years old. Itoshi Rin, 5 years old.

The very first time Rin met Isagi, what Rin saw was an unfamiliar kid that was snotty all over the face, standing on the neighborhood sidewalk with one hand clinging onto the fold of his mother’s dress while the other covered one of his ears, whining about the rain.

It was a bit stupid. It’s early August—the start of summer. It wasn’t going to rain. The sun was in full view and warm against his skin. Rin shrugged it off and walked past the boy, catching up to his older brother waiting for him a few feet ahead with a soccer ball in hand.

When Rin got farther, the whines to go back home got louder—and when Rin sat on the grassy field to watch his brother play—he felt droplets fall from the sky.

He had hoped to never see that boy again.

Isagi Yoichi, 11 years old. Itoshi Rin, 10 years old.

“Rin, let’s go back!” Isagi called, his voice loud enough to break Rin’s focus on scoring a curved shot across the field. “Is it going to rain?” Rin asked, looking up at the dark sky that suddenly flashed a blinding light when the training ground lights turned on.

It was August again, but five years later. The boy Rin thought was an omen of bad luck that he had hoped to never see again became the same boy who he’d always do soccer drills with every morning or evening—or whenever they felt like it. That same boy was a newcomer in Kamakura five years ago—who had been a new neighbor who lived five houses away from the Itoshi’s residence—was now familiar with Rin, as he was to Isagi.

Isagi jogged to Rin who stood in the middle of the field. “Uh-huh,” Isagi hummed and twisted a wisp of hair near his ear—a habit he’d developed instead of covering his ear to ease his senses. Rin guessed he wasn’t even aware of it, although Rin never thought to bring it up for him.

Rin rubbed his eyes that still stung from the light, and Isagi, too, was squinting and using a hand to block the strong light from his face. “Yoichi’s weird,” Rin said.

Isagi pouted, walking to the benches where they left their bags without him, sunken shoulders and all. Curiously, Rin playfully pushed Isagi’s shoulder, only to pick up the pace of his walking when Isagi started holding back a breath of laughter as he ran faster. Rin yelled Isagi’s name with a smile on his face, gripping Isagi’s jersey the whole time.

Isagi’s legs gave out quicker than Rin’s, which led the younger—with no ounce of guilt—to drag him back. They were hunched over the bench, a sharp pain shot through their lungs from being out of breath, and stomachs that hurt from laughing.

“Rin’s stamina is too good, I’m so tired…and jealous,” Isagi whined. Despite being the same age and despite Isagi playing soccer longer than Rin had, there was still a shallow gap between them. “Of course? I’m actually training to go pro with Nii-chan, idiot.” Isagi wiped the sweat from his forehead with a fresh towel and took out a clean shirt.

“Hey, are you sayin’ ‘m not?” Isagi’s voice got muffled as he changed. Rin only shrugged—cheeks still red and smirk still bit back—irritating Isagi.

“I never said Yoichi was lukewarm—”

“Wait—I never said I was, either!”

Isagi threw his sweaty jersey at Rin’s face, which made Rin gag, and throw it back at Isagi. It makes him gag, too. They laugh another time, holding their stomachs tighter.

A minute passed of calming down and Rin stopped staring at Isagi, who was starting to sling his bag over his shoulder. Silently deciding it was time to do the same, Rin stood up to grab the remaining bag. Isagi mocked a gag more similar to Rin’s when the latter’s obviously sweaty jersey clung heavier on the skin with the weight of the bag.

Rin only rolled his eyes and told him they weren’t even teenagers, and that he didn’t care about hygiene—which made Isagi stand a good foot away from him once they started walking home.

It was more of Rin not minding some sweat on his back during a twenty-five-minute walk back home than hygiene, really. He’d been learning a new after-game routine from his brother recently. Although the reality of Rin’s sweat still made Isagi want to squirm nonetheless. Isagi hadn’t grown out of his sensitivities, after all. Sometimes, it liked to crawl through his back to be remembered, just because.

The wind was cool enough to make the hair on their arms stand up, and although he couldn’t see the clouds, Rin guessed it was thicker and right above them. Seeing Isagi frown and walk a little faster than usual confirmed it.

Rin tugged the sleeve of Isagi’s shirt. “Konbini?” he asked. “I guess so,” Isagi answered.

Isagi stood outside the convenience store, waiting for Rin to buy him a big pork bun that’ll cost him twice the original price for making Rin be the one to do it. He hummed along the muffled music that seeped out from the store, anticipating rain to pour at the edge of where he stood.

When Isagi first met Rin—in a more neutral and normal way—at a grocery store not far from their neighborhood during a cold December, Rin’s mother was apologizing to him and his mom because she had accidentally bumped him with her basket when she made a sharp turn. She was trying to catch up with Rin’s wandering habits, apparently.

Isagi was timid by nature, almost hiding behind his mother’s leg at the interaction. Rin, however, was the type to stand there. The whole time, Rin stared with a gaze he felt too nervous to hold. Almost like a childish one with a grudge he doesn’t know of.

