hi i just read ruined and it was genuinely one of the best works i have ever read and i think its the first work ive read from you i seriously cannot wait to read more omg
Omg thank you so much đđ I'm glad you enjoyed it and I hope more of my fics catch your eye as well!!
Hi guys so I wanted to spoil 3 of my upcoming fics to you all + the release dates of them
this was requested by my best friend so ofc I'm going to do so on making a sub Riki fiction. This will most likely be out tomorrow!
Part two for my fic ruined! I figured Jake also deserves a love life since in the story he did get teased for his lack of game lol. Planning on uploading this on the Wednesday!
Finally the part three for you broke me first and treat you better, this will be coming out on Thursday so stay tuned!
Leave comments below if you have any requests for fics and which member, you can also anonymously send me requests via my asks or the request form on my pinned post!
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We were separated from each other, even though we were made for one another.
Pairings: bodyguard Riki! x rich reader!
synopsis: Riki was only supposed to be a bodyguard. His job was to keep you safeânot to make your heart race every time he stepped into the room. He was meant to protect you, not make you want to tear down every boundary just to feel him close again.
genre: angst, fluff, forbidden romance
warnings: age gap (Riki is 26 & you're 20), uses of guns, kissing, drinking, reader kisses riki drunk, slow burn (likely will be a part 2)
"Dad, for the last time, I donât need a bodyguard!"
You crossed your arms, glaring at your father as he stood in the center of the living room. It was infuriating. He was genuinely expecting you to restructure your entire life around some random guy heâd hired to protect you from what you considered entirely non-existent danger.ďżź
"Y/N, you can't keep acting like this isn't serious," he countered, his voice leaving no room for argument. "While I'm gone, you are a target. Period."
You rolled your eyes, letting out a heavy, defeated sigh. "Fine. But don't think for a second that this guy has the authority to boss me around. I am still doing whatever I want."
You stomped up to your room and slammed the door, letting the silence swallow your frustration.ďżź
Exactly twenty minutes later, your dadâs voice echoed from the bottom of the stairs, calling your name. You ignored him at first, burying your face in a pillow. But when his voice boomed a second time, you groaned loudly and dragged yourself out of bed.
"What is so important that it couldn't wait untilâ"
The words died in your throat. Standing right next to your father in the living room was a stranger. He was tall, lean, and effortlessly handsome, carrying an aura that immediately commanded the room.
"Who's he?" you asked, even though the context clues were staring you right in the face.
Your dad offered a small, knowing smile. "This is your bodyguard, Nishimura Riki."
Suddenly, every fiery argument youâd just had with your dad about being "independent" completely vanished, utterly thrown out the window. You felt like you were floating on cloud nine, your brain short-circuiting as you stared at him. How were you supposed to fight for your freedom when your new captor looked like that?
"Well, I'll leave you two to get to know each other," your dad said, giving a dismissive wave before disappearing into the backyard to do whatever it is rich dads do at four o'clock on a Tuesday.
The sliding glass door clicked shut, leaving only the muffled hum of the backyard fountain to fill the massive living room.
You crossed your arms, leaning your weight onto one hip as you looked Riki up and down. If he was intimidated by the sprawling mansion or your obvious scowl, he didnât show it. In fact, he didnât look like he felt much of anything at all. He just stood there, hands loosely clasped in front of him, his expression completely blank.
"So," you started, your voice dripping with all the spoiled entitlement you could muster. "Nishimura Riki. My dad might be paying your salary, but letâs get one thing straight: I don't do rules. I go where I want, when I want, and you're just the shadow that has to keep up."
Riki didnât blink. He slowly tilted his head, his dark eyes tracking you with a cool, unbothered detachment that instantly made you feel incredibly small.
"Are you finished?" he asked. His voice was low, smooth, and entirely devoid of emotion.
You blinked, taken aback by his sheer nerve. "Excuse me?"
"My job is to keep you alive, not to cater to your tantrums," Riki said calmly, stepping forward. He was easily a foot taller than you, shadowing you completely as he looked down with a nonchalant shrug. "You can do whatever you want, sweetheart. But wherever you go, I go. Get used to it."
You froze, the sharp retort dying on your tongue. For someone who was usually so quick-witted and used to getting their way, his bluntness left your brain entirely scrambled. No one talked to you like that. No one. Especially not the people your dad hired.
Your cheeks flushedâpartly from pure indignation, and partly because up close, his presence was completely overwhelming. He smelled faintly of expensive cologne and crisp winter air, a stark contrast to his incredibly cold demeanor.
"I don't have tantrums," you finally managed to snap, crossing your arms tighter across your chest to mask how rattled you actually were. You stepped into his space, tilting your chin up defiantly to narrow the height gap. "And don't call me sweetheart."
Riki didn't even flinch at your sudden proximity. A ghost of a smirk threatend to pull at the corner of his lips, but it vanished just as quickly as it came, leaving his face perfectly unreadable again.
"Noted," he replied smoothly, checking his watch with an agonizing level of indifference. "It's 4:15. Are we staying in, or are you going to test my ability to keep up?"
You lifted your chin, a smug smile finally returning to your face. If he thought he could scare you into staying home, he clearly didn't know who he was dealing with.
"Well, a few of my friends and I are going to the mall at 4:30," you said, checking your own nails with exaggerated boredom. "And we don't exactly do 'slow walks.' We'll be hitting every high-end boutique from one end to the other. Think you can handle carrying my bags, or is that outside your job description?"
Riki didn't even blink at the blatant attempt to push his buttons. He simply slipped his hands into his pockets, his posture remaining completely relaxed, almost dangerously so.
"I'm there to watch your back, not be your pack mule," he said, his voice smooth and entirely unbothered. He glanced toward the front door, then back down at you with a cool, challenging look. "It's 4:20. If you're going to make it by 4:30, I suggest you stop talking and start moving."
It turned out that for all his cold, nonchalant brooding, Nishimura Riki was still a professional.
An hour later, he was walking three steps behind your friend group, effortlessly carrying a small mountain of glossy, high-end shopping bags. He didn't just end up holding yours, either; after one of your friends offered him a sweet, helpless smile, he had silently taken theirs too. He might have been blunt and entirely unimpressed by your attitude, but he was still a gentleman.
You slowed your pace slightly, letting your friends drift a few steps ahead so you could fall back next to him.
"See?" you murmured, casting a smug look up at his sharp profile. "I told you that you'd be carrying my bags. Guess you're my pack mule after all."
Riki didnât even look at you, his dark eyes continuously scanning the crowded mall corridor with a sharp, calculated focus. His grip on the heavily branded handles didn't loosen for a second.
"Your father pays me enough to tolerate a lot of things," Riki replied, his voice a low, cool rumble over the chatter of the mall. "Holding a few bags so you don't trip over your own feet is just basic hazard prevention."
"Wow, thanks," you said, rolling your eyes so hard it practically hurt.
He was really, truly getting on your nerves. Usually, guys your age were practically tripping over themselves to please you, or at the very least, treating you with some level of deference because of who your father was. But Riki? Riki treated you like a mild inconvenience he was being compensated to endure.
You huffed, deliberately picking up your pace to catch back up with your friends, determined to ignore him for the rest of the trip.
Yet, as you walked ahead, you couldn't help but catch his reflection in the glass of a boutique window. Even weighed down by half a dozen designer shopping bags, he managed to look entirely poised, his sharp jawline set as his eyes subtly swept the crowd.
"Hey," one of your friends whispered, nudging your elbow with a teasing smirk. "I know he's supposed to be protecting you, but honestly? He looks like a model. Where exactly did your dad find him?"
