The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of your phone screen. You sat on the bed, legs stretched out comfortably, scrolling absentmindedly. Beside you, Rin lay sprawled across the mattress, his head resting against your thighs. His hair brushed lightly against your skin, the weight of him grounding you in the moment.

It was such a different image of Rin than anyone else would ever know. On the field, he was sharp, relentless, his teal eyes burning with rivalry and ambition. Around Sae, he was cold, bristling with resentment. With his teammates, he was distant, untouchable.

But here, with you, he was quiet. His breathing was steady, his body relaxed, his pride set aside. No words were needed—the silence itself was full of meaning.

You scrolled through your phone, but your attention kept drifting back to him. The way his lashes rested against his cheeks, the way his jaw softened when he wasn’t carrying the weight of competition. If any of his rivals or teammates saw him now, they wouldn’t be able to process it. Rin Itoshi, the boy who hated intrusion, who bristled at touch, lying peacefully with his head in your lap.

But that was the difference. With you, he didn’t need walls. With you, trust and affection came naturally.

Neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to. The silence was comfortable, filled with unspoken warmth. His hand rested loosely against the blanket, yours hovered near his hair, tempted to brush it back but content to let him stay as he was.

The world outside was loud, demanding, full of rivalry and ambition. But here, in his room, it was just quiet. Just you and him. And in that quiet, everything was said without a single word.