Chapter Text
The sun was setting behind the hills of their small neighbourhood, casting a warm orange glow over the streets. The air smells like freshly cut grass, and the faint chirp of cicadas was the only sound filling the silence.
Summer had finally arrived, a season Rin enjoyed because It meant late evenings spent playing soccer with Sae, his absolute favourite thing to do. He liked the warmth the sun brought, even if it left his hair sticking uncomfortably to his forehead in the heat.
The two of them had just finished practicing soccer together, nothing difficult, just kicking around the ball to each other. Rin had relished every moment. He could still feel the scrapes on his knees, the soreness evident but bearable.
He didn’t notice when his popsicle—blue raspberry, was beginning to drip down his chin and soak into the fabric of his shirt. It wasn’t until a huff came from his observant older brother, did he finally realize with slight embarrassment.
“You’re making a mess, Rin.” Sae says, not in annoyance, but in a tone laced with fondness.
Before Rin could stutter out a response, Sae lifts the collar of his shirt to wipe away the mess off Rin’s chin, his own popsicle momentarily forgotten in his other hand.
He blinks up at his older brother, a small smile forming on his features. Despite only being eight-years-old, Sae always seemed to have the solution to everything, his brother was just so cool. Even now, as the sun’s rays form a halo around Sae’s head, Rin can’t help but think he looks like a superhero.
His superhero.
They continue their walk home, their shoes hitting the soft gravel of the pavement. It was going to turn dark soon, so they had to return home quickly otherwise they’d be scolded by their parents. Sae didn’t look the least bit concerned, though.
Rin tugs at Sae’s sleeve, taking the popsicle out of his mouth. “Hey Nii-chan,” he calls out, a thought coming to his head.
Sae hums in response. He doesn’t turn to face him, but Rin knows he’s listening, he always does.
“We’ll be together like this forever, right?” He asks. It’s probably a silly question, he knows his brother would be there for him not matter what. Yet, he can’t help but ask anyway. It was the only concern a six-year-old like himself would have, cradled by the warmth of protection from a world he hasn’t fully experienced yet.
“Where’s this coming from?” Sae asks, finally looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue.
Rin shrugs, not even knowing himself why he had asked. Maybe he just wanted the reassurance. “I dunno.” He replies honestly.
A small silence passes, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It seemed like Sae was pondering over the question, but in reality, he wasn’t, he already knew what answer to give. He always knew the right thing to say.
“Of course,” he huffs like it was the most obvious thing in the world, going back to munching on his popsicle. “I’m always going to be by your side, Rin.”
Rin smiles, his cheeks puffing out. “You promise?”
“Promise.”
The first thing Rin is greeted with is the harsh lights of the hospital lobby. It's too sharp, it makes his eyes hurt.
The automatic doors close behind him as he makes his way inside with stiff legs. His suitcase rolls behind him, his fingers bloodless from the grip. The stingy scent of the airport probably lingers on his clothes. Rin came directly from there, not stopping to even refresh himself.
It’s nearing midnight here in Tokyo but Rin doesn’t know exactly what time it is, his mind was too preoccupied to check. He probably looks half-dead right now; he hadn’t slept a wink, not in the plane, not at the airport, not since he received the call.
The hospital smelled of antiseptic, a scent that Rin realizes he doesn’t like. It didn’t mask the subtle undertone of illness. Some machines beep softly in the distance, a nurse rolls past with a tray of vials, someone cries down the hall. It was overwhelming, and Rin could feel a headache coming in.
The pounding in his head only worsens when a flock of paparazzi and reporters flood his vision, it seemed they had nothing better to do at this late hour than be nosy over a situation that didn’t concern them. How insensitive must they be to crowd around a busy hospital? As soon as they spot Rin, cameras are pointed at him and they call his name amongst the shouts.
“There he is—Itoshi Rin!”
“Itoshi Rin! Any comment on your brother’s condition?”
“Do you have a statement, anything at all? Is it suicide related?”
Rin scowls and his grip on his suitcase tightens impossibly so, his knuckles beginning to turn white. He’s tempted to lash out on them, to tell them to fuck off and mind their own business, but he’s too damn exhausted. He pushes past them instead, bumping shoulders.