You scoffed, casting a sideways glance back toward where Riki stood. He looked entirely out of place among the pastel storefronts and teenage shoppers, a towering figure of sharp angles, serious focus, and dark clothing.
"Don't know, don't care," you muttered, turning your attention back to your friend. "He's just some tall twenty-six-year-old who's way too nonchalant for my liking."
"Are you kidding?" your friend giggled, looking back over her shoulder at him. "The 'I don't care about anything' vibe is exactly what makes it hot. He hasn't looked at a single girl checking him out, only you."
Your heart did a strange, sudden flip at her words, though you'd rather die than admit it. You forced a dismissive laugh, but your eyes naturally drifted back to him anyway.
As if sensing your gaze, Riki's eyes shifted, locking directly onto yours from across the crowded walkway. He didn't smile. He didn't acknowledge you. He just gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod of his head, as if telling you to keep moving.
God, he was infuriating.
"Don't analyze it too much. He is definitely not my type," you told her, waving a dismissive hand as you stepped into the next store.
Except, you were probably just gaslighting yourself.
Your type had always been the attentive, eager-to-please guys who bent to your every whim. Riki was the exact oppositeâa brick wall of cold indifference that you couldn't climb or break through. Yet, for some reason, the fact that he was so completely unbothered by you only made your pulse beat a little faster. It was annoying. It was thrilling.
As your friends began sorting through a rack of silk dresses, you stole another glance toward the entrance of the boutique.
Riki was standing just outside the threshold, the designer bags held effortlessly in one hand while his other rested casually near his jacket pocket. His sharp eyes never stopped moving, methodically tracking every single person who walked past. He looked entirely untouchable.
"Hey," your friend murmured, sliding a hanger down the rack with a sly grin. "If he's not your type, do you mind if I ask for his number when we leave?"
"Go ahead. I couldn't care less," you said, tossing your hair over your shoulder as if the mere thought of him was exhausting.
You even managed a perfectly bored shrug to really sell the lie.
Your friend grinned, thoroughly encouraged, and immediately started fixing her lip gloss in the mirror. You, on the other hand, suddenly found yourself glaring at a pair of shoes you didn't even like. Go ahead, you thought bitterly. Let her try. Part of you desperately wanted to see Riki brutally shut her down with that icy, nonchalant attitude of his. But a tiny, irritating part of you was terrified that he might actually say yes.
When your group finally finished shopping and headed out to the mall's courtyard, your friend wasted no time.
She turned around, flashing her most charming smile as she stepped up to him. "Hey, Riki, right? Since you're going to be around Y/N all the time, I figured we should probably exchange numbers. You know... in case of emergencies."
You held your breath, pretending to check your phone, but your ears were practically straining to hear his response.
Riki looked down at her, his expression as flat and unreadable as a pane of glass. He didn't reach for his phone. He didn't even shift his weight.
"If there's an emergency, call the police," Riki replied, his voice smooth, cold, and devastatingly polite. "I only answer to her father. And her."
He didn't explicitly say no, but the absolute wall of indifference he threw up was enough to make your friendâs smile instantly freeze.
You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing out loud. As your friend sheepishly muttered an "Oh, okay" and hurried back to the front of the group, you lingered behind, falling into step next to him.
"Ouch," you murmured, looking up at him with a smug, satisfied smirk. "That was pretty brutal, Nishimura. Are you always this pleasant, or am I just special?"
Riki didn't even turn his head, his sharp profile remaining perfectly still as he navigated the evening mall rush.
"You're not special," he said, his voice a low, cool drone that completely cut through your victory high. "You're a liability. If I'm giving out my number to every girl with a crush, I'm distracted. If I'm distracted, you get hurt. If you get hurt, I don't get paid."
Your smug smirk instantly withered. "A crush? She was just being friendly. And for your information, nobody here has a crush on you."
"Good," Riki replied smoothly, finally casting a brief, dark glance down at you. "Let's keep it that way."
He adjusted the heavy designer bags in his grip, completely unfazed by the dagger-eyes you were throwing him. He walked with a effortless, commanding stride that forced you to quicken your pace just to stay by his side. It was infuriating how easily he managed to flip the script on you.
As your group approached the mall exits, the cool July evening air swept into the corridor. Your friends were already whispering among themselves, occasionally glancing back at the two of you with a mix of awe and sheer embarrassment.
"We're heading to the parking lot," you muttered, crossing your arms against the sudden draft. "Are you going to drive, or am I allowed to have some semblance of control over my own car?"
Riki pulled a sleek pair of keys from his pocket, letting them dangle from his index finger. "Your dad already handed over the keys to the SUV. You're riding in the back."
"I am twenty years old, I don't sit in the back like a child!" you snapped, stopping dead in your tracks.
Riki stopped too, turning around slowly. He didn't look angry; he looked like a teacher dealing with a stubborn toddler. "In the back, Y/N. Tinted windows. Safe distance from the windshield. Move."
Weeks passed, and the novelty of having a handsome bodyguard quickly curdled into pure, unadulterated exhaustion.
Every single place you went, there he was. It was a never-ending cycle of irritation. You spent half your time on campus having painfully awkward conversations with your professors, trying to explain why a towering, unbothered twenty-six-year-old in a dark jacket had to sit in the back of the lecture hall. All because of the iron-clad rules your dad had left behind.
And then there were the looks.
Every time you walked down the hallway with Riki trailing three paces behind you, the whispers started. The sneers from the back rows. You could practically see the headline printed in the university's underground gossip blog: "Rich girl needs constant protection while her daddy is away on a business trip." The mere thought of it made your blood boil with humiliation. You were stubborn, you were independent, and being perceived as a fragile, coddled princess was driving you insane.
During a afternoon seminar, the tension finally boiled over. The professor was droning on about economic theories, and you could feel the weight of twenty other students boring holes into the back of your head.
You snapped. Scribbling furiously on a piece of notebook paper, you ripped it out, folded it up, and aggressively shoved it backward onto Rikiâs desk.
The note read: Go wait in the hallway. Everyone is staring at me because of you.
You didn't look back, but you waited for the sound of his chair scraping. It never came.
Instead, a few seconds later, the folded paper was slid back onto your desk. You opened it. In incredibly neat, sharp handwriting, he had written a single line.
Let them look. Focus on your lecture, princess.
You rolled your eyes so hard you were surprised they didn't get stuck, aggressively crumbling the note in your fist and tossing it into your bag.
Princess.
The nickname felt like a direct mockery of everything you were currently stressing about, yet a treacherous spike of heat flared up your neck anyway. You forced your eyes forward, staring blankly at the whiteboard for the remaining forty minutes of class, deliberately ignoring the massive, quiet presence anchoring the back row.
The second the professor dismissed the class, you didn't even wait for your friends. You grabbed your bag, slung it over your shoulder, and practically marched out of the lecture hall, eager to escape the suffocating whispers of your classmates.
You didn't look back, but the heavy, rhythmic thud of combat boots right behind you let you know your shadow hadn't lost your scent.
Once you broke through the heavy glass doors of the building and stepped onto the sunny quad, you turned on your heel to face him.
"Do you enjoy making my life miserable?" you demanded, crossing your arms tightly. "Because it really feels like a hobby for you at this point, Nishimura."
Riki stopped effortlessly, adjusting the strap of his own black duffel bag. The campus breeze caught his dark hair, but his expression remained a completely unbothered, flawless canvas.
"I don't have hobbies," he replied smoothly, looking down at you. "And if your life is made miserable simply by someone ensuring you breathe until 5:00 PM, you have a very low threshold for misery."