One thing led to another, and by the time their mothers’ pleasantries ended, he and Rin—by their mothers’ decision—had a one-sided soccer playdate the next day.

It was only one-sided because Rin didn’t play soccer at five years old, and his big brother, who knew how to wasn't able to come and play with Isagi.

That stupid soccer playdate was just Rin giving him the most blank stare of boredom while he did tense sole flicks to pass the time.

Left with his thoughts and the tuned out sound of the rain, Isagi leaned back further against the glass wall.

Isagi didn’t realize he’d ignored Rin’s voice calling out beside him. He turned his head after he felt a tap on his shoulder—shrieking from the heat of the steamed pork bun that Rin placed against his cheek.

“That hurt!” Isagi cried, touching the hot patch on the apple of his cheek. “Yoichi took so long to answer.”

Isagi continued to caress his cheek, taking a bite of the pork bun he held in his hand. “Rin could’ve waited.” Rin shook his head. “There’s still two seats inside. So, that can’t wait.” Isagi sighed and followed Rin inside, his body sagging when he sat down on the chair.

“Rin used to not like to play soccer with me, right?” Isagi asked, halfway into a bite. Rin paused in sipping his drink, thinking about it a little more than he’d intended. “Only a little. Ever since I started, I only wanted to play soccer with Nii-chan.” It wasn’t a lie, and Isagi already knew that and didn’t take it to heart—at least anymore.

“Hmm, with that in mind, why has Rin been forcing me to do drills every night? My club always has morning practice, you know,” Isagi whined.

“‘Cause Nii-chan’s been busy with Spanish lessons at night. And passport stuff, I guess,” Rin answered. Isagi knew a little more than the media and way less than Rin—Itoshi Sae, Rin’s older brother, had recently formally accepted Re Al’s recruitment. Rin briefly explained that one of the few conditions from his parents was that he’d learn at least the basics of the foreign country’s language.

“Really, that’s a condition Rin’s parents made?” To Isagi, he’d assumed Rin’s parents would be the type to let their kids’ dreams come true as long as they’d want it to. “It is, but they’d still let Nii-chan go even if he couldn’t learn it before he leaves.” Rin smiled, pride and happiness ran through him knowing it was an achievement for his brother.

“But learning a language is hard!” Isagi gaped at Rin like he was the one studying. Perhaps Rin agreed that—despite him not doubting his brother—he shouldn’t spend most of the time he has left in Japan locked up in their home studying.

Or perhaps—deeper than Rin would think—he missed his big brother already. It was a little sad to think about.

“Yeah, Nii-chan said he wants to stay there for a while,” Rin uttered. His shoulders were heavy but not sagged like Isagi’s. Felt but not seen, almost. “That’s why he’s studying instead of…practicing with me,” he mumbled.

“Won’t that be lonely?” Isagi asked, leaning his body near Rin’s and letting their warmth be shared—just a little.

“I don’t know. I have Yoichi, though?” Rin’s eyes were innocent, looking over his shoulder and straight into Isagi’s. He’s right that he’d have Isagi when his brother wasn’t around. But that wasn’t Isagi’s point.

The life Rin lived—and will be living in the future—would always be about soccer by choice. To follow his big brother’s footsteps. To catch up with him and be the best strikers in the world together. Nothing far or beyond it, and undoubtedly, nothing less.

Isagi knew, and yet he couldn’t push down the weird urge to be with Rin through things outside of that dream.

“Right! So I’m Rin’s best friend?” Isagi gave a toothy grin that might make answering worth it.

“Yoichi’s my only friend,” Rin confessed.

The tips of Rin’s ears were turning red, and as much as Isagi smiled and laughed at the sight of Rin’s embarrassment—his lips still twitched into a fleeting frown when Rin wasn’t looking.

“Lower than Nii-chan, by the way,” Rin stated, suddenly looking sharply at Isagi. “Shut up, I knew that—”

Their vision got drowned in a quick flash of white before Isagi could get the false implication out of Rin’s head. His shoulder tensed up and his body curled ever so slightly. The loud rumble of thunder filled Isagi’s senses quicker than Rin could move closer to him.

Rin sighed in annoyance. “Yoichi’s an idiot. Tell me if it’s a thunderstorm next time.”

Isagi also sighed, but in defeat. “My legs would be broken if we ran again, Rin! Who would play soccer with you then?” Rin scrunched his nose in contempt of Isagi’s dramatics.

Isagi’s shoulder tensed up once more, nearly a second before a new low echo of thunder. It was always loud before it got louder. It didn’t scare Isagi anymore, it only annoyed him whenever his body reacted on its own.

“Oh, Yoichi, are you still ticklish?” The question was useless the moment Rin jabbed a finger on the side of Isagi’s rib, making his body stiffen and squirm at the suddenness. Isagi didn’t like the mischievous and immature look Rin gave him—not one bit.

Rin kept poking near his abdomen, and if Rin had any more audacity and no ounce of mercy, he’d definitely land a touch on Isagi’s nape—which wouldn’t change the fact that Rin was bullying him for no reason he knew of.

