Right. Hi. So... here I am, more than a year later, with the next chapter *cue awkward mix of cheers and wailing and gnashing of teeth and the general feel of wanting to murder me*. Fun fact: most of this was already written when I posted the third chapter way back when last year. The only thing that wasn't? The beginning. I have over 20 000 words spanning 9 different beginnings for this chapter until I finally found the one that keeps both to the story and you guys coming back for more! But it took forever to find something I could be satisfied with - pretty much a year. My sincerest apologies for the wait.

More problems: pretty much nothing else is written after this. By "nothing" I mean 20 pages of random snippets and plot outlines and all sorts of other useful things, but not postable storyline. And with practicals and exams coming up for me (apparently the only time I get inspired enough to write fanfiction), I can't and therefore won't promise anything regarding the next chapter. It will go up, eventually. But when - that remains to be seen.

On a more story-related note, this chapter really delves into the angst you've been promised, and relies heavily on Rin's character, which was much better fleshed-out in the second season of the anime (and in the manga, of course). As usual, please note character view-point changes - they'll be fairly important for this chapter and the ones to come. Also note that this story won't be taking the second season/rest of manga into account - I'll leave that for another day! :)

Thank you for all the support throughout the year - it really makes my day whenever I get a notification that someone has done something or other with my story - they're great inspiration and motivation! With that, I'll leave you to (hopefully) enjoy the next chapter!

CHAPTER 4 - RIN

(KOU)

"Kou-chan," Rin murmurs, and your heart restarts.

Even in the world's ugliest hospital gown, voice and eyelids heavy with medication, she manages to cut an attractive figure. Unfair, you'd think if it weren't for the last four hours – five, if you include the time it took for the doctors to let you see her – in which the only thought running through your mind had been Rin.

Which isn't anything new. She's usually on some part of your mind, but this had been on a different scale altogether. Rin, your heart thuds, reminding you to think of why you're hunched over a hospital bed at 1:53 in the morning, praying to whatever's been listening to your internal monologues these past couple of years. Making promises you won't keep.

Rin.

Rin Rin Rin Rin Rin.

"Kou-chan!"

"Mm?"

An exasperated huff set off by fond eyes.

"I've been calling you."

You're not sure what to make of that. A joke? Did she mean right now? Or the last couple of hours? When you'd finally bothered to look at your phone, there had been more messages and missed calls than people in this backwater village your parents like to call home. Most of them from her alone. Only one from your mother, as short as it is accusatory: Hospital room 58.

Your mother's eyes had read blame. When you look into Rin's, all you see is relief.

The silence is taken into stride. "Well," she smiles, "at least you're all right."

If you say anything now, you'll explode. Everything you've been holding back will come flooding out. Just like it did five years ago. Just like it did five hours ago.

"I was hoping you would be," Rin presses on, asking for your presence, your attention, your interest. Anything you have to give. "Your mom told me not to worry, but you know how I am." Self-deprecating smile. "I can't help but worry about you."

Don't say anything, don't say anything, don't say anything, don't say anything…

"Kou-chan –"

You break.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

It's quiet for a while. Unspoken words are nothing new – this, however. This is.

"For…" she ventures tentatively, and suddenly, you know. Rin's never been good at keeping her thoughts to herself, despite her copious denials, self or otherwise. "What for, Kou-chan?"

Her eyes are so, so guarded, expecting a lie, a turnabout comment, anticipating it. You know she knows. You can't. Not anymore.

"You heard."

Rin looks like she's been struck by lightning: pupils blown, mouth open, chest heaving. You can't help but think it only adds to the appeal. "I… y-yes," she finally stammers out, half a minute too late.

"And?" The word comes out too quickly, too nonchalant and you think you've blown it. You fist your fingers in the sheets in frustration, eyes tracing the lack of pattern between your grabbing hands. Until there's another feeling, so soft it's only outdone by the look in Rin's eyes.

She pulls your hand onto her leg, and leaves it there, watching. Waiting.

You don't look away.

Not even when your fingers tremble on her thigh as she tugs on your wrist, willing your hand higher. Closer, they tell you, the feeling intensifying. Your digits twitch. Closer still.

Halfway off your chair and one knee on the bed, you stop. Any closer and –

"Touch me, Kou-chan."

Three words whispered into the air between you; suspended by the near-palpable tension.

You wish this were the first time.

But history has a way of repeating itself.

(RIN)

(a few days previously)

Ever since you can remember, you've wanted your life to follow the plotline of a romance novel.

There's the vague notion that you wanted to be a princess before that, but you had had neither the long hair that would flutter in the wind nor the patience to gaze forlornly out of the window of the castle's highest tower while your prince was off being lost in some forest not finding you, so the thought had been quickly put aside in favour of another. Princes come in hundreds of different forms, after all. At least, that's if the tall shelves of the romance section of your local library – filled to the point where it's practically impossible to get a book out from between the others – have anything to say about it. Why shouldn't you find the one that suits your idea of true love best?