"You are so infuriating!" you shouted, your voice cracking slightly with sheer frustration.
The outburst echoed across the quad. A few students filing out of the heavy glass doors paused, shooting you strange, judging looks. Some whispered to each other, their eyes darting between you, the known "spoiled rich girl," and the towering, stoic man standing in front of you.
The heat of embarrassment flooded your face, but you held your ground, glaring up at Riki as if sheer willpower could make him burst into flames.
Riki, however, didn't so much as blink at your raised voice. He didn't even look at the students staring at you. He simply tilted his head, his dark eyes boring into yours with that same, maddening calm.
"Lower your voice," he said, the command soft but carrying absolute authority. "You're drawing a crowd."
"I don't care about the crowd!" you shot back, though you consciously dropped your volume to a harsh whisper. "I care that you follow me around like a dark cloud, embarrassing me in front of my professors, my friends, and my entire class. I can't even breathe without you cataloging the oxygen in the room!"
"Dramatic," Riki murmured, entirely unimpressed. He checked the sleek watch on his wrist, the movement slow and deliberate. "Are we going to stand here and continue this public performance, or are you going to get into the car so I can drive you home?"
He looked back down at you, the ghost of a challenge in his eyes. "Your call, sweetheart."
You lifted your chin, practically daring him to object. "I'm not going home. My friends and I made a plan to go to the club."
For the first time since you met him, you actually saw a flicker of an emotion cross Riki's face. It wasn't anger. It was pure, unadulterated exhaustion.
A club. Dark, crowded, filled with intoxicated strangers, loud music, and unpredictable variables. It was a bodyguard's absolute nightmare.
He let out a slow, measured breath, his jaw ticking slightly as he processed the information. When he looked back at you, the chill in his gaze had sharpened into something much more serious and intense.
"A club," he repeated flatly.
"Yes, a club," you said, a triumphant smirk spreading across your face. You had finally found a way to make him uncomfortable. "So unless you plan on physically carrying me to the SUV kicking and screaming, you're going to be spending your night watching me dance."
Riki stepped closer, smoothly closing the distance between you until he was completely invading your personal space. You had to physically tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. The sudden proximity made your breath hitch, your triumphant smirk faltering just a fraction as the scent of crisp mint and expensive cologne surrounded you.
"Fine," he said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble meant only for you to hear. "We go to the club."
He leaned in just an inch closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours with zero room for negotiation.
"But let's get one thing straight," he warned softly. "If you step more than five feet away from me in that crowd, or if I tell you it's time to leave and you hesitate for even a second, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you out the front door myself. Do we understand each other?"
Your heart gave a treacherous, violent thud against your ribs. He was so close you could see the sharp, amber flecks in his dark eyes, and for a terrifying second, you actually believed him. He would do it. He didnât care about your dignity, your wealth, or the scene it would cause.
You swallowed hard, desperately trying to force your voice to remain steady. "Crystal clear."
Riki held your gaze for one beat longer, ensuring his point had truly landed, before stepping back. The sudden rush of cool air between you made you feel strangely hollow.
"Good," he said, his nonchalant mask slipping right back into place as if the intense standoff had never happened. "Go change. You have one hour."
An hour and a half later, the heavy bass of the club was vibrating through the soles of your shoes. The venue was packed, a sea of flashing neon lights, moving bodies, and expensive drinks.
True to your word, you were on the dance floor with your friends, laughing and letting loose. But true to his word, Riki was exactly where he said heâd be.
He was leaning against a VIP pillar just a few feet away. He hadn't touched a drink, he hadn't taken off his dark jacket, and he hadn't looked at the crowded dance floor onceâexcept to keep his eyes pinned exclusively on you. In the flashing strobe lights, he looked devastatingly handsome, like a dark omen cutting through a colorful room. Every few minutes, a girl would try to approach him, but one look at his icy expression sent them scurrying away.
"Okay, seriously," your friend yelled over the music, nudging your shoulder and pointing toward the pillar. "He is literally staring a hole through the back of your head. Itâs kind of hot, but also... are you sure heâs not going to murder anyone who comes near you?"
You laughed, taking a sip of your drink. "He's just doing his job. Trust me, he'd rather be anywhere else."
To prove your pointâand maybe to push your luck just a little bitâyou deliberately turned your back to Riki and stepped deeper into the center of the dancing crowd, blending into the sea of moving bodies.
Five feet, he had said. You were definitely at least fifteen feet away now.
You stole a quick glance over your shoulder through the flashing lights to see his reaction.
The pillar was empty. Riki was gone.
Before panic could even register in your brain, a large, warm hand clamped firmly around your wrist. The grip wasn't painful, but it was unyielding. You were spun around instantly, your chest colliding with a solid, broad chest.
You looked up, your breath catching. Riki was looking down at you, his jaw tight and his dark eyes flashing with a dangerous, quiet anger.
"What did I say about the five-foot rule?" he growled, his voice cutting clearly through the booming bass right next to your ear.
You blinked up at him, your pulse racing as the strobe lights painted his sharp jawline in flashes of neon blue and crimson. Up close, the sheer heat radiating from him was dizzying.
"I was just dancing," you said, trying to pull your wrist back with all the stubbornness you could muster. "Don't be so dramatic."
"I don't do drama. I do protocol," Riki countered smoothly. His grip didn't loosen a fraction. Instead, he pulled you out of the dense center of the crowd, navigating the colliding bodies with a effortless, commanding sweep of his arm until your back hit the solid surface of the VIP pillar.
He didn't let go of your wrist, pinning it gently but firmly against the marble beside your waist. He leaned over you, using his massive frame to completely shield you from the chaotic flow of the club.
"You think this is a game," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous vibration against your ear that easily cut through the thumping bass. "You wanted to see if Iâd actually do it. If I'd make a scene."
"Maybe I did," you defied, tilting your chin up. Your heart was hammering against your ribs, a lethal mix of adrenaline and something else you refused to name. "Are you going to throw me over your shoulder now?"
Riki's dark eyes dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second, a cool, unbothered smirk playing at the very edge of his mouth. It was the first time he looked genuinely amused, and it was absolutely infuriating.
"Don't tempt me, princess," he whispered, his breath warm against your cheek. "I'm perfectly fine staying right here. But you aren't leaving my sight again tonight. Understand?"
You didn't reply, you didn't nod, instead you walked right past him to the bar for a drink
You didn't reply. You didn't nod. You just held his intense gaze for one long, defying second before deliberately wrenching your wrist from his slackened grip.
Turning on your heel, you walked right past him, your hips swaying with an extra flare of confidence as you headed straight for the bar. You could practically feel the heat of his stare burning into your back with every step you took. If he thought a little proximity and a lowered voice were enough to make you completely submit, he had another thing coming.
"Vodka cranberry," you told the bartender, leaning against the sticky countertop and pulling out your card.
Before the bartender could even grab a glass, a heavy, black card was slapped down onto the counter right next to your hand.
You blinked, looking up. Riki was suddenly standing beside you, his shoulder brushing yours, looking as completely unbothered as if he hadn't just been threatening to carry you out of the building.
"Make it a water," Riki told the bartender, his voice smooth and entirely commanding.
"Hey!" you snapped, turning to face him. "I didn't ask for a water, and I can pay for my own drinks."
"Your father's instructions were clear: no intoxication while under my watch. It increases the liability," Riki replied evenly, not even looking at you as he slid his card back into his wallet. He picked up the glass of ice water the bartender handed over and placed it directly in front of you.
He leaned in slightly, his dark eyes catching the neon green glare of the bar lights. "Drink up, princess. We're leaving in ten minutes."