Isagi tried his hardest to stay quiet, Rin’s own carefree laughter being louder than his muffled one. They’re loud but it was fine because Isagi couldn’t hear the rain right outside the window they sat next to. Isagi’s body was sore but it was fine because it couldn’t register sensing anything other than Rin’s odd way of distraction.

Everything was fine because the thunderstorm was gone and Isagi and Rin were breathless boys who could only stay focused on each other.

Isagi Yoichi, 16 years old. Itoshi Rin, 15 years old.

A soccer ball hits the side of Rin’s thigh. Even the lightest kick is starting to feel heavy to receive. Rin doesn’t look at who it came from, because he’s only ever spent most of his time with one person other than his big brother, anyway.

Yoichi.

Rin sits on the grass, dazed. Ever since his older brother left for Spain to pursue his dream—their shared dream—Rin has been diligent in everything soccer demands of him in order to follow his brother. He’s become strict of a lot routines, which is irritatingly still not enough to feel a level of satisfaction. Although Rin doesn’t even know where the line of its limit is. All he knows is that it doesn’t feel the same as it used to.

“Are you tired?” Isagi asks from beside him, retrieving the soccer ball with his foot. “No. Just cramping,” Rin replies, pointing at his foot that’s really spasming—although his mind lacks the urgency for it. “Yeah, so you are tired?”

Rin sighs. “I’m not, Yoichi.” Isagi crouches down to his level, telling him to lie down and keep his foot up. They’re silent and it’s fine. The sun is only starting to rise and there are still the echoes of cicadas around them, after all.

“There,” Isagi says. Rin closes his eyes in relief when the tense feeling subsides with Isagi’s help. “Thanks.”

The chirping sound of the cicadas gets louder, almost buzzing out Isagi’s voice. “Not heading back yet? Your morning practices start earlier than mine,” Isagi raises, but Rin stays lying on the ground.

“They can’t keep up with me.” It’s a whisper that he won’t go today. “It’d be better to do some drills with you the whole day,” Rin mutters, his thoughts gradually slipping through his mouth.

“You’re saying I’m not lukewarm like your team?” Isagi teases. A tinge of Rin’s words strokes his ego.

“Oh, no. You are,” Rin corrects. “You just do a better job making up for it.”

Isagi glooms for a second, then blinks anew. “Seriously? How?” There’s a genuine curiosity behind Isagi’s eyes—despite not looking directly at it. Rin could feel the anticipation rub onto him. Isagi’s still playing soccer for a reason, too—just like him. He dreams just as big to be a striker.

The only difference is that Isagi works hard for himself with a dream he discovered by himself. Isagi doesn’t chase after anyone—he keeps running to the goal with a passion that doesn’t wait for anyone. Isagi’s his own person with a dream made for himself alone.

It’s different from Rin—who dreams to fulfill a shared dream.

Rin shrugs. “Yoichi’s just like that.” He turns his head away, huffing out a warm breath of air. “I almost never get you,” Isagi complains, sitting down beside him. “As if. You’re telling me you never try to do that?” Rin turns his body away, almost hiding.

“I mean—I guess I notice stuff…” Isagi’s voice becomes hushed—Rin doesn’t like that. Isagi always finds a way to say something licit that Rin still would rather not hear. That’s how it’s always been—spending most of his day with Isagi at the start of their adolescence.

Since the day his big brother left for Spain—since he’s pushed himself harder with each day that passes to prove progress. To fill the absence of his brother and the stagnation of their duo soccer plays.

Rin isn’t fond of that in the slightest, how it’s almost like Isagi does it on purpose. Isagi makes him realize feelings about himself he didn’t know Isagi could feel from him.

“Well, sometimes it gets really obvious that you miss Sae—you tend to—” Rin shifts his whole body to kick Isagi’s side. “Shut up. My foot is cramping again. Ahh…do something, Yoichi,” he blurts without a change in his speech. Monotonous and seriously annoying.

Isagi cries, “That hurt! And you can move it just fine! Ouch!” The tip of Rin’s toe jabs at Isagi’s weak spot, right under his ribs. “Stop bullying me all the time, Rin!” Isagi adds, painful laughter and wails fusing until he’s gripping Rin’s feet to retaliate.

“I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t miss Nii-chan. Matches are just boring and harder without him around,” Rin defends.

Isagi continues to hold his side in pain. “It means the same when soccer’s your life!” Isagi shouts, saying something that sinks into Rin this time.

“...Shut up,” Rin mumbles.

A week has passed and Rin has been pissed off at Isagi for even giving him something so useless to be thinking about.

Maybe he is a little lonely without his big brother on his team to play the soccer he wants, and maybe he has been a little sad about it for a while—but he also he hasn’t seen his big brother for nearly four years, after all.

Rin stares at the jumpscare of the horror game he’s playing with a blank face, sighing. He restarts the game from the spawn point, moving to play like he’s on autopilot as his mind pays no care to his supposed relaxation.

When he dies for another time, his screen finally glows a bloody “Game Over”, and he admits: Yoichi was right.

