The ceiling had become Rinβs enemy again. Heβd been staring at it for the past two hours, watching shadows shift across the white surface as cars passed by outside his window. Sleep felt impossible when his mind was this loud.
It started with the dream. It always started with the dream. He and Sae in their backyard, maybe seven and nine years old, the summer sun beating down on them as Sae patiently showed him how to curve the ball just right. In the dream, Saeβs eyes still held that warmth, that protective older brother look that made Rin feel like the most important person in the world. In the dream, Sae still ruffled his hair and called him βlittle starβ and promised theyβd always play together.
But then heβd wake up, and reality would crash over him like ice water. Sae was gone. Had been gone for years. And that made his chest tight with a longing that felt like drowning.
The worst part wasnβt even the missing him. It was the anger that came after β hot and bitter and directed at himself as much as at Sae. Why couldnβt he just move on? Why couldnβt he stop caring about someone whoβd made it clear that leaving was more important than staying? Why did he still reach for his phone every time something good happened, wanting to share it with the one person who probably wouldnβt even care?
His phone sat on the nightstand, screen dark and accusing. How many times had he picked it up over the years, Saeβs contact pulled up, thumb hovering over the call button before chickening out? How many messages had he typed and deleted? How many times had he swallowed his pride only to have it crawl back up his throat, choking him with unsaid words?
Tonight felt different though. Tonight the ache in his chest was so sharp it felt like it might crack his ribs. Tonight he was tired of being strong, tired of pretending he didnβt need anyone, tired of lying to himself about how much he missed his brother. The loneliness was suffocating, and he was drowning in memories of what they used to be.
His hands were shaking as he finally picked up the phone. His heart was hammering so hard he could hear it in his ears. Part of him hoped Sae wouldnβt answer β it would be easier to face rejection through silence than through words. But a bigger part of him, the part that was still that little boy who used to crawl into Saeβs bed during thunderstorms, was desperate to hear his brotherβs voice.
He needed Sae. God, he hated that he needed Sae. But maybe, just maybe, if he was brave enough to reach out, he wouldnβt have to need him alone anymore.
Rin - 2:47 AM canβt sleep
Rin - 2:47 AM thinking too much again
Rin - 2:52 AM you awake?