"Ugh!" you groaned, grabbing the glass of ice water and slamming it back, drinking the entire thing in one aggressive go just to prove you could.
You set the empty glass down on the counter with a loud clack, wiping your lower lip with the back of your hand and glaring up at him. "There. Happy? You're a total buzzkill, you know that?"
Riki watched you finish the water, his expression completely neutral, though the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed a hint of amusement. He smoothly picked up his black card from the counter and slipped it back into his pocket.
"Ecstatic," he replied dryly.
He didn't give you a chance to argue further. Turning around, he threw a sharp, sweeping glance across the crowded club, instantly locating your friends who were still dancing nearby. He caught the eye of the one who had tried to ask for his number earlier and gave her a single, definitive nod toward the exitâa silent signal that the night was officially over.
"Time's up," Riki murmured, his hand settling lightly against the small of your back.
The heat of his palm seared right through your clothes, making your breath hitch. He didn't push you, but the firm, steady pressure left absolutely no room for debate. Guided by his unyielding grip, you were forced to walk ahead of him as he smoothly carved a path through the dense, sweaty crowd toward the exit doors.
The interior of the luxury SUV was dark and quiet, a stark contrast to the booming bass of the club you had just left. The ambient blue lighting of the dashboard illuminated Riki's sharp profile as he kept his eyes fixed strictly on the road, his large hands gripping the steering wheel with effortless control.
You leaned your head against the cool glass of the passenger window, watching the city lights blur past before turning your gaze to him.
"Are you always this serious?" you muttered, your voice laced with a mix of residual annoyance and genuine curiosity. "God, I've never once even seen you smile."
Riki didn't look at you. He smoothly changed lanes, the engine humming quietly.
"Smiling doesn't keep you safe," he replied, his low voice cutting through the quiet cabin. "My job isn't to entertain you, princess. It's to make sure you get from point A to point B in one piece."
"Right, because smiling at someone is a massive security risk," you retorted, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to drop the cold, unbothered act for just five minutes. We're in a locked car. I'm pretty sure no one is going to jump out of the glove compartment."
A heavy silence settled between you two for a long moment. You thought he was just going to ignore you like he usually did.
But then, as the SUV came to a smooth stop at a red light, Riki slowly turned his head to look at you.
The shadows of the night danced across his face, but under the faint glow of the streetlights, you saw itâa slow, incredibly faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. It wasn't a warm, friendly smile; it was sharp, knowing, and devastatingly attractive.
"I don't have an act," he murmured, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made the air in the car feel suddenly thin. "And trust me... if I actually started smiling, you'd find it a lot more dangerous than my silence."
The words left your mouth before your brain could filter them.
The silence that followed was instant and deafening. The low hum of the SUV's engine seemed to amplify as your own words echoed back in your ears. Cute. You had actually just used the word cute to describe a twenty-six-year-old, six-foot-plus mercenary who looked like he could snap a man's collarbone without breaking a sweat.
You froze, your breath hitching in your throat, desperately wishing you could swallow the sentence back down.
Riki didn't move. He just stared at you, his hand resting casually on the steering wheel. The tiny smirk that had been playing on his lips vanished, replaced by an expression that was entirely unreadable, dark, and heavy. The light changed to green, but he didn't look back at the road immediately. He took his time, his eyes searching yours in the dim dashboard light.
Finally, he stepped on the gas, the SUV gliding smoothly through the intersection.
"Cute," he repeated. It wasn't a question. He said the word flatly, testing it out as if it were a foreign language he had never spoken before.
"Yeah. Cute," you stammered, trying desperately to recover your usual haughty, untouchable armor. You looked out the side window, your cheeks burning a furious crimson. "Like... a well-trained guard dog. You get a little gold star for doing what you're told."
"A guard dog," Riki murmured.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him tilt his head, a low, breathy sound escaping his chest. It wasn't a full laugh, but it was close.
"Keep thinking that, princess," he said, his voice dropping into that quiet, dangerous register that always seemed to flip your stomach inside out. "But if you start confusing me with a pet, you're going to get yourself bitten."
The sharp edges of your frustration slowly began to dull. As the days bled into weeks, the constant irritation of having a shadow transitioned into something you never expected: routine.
You stopped fighting him on the seating arrangements in the SUV. You stopped aggressively shoving notes onto his desk during seminars. Instead, you found yourself automatically looking for the tall, dark-clad figure standing by the lecture hall doors before you even packed up your bags. You knew exactly how he took his coffee (black, no sugar, ordered in a voice that made the barista stutter), and he knew exactly how long it took you to get ready in the morning down to the minute.
Even your friends stopped whispering about him. He had simply become a permanent fixture of your life, an unshakeable anchor in the background.
One rainy Thursday afternoon, you were sitting at a corner table in the campus library, buried under a mountain of research papers for a midterm. The stress was giving you a massive headache, and you were aggressively rubbing your temples, staring blankly at a screen full of economic data.
Without a word, a shadow fell over your table.
You looked up. Riki was standing there, holding a hot, steaming cup of your favorite tea from the cafe down the streetâthe one with the exact amount of honey you liked. He set it down quietly next to your laptop, his expression as perfectly unbothered and stoic as always.
"Take a break," he said smoothly, pulling out the chair opposite yours and sitting down. He didn't open a book or look at his phone; he just rested his forearms on the table, his dark eyes calmly watching you. "Your brain is frying. I can hear it from here."
You stared at the tea, a strange, warm flutter blooming in your chest that had absolutely nothing to do with the beverage.
"Did my dad add 'barista' to your contract?" you asked, leaning back in your chair and trying to hide the small smile tugging at your lips.
Riki tilted his head, a faint, familiar glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes. "No. But a frustrated asset makes stupid mistakes. Drink your tea, princess."
The words slipped out before you could filter them, softened by the quiet hum of the library and the warmth of the tea between your hands.
"You're not as bad as I expected," you said, finding yourself smilingâa genuine, relaxed smile that you hadn't forced or hidden. You looked across the table, locking eyes with him. "Your presence is actually... enjoyable."
Riki went entirely still.
The casual, unbothered posture he usually maintained didn't shift, but his eyes darkened, tracking the curve of your smile with an intensity that made the breath catch in your throat. For a long, quiet moment, the only sound was the soft patter of rain against the library windows. The stoic professional mask he wore so effortlessly seemed to fracture, just a fraction, revealing something heavy and fiercely attentive underneath.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his knuckles, his gaze never leaving yours.
"Enjoyable," he murmured, his voice a low, smooth baritone that felt far too intimate for a public library. "Careful, princess. A few weeks ago you were calling me an infuriating dark cloud."
"People change their minds," you defied softly, holding his gaze even as your pulse began to quicken.
The corner of Riki's mouth twitched upward, a slow, deliberate trace of that dangerous smirk appearing on his face. He reached out, his long fingers casually spinning the warm tea cup so the handle faced you perfectly.
"Don't lower your guard around me just because I bought you a drink," he whispered, his eyes dropping to your lips before locking back onto yours. "I'm still the guy who'll throw you over his shoulder if you misbehave."
"And I'm still someone who doesn't care," you countered, lifting your chin with a stubborn confidence that defied the furious hammering of your heart. You wrapped your hands around the warm ceramic of the mug, taking a slow sip while keeping your eyes locked onto his.
Riki didn't blink. He just watched you, his gaze dropping to the way your fingers gripped the cup before traveling slowly back up to your face. The faint smirk on his lips didn't fade; if anything, it sharpened into something deeply intrigued.
"You really don't know when to back down, do you?" he murmured, leaning a fraction closer across the small library table.
