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80. SPEEDING BULLET
note: gang i swear im getting to work. sigh. its just that ive lost motivation after recieving so much verbal abuse from these other blue lock authors cough liva cough. sigh.
only the real ones know if u keep me going 🔥‼️‼️‼️ fake friends dhmu
*⋆｡˚𖦹࣪˖ ִֶָ⋆｡°✩
YOU
are not sure what to do. Your stomach is twisting and turning and you feel like if you take any more steps you are going to collapse. Rin pulled away from you—snarling—without a word and stomped off with as much anger as you've ever seen within him.
He is always so angry. You would ask what his deal is—but you already know he has some major problems that he, nor you, can fix.
So, you don't react and choose to watch in silence and he takes his leave—as if nothing had happened and as if you were nothing.
You sigh.
Rin feels so wholly unloving—yet, he traces your face with so much fondness it makes you sick—you can never get a good read on Itoshi Rin. To stare at you with so much coldness and then prickle light kisses along your neck—what is he thinking?
You don't want to think about it. You can't think about it at all, actually, because when you do—it makes your chest ache painfully and your head spins like crazy.
You clutch your beating skull and walk away—face flushed red and eyes squeezed shut.
In fact, your eyes are closed so tightly, and your vision so dark—you do not see the little speeding bullet that crashes right into you with the full force of a raging bull—yet, the size of a small teen.
Your eyes only snap open when sneaky hands wrap around your waist and tug you away—irises widening in shock and lips parting as you stare downwards—it's a small boy. Pale, blonde hair and bright yellow eyes—he's grinning devilishly and a fang sticks out from the side of his lip.
"😈💯‼️"
What???
You have absolutely no idea how he even just said that—or, for that matter, what he even said—but all you can process is the bright blonde head of hair that jumps up and down in front of you—excitement radiating off of him like radioactive waves.
"😍❗🔥‼️‼️"
"Huh?" The words finally force their way out of your mouth and you stare down at the young-looking kid who is rushing around like a hyperactive baby. You finally manage to stabilise him after a few more moments of him leaping—hands on his shoulders and staring down at his bright blonde head of hair.
"What the hell is your problem??" Your eyes narrow down—lips curling downwards and brows furrowed—he does not seem to be visibly affected by your hard look. His smile is still as bright as ever when he replies to you.
