Chapter Text
The only difference between medicine and poison is the dose. Which is why Rin is carefully scanning the instructions on the box of cold medicine.
Practically skipping down the hall, the joy from his footsteps bouncing off the linoleum. Rin couldn't be happier. Sae is sick. Stupid, perfect Sae is sick. And now Rin is gonna caretake the shit out of him.
He’ll keep the glass full. Stack the blankets into a fortress. Force Sae to rest even if it kills him. And prove to all of Blue Lock—Sae included—that Rin isn’t annoying, isn't just tolerable, but indispensable.
He's needed.
Perfect circumstances entirely created by Rin. Or the universe.
Sae only caught this cold because Rin had it first.
Because Rin was weak. Sae had mocked him, but he’d also touched Rin’s forehead, held out a glass of water, softened for half a second—then paid for it with his own fever.
That was Rin's good luck working for him. Cruel, yes, but he was going to make it right.
He rounds the corner toward their dorm, rehearsing how he’ll say, sit down, idiot, let me take care of you, when he slows.
There’s… a crowd. A cluster of Blue Lock players huddled outside his door, craning their necks like they’re watching the season finale of a show Rin forgot to binge.
Rin frowns. His grip tightens on the medicine. He pushes forward, about to snarl at them to move—when he follows their gaze.
And freezes.
Because there, in the middle of the room, in plain view through the open doorway, is Sae. Naked.
Not just naked—moving. Naked and gracefully, repeatedly kicking the air like some deranged fever-possessed martial artist. Each arc of his leg is too high, too sharp, too beautiful for someone allegedly bedridden.
The crowd murmurs appreciatively. Someone (Bachira? It better not be Bachira) is doing an Ego impression, like:
"Observe his form. No—observe his ass."
Someone actually claps.
Rin nearly drops the medicine. His brain short-circuits between everyone can see him and he’s supposed to be resting and I'll kill him!
He lunges forward, shoving through the spectators. “He’s sick! He’s contagious! Don’t—stop staring!”
Sae doesn’t glance his way, just pivots on his heel and launches another absurdly high kick, slicing Rin's perfect caretaking dreams in half in the stale dorm air.
He's dead, Rin thinks, already planning his alibi.