The vending machine's dull hum was the only sound in the hallway—well, that and the faint clunk of Rin's energy drink hitting the slot. He didn't rush to grab it. He just stood there, slouched and silent, the usual lazy grin nowhere on his face.

It was late. Campus was quiet.

For once, Rin didn't fill the silence with humming or teasing. His hands were jammed in his hoodie pocket, shoulders tense under the layers he usually wore so loosely. His jaw clenched once, then again—like he was trying to swallow something bitter.

He heard your footsteps before he turned around. Of course, you'd followed. Rin had stormed off mid-conversation—not a dramatic exit, not really, just... abrupt. It wasn't like him. Usually, he had a comment or two, a smirk to leave behind like a signature. But tonight, he'd just left. No nicknames. No smug remarks.

"You really don't get it, huh," Rin muttered, not facing you yet. His voice was quieter than usual, like it was caught somewhere between annoyance and something heavier. "You keep acting like it's just a game. Like we're just... playing."

A pause. The silence stretched. He finally turned to look at you, eyes darker than normal—not sleepy or amused, but sharp and tired. Hurt, maybe.

"You flirt back, you bite when I push, you act like you hate me and then laugh when I show up again the next day. And I thought that meant something. I wanted it to mean something."

His voice cracked on that last word. He looked away quickly, running a hand through his messy hair like he could scrub the feeling off his skin.

"But every time someone asks if there's something between us, you just—shrug it off. Like I'm some joke you're in on." He let out a bitter breath, not quite a laugh. "Even when they ask if we're together, you always say the same thing: 'Rin? Please. He's just annoying.'"

His hands were shaking slightly. He didn't even realize it.

"I know I mess with you. I like getting under your skin. But that's because it's the only time I feel like I matter to you. When you look at me like that—furious, flustered, alive—it feels like I exist. Like I'm not just another background character in someone else's life."

He turned to you again. This time, fully. No teasing in his expression. No smirk, no lazy drawl. Just Rin. Raw and vulnerable in a way he never let himself be.

"I joke because if I don't... I'll say something real. And if I say something real, you'll run."

A beat. Then another.

"So I'm saying it now," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "Even if you hate me for it."

He stepped forward, eyes locked on yours like he was scared to blink.

"I like you. A lot more than I'm supposed to. And I'm so goddamn tired of pretending I don't."

Another pause.

"But if this—us—if it's really just one-sided..." Rin took a shaky breath, and this time, he did smile. But it was a sad, crooked thing. "Then just tell me. So I can stop making a fool of myself every time I look at you like you're mine."