"Why should I?" you whispered back. "You haven't bitten me yet, guard dog."
A low, dangerous hum vibrated in Riki's chest. He reached across the table, his large, warm hand suddenly covering yours where it rested against the mug. His skin was rougher than yours, his touch steady and heavy, instantly sending a jolt of heat straight up your arm. He didn't squeeze, but the sheer weight of his hand pinned you in place.
"That's because I'm practicing restraint," Riki said, his voice dropping into a register so low and smooth it made your knees go weak under the table. His dark eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up, holding you entirely captive. "Don't mistake my patience for peace, princess. You're playing with fire."
The words hung in the quiet space between you, heavy and charged.
Rikiâs hand on yours went completely still. The soft patter of the rain outside seemed to fade into the background, replaced entirely by the sudden, suffocating shift in the air.
His eyes darkened, the last traces of his casual amusement completely evaporating. He didn't pull his hand away. Instead, his thumb slowly, deliberately brushed against the side of your wrist, right over your racing pulse. He could feel exactly how much effect he had on you, yet your eyes were still wide, defiant, and locked onto his.
"You don't know what you're asking for," he said, his voice dropping into a rough, quiet growl that sent a shiver straight down your spine.
"Try me," you whispered.
Riki leaned in closer, his broad shoulders completely blocking out the rest of the library, creating a private, dangerous world right there at the table. The scent of his crisp cologne and the faint, cold trace of rain enveloped you.
"If I lose my patience, princess, there's no turning it back on," he murmured, his dark eyes burning into yours with a fiercely protective, possessive intensity. "Your dad pays me to keep people away from you. He doesn't pay me to keep myself away. If you keep pushing me like this... I might just forget about the contract."
The words tumbled out of your mouth, breathless and small, completely stripping away the fierce shield you had spent weeks building.
"I was joking..." you whispered.
But your body betrayed you. For the first time since the moment your dad had introduced him to you, your heart wasn't just racing out of annoyance or stubborn adrenalineâit was undeniably, violently beating. A hot, prickling blush crept up your neck, painting your cheeks a furious crimson as the realization of what you had just invited settled heavily over you.
The air between you felt like physical weight, thick and scorching. Your smart remarks and his low warnings had collided like flint and steel, and now, a silent fire was spreading fast, consuming the safe boundaries of the contract.
Riki didn't move an inch. He kept his large, warm hand clamped firmly over yours, his thumb still resting right against the frantic thudding of your pulse. He watched the flush color your skin, his dark eyes tracking the sudden rise and fall of your chest.
"Joking," he repeated, his voice dangerously low, almost a vibration against the quiet hum of the library.
He didn't sound angry. He sounded like a predator that had just watched its prey realize it was backed into a corner. Slow and deliberate, he leaned in just a fraction closer, his gaze dropping to your lips before locking back onto your wide eyes.
"You're a bad liar, princess," he murmured, his thumb giving a soft, firm press against your racing wrist. "Your heart is practically trying to break through your chest. That doesn't feel like a joke to me."
"Shut up," you breathed, the command lacking any real sting as you looked away, desperately trying to break the hypnotic hold of his stare.
Riki let out a low, breathy sound that was dangerously close to a laugh. He finally let go of your wrist, but he didnât move back. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest while keeping his dark eyes pinned entirely on you. The intense tension didn't disappear; it just settled into a simmering, quiet heat between you.
"Fascinating," he murmured smoothly, watching you try to collect yourself. "The great Y/N, completely out of comebacks."
"I am not out of comebacks," you muttered, aggressively grabbing your pen and staring down at your research papers, though the words on the screen were a complete blur. Your cheeks were still burning. "I'm studying. Which is what I should have been doing before you came over here to stress me out."
"I didn't stress you out," Riki corrected evenly, the familiar, unbothered mask slipping right back over his featuresâthough the look in his eyes was entirely different now. Knowing. Possessive. "I brought you tea. You're the one who started playing with matches."
He reached out and tapped the edge of your laptop. "Get back to work. We have forty-five minutes before I drive you home."
The relative peace of your library routine didn't last long. Two days later, the real worldâand the superficial hierarchy of campus lifeâcame crashing back in.
You were walking across the sunlit main courtyard toward the student center, your iPad clutched to your chest. Riki was walking exactly three paces behind you, his hands loosely clasped in front of him, his dark eyes scanning the perimeter with his usual cold, military precision.
"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."
You closed your eyes for a brief, exhausted second before pasting on a neutral expression and turning around. Standing by the stone fountain was Nancy, flanked by two of her usual sycophants. Nancyâs father had recently acquired a massive tech conglomerate, a fact she made sure filtered into every single conversation. To Nancy, wealth wasn't just status; it was a weapon. And she took personal offense to anyone else occupying the campus spotlight.
"Hello, Nancy," you said evenly, keeping your distance.
"I saw your familyâs name dropped three spots on the global index this morning," Nancy said, a sharp, cruel smirk spreading across her face as she stepped closer. "Honestly, itâs a miracle you can even afford to show your face here. Or afford... that."
Nancyâs eyes shifted, sliding past your shoulder to lock onto Riki. Her critical glare instantly melted into something predatory and calculating. She took in his tall, imposing frame, the tailored dark jacket that clung to his broad shoulders, and the lethal, handsome symmetry of his face.
You could practically see the gears turning in her head. To Nancy, everything was an accessory, and she decided she wanted this one.
"A personal guard? Please," Nancy scoffed, though her voice took on a distinctly performative, purring edge as she stepped right past you, trying to close the distance between herself and Riki. "A man with your... assets shouldn't be wasting his time protecting a falling dynasty. My father is looking for new security detail for our penthouse. We pay triple whatever her failing family is giving you."
You clenched your jaw, a sudden, hot spark of anger flaring in your chest. You turned to look at Riki, your heart hammering against your ribs. Would he take the bait? To a mercenary, money was everything.
Nancy smiled, entirely confident in her victory, and reached out a manicured hand to place it coyly on Riki's forearm. "What do you say? You look like a man who knows his own worth."
Before her fingers could even graze the fabric of his jacket, Riki moved.
It was so fast it was almost a blur. He didn't flinch, he didn't raise his voice, but the sheer, icy aura that radiated from him made Nancy freeze mid-motion. He stepped back just an inch, completely evading her touch as if she were nothing more than a minor nuisance blockading his path.
"Do not touch me," Riki said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a terrifying, sub-zero chill that echoed across the courtyard.
Nancyâs smirk faltered, her hand hovering awkwardly in the air. "Excuse me? Do you know who my fatherâ"
"I don't care who your father is," Riki interrupted smoothly, his dark eyes boring into hers with a flat, lethal indifference that made her two friends instantly take a step back. "My contract is with her father. My loyalty is to *her*. You don't have enough money in your family's entire portfolio to buy a single second of my time."
He didn't even give Nancy a chance to process the absolute humiliation coding her face a bright, furious red. Riki took a step forward, effectively cutting off Nancyâs line of sight and placing his massive frame directly between you and her, shielding you entirely.
He looked down at you, his expression softening by a fraction of a degree, a familiar, quiet intensity in his dark eyes.
"Are you ready to leave, princess?" he asked smoothly, his voice a low baritone meant only for you. "The air out here is getting foul."
"Excuse me?!" Nancyâs voice shrieked, the pitch rising so high it actually drew the attention of several students walking by. Her face was a brilliant, humiliated crimson. "You dare disrespect me? My father willâ"
"I don't care what your father will do," Riki cut her off, his voice a flat, unyielding wall of ice.