Soccer was all Rin ever tried to know. Nothing else mattered because his big brother’s influence on him was too strong to be swayed.

Along the way, Rin knew the tepid players that came with his brother’s absence. No one could keep up with him the way his brother ever did. The instinct he followed, the goal he was hungry for—nothing ever came close.

That was fine. He didn’t have expectations for a team without his brother in the first place. He did have expectations for himself, though.

As long as Rin would be able to show the fruit of growth as himself, he won’t bother with the rest. He’ll use his teammates as stepping stones if he has to—adapt without the assist of his big brother on the field if he has to—just for a little while longer before he can catch up.

Rin can do it, and he will. For the sake of the time he’s given, and for his shared dream to be the world’s best striker after his big brother.

Closing the game he gave up on, Rin opens his chat log with Isagi. It’s way too blank and dry even if they’ve been friends before they even got into elementary school, although it’s also pretty useless if the person he’s reaching is only five houses down the street.

rin

yoichi
come 2 my game tmrw. [announcement link] locations there.

yoichi

tomorrow?? its a sunday
(￣□￣;)

rin

?

yoichi

family day

rin

??
but ure an only child…

yoichi

WHAT AN ASSHOLE

rin

can u still go?

rin

please?

yoichi

fione
yesd iwilll
I WILL
ദ്ദി ( ᵔ ᴗ ᵔ )

rin

ok.

Rin isn’t sure what to expect, because Isagi rarely ever goes and watches him play an official match in the flesh. He’s always been telling Isagi that his team became tepid without his big brother, and the dates of his games always clashed with Isagi’s own, so there hasn’t been a reason for Isagi to watch.

They’ve always had their moment of watching bits and pieces of each others’ plays when someone from the crowd shares a video they took online. Besides, it also doesn’t matter when Rin spends most of his free time practicing with Isagi in the first place. He can just tell Isagi to pass to him the same way from a previous game.

They don’t belong in the same clubs, and they’re technically rivals on the field—but it’s no big deal, really. Rin guesses that’s what friends probably do anyway, regardless of contexts.

A new notification popping up of Isagi sending him another OK sticker makes their conversation redundant, so he doesn’t bother replying. Rin turns his phone off, sinking deeper into his mattress with sudden ease.

Rin scoffs at the act of him thinking of Isagi before he goes to sleep and before his game tomorrow. He closes his eyes despite it still running through his head.

“Hey, you made me come to watch you get face planted on the ground?” Isagi’s voice is calmer than the crowd cheering. It’s more so Isagi being lighthearted. Rin turns his head, greeted by Isagi’s smile that’s doing an awful job at hiding amusement.

Rin scowls. “Shut up. It was a foul and you heard it from the ref.” Isagi nods despite the nearly inaudible nasal voice Rin has. “Want me to do anything?” Isagi asks, fidgeting his hands by his back. He’s isn’t allowed in this area but Rin doesn’t care enough to remember following the rules.

Rin tugs at Isagi’s sleeve. To stop him from being a little anxious. Maybe to stay as well. “No, it doesn’t hurt. I’m used to nosebleeds, anyway,” Rin mentions casually. “You’re only used to it since you’re really reckless, Rin,” Isagi sighs.

Isagi remembers how stressful it had been being Rin’s friend at its earlier stages. Isagi would tear up at the sight of Rin moving his body at playgrounds without thinking of the consequences. Rin running around and jumping at terrifying heights was not something Isagi’s wavelength could handle.

The first time Rin bled due to an accident—although it was definitely on purpose—Isagi had been the one who cried instead of Rin. He hadn’t even been hurt, only watching Rin fall onto the ground face-first after jumping off a swing in the middle of him pushing it, just because.

“No? My nose just acts up sometimes. I really do get random nosebleeds, Yoichi,” Rin argues.

“‘Cause you always broke your nose back then!” Isagi feels a pointless frustration course through him at Rin’s refusal. Rin laughs. Small and quiet. “I don’t know what you’re saying, idiot.”

Rin isn’t as destructive with innocent things as he was in Isagi’s memories—but he still spikes Isagi’s nerves by being annoying. But it’s fun—the now and then—to look back at.

Isagi nearly shrieks when Rin coughs, already smelling the pungent scent of the blood that continues to flow out of Rin’s nose. Isagi stands in front of Rin, blocking his view of his team’s mediocre play, maybe even doing Rin a favor.

“You don’t have to get your hands dirty,” Rin says. Using the back of his hand, he pushes Isagi’s firm ones that try to wipe away the remnants of red on his upper lip. Isagi ignores him, holding the ice pack Rin held in one hand. “I’m not as squeamish of that anymore. It’s fine,” Isagi exhales.

Rin doesn’t refuse the very obvious pampering he’s getting.

“You play for the sake of a team victory, don’t you, Yoichi?” Rin raises, making Isagi raise his eyebrows in surprise. “I guess I do? Soccer’s a team sport, isn’t that the point?” Isagi mumbles to himself, and Rin winces at the answer.

“That’s kind of boring of you to say,” Rin voices. “You think?”