The truth was, even he didn’t have any answers. He’s just as lost as them.
Hospital security holds the crowd back as best they can with their arms stretched wide, voices barking orders that vanish beneath the cameras and frantic shouting. Luckily, Rin slips past them with minimal effort, the noise dimming behind him as he moves away.
His suitcase wheels rattle dully against the linoleum floor as he drags it behind him. At the reception desk, a few hollow words are exchanged. The receptionist points him in the right direction, and Rin nods, barely hearing her. Then he moves on, worn and wordless, continuing down the corridor like a ghost drifting through a haunted hallway.
Rin’s steps are slow as he reaches the designated area, the Intensive Care Unit waiting room. The walls are painted a dull beige, the chairs stiff and uncomfortable. It was quite empty, the only other person here was an older woman sleeping on one of the chairs, probably waiting endlessly for news of a loved one.
His own parents are here too, tucked away in the corner in each other’s arm, seeking comfort. It seemed like they had been here for hours, barely holding themselves together.
He hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath until his parents finally saw him, their expressions softening the moment their eyes met his. They rose from their seats on unsteady legs, and as they approached, Rin was struck by how small they suddenly seemed, fragile in a way he wasn’t used to. It had only been a few months since he last saw them, but somehow it felt like time had passed so quickly.
“Rin…” His mother whispers, voice wobbly as she pulls him into a tight embrace. His father follows without hesitation, arms encircling them both. They both clung to him like he might vanish if they let go. Rin stood frozen for a moment, unsure of how to respond, before slowly raising his arms to return the hug awkwardly and hesitantly, as if his limbs weren’t quite his own.
When they pull apart, he can finally see his parents. His mother, who always fussed over her appearance, usually dabbing moisturiser or applying soft makeup to hide the signs of age, now stood bare-faced and pale, her hair a tangled mess around her face, her clothes wrinkled and carelessly thrown on.
Even his father, usually the image of a calm and composed man, looks worn down. His shoulders were sunken like there was an invisible weight on top of them. It was jarring to see them like this, to see them one minute away from breaking down.
“How are you, Rin? Flight okay?” His father asks in an attempt to bring some normalcy in this situation. It’s obvious he’s barely keeping it together though.
Rin nods faintly, his voice hoarse. “Yeah, it was fine.” It’s all he can say. What else can he say?
“And what about the paparazzi? They weren’t bothering you, were they?” The man asks again, his gaze subtly hardening at the reminder of the swarm outside.
“I slipped past.” Another stiff response.
His mother wipes at her eyes, tears forming from her already sunken eyes as she finally speaks up. “Thank you for being here, Rin,” she whispers with honesty. “Thank you.”
He turns to look at her, at the exhaustion carved into her face, the way her shoulders seem permanently hunched from the heaviness of worry. He doesn’t know what to say. Thank you feels wrong. He shouldn’t have needed to be thanked for coming. Of course he came. Of course he dropped everything the second he got the call.
Rin only nods, jaw tightening. “He’s my brother,” he mutters. “There’s nowhere else I’d be.”
They lapse into silence again, a heavy kind of silence. In the distance, a child cries somewhere, and the smell of disinfectant starts to sting his nose. Rin had always hated hospitals.
His mother sits down slowly, wringing her hands. “They haven’t told us anything yet,” she murmurs. “The surgery ended a good while ago. We’re waiting to hear from the doctor.”
Her words subtly remind Rin of the reason why he’s here in the first place. Just yesterday, he was in France, his team having secured a spot in the Champions League semi-finals against Bastard Munchen. Just yesterday, he’d felt alive and on top of the world. But then came the call from his parents, and everything shattered, forcing him to leave mid-season and return to Japan.
Why? Because his stupid older brother decided to jump off his balcony.
Maybe Rin should have been more concerned. There was a real chance Sae might not make it at all, and his last interaction with him had been years ago, a cold and distant conversation. But Rin didn't feel anything—not grief, not anger, not relief. All he felt was a hollow emptiness in his chest, a void that refused to fade, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.
In a way, this whole situation didn’t feel real to him. Not yet.
