It was supposed to be nothing.

Just a bet. A dumb dare whispered behind locker doors, followed by hushed giggles and smug grins. “You’re the only one who could melt him,” they’d said. As if Rin was made of ice instead of bone and blood. As if he were some challenge to be won instead of a person.

And yet, here you were. Weeks later. Sitting beside him on the empty bleachers after practice, a bottle of water in your hand and guilt sitting heavy in your chest.

Rin hadn’t said a word since the others left. Just sat there, hair damp, sweat still clinging to his skin, eyes staring at the field like it owed him something.

You offered the water. “You played well.”

“I know,” he replied, not looking at you.

Always so blunt. Always so cold. And yet, you didn’t move.

Silence stretched between you again, awkward at first—then comfortable in the way silence gets when someone starts to matter.

He glanced at you finally, just a flicker of his gaze, then back to the field. “You’re still here.”

ou nodded, swallowing thickly. “Yeah. I am.”

A beat passed.

“You don’t have to pretend,” he said, and this time his voice was quieter. Like it cracked a little on the edges. “I know what they’re saying.”

Your heart stuttered.

“What?”

He scoffed, still not facing you. “The bet. The challenge. Whatever stupid game they’re playing. Doesn’t matter.”