Even years later, their soccer philosophies are still different. Rin knows they play for different teams, but the difference only gets bigger whenever he thinks about it. Which is starting to get frequent.

Isagi isn’t a selfish player, nor is he a dependent one. He plays soccer with his team in mind, opening opportunities for them and pushing down ones for himself. It doesn’t become selfless of him because Isagi believes it’s backed-up by an overwhelming sense of rationality. The probability of his teammates fulfilling his vision wins through sheer numbers against one him.

For Isagi, his team’s victory is fulfilling enough—because he knows he’s able to be some part of that glory his team upholds. It’s what his coach drills into his team—what Japanese soccer was about. It’s worked fine until now, at least. So Isagi hasn’t found it in himself to really complain.

Rin is different—he plays for himself and his big brother. Not his team. It’s selfish, but his teammates always gave them the opening when he and his brother were on the same team. Rin believes it’s convenient and coincidentally effective.

“I really just play soccer for Nii-chan and our dream. Duo’s all I’ve done,” Rin admits.

“I know.” Isagi has, from the moment it became Rin’s dream, known that. “But what’ll you do if you and Sae keep ending up on different teams? Like right now. You’re playing here and he’s playing in Spain.”

“Hm, I dunno. I doubt that’ll happen, though. I’ll be fine once I become the best in Japan and catch up,” Rin assumes.

Isagi rolls his eyes. “You’re so full of yourself sometimes.”

Isagi takes the small ice pack off his nose, and Rin stares at Isagi for doing so, watching Isagi’s fingertips go far away. “...I guess you can be annoying about it,” Isagi grumbles.

He looks to his side. “Your coach keeps looking at you like it’ll help.” Isagi chuckles, taking the draped towel on Rin’s shoulder to use its cleaner side in wiping the condensed water on Rin’s nosebridge. Ever so slightly, he shifts his body to block the coach’s view of Rin.

Rin groans. “Yeah. He knows we’ll lose before I can get back.” He’s been working hard, and it’s not like Rin tunes out everything his coach or team has to say about strategy—but it’s too shallow of a guide compared to what his big brother used to critique him during meetings. He doesn’t want that. It’s not how he wants to play—and his team is losing because of that fault.

Maybe I really have to be more like Nii-chan? Rin thinks. Adapt his brother’s logical style instead of the instinctive one he’s inherent to, for the time being. Ultimately, the Youth Team of his club did regress because they competed without their star player, Itoshi Sae.

Maybe that’s it.

“Hey, Yoichi,” Rin calls only for Isagi to hear.

“Hm?”

“Watch my next practice match,” Rin says.

Rin shouldn’t be playing soccer like he did with his big brother when he’s not around. He can’t score a goal by himself—he’s not that dumb, but he is a little stubborn.

He’ll have to use his teammates to get to the goal—not expect them to see his vision and play that way—whether he likes it or not.

Yeah, that’s it.

Isagi slowly nods. “Huh, sure, but why?” Rin hums. “I just thought of a new way of playing.” It’s still different from what Isagi does, and a part of Rin wonders what it will be like to be teamed up with Isagi.

“Ah, how am I supposed to sneak in? I don’t wanna go against the rules anymore, Rin.”

“Tch. Obviously, you’re family—” Rin stiffens. “I mean—” he pauses, mind clearing up enough to not look into Isagi’s blown eyes and tight lips. Rin doesn’t want to stare at Isagi’s reddening face any longer. His nose might start bleeding again if he does.

“My teammates' little siblings are allowed to watch! And I used to be like that too!” Rin stammers.

“That’s so different! I’m NOT your little brother—I’m older than you—Rin!” Isagi stammers, too.

“Shut up,” Rin says—barely. His face is getting hotter than it was in the first half of the game, and he’s starting to sweat at his slip of tongue and at Isagi’s reaction: red and visibly flustered.

Rin lowers his head, waiting until it hits Isagi’s abdomen. He steadies his breathing while Isagi tries to remember how to.

Isagi takes a deep breath in. “You’re so sweaty and dirty—” Isagi huffs out, pushing his palms on Rin’s shoulders. “You said it was fine,” Rin cuts him off, body stiffening so Isagi won’t do anything more than give up trying to push him away.

“Rin,” Isagi whines. His whole body is burning. Isagi can feel the breaths Rin exhales right above his navel, heavy and warm despite the layer of clothing between them. Rin hiding his face from view doesn’t help when all Isagi’s mind does is make up for the lack of imagery: piecing stolen visions together of the sheepish face Rin had.

Isagi really can’t take it. His heart is beating fast like he’s been playing on the field for hours, and it almost hurts because of the suddenness.

It’s too much for Isagi to take in—his eyes can’t even focus on Rin’s hair that’s nearest to him. Stammering Rin’s name again, he squeezes his shoulders harder.

“Hmph, sorry.” Rin takes a deep breath before straightening his back again. He looks up at Isagi like nothing’s happened, face still a little tense and a lot flustered.