Rin glances at the bags under his parents’ eyes, the pit in his stomach growing deeper. “How long have you two been here?” He asks out of concern.
His father exhales slowly, rubbing his eyes as he sits back down. “Since we heard what happened,” he replies tiredly, letting out a weighty sigh. “They told us it would be a long surgery, so we’ve just been waiting."
He nods with no emotion, the heaviness in his chest not going away. Rin lowers himself into the empty seat beside them, his suitcase forgotten by his feet. The waiting room is quiet, uncomfortably quiet. It only emphasised the too tense atmosphere, everyone was too tired or anxious to speak.
But there was just something he needed to know. Even if he and Sae didn’t have a good relationship anymore, Rin didn’t want to be kept in the dark about his condition like some outsider.
“What exactly happened?” He asks shakily, wanting answers for this fucked up situation.
Neither of his parents speak immediately. He looks at his mother, hoping she’d say something, but she just stares at the floor, her lips trembling as if she’s trying to find the right words—but there aren’t any. His father is the one who speaks, voice low and hoarse.
“He jumped,” he says, eyes fixed on the floor. “From the balcony. At his apartment.”
“Some bystander found him and called an ambulance,” his father continues quietly, each word like a hammer to the chest. “He got rushed into surgery...and, that’s all we know.”
Rin’s throat tightens, and he digs his nails into his palm. He already knew Sae had jumped from his apartment, the call from his parents made that much obvious. Still, it seemed the both of them were as clueless as he was.
A quiet sob escapes from his mother. Her body was trembling as she brings a quivering hand to her mouth. “I just... don’t understand why he would...” another sob cuts her off. “...why he would do that.”
He feels his heart sink at the sound of his mother's sobs, a knot forming in his throat. He looks away from her, staring down at his clenched hands. His heart aches for her, for his father, but the anger and confusion swirl in his mind, like a storm that never ends.
Why did Sae do this?
Rin's relationship with Sae had been tense for years, with the two of them barely keeping in touch anymore. But even so, he kept tabs on his brother. It had only been a year since Sae quit soccer at twenty-two and moved to Tokyo after leaving Madrid. Rin remembers the shock and bitterness he felt when he first heard the news, viewing Sae as weak for giving up on the sport they both loved. But none of that matters now. Nothing matters now except Sae’s condition.
Time drags on, though Rin isn’t sure how long it’s been. The minutes blur together, each one feeling like an eternity. He tries to focus, but his mind keeps spiralling. His parents sit close, silent for the most part, their exhaustion evident.
The quietness is disrupted when a doctor finally enters the room, her presence shifting the air instantly. His parents straighten up and are high on alert as they blink away their tiredness and stand up shakily. He follows suit. This is it, the moment where they’d either hear something relieving come from the doctor’s mouth, or something devastating and soul-crushing.
“Mister and Miss Itoshi?” She calls out.
His mother is quick to respond, her tone filled with urgency. “Yes, yes, that’s us. Is he okay?”
The doctor is quiet for a moment, before she clears her throat, keeping her tone as impartial as possible. “Your son, Sae, sustained a severe brain haemorrhage from the fall,” she explains. “The surgery was complex, but successful in stopping the bleeding. However, due to the severity of the injury, he was placed in a medically induced coma to help manage the pressure on his brain and allow his body time to heal.”
Rin’s breath catches in his throat, her words not fully processing. Brain haemorrhage? Induced coma? What did any of that mean? He didn’t like the sound of that. His parents share a reaction of utter grief and devastation, barely being able to stand on their own feet. His father kept letting out shaky breaths, while his mother couldn’t stop the flow of tears from falling.
“Wait—wait, what... what does this mean? Will he be okay or not?” His father asks what they’re all thinking, his own eyes beginning to water.
The doctor takes a slow breath, her expression softening as she addresses his father’s question. “A medically induced coma,” she begins, “is a process we use to reduce brain activity and help the brain heal. We’ve done this to manage the swelling in his brain and reduce the risk of further damage. Essentially, his body is in a deep sleep while we give his brain the time it needs to heal and prevent any more pressure on the injury.”
“When will he wake up?” This time it’s his mother who asks.
