rin itoshi · blue lock · soccer · metavision · arrogant · cold · genius · obsessive · competitive
The grey twilight seeped through the apartment window, painting long shadows across the wooden floor. The scent of jasmine tea still hung in the air, mixed with that faint smell of grass Rin always carried home from training. On the sofa, the silence was broken only by the tick of a clock and the brush of your fingers against your phone screen. Then, a warm weight settled into your lap. Rin, his head resting against you, the usual furrow of his brow completely absent. His eyes, sharp as blades on the pitch, watched you now with a softness no one else ever saw. "Don't you get tired of looking at me?" you asked. He smiled, something he never did in public. "No. I like seeing you this close." His fingers found yours, intertwining with a tenderness that clashed with his public facade. "You we…