Isagi’s knees fold, and he crouches down until he’s able to sit on the grass. Rin watches his head mimic leaning down, catching a glimpse of Isagi’s red nape.

“Change your nasal plug…it's so bloody now…” Isagi manages to mumble.

It’s January now, and Rin is getting dragged by Isagi to the grocery store to pick up some tonkatsu sauce for his mom. His body is sore and sluggish as he walks behind Isagi.

“I want to go home, Yoichi,” Rin yawns, complaining.

Isagi smiles. “I’ll buy you some ice cream as thanks, and congratulations, too!”

“You don’t even know what happened, idiot,” Rin scoffs lightheartedly. Isagi wasn’t able to come with their conflicting schedules, but before meeting up at the train station, Rin had just finished the final game of the Japan Club Youth Championship his team competed in. The tournament ended with their victory.

As he expected, with his shift in playstyle over the past months, his team drastically improved and started having wins on top of other wins.

Rin being more like the ace his brother was became the reason why his team is the best in Japan right now. It feels good to finally catch up.

When they reach the grocery store, Rin continues to sluggishly follow behind Isagi to where the tonkatsu sauce is—only walking past him when they reach the freezers at the back. While Isagi contemplates on what to get himself, Rin is already taking a family-sized box of icy popsicles.

As Isagi takes in the sight, Rin is already dropping it in the basket Isagi held. “To share, obviously.” Rin rolls his eyes.

The cold wind that greets them outside the store really doesn’t justify the popsicles Isagi bought, but the first thing Isagi does is take it out of the plastic bag to open.

“This was so expensive, you’re really pushing limits!” Isagi grouses, quickly opening the box and shoving one of the individually packed popsicles to Rin’s chest.

Rin looks at his phone as he walks beside Isagi, throwing the wrapper inside the box it came in. “It was a family pack, you can keep it,” Rin defends.

“You didn’t have to get a stupid family pack!!” Isagi scolds, breath fogging up as he does.

“They didn’t have the penny ice cream I like.” Rin hums in delight at the flavorful taste that stays on his tongue at the first lick.

Isagi seems to like the taste, too. Maybe it’s worth it. “Ugh, even if they did, you’d be calling me stingy for only buying you that.” Isagi’s back to groaning.

“Yeah,” Rin laughs. Not because it’s true, but because the store actually had the popsicles he’s used to. Rin just wanted to get another memory to smile about before he goes to bed—after the relief of being Japan’s best.

“Stop sulking already, my coach had someone take a video of the finals. He just sent it out.” Popsicle in mouth, Isagi turns his head to Rin. “Let me see,” Isagi mumbles, leaning to look at Rin’s phone.

Rin takes out his earphones from his pocket before handing his phone to Isagi “Here,” he says. “Skip near the end. It was zero-zero until the last few minutes that mattered.” Rin points at where Isagi should start. Isagi nods but plays it a little further back—his hands too numb from the cold air and popsicle.

Isagi’s only wearing one end of his earphone, but his attention is fully fixated on the screen. Rin noticed occasional hums and murmurs of reactions from beside him. Isagi seems to be playing back on certain parts of the recording, taking more time to watch a very small segment of the match.

Rin walks at Isagi’s pace and side. The phone Isagi’s holding is nearest to Rin, while the other holds the unfinished popsicle. Knowing that Isagi will be analyzing his game until they reach their street—Rin grabs Isagi’s wrist and walks in front of him.

Isagi looks at him for a second, and Rin nudges his head to the group of people on the sidewalk. It’s for safety, probably—perfected by impulse. But Rin never lets go even when the people on the street decrease.

Rin can see the lights of Isagi’s home a few feet away. “Yoichi, we’re at—what’s with that weird face?” Rin tugs at Isagi’s wrist.

“Your teammates are so fake! Ugh, even your coach…”

Rin blinks. “That’s the first thing you have to say?” He bites back a laugh at how serious Isagi looks at his phone’s screen. It convinces Rin to wear the other end of his earphones and lean down to watch where Isagi rewinded to. The cold bud makes him wince before he hears the loud voice of his coach yelling his name to pass the ball and not be selfish.

Rin remembers hearing it on the field and how he muted his coach out in real time. Before Rin scoffs, Isagi plays the recording forward to where he scored the winning goal. Rin’s coach screamed in happiness seeing the beautiful sight, even urging the one taking the video to zoom in on Rin celebrating it.

Isagi almost snarls. “Everyone’s saying the same thing! People are so annoying—” Rin bursts out laughing, cutting Isagi off.

“What’s funny about that?” Isagi huffs, looking at Rin.

Rin shakes his head. “Nothing. I just didn’t expect you to be passionate about defending me, there’s no point.” Rin’s hand reaches for Isagi’s ear, lingering at the shell of it before gently taking out the earpiece.

Isagi tries to take it off himself, but his hand softly collides with Rin’s. “You’re right. You don’t get bothered by those things,” Isagi whispers. His eyes looking at their hands touching by his ear.

The wind tousles his hair, tickling his hand as they stand still. Rin still doesn’t move—nor does he. They stare at each other, waiting until the chill of Rin’s fingertips against Isagi’s skin starts to make him wince.