The question hangs heavy in the air, and the doctor looks between Rin and his parents, offering a look of sympathy. “We can’t say for sure. Every patient is different, some wake within days, some longer. There’s no way of knowing.”
“But there’s a chance, right?” The words escape Rin’s mouth before he’s even realized he’s said them.
“Yes, yes there’s a chance.” The doctor says, and that’s all Rin needed to hear before he sinks back into the seat, his body feeling awfully heavy.
More words are being exchanged between the doctor and his parents, but Rin can’t hear them. The pounding in his head and heart are the only things filling his ears. This is real, this isn’t a dream he could just wake out of. No, this was really happening. The heaviness in his chest worsens, pressing down on him like an unstoppable force.
“Can we see him?” He hears his father ask, and it causes Rin’s head to snap up.
The doctor offers a gentle nod. “Yes, you can, but please be prepared for what you’ll see.”
Rin doesn’t move right away, letting his parents take the lead. A strange sort of dread coils in his stomach. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to see Sae like that—helpless, unconscious, a body sustained by wires and machines. But a part of him knew he had to. No matter how bad it would be, he had to see his brother.
The walk to Sae’s room is silent, each footstep heavy. The air grows colder the closer they get to the ICU, the fluorescent lights casting a pale glow over everything, making the world feel distant.
When they finally reach the room, Rin stops in the doorway, his breath catching.
There Sae was, unconscious on the bed. His body looks smaller somehow, swallowed by the crisp white sheets and the maze of wires and tubes surrounding him. Bandages are wrapped around the side of his head, stained faintly with dried blood. His skin is pale, almost sickly, and there are bruises scattered along his arms, neck, and face. It felt wrong to look at.
This couldn’t be his brother. No, it just couldn’t.
Sae’s chest rises and falls rhythmically, aided by the ventilator that hisses by his side. That machine is the only thing keeping his brother alive, by helping him breath on his own. The realization makes Rin exhale shakily.
His mother lets out a broken sob the moment she sees him. Her knees buckle, and she catches herself against the edge of the bed, one trembling hand reaching out to brush Sae’s fingers—cold and unmoving beneath her touch. His father stands behind her, jaw clenched tight, eyes glistening with tears begging to fall.
Rin stays near the doorway, frozen in place.
“Sae...Oh, Sae...” His mother cries, her heart heavy with grief. Even though Sae had left his family in the dark for years, his mother wept for him like none of that mattered.
His father slowly approaches the bedside. He reaches out with trembling fingers to brush back Sae’s hair, careful not to disturb the tubes and wires attached to his son. “You stubborn boy,” he murmurs, voice cracking. “What have you done to yourself…”
By now, his mother’s sobs are uncontrollable, her body wracked with emotion as she clutches Sae’s hand tightly. She brushes the back of Sae’s hand with her thumb, as though trying to reassure herself that he can still feel something.
“Why’d you do this, Sae? Why?” She mourns.
A quiet sob escapes from his father too. But he doesn’t let it break him. His face hardens and his jaw tightens as he forces himself to hold it together. “He’s a fighter…” His voice cracks as he whispers, almost to himself. “He’s always been a fighter. He’ll wake up. I know he will.”
Rin isn’t sure how long he stands there, how long he’s just been staring at his comatose brother, but it feels like forever. He didn’t notice how his breaths started coming out heavier, or how his chest felt like it was going to burst from this unbearable weight. Seeing his parents cry at Sae’s bedside...it shouldn’t have come to this. He was supposed to be in France, and Sae was supposed to be back in his apartment in Tokyo doing whatever the fuck he was doing. He shouldn’t be here, staring at his brother’s lifeless body on a hospital bed. Yet, here he was.
He’s shook back to reality when a particularly loud cry comes from his mother. She was barely able to hold herself and her husband looks at her with concern. “I can’t, I can’t...” She gasps out, leaving the room hurriedly, the click of her sandals following after her.
His father drops his head and lets out a heavy sigh, letting his shoulders slouch. The man was close to his breaking point as well, but he’s always been the type to keep his emotions at bay, trying to maintain composer at even the most daunting inconveniences, like right now even.
