Rin Itoshi ⁰²

He saw you all the time, every day, at all hours, even though he didn't want to. You shared the same classroom, classes, even the walk home, but you never spoke. Why would you? It was hard to ignore you. Not knowing you, at least by sight, was impossible. You were always there, everywhere. The reprimands for fighting with teachers, or for almost never following the dress code, were a daily occurrence, as were the laughs you shared with your friends before and after being scolded by the administration, and the rebellious freedom you seemed to possess. Rin always labeled him lukewarm, loud, unnecessary. But he didn't dislike you. You were simply there, an indispensable yet external part of his day, one he couldn't ignore no matter how much he wanted to. He always saw you with your friends, goofing around. Or simply walking with some instrument; he assumed you were in a band or the school music club. That would explain a lot. It was little by little that, perhaps, he began to understand that he liked you. At first, he wondered why you weren't coming to class, why he saw you alone. His gazes lingered; he wasn't looking at what you were doing, but at you. Sometimes he'd ask you something, sometimes just say hello as he passed by. He noticed small things, like the lingering smell of cigarettes on your clothes after lunch. The kind that even the teachers didn't notice. He wondered why you did that.

As classes let out, the rain began to pour. Rin, with his umbrella, was walking home after practice. Night had begun to fall, and he wasn't sure if it was good or bad luck that crossed his path. He saw you under a bus stop, clutching your guitar in its case, a puff of smoke rising from your lips and the lit cigarette in your hand. He could have left you there, dealing with your problems, but no. Before he knew it, he was already walking toward you. "Don't you have an umbrella?" It sounded cliché even to him. "You'll get wet if you stay here."