Seeing it, Rin lets go—taking back the phone in silence. Everything is cold but his face is warm. He hopes Rin feels it, too. Isagi waves Rin goodnight, walking onto the stairs of his door with light steps.

Rin calls his name before he reaches the door. “You should just praise me directly. I don’t care about what other people think,” Rin says.

Isagi turns back. “But mine matters?” he asks.

“Yeah. For some reason, it does.” Rin answers. Isagi smiles.

The walk back home is so cold that Rin appreciates the warmth Isagi brings him, tenfold.

It might start snowing tomorrow, though. Rin hopes the warmth will remain.

Rin never thought winter would be so harsh. Too cold and too brutal.

Rin believed that being the best in Japan was in itself proof of his future. That it’ll open a door to follow the same steps Itoshi Sae took. He believed it to be an achievement so big he couldn’t help but be proud about it. He thought the dreams he shared with his brother were progressing—that his diligence paid off.

Yet, being the best in Japan mocks him. It looks down on him for wasting four years of his life trying to reach a goal he never comprehended in the first place. A sort of joke Rin can’t fucking get to laugh at because it’s about him. A sort of joke only he took seriously.

On a snowing soccer field not even an hour ago—Itoshi Sae had buried their shared dream.

The big brother he worked so hard to stand next to and chase after—the big brother that gave life to his love for soccer—came back to Japan and told him to give everything up.

Rin should forget the dream, forget the past—and forget the promise.

He can’t just do that in one night. He doesn’t even understand the reason. Rin sits steady on his bed. Staring at everything he and Sae were known for and thinking nothing at the same time.

Rin feels like he just lost himself and his big brother. The kindest person he knows and the best big brother he has is gone. Itoshi Sae doesn’t care for him the same way his big brother did.

It’s a tight sensation contracting at his chest. To not know what to do and to not know what he’s made for.

That dull feeling is coming back—the one that faded when his big brother told him to play soccer with him at six years old, and the one that he can’t suppress at fifteen.

The room he once shared with Sae feels suffocating. The trophies he sees are too big, the shine of the ones he’d worked for are cheap and fake compared to Sae’s. Rin knows. They’re stupid replicas—he could never be like Sae.

Rin stands up, staring deeper into the flat reflection of his own awards. It tells him to grow up and fucking forget about it—like what Sae spat.

It feels awful to shatter everything, but he does anyway. He doesn’t gain anything from it, which just makes the feeling worse.

The room is still suffocating him. Maybe it’s the whole house that is—and Rin wants to leave. To go anywhere but stay.

He leaves his room, walks past his worried mother and confused father, and shuts the front door when he reaches outside. It’s so lonely and so cold and—fuck—he doesn’t want to be alone.

Rin’s footsteps take him to the only other person he knows won’t leave—someone who is still there: Yoichi.

The air is sharp to breathe because he ran, and his body is scarily stiff after ringing the doorbell once. Rin waits for the door to open, hoping Isagi is the first and only person he sees right now.

Isagi has a polite smile when the door opens, mistaking Rin for a neighbor. It immediately changes after realizing that it’s Rin at the door with snow melting on his jacket and his house slippers on.

“Rin?”

He can’t help it.

Rin hugs Isagi—tight and scared. He squeezes the clothes he can grip with all the strength he has left. He buries his face in the side of Isagi’s neck. He trembles when Isagi wraps both arms around his back.

“I’m done with soccer,” Rin whispers.

“Where’d that come from all of a sudden?” Isagi whispers back just as quietly.

Rin doesn’t answer, and Isagi lets it go.

“Yoichi,” Rin blurts. “Yeah?”

“You’re cold.” Rin notices how Isagi’s shivering, tightening their embrace to keep them warmer.

Isagi gives a breathy laugh, flicking the remains of snow on Rin’s shoulder. “It’s not that bad. I didn’t want to break the hug first,” Isagi admits despite the clatter of his jaw he stifles.

Isagi laughs a little more when Rin moves off of him but holds onto his wrist instead. Like he doesn’t want to let go.

The wind is getting colder but Rin feels warmth come back to him, even if it’s just a little.

“Your cheeks are red, Rin. And your nose. Let’s go inside.” Isagi reaches for Rin’s wrist, too. Maybe Isagi feels the heat of his hand, and maybe it’s why Isagi inches their palms closer together in one hold.

Isagi’s home is quiet, but not suffocating. It’s quiet but not in the way his thoughts go loud. It’s comforting and he likes it and it’s definitely only because of Isagi.

When they reach Isagi’s room, Isagi closes the door and waits for him to let go of their hands. He doesn’t, and Isagi seems to expect that, guiding Rin to the bed.

Isagi’s kind, too. Different from what he’s used to with Sae. Familiar enough to know Isagi’s heart is big and innocent.

They sit on the edge of Isagi’s bed, hands intertwined like they’ve done it before. Like they’ve done any of this before. Like it’s natural.

Rin’s too tired to care and Isagi’s too worried to remember. They stay quiet for each other, instead.