And yet, almost two decades later, at the ripe old age of twenty-six, you've come to realise that your life seems to have skipped the romance novel turnoff completely and gone down the shoujo manga route instead. It makes sense, in context: the main action comes from the secondary, overly-shy characters whom everyone roots for, Hazuki-san is the omniscient observer who doles out useless and embarrassing information at the worst possible times, Kou-chan is the oblivious love interest with the world's biggest chip on her shoulder and you're the girl with the massive crush on her best friend. All it still needs for true B-rated romance is a bland high school setting and a rival for Kou-chan's affection to distract her from your true feelings.

Although Kou-chan seems to be quite adept at doing that all by herself, you remind yourself as you think of the past seven years she's been actively ignoring your distinct lack of advances towards her. Even now, with the watch on your wrist reading a time well past midnight, Kou-chan is hunched over her desk, scratching out new character designs that aren't due until next week.

"Kou-chan," you try to intervene, knowing full well that you'll be ignored.

Silence. The sound of drawing doesn't even pause for a moment.

"Kou-chan," you probe again, this time reaching for the hem of jeans, tugging weakly.

"Hm?" Her body turns vaguely towards you, but her eyes never leave the page in front of her. You decide to keep quiet – speaking is an effort at this point in time. You're rewarded not a minute later with concerned blue eyes peeking over her shoulder and a tentative "Rin?"

She looks! She speaks! Tooyama Rin scores! And the crowd goes wild! How on Earth did she get –

"Shut up."

Kou-chan's eyes widen, then narrow, then give you a confused look. "I didn't say anything?"

"Ah!" The red shoots into your cheeks; you feel terribly embarrassed at having been caught out. "I – sorry. I was speaking to myself."

She gives you an once-over and a concerned glance before going back to ignoring you. Or "creating", as she likes to call it when no-one else is around to hear her. Propping yourself up on one arm, you simultaneously wait for Kou-chan to finish and the red to disappear from your face. Neither one of which is going as quickly as you hoped – the way things are going, your blush might be long gone before Kou-chan even considers calling it a night.

Workaholic, you think fondly before remembering, look who's talking. You may be three-quarter way to being asleep, but you're also spending yet another night at work, so, there. Sometimes, you wish that the exorbitant amount of time you spend here is because of the hours you waste away ogling Kou-chan, but the truth is far from it: you're actually quite good at your job. And probably about as in love with it as you are with your best friend.

Which might have something to do with the workplace, though.

In the eight years you've been there, the Eagle Jump office has been many things to you. It's where – despite your mess of a first interview – you landed your first job. It's where the genuine interest and continued effort of a small group of inexperienced half-adults like yourself sparked a global success, skyrocketing a tiny company to the top of the rankings board to compete with internationally-recognised brands. It's where you find the people you think are truly worth caring for: peers like Umiko-san and Hazuki-san, who, despite their glaring flaws, have their hearts in the right place; subordinates such as Aoba-chan and Hifumi-chan and the "we're-not-best-friends" duo that argues like a married couple but spends most of the day hoping the other one doesn't notice the glances they shoot their way, all of whom give a hundred and ten percent all the time; and, of course, the girl you've been in love with since you were eighteen. You may not live there the way Kou-chan does, but the Eagle Jump head office is still more home than your apartment – or your parents' house, for that matter – will ever be.

And so, much like home, it's also the place where everyone knows everything you're thinking before you do. Like now.

"I'll be done soon, Rin," Kou-chan murmurs from her perch a metre away. "Just a few more lines…"

You've heard that one before. "One more line," you admonish, not sounding very stern with your falling-asleep voice and a big yawn afterwards. She seems to think so too, going by the lack of break in sketching noises.

"Kou-chan."

"Mm." Scritch scritch.

"Kou-chan."

The sound falters for a moment before starting back up again. "This is important."

"Sleep is important."

Silence. Then: "I forgot my sleeping bag."

"What."

"… I forgot my sleeping bag," she repeats, mumbling.

"Your sleeping bag lives here, Kou-chan." Much the same way you do, actually, you want to tack onto the end, but restrain yourself. Pushing her buttons right now wouldn't be conducive to getting her to sleep because it's already past one in the morning and she's been awake for a good two days and –

Breathe, Rin. "How could you forget it when it's always here?"

She swivels around to face you, ears and cheeks burning scarlet, "It's being washed, okay! I haven't had it cleaned since I got it, and, well, there was this funny stain on the hood but when I tried to find the right setting on the washing machine, that decided to malfunction so – "

You let out a snort. "Don't laugh!" she cries, which, of course, sets you off even further. "It's not funny!"

