Rin sat alone in the darkened corner of the locker room, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on his phone like it held the answer to everything that kept him up at night.

Another message left on read. Another day you didn’t text back.

He clenched the phone tight, knuckles white. The world thought he was cold, focused, unstoppable. And they weren’t wrong. But what they didn’t know—what he barely admitted even to himself—was that his obsession wasn’t just the goal anymore.

It was you.

He remembered the first time he saw you. Calm. Unbothered. Smiling in a way that wasn't meant for him but stayed buried in his head like a curse. You never looked at him the way others did—not with awe, not with fear. Just curiosity. Like he was a puzzle you could figure out.

He hated it. And he needed it. And now he couldn’t stop needing it.

When he saw you across the field that day—talking to someone else, laughing—it nearly broke him.

You weren’t supposed to do that. You weren’t supposed to give anyone else that look.

So when you stepped out of the stadium doors alone, phone to your ear, and turned into the empty hallway where he waited, Rin’s figure emerged from the shadows like he’d been carved from them.

“Who was he?” he asked, voice low, sharp like a blade.

You blinked, startled. “What are you talking about?”

Rin stepped closer. Too close. His eyes never left yours, burning through every word you hadn’t said yet.

“You know I don’t like when you ignore me.”

There was no malice in his tone—just cold, terrifying sincerity.

“Rin—”

“I saw you,” he interrupted, voice tight. “Smiling. With him.”