He didn't even look back at her. He kept his eyes fixed entirely on you, his broad shoulders completely blocking Nancy from your view as if she were nothing more than a minor background distraction. The sheer, effortless dismissal was a sharper slap to her ego than any insult could have been.
"Let's go," Riki murmured to you, his large hand settling firmly against the small of your back.
The touch was a stark contrast to the sub-zero chill he had just directed at Nancy. It was warm, steady, and entirely grounding. He guided you forward, effortlessly steering you right past a sputtering, speechless Nancy and her wide-eyed friends.
You walked with your head held high, a brilliant, triumphant smile breaking across your face. The hot spark of anxiety that had flared up just moments ago evaporated completely, replaced by a strange, fiercely sweet sensation in your chest. He hadn't hesitated for a single millisecond. Triple the money, a wealthier family, a penthouseânone of it had even registered to him.
Once you were safely inside the quiet, air-conditioned hallway of the student center and out of sight of the courtyard, you stopped and turned to look at him.
Riki immediately stepped into his usual position, his dark eyes scanning the hallway before settling back on you, his expression as perfectly stoic and unbothered as if he hadn't just publicly obliterated the campus's biggest ego.
"You're a terrible businessman, you know that?" you said, trying to keep your voice light, though your heart was thumping a fast, erratic rhythm against your ribs. "She offered you triple."
Riki tilted his head, a slow, dangerous trace of that familiar smirk playing at the very corner of his lips.
"I told you before, princess," he murmured, stepping a fraction closer until the scent of his crisp cologne enveloped you. "I don't care about her father's portfolio. I'm exactly where I want to be."
A genuine, breathless smile broke across your face at his words, the warmth in your chest spreading rapidly. You couldn't help but lean back slightly against the hallway wall, looking up at him through your lashes.
"Is my father giving you our entire fortune for you to be this loyal?" you teased, your voice dropping into a softer, playful register.
Riki rolled his eyes, a slow, effortless motion, but there was absolutely no bite to it. The heavy, intimidating aura he had used to crush Nancy outside was completely gone, replaced entirely by a relaxed, intimate ease meant only for you.
"Perhaps a 'thank you' would work," he said, his low baritone vibrating quietly in the empty hallway.
"A thank you?" you repeated, tilting your chin up defiantly, though your racing pulse threatened to give you away. "I thought you said you were just doing your job. Protocol, wasn't it?"
Riki took a deliberate step closer, entirely invading your personal space until the sheer heat of his broad frame wrapped around you. He leaned down slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made the air feel dangerously thin.
"Defending you from threat actors is protocol," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before returning to your eyes. "Putting a bratty heiress in her place because she tried to put her hands on what's mine? That was a personal favor."
Your heart gave a violent, treacherous thud at the words what's mine. Before you could even attempt to find a witty comeback, Riki tapped the edge of your iPad with one long finger.
"Now, say thank you, princess. Or I might actually start charging your dad that triple rate."
"Thank you, Riki," you said, your voice dropping so soft it was barely a whisper against the quiet hum of the hallway.
The playful defiance completely drained from your posture, leaving something raw, honest, and heavy hanging in the space between you. You didn't look away this time. You let him see the genuine gratitudeâand the sudden, undeniable shift in how you looked at himâclear as day in your eyes.
Riki went entirely still.
The smug, teasing smirk faded from his lips, replaced by an expression that was intensely focused, almost fierce. For a second, his dark eyes searched yours, tracking the subtle catch in your breath and the soft curve of your mouth. The professional barrier between bodyguard and client didn't just feel thin; it felt completely obliterated.
Slowly, Riki raised his hand. You thought he was going to tap your iPad again, or perhaps check his watch, but instead, his long fingers brushed gently against a stray lock of hair near your cheek, tucking it behind your ear. His knuckles grazed your burning skin, sending a violent jolt of electricity straight to your core.
"You're welcome, princess," he murmured, his voice rougher now, dropping into a low, private register that belonged strictly to the two of you.
His hand lingered by your jaw for a fraction of a second too long before he deliberately dropped it back to his side, clearing his throat as he took a half-step back to restore a shred of professional distance.
"Now come on," he said, the stoic mask sliding back into place, though his eyes remained dark and intensely aware. "Let's get you to class before I have to explain to your father why you're late."
It didnât happen all at once. There was no grand, cinematic moment where the realization hit you like a lightning strike. Instead, it was a slow, quiet unraveling, a steady accumulation of tiny details that began to rewrite the entire architecture of your thoughts.
Suddenly, the things that used to signify security detail began to mean something entirely different.
You noticed it in the way he stood. When you walked into a crowded room, Riki didnât just look around; his entire focus narrowed into an invisible, protective shield centered entirely on you. He could read the room in milliseconds, his broad shoulders subtly shifting to block you from a rowdy group of students or an oncoming cyclist before you even realized they were there. That fierce, unyielding competenceâonce so infuriatingâhad become the most comforting thing in your world.
But it was the quiet, unguarded moments that truly ruined you.
Like the way he held your coat open for you on chilly mornings, his large hands steady and patient, waiting for you to slip your arms in without ever rushing you. Or the way he always took the seat facing the door whenever you went to a cafĂŠ, not because he was bored of you, but because his eyes never stopped scanning for threats, keeping you entirely safe in his periphery.
The true point of no return happened on a quiet, sun-drenched afternoon in the SUV.
He was driving you back from campus, the traffic at a complete standstill on the highway. The radio was playing something low and ambient, filtering softly through the premium speakers. You weren't arguing. You weren't teasing him. You were just leaning your head back against the leather seat, unashamedly watching him profile-on.
The bright afternoon sun cut across the cabin, illuminating the sharp, lethal symmetry of his face, casting long shadows beneath his high cheekbones. And that's when you saw it.
Right there, just a millimeter beneath his lower left eyelid, was a tiny, dark mole.
It was so faint, so hidden by the thick sweep of his eyelashes and the usually stern expression he wore, that you had completely missed it for weeks. It was a remarkably soft, human detail on a man who otherwise looked like he had been chiseled out of granite.
Your breath caught in your throat. You stared at that tiny mark, a sudden, overwhelming wave of warmth crashing over your chest. You found yourself wondering what it would feel like to trace it with the pad of your thumb. You wondered if anyone else had ever noticed it, or if it was a secret reserved only for those who looked closely enough. Who looked at him the way you were looking at him right now.
Oh, you thought, a sudden, terrifying panic fluttering in your stomach. Oh, no.
Your heart gave a violent, heavy thud against your ribs. It wasn't the fast, adrenaline-fueled racing of a scare, or the stubborn thumping of an argument. It was a deep, aching pull.
You weren't just getting used to him. You weren't just enjoying his presence.
You were falling for him. Slowly, helplessly, and completely against the rules of the contract.
"Something on my face, princess?"
Riki's low baritone shattered the silence. He hadn't turned his head, his eyes still fixed on the stopped brake lights ahead of him, but the faint, knowing twitch at the corner of his mouth told you he had felt your gaze the entire time.
You quickly ripped your eyes away, staring out the passenger window as a fierce, burning blush rushed up your neck, coloring your cheeks a vivid pink.
"Nothing," you squeezed out, your voice sounding far softer and more breathless than you intended. "Just... thinking."
Riki didn't push. He just let out that quiet, breathy rumble from deep in his chestâthe one that always made your knees weakâand smoothly moved the SUV forward as the traffic finally began to clear. But as you watched the city lights begin to blur past, you knew everything had changed. The guard dog had completely captured the princess, and she didn't want to be rescued.
