Split WiP Chapter 5: In Which Yukio Tries
Words are coming slowly due to various IRL issues, but I keep plugging away.
Yukio sorted through schoolbooks and study notes with only half his mind on what he needed to review. Izumi’s appeal to his protective instincts earlier had been completely transparent. But, effective. And, when he had reflexively looked in his brother’s direction, he’d seen mingled guilt and hope and something that was indefinably Rin looking back.
Yukio drew in a steadying breath. He had watched his brother die by degrees for years. And, on some level, he had accepted it. Had steeled himself for it even as he set goals to urge Rin to keep moving forward. But, he would not accept losing Rin while he was still alive.
And, maybe he hadn’t.
He glanced at the clock. It had been a half hour since Rin had devoured his food in record time and then muttered something to Father about a jog before disappearing. Again.
Yukio caught himself shuffling the same stack of papers for the third time and stopped. Father trusted his brother. He trusted his brother. And, Rin had never let anything beat him, not even himself.
The old floorboards creaked, and Yukio looked up.
Rin was hovering uncertainly in the doorway. His hair was wild with the damp, tousled look of someone fresh out of the bath.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
“You’re late,” was all Yukio could think to say. He waved to the chair beside him. “Take a seat.”
Rin slid into the chair. “Sorry ,” he said. “I tried to run off some energy, but then I was all stinky. So, uh... Can we start with math? I think that’s my worst subject besides English.”
There was a hesitance in his voice, and Yukio looked at him, considering. “Are you up to it?”
“Sure thing!” Grinning, Rin offered him a thumbs up.
Recognizing the familiar bravado, Yukio took another deep breath. It would be okay.
“Very well.”
Yukio sorted through schoolbooks and study notes with only half his mind on what he needed to review. Izumi’s appeal to his protective instincts earlier had been completely transparent. But, effective. And, when he had reflexively looked in his brother’s direction, he’d seen mingled guilt and hope and something that was indefinably Rin looking back.
Yukio drew in a steadying breath. He had watched his brother die by degrees for years. And, on some level, he had accepted it. Had steeled himself for it even as he set goals to urge Rin to keep moving forward. But, he would not accept losing Rin while he was still alive.
And, maybe he hadn’t.
He glanced at the clock. It had been a half hour since Rin had devoured his food in record time and then muttered something to Father about a jog before disappearing. Again.
Yukio caught himself shuffling the same stack of papers for the third time and stopped. Father trusted his brother. He trusted his brother. And, Rin had never let anything beat him, not even himself.
The old floorboards creaked, and Yukio looked up.
Rin was hovering uncertainly in the doorway. His hair was wild with the damp, tousled look of someone fresh out of the bath.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
“You’re late,” was all Yukio could think to say. He waved to the chair beside him. “Take a seat.”
Rin slid into the chair. “Sorry ,” he said. “I tried to run off some energy, but then I was all stinky. So, uh... Can we start with math? I think that’s my worst subject besides English.”
There was a hesitance in his voice, and Yukio looked at him, considering. “Are you up to it?”
“Sure thing!” Grinning, Rin offered him a thumbs up.
Recognizing the familiar bravado, Yukio took another deep breath. It would be okay.
“Very well.”