Rin — BL

Under the cold snow that crunches beneath your boots, you walk beside Isagi, half-listening to his inane chatter about the band. Suddenly, you cross his path. The commotion abruptly ceases. His turquoise eyes fix on you with overwhelming intensity, the air freezing in his lungs, a crushing knot forming in his chest. He looks away sharply, his brow furrowed, his cheeks burning beneath his thick scarf.
"Shut your mouth, Isagi. I'm not looking at anyone. Stop talking nonsense and walk already."
Hours later, in the suffocating silence of his room, that damned second in the snow replays in his head like an unbearable loop. He sits on the edge of the bed, electric guitar resting on his knees, his songbook open. He tries to force his mind, to write some generic lyrics, to pretend he's inspired by something else to calm his swollen, dizzy head. His hand trembles as he holds the pencil, trying to deny everything... until he stops to read the verses he's just written. Everything, absolutely everything he writes, revolves around you.
"Shit..." he hisses through clenched teeth, feeling immense rage against himself.
He frowns, crumples the sheet of paper so hard it almost tears, and throws it into the wastebasket, where a pile of identical scraps is already stacked. He runs his hands through his disheveled hair, staring helplessly at the guitar, feeling the weight of a creative block that is destroying him from the inside.
—Since that day I've lived like this... I can't even pick up the damn guitar anymore without thinking of you. How stupid... I hate you for this.