The rest of the drive passed in a haze of sudden, terrifying clarity. Every time the SUV braked, every time his large hand shifted effortlessly on the gear stick, you felt acutely, painfully aware of him. The space between your seats felt charged, humming with an unspoken tension that made your skin prickle.
When the car finally rolled to a stop in the driveway of your familyâs estate, you didnât immediately jump out like you used to.
Riki turned off the engine. The sudden silence in the cabin was loud, heavy with the weight of your newfound realization. He unbuckled his seatbelt, his broad frame shifting as he prepared to step out and open your doorâhis standard protocol.
"Riki, wait," you said, the words slipping out before you could lose your nerve.
He paused, his hand freezing on the door handle. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you. In the dimming twilight filtering through the windshield, his dark eyes were deep, searching your face with that intense, undivided attention that always made your pulse stutter.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his low voice instantly dropping into that quiet, fiercely protective register. "Did you see something? Are you hurt?"
"No, nothing like that," you murmured, keeping your hands clamped tightly over your bag in your lap to hide the slight tremble in your fingers. You looked at himâreally looked at himâtaking in the sharp line of his jaw, the shadow of stubble, and that tiny, hidden mole beneath his eye that now felt like a secret map you were desperately trying to memorize. "I just... I wanted to say I'm glad it's you."
Riki went entirely still. The professional distance he always tried to maintain seemed to fracture again, his chest rising and falling with a slow, heavy breath.
"Glad it's me?" he repeated softly.
"Yeah," you whispered, lifting your chin, forcing yourself to hold his gaze even as your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs. "My dad could have hired anyone. But I'm glad he picked you. I feel... safe with you."
The word safe hung in the air, but the way you said itâthe softness in your voice, the way your eyes lingered on hisâmade it clear it meant so much more.
For a long, breathless moment, Riki didn't say a word. He just stared at you, his gaze dropping to your lips for a agonizingly slow second before locking back onto your eyes. The unbothered, stoic mercenary mask was completely gone, replaced by a raw, dark intensity that sent a wave of heat straight down your spine.
Slowly, he leaned across the center console. The scent of his crisp cologne and the sheer warmth of his body enveloped you entirely, trapping you against the leather seat. He reached out, his large, warm hand settling gently against the side of your neck, his thumb resting right over your violently racing pulse.
"Princess," he murmured, his voice a rough, gravelly whisper that vibrated right through you. "You're looking at me like that again. The way that makes me want to forget exactly who pays my salary."
"And if I want you to forget?" you defied breathlessly, your heart soaring into your throat.
Rikiâs thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle against your skin, his dark eyes burning into yours with a fiercely possessive, dangerous heat.
"If I forget," he whispered, his face inches from yours, "there's no going back. I won't just be standing at your door anymore. I'll be keeping you."
The bold confession was a fantasy your brain had conjured, because in reality, you weren't that brave yet. You were still stubborn, fiercely independent, and utterly terrified of how much power he was starting to hold over you.
So, naturally, you did what you always did when you felt cornered: you rebelled.
Two nights later, you successfully slipped out the back of a campus event, deliberately leaving your phone on a table to throw him off your scent, and headed to a dimly lit local bar with a couple of classmates. For three hours, you enjoyed the thrill of being "free." But as the sweet cocktails went down a little too easily, the buzz in your head turned into a heavy, uncoordinated warmth.
By midnight, the rebel high had completely worn off, leaving you sitting on the curb outside the bar, your head resting against your knees as the cool night air made you dizzy.
A shadow fell over you. A very large, very angry shadow.
You blinked up through your blurred vision. Riki was standing over you, his jaw clenched so tightly a muscle jumped in his cheek. His dark eyes were absolute ice, radiating a terrifying, furious energy that made your classmates instantly scatter into the night.
"Get up," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
"Riki," you slurred, a goofy, entirely unbothered smile spreading across your face. You reached your arms up toward him like a toddler. "You found me. You're like... a bloodhound."
He didn't argue. He didn't even yell. He just let out a sharp, frustrated breath, bent down, and effortlessly scooped you up into his arms, hoisting you against his broad chest. You instantly wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his shoulder. He smelled like winter rain and his crisp cologne, and it was the most comforting thing in the world.
He carried you all the way back to the SUV, his stride long and furious. But as he went to buckle you into the passenger seat, you gripped his jacket, refusing to let go.
"Sit with me," you whined softly, your eyelids heavy.
Riki leaned over you, his hands braced on either side of your seat, his face just inches from yours. "You are reckless," he whispered, his voice rough with lingering adrenaline. "You left your phone. Do you have any idea what could have happened to you tonight?"
You didn't care about the lecture. Your eyes traced the sharp line of his jaw, the dark sweep of his lashes, and finally settled on that tiny, beautiful mole right beneath his eyelid.
"You're so handsome," you mumbled, your voice softer, completely stripped of your usual haughty armor by the alcohol. "You're really, really handsome, Riki. And you're so good to me. You always keep me safe..."
Riki went completely rigid. The anger in his eyes flickered, replaced by a sudden, heavy stillness. He stared down at you, his chest rising and falling against yours.
"You're drunk, princess," he murmured, his voice adopting a flat, nonchalant tone that bled through his teeth as he tried to regain control of the situation. "You don't know what you're saying. Tomorrow you're going to wake up and hate me again."
"I don't hate you," you whispered, a sleepy, stubborn smile stretching across your lips. "I could never hate you."
Before he could process the words, you slid your hands up his neck, your fingers tangling into the short hairs at the back of his head. With a sudden burst of drunken coordination, you pulled him down.
Your lips met his in a soft, clumsy, lingering peck.
It was over in a second. His lips were shockingly soft, completely freezing against yours under the sudden shock of the touch. You pulled back just an inch, leaning your forehead against his cheek with a contented sigh.
And then, right there in his arms, the exhaustion and the alcohol finally won. Your eyes fluttered shut, your muscles went completely limp, and you knocked out cold, leaving Riki frozen in the dark car, your breath warm against his neck, and his heart violently hammering against his ribs for the first time in his life.
The silence inside the SUV became absolute, broken only by the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing.
Riki didnât move. He couldnât. For a man who had been trained to react to a threat in milliseconds, he was entirely paralyzed by the feather-light weight of your head resting against his shoulder. His lips still tingled from the sudden, clumsy pressure of yours, a ghost of a sensation that seemed to actively rewrite his entire nervous system.
Slowly, carefully, he pulled back just enough to look down at you.
Your head had lolled back against the headrest, completely surrendered to sleep. He stared at the way your bangs had parted just enough to perfectly frame your face, casting soft shadows across your forehead. The cool night air outside hadn't extinguished the vivid, rosy tint blooming across your cheeksâa beautiful, messy flush from the alcohol that made you look entirely defenseless. So painfully soft.
God, he was done for.
A low, defeated groan escaped his chest, a sound so quiet it was swallowed by the dark cabin. He rested his forehead against the steering wheel for a long moment, his eyes closed, his fists clenching until his knuckles turned white.
Every single rule, every protocol, every line he had drawn in the sand to protect his professionalism had just been completely washed away by a drunken kiss from a girl who was supposed to be nothing more than a line item on a ledger. He was supposed to be a ghost in your life. An invisible shield.
But as he looked back at you, reaching out with an agonizingly slow, trembling hand to gently brush a stray strand of hair away from your flushed cheek, he knew the truth.
He didn't want to be invisible anymore.
"You're going to be the death of me, princess," he whispered into the quiet dark, his rough thumb lingering against your jaw for a beat too long.
