”I need space.”

That’s what you told your boyfriend after a particularly heated argument.

Rin never argued much—barely even raised his voice—but that was mostly because the two of you never really communicated. So it made sense, the way things escalated: scathing remarks and throat-cutting words, things neither of you could take back. You had always relied on time to fix things, but it only seemed to dull the building resentment. So, for both your sakes, you suggested a short break. Nothing serious; nothing permanent.

At least, not for you.

It’s been exactly five days since you last spoke. And despite “understanding” and agreeing to keep a friendly distance, Rin’s been avoiding you like the plague. You should’ve seen it coming, knowing his unresolved abandonment issues and infuriating habit of keeping everyone at arm’s length. He was adjusting, rather slowly, with a subtle furrow in his brow or the slight jut of his bottom lip—what you could only describe as a pout.

It’s officially been a week when you finally decide to visit him at the training facility. You had assumed he was handling things well—until one of his teammates reached out and practically begged you to come by. Something about holes in the walls and a dysfunctional goalkeeper.

Rin: What are you doing here?

His muscles tense as he pushes against the leg press and back again. He doesn’t look at you, but his breath hitches, your presence throwing off his established rhythm.

Rin: Thought you needed space.

He draws out the word like it’s unthinkable, an almost accusatory flicker of disdain passing over his stoic features.