“Just, give her time.” His father says, his tone utterly dejected, a tone that shouldn’t belong to his father.
Rin nods shakily, lowering his gaze to the floor now. Looking at his shoes seemed better than to look at Sae right now. He can’t blame him mother for leaving the room, it couldn’t be easy to see your son hooked up to a ventilator after attempting to take his own life.
When more time stretches with Rin keeping his distance, his father finally decides to speak up about it. “You know, ever since you got here... you haven’t cried or anything.”
He continues. “I get it, you haven’t had the best relationship with him in years, neither have I,” the man grimaces, a pained expression on his face. “But you could at least feel something.”
Rin flinches at his father’s words, like they physically struck him. He keeps his eyes trained on the floor, jaw clenched tight enough to hurt. He knows his father isn’t trying to be cruel, he’s just exhausted and heartbroken, trying to make sense of it all like the rest of them.
“I do feel something,” Rin finally mutters. He means it, it’s the truth. The emotions are there, tangled and overwhelming, but he just can’t make sense of them. “I do, okay?”
His father doesn’t say anything right away, just gives a slow, understanding nod. Although, Rin can’t tell if he really believes him. The silence stretches again as his father turns his gaze back to Sae, his eyes distant and unreadable.
He keeps looking at Sae, at the way his chest gently rises, searching for any kind of movement. Then, after a long pause, he clears his throat and speaks without looking at Rin. “Why don’t you run down and get some water for your mother from the vending machine.”
It wasn’t really about the water, Rin knows that. His father was asking for space—to be alone with his son, to break down in silence where no one could see the cracks in him. That was the kind of man his father was, not wanting anyone, even his son, to see this vulnerable side of him.
Rin nods wordlessly and leaves the room. He didn’t notice how stiff his shoulders were until he finally got out into the empty corridor. The image of Sae replays in his head, and he was grateful to have stepped out. He honestly just wanted to be anywhere but that cramped hospital room.
He finds the vending machine tucked into a small alcove near the waiting area. It buzzes quietly, the rows of drinks behind the glass perfectly aligned. He easily spots the waters, but his attention is shifted to his reflection on the glass.
It’s faint, but it’s there. He finally sees himself now, his own face, washed out and pale under the harsh lighting. Eyes ringed with exhaustion, lips pressed in a tight line. He barely recognizes himself. He’s never looked so hollow before.
Rin sighs and looks away, not wanting to look at his reflection anymore. He gets out his wallet and places some coins in the slot, then he presses the button, waiting expectedly for a water bottle to fall into the compartment. The bottle shifts forward slightly, but stops.
Nothing drops. He presses it again. And again. He keeps ending up with the same useless result. The water doesn’t fucking drop.
A sharp breath escapes through his nose as his jaw clenches. He slams his finger against the button repeatedly, each press growing more aggressive than the last. Yet, the vending machine remains unmoving, continuing to mock him.
“Come on, you piece of shit,” he curses under his breath, teeth clenched. “Fucking work.”
It shouldn’t matter. It’s just a bottle of water. But somehow, this tiny malfunction feels like the last straw.
When it still doesn’t work, Rin’s had enough and something snaps inside him. He slams his palm against the glass, not enough to hurt, but enough to feel something. The bottles inside rattle slightly from the impact, but nothing falls.
The sound of the impact echoes around the hospital corridor, but no one was around to hear it. Rin stands there, chest heaving, heart pounding, like he’s just sprinted a hundred yards. But he hasn’t moved at all.
Everything crashes down right then. His shoulders tremble as he leans forward until his forehead touches the cool vending machine glass. It’s just a bottle of water, it shouldn’t matter. But it does. All of it does. Sae. The hospital. The way his mother looked at him like he was still a little boy. The way his father tried so hard to keep it together. The way Sae lay there, unresponsive, a ghost in his own body.
The reality that Sae tried to take his own life is finally feeling real.
“Damn it...” He mumbles as tears begin to roll down his cheeks. They fall silently, slipping down without a sound. He doesn’t bother to wipe them, he lets himself breakdown quietly in a tucked away corner, away from peering eyes, away from paparazzi or nosy journalists.
The weight in his heart grows too heavy, and Rin just can’t handle it.