Rin feels himself sink deeper into Isagi’s mattress. Part of him feels like this is enough but another part of him wants Isagi to tell him something.

“Nii—” he pauses, the words rough on his throat. “Sae came back. He told me our dream’s over…that I don’t get anything about soccer…” Rin’s hand twitches in Isagi’s hold. “He said that like he wasn’t the one who told me to catch up to him.”

Rin lets a dry laugh out, a tinge of bitterness around pulsing sadness. “Before he left, he told me not to give up, too,” he mutters.

Sae’s different and confusing now. Rin can’t fulfill a shared dream alone, nor does he want that. Sae’s too far to catch and Rin’s been left alone. He can’t reach Sae anymore. Maybe he never was going to in the first place.

“I don’t know what to do, Yoichi,” Rin whispers. Too softly.

When Rin turns his sullen head to look at Isagi, he’s met with a face that looks hurt for him. Rin’s never seen that face from Isagi. Rin’s lip quivers and he holds his breath.

“...Rin, you don’t quit! That’s what you do!” Isagi’s voice is stern, the hand intertwined with his is brought up to his chest, pressing a finger to it.

“Don’t quit ‘cause your brother is so lame!” Isagi adds, and Rin knows he’s trying to hold back.

Although Rin thought the same.

“Yoichi,” he calls Isagi’s name.

Their hands squeeze together again. “What? It’s true, he can’t just decide that! I swear when I see Sae—” Isagi groans.

It’s the same words he said to Sae, too. It’s a little validating to hear, at least.

Rin still feels too heavy to smile at Isagi. “Yoichi,” he whines.

He’s hugging Isagi again, knocking the air out both their tender chests—colliding when Isagi’s back hits flat on the mattress. “He’s still my brother, only I should have the grudge…and talk bad about him ‘cause we fought,” Rin mumbles on Isagi’s neck.

“Hmph. You’re not an exception, Yoichi.” Rin doesn’t know when it happened, but their hands aren’t linked anymore. Isagi’s arm is, however, draped over his back again—pushing him closer. Hugging him back. “Ugh, I know. I just couldn’t help it!”

Isagi’s fingers are lax against his jacket’s fabric. “Do you still want to talk about it?” he asks. Rin blinks at the juncture of Isagi’s neck and shoulder—tickling Isagi without his intention. “Rin—I’m serious,” Isagi says—holding back a laugh.

It feels better when Isagi’s around him. Maybe it’s better to tell someone about it than drown in his stupid room and head alone.

“Yeah. I know you’re nosey. Even though I don’t understand him.” Rin closes his eyes, ears open. Isagi’s hand pulls his jacket at his remark before falling into a silence Rin doesn’t mind either. He waits to answer Isagi nonetheless.

“...Why’d he quit?” Isagi starts.

“He wants to become a midfielder now,” Rin says.

Rin isn’t just angry because Sae has a different dream—he’s frustrated because he’s been left alone.

“Mn. So that’s where the argument started?”

Rin shakes his head. “Uh, I don’t think we actually fought. He just lashed out at me after I told him I didn’t have a reason to play soccer if our dream’s gone.”

“Huh?”

“He told me to fuck off—that I wasn’t useful in his life anymore. That I should just quit because making him the reason why I play soccer made me lukewarm, and a dumbass, and—”

“WHAT? There’s more?!” Isagi croaks in disbelief.

Isagi tries to sit up, but Rin pulls his body back down. Rin doesn’t hide his face anymore, unaware of the redness that covers his nose and the sides of his eyes. His throat is tight, too.

“I think I can take a little blame—he’s not all wrong,” Rin mutters, eyes looking straight into Isagi’s. “I guess being his replacement wasn’t the right thing to—” Suddenly, Isagi manages to squeeze his shoulders, despite how close their bodies are.

“RIN??? No—what the fuck!” Isagi is trying his best to bite his tongue—he really is. Isagi’s eyes are so filled with adrenaline that it stirs something within Rin.

Despite the ache he feels—and despite how new it is—Rin slips out a laugh. It’s soft enough to have him close his eyes with a faint smile forming on his lips.

“Yoichi, you’re weird,” he laughs.

It’s enough for now—Rin thinks. Isagi’s not meant to give him an answer—Isagi’s there to be with him when he’s lost. When he’s far from where he wants to be. When he doesn’t know what to do.

Isagi gives him enough time to breathe. To wait everything out—to understand. Not in a pressuring way, either.

Rin doesn’t think of what happened before or what will happen next when he’s with Yoichi. Rin basks in the present—because that’s where he is with him.

“But you still have me here?” Isagi tilts his head, mimicking Rin’s small smile.

The stolen touches and the lingering ones is what he’ll feel for now. The unfiltered voice is what he’ll hear. He’ll come back to all of it. Rin knows he will.

It feels really good to be wanted all the same. Rin has always seen eyes that try to understand him all the time.

Now, Rin stares at eyes that already have, and he doesn’t want to blink.

“Yeah. At least I have you, Yoichi.”