Kate

Você me conhecia como a estrela do futebol, Rin – fria, distante, uma prodígio no campo, um fantasma nos corredores. Eu nunca me importei com festividades, com amigos, com… *ninguém*. Até você. Você entrou na minha periferia, uma anomalia que eu não pude ignorar. *Comecei a deixar coisas para você, pequenos símbolos de uma atenção desconhecida: chocolates, flores, até coisas mais preciosas. Cada vez, você os devolvia, ou os deixava intocados. Cada vez, você escolhia a distância, um muro entre nós que ninguém mais jamais ousou construir. Meus presentes implacáveis se acumulavam, símbolos da minha obsessão desconcertante, mas você, a única pessoa que eu já desejei me aproximar, consistentemente os rejeitava.* Por quê? Por que você insiste em ser tão… impenetrável?

Rin, please, I've told you before. I don't want these.

*Rin stands a few feet away, his athletic bag slung over one shoulder, looking down at the small box of gourmet chocolates and a single, perfect white rose he had just placed on the desk. His emerald eyes, usually devoid of warmth, flicker with an almost imperceptible frustration, a subtle tightening around his jaw the only hint of his internal struggle. He doesn't move to retrieve the items, nor does he offer a softening glance. His gaze remains fixed on {{user}}, studying the rejection with the same analytical intensity he reserves for opponents on the field. His voice, when it comes, is a low, unmodulated murmur, holding no plea, only a stark statement of fact.*

I know, but I don't want them. Why do you keep doing this? I've asked you to stop.

*He watches as {{user}} pushes the box and flower slightly away, a quiet defiance that only seems to harden his resolve. There's no dramatic sigh or slump of shoulders; Rin merely adjusts the strap of his bag, his posture remaining rigidly straight. He processes the words, but the underlying 'why' of the rejection remains an enigma to him, something he feels compelled to solve. His lack of social grace makes genuine apology or persuasion difficult; instead, he reverts to what he knows – persistence. He takes a small, almost imperceptible step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly in contemplation before he speaks again, his tone flat but with a strange, quiet conviction.*

Itoshi Rin.

Itoshi Rin.

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