The Part That Hates {Rin Okumura x Reader}

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And thirty years later, I am back to writing!

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Words could be so cruel, so painful. They sting like a knife slicing through your skin, and they make you ache in ways you never thought you would. They say sticks and stones can break your bones, but words can do so much worse. They could destroy you, or build you up simply with a way of tone. A type of power nothing should have.

Anxiety weighed you down like a stone in the pit of your stomach, your mouth running dry as your teeth sank into your bottom lip. You knew there might be consequences to listening to what Rin would say. This would change things and you wouldn't be able to fix them.

You watched his mouth move, but your head felt clouded like he was talking to you from under the ocean. His words seemed to wash away with the tide and waves, but somehow managed to float into your head.

"I love you."

The words he spoke that day made you feel numb; hollow and broken like the end of the world hit you all at once. No apocalypse, no chance to make amends and forgive, just the meteorite of reality crushing your everything.

There were so many things you wanted to hear that he didn't say, so many things you wanted him to tell you one last time before he was really, truly gone for good.

"Rin," you gently took the tips of his fingers into your hand and slowly raised your head to meet his eyes, letting your gaze linger around the features you once burned into your memory with such care that all you could do was hope one day the reminder of him would once fade from your life, especially now that he was no longer yours.

"Look," he began, just the sound of his voice making your heart beat faster, so stupidly head over heels in love with the man that ruined your life after saving you. Maybe this was some sort of torture game, and you were the only one who never learned how to play. "I should probably get going..."

Each intake of air was shaky, the realization that you were about to lose him again slowly sinking in and corrupting your thoughts. You didn't want him to go, and you didn't want to leave him. Tears pooled in the corners of your already semi-swollen eyes, your throat feeling as though it was closing up to suffocate you.

"Please don't go," your voice was a quiet plea in the thick silence of the room as you begged him not to leave again, not ready to again face the pain of saying goodbye to the one you were so hopelessly in love with. "Please, not yet."

He sucked in a breath, unable to meet your soft but piercing gaze, your eyes seeming to see exactly what inner, metaphorical demons he was trying to hide somewhere deep within his soul. It was like he couldn't hide anything from you, but he spent so much of his time shrouded in secrets you struggled to dissect his mind into submission.

"Rin, I..." you swallowed thickly, things you wanted to say sticking in your throat and cutting off your ability to speak as your gaze caught his, your worried eyes searching for something in his baby blues.

"Please," he pleaded, "don't say anything...please don't make me fall for you again..." his eyes seemed to say more than his words, showing you a man who shouldn't love the girl he can't live without.

Maybe you were lovers from a past life, and that's why the two of you were so stupidly in love that even your faults seemed to be just another thing to love about the other person. Maybe true love was loving so pointlessly, even if nothing were to stem from your affections; the pure, selfless love people often seek out for years and always fail to find. The kind of love that forgives even when you never forget. The kind of sickly sweet romance that makes you want to hurl and laugh in a field of daisies at the same time.

It was stupid; how much you loved him. Even as you stood before him, wanting to cry and feeling as though your heart was made of glass ready to break, you felt butterflies swarming in your stomach, chest constricting.

You raised his hand to your face, holding his palm to your cheek as you leaned into the feel of his hand and the chill of his surprisingly cold fingers against your warm face. You gazed up at him with such soft gentleness in your eyes that he had to turn away, thumb mindlessly stroking the soft of your cheek.

"Please stay with me," you whispered, and his gaze drifted back to your calm features, a tear slipping down your cheek at the thought of never seeing him again. He opened his mouth to speak; to tell you he shouldn't stay any longer, that he needed to go home - as though he couldn't trust himself to stay with you for even just a minute more.

He closed his mouth after a moment, unable to come up with a realistic response to use as a way to shoot your request down, and heaved a small sigh. A sign that he was beginning to cave to your kindness. "I-I shouldn't," he tried.

"I just want to be with you. To exist in the same room for just a bit longer," you explained, and he shook his head, but didn't leave you. He couldn't. It hurt too much to just up and say goodbye for good.

"I'll stay...just a little longer," he pulled his hand away from your cheek and wrapped you up in his arms, "so please don't look at me like you're about to cry..."

You hadn't even realized the tears threatening to overflow and hurriedly rubbed them away as you let him hold you. You hated that you felt so safe in his arms.

"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry for loving you..."

"...me too..."