You can't help but giggle into your pillow. The whole story is so very her – so bad at life it's a wonder she's still alive today. She turns away again, embarrassed, head ducked amongst half-empty cans of Red Gull and mugs with long-cold coffee which are strewn across the desk haphazardly. It's almost impossible to make out any desk surface from between them. You make a mental note to clean once you wake up, provided Kou-chan isn't up bright and early because she's feeling inspired.

Not that that's going to happen if you can't get her to actually fall asleep in the first place.

Last try, you lie, knowing full well that there will never be a "last" for you when it comes to Kou-chan. Well, except maybe an "at last", but that's your Cloud Nine, your pipe dream, your Never Ever After. There's no way she'd ever want you the way you want her. Hope may spring eternal, but reality has a way of intruding in the worst possible way, making sure everything else is beaten, battered, broken, lost. You don't dare expose yourself to it, making sure to lock hope away in the deepest part of your heart to the point where even you question its existence.

Until someone decided to crash through all of your carefully constructed walls and uncover it with soft words and brutal intent.

When are you and Yagami-kun going to get together?

Stop. Don't think about it.

There's the faint scent of Hazuki-san's perfume. Tiny strands of cat hair on her wrap catch the light. Her expression is unreadable behind her glasses.

When are you and Yagami-kun going to get together?

Stop.

Your body stops responding. There's no input. Are the papers in your hands still there? Are you still there?

When are you and Yagami-kun –

Stop. Not another word.

When are you –

STOP.

When –

STOP!

It does. You're back in your cubicle, half-hidden under your desk, chest heaving, eyes streaming.

Kou-chan hasn't noticed a thing.

Of course, you think to yourself, ignoring the prickle of more tears about to fall. Another kind of nightmare. Just the type that's real.

You throw an arm across your eyes to make sure she doesn't see. There's a part of you – a selfish, wantsome part that terrifies you – that tells you not to, that needs Kou-chan to realise what agonising circle of hell you've lived in for years just to keep her in the dark. It urges you to make her see the tracks of your tears, just a few of the thousands you've shed in her name. You want to listen to it.

But you're Tooyama Rin. Patron saint of self-sacrifice, martyr supreme. The ultimate pin-up girl for unrequited feelings. All in the name of love. Which is why you wait for the tears to dry before wiping all traces of them away instead of ripping Kou-chan out of this delusion of hers where she still thinks you're not in love with her. You're a clean slate. It's like nothing's happened in the last two minutes and eighteen seconds.

Breathe in.

"Just come and sleep, Kou-chan," you murmur, already zipping open your sleeping bag to make room for two. There isn't a waver in your voice. Practice makes perfect, after all.

Leaning forward, hands on her knees; her eyes flicker between the sleeping bag and the unfinished drawings still on her desk – both so inviting for different reasons – but she must see something in your glare because she drops from the chair and crawls over to where you are.

"We'll just use it like a blanket," you say, knowing full-well that winter is coming, that it has been for some time now, and that you're probably going to freeze the rest of the night – early morning? – through. It doesn't matter. Not the hard floor, not the mild case of hypothermia you'll end up with, not the fact that you won't get any sleep tonight because Kou-chan is so, so close already and that that distance won't increase anytime soon.

The two of you wrestle for the space beneath it, Kou-chan only giving in when you jab your elbow into her side and use her agony as a distraction so you can snatch the sleeping bag from her grasp. You only realise that you put much too much force behind the pull when you topple over, ending up much closer to Kou-chan than you expected.

If the lights were on right now, you think you'd be blinded by bright blue eyes staring into your own. She smells like Red Gull and pencil graphite and the softener you use on her endless collection of turtlenecks. There's a faint hint of sweat. You wonder how far you'd have to lean in for your lips to touch hers – you can feel her exhales on your cheek – would a few inches do it?

You're holding yourself back from moving in just that little bit closer when you feel the body next to you shift – ah, Kou-chan's just getting comforta– wait… is she… coming clos–

"Good night, Rin." Warm breath hits your ear, but before the words register, there's a head on your shoulder and blonde hair splayed everywhere. And Kou-chan, half against you and half on top of you, already asleep.

Oh, your brain supplies helpfully; much too little, much too late. "Good… night," you murmur to nothing in particular, trying and failing to avoid getting long blonde tendrils in your mouth. They stick to your lips even as you wipe them away, so you stop bothering trying to remove them. Just like you stop bothering trying to fall asleep.

Everything about Kou-chan – the memory of her smile and her hair and she herself, hand fisted lightly in your shirt – clings to you like spiderwebs.

Impossible to brush away.

IT'S NOT A CLIFFHANGER! Kind of. Aren't you impressed! There's more to Rin's part of this story - and then Kou's, of course - but this seemed like an excellent stopping point for all the internalised feelings and general issues. This chapter is more character study than character (or even story) development, but more the setup for the next bit of this arc. Which will be coming your way... no clue when, I'm afraid.

I'm looking into setting myself up with a tumblr so you can all complain about my lack of updates more directly. Thoughts?