With a sigh that felt heavier than anything heâd ever carried, he put the SUV in gear and drove you home, his eyes constantly flicking to the rearview mirror to check on you, completely caught in a trap he had no intention of escaping.
The blinding morning sun pierced through your curtains, sending a sharp, agonizing spike of pain straight between your eyes. You groaned, burying your face into your pillows as the familiar, miserable pounding of a hangover settled into your skull.
Your mind was a complete blank. You remembered sneaking out of the campus event, you remembered the neon lights of the bar, and you vaguely remembered the taste of a sweet, dangerously strong cocktail. After that? Pitch black. A total void.
You scrambled out of bed, threw on a oversized sweater and some sweatpants, and headed downstairs in desperate search of water and painkillers.
As you reached the bottom of the stairs, you froze.
Riki was standing by the kitchen island. He was already fully dressed in his sharp, dark suit, a mug of coffee in his hand. But the moment you stepped into the room, his entire posture went rigid. He didn't offer his usual casual, low-toned greeting. Instead, his dark eyes locked onto you with an intensity that felt completely different from his standard professional focus. He looked... guarded. Tight.
"Morning," you mumbled, wincing at the sound of your own voice. You slumped onto a barstool and aggressively rubbed your temples. "My head feels like it was run over by a truck. How did I even get home last night? I literally don't remember a single thing after my second drink."
At your words, Riki went entirely still. He gripped his coffee mug a fraction tighter, his eyes narrowing as he scanned your face, searching for any sign of a bluff.
"You don't remember anything?" he asked, his voice lower and rougher than usual.
"No," you groaned, completely missing the tension in his shoulders as you reached for the glass of water he had already set out for you. "Did I do something stupid? Please tell me I didn't throw up in your SUV."
Riki let out a slow, deliberate breath, the heavy, guarded look in his eyes masking a sudden, complex wave of emotion. He walked over, setting a bottle of advil right next to your water. The cool, unbothered facade was back, but beneath it, his pulse was thudding.
"No, princess," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before he looked away, staring out the kitchen window. "You didn't throw up. You just fell asleep. Like a rock."
You let out a massive, dramatic sigh of relief, dropping your forehead onto the cool marble of the kitchen island. "Thank God. I was terrified I did something incredibly stupid and ruined my life."
Above you, the silence stretching across the kitchen was so heavy it felt physical.
Riki didn't answer. He just stood there, towering over you, his knuckles turning white around the ceramic handle of his coffee mug. If you had lifted your head right then, you would have seen the sudden, dangerous flare in his dark eyesâa mix of fierce frustration, lingering heat, and a dark, possessive amusement.
Nothing stupid. To you, it was a blank space, a bullet avoided. To him, it was a ghost of a touch that had kept him awake until dawn, his mind looping over the memory of your clumsy, soft lips pressed against his.
"Right," Riki finally murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sent a strange, unexpected shiver down your spine despite your headache. "Nothing stupid."
The memory of your kiss was burned into his mind all night. Meanwhile, there you were, celebrating having dodged an awkward situation. Oh, boy.
"It's past noon. Don't you have class today?" he asked, trying to maintain a nonchalant tone.
You shook your head. "No, thank God. My head is pounding, and I don't think I'd survive a lecture."
I don't think my heart can survive you. The thought flashed through Riki's mind, but he kept his voice steady as he spoke. "You better get some more rest then. I'll make you tea."
Over the next few days, Riki made a point of keeping his distance. In a way, he always had; after all, his job was simply to watch over you and keep you safe. But his heart doing a somersault every time you drew near? That certainly wasn't in the job description.
"Mind if I sit here?"
It was Nancy. A few tables over, you were sitting with your friends, completely unaware of Riki as he sat alone, watching you eat and laugh. He barely even looked up at Nancy, his eyes locked on you.ďżź
Taking his silence as a cue, Nancy slipped into the seat across from him anyway. "You're quite focused on her," she said, her hostile attitude from a few days ago entirely vanished.
"I want to apologize for how I acted a couple of days ago," Nancy said. "I shouldn't have been such a brat."
Riki didn't seem to care about her apology. He simply stared across the room at you, as if his entire life depended on it.
"Hello?" She snapped her fingers in front of his face.
He finally broke his gaze and looked at her, his expression instantly smoothing into a mask of pure nonchalance. "Why are you apologizing to me?" he asked, his voice cold. "Y/N was the one you were mean to."
"Why are you always defending her?!" Nancy shouted. "Do you like her or something? God, you're a bodyguard, not her boyfriend!"
The words hit their mark, making Riki freeze. For a split second, his composure shattered.
"She's my responsibility," he replied, his voice dropping as he forced the tension out of his shoulders. "Of course I'm going to defend her."
The moment you stood up, Riki was on his feet. He moved to follow you, but Nancy caught him by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
"What does she have that I don't?" she asked. It was a reckless, desperate confession, given how badly they had started off.
Leaning down until he was inches from her face, Riki watched her breath hitch. "She doesn't fake her personality to fit in with a crowd," he murmured. Without waiting for a reaction, he pulled away and walked past her, his eyes already searching for you.
Nancy stared blankly at the empty space heâd just occupied, his words stinging worse than a physical slap. She slowly let her hand drop to the table, her face burning with a mixture of humiliation and anger.
Meanwhile, Riki didn't look back. His eyes scanned the crowded room, instantly locking onto your familiar figure as you slipped out the double doors of the cafeteria. He quickened his pace, weaving effortlessly through the sea of students, his mind still buzzing with the echo of Nancy's accusation.
Not her boyfriend.
He clenched his jaw, pushing the thought down. He was a professional. He had a job to do.
By the time he stepped out into the hallway, you were already halfway down the corridor, adjusting your backpack. The cool air of the hallway was a relief compared to the suffocating tension heâd just left behind.
"Y/N," he called out, his voice instantly losing the icy edge he'd used on Nancy, returning to its usual, grounded calm.
You stopped and turned around, a slight smirk playing on your lips when you saw him catching up. "Hey. I thought you were trapped over there. I saw Nancy sit down." You tilted your head, studying his face. "Are you okay? You look a little tense."
Riki stopped a polite distance away, his hands slipping casually into his pockets as his mask of nonchalance fell perfectly back into place. "Fine," he said smoothly, though his heart gave that familiar, uncontracted somersault just from the way you were looking at him. "Just making sure you aren't trying to skip your next period."
You rolled your eyes, a playful smile breaking through your lingering exhaustion. "Of course. Because ice-cold Nishimura Riki never lets his guard down when it comes to his job, hm?"
A faint, nearly imperceptible twitch in his jaw was the only sign that your words had hit a nerve. If only you knew how much of a lie that mask actually was.
"Someone has to keep you on track," he replied smoothly, though he kept his eyes locked on yours just a second too long to be entirely professional. He gestured slightly down the hall with his chin. "Lead the way, Y/N. Your lecture awaits."
As you walked to your lecture hall, you couldn't shake the thought of what had actually happened between Nancy and Riki. It wasn't like him to linger; usually, he was right on your heels the second you moved. The fact that heâd taken ages to find you today felt completely out of character, and the curiosity was burning a hole in your mind.
You snuck a sideways glance at him. He was walking a step behind you, his expression as blank and unreadable as ever.
Even in the car on the way home, the scene in the cafeteria kept replaying in your head. The silence between you two felt heavier than usual, and you mentally scolded yourself.
Relax, Y/N, it was probably nothing, you thought, desperately trying to ignore the nagging feeling in your chest.
From the driver's seat, Riki kept his eyes firmly on the road, but he didn't miss the way you sighed and stared out the window. He could tell your mind was miles away, and a quiet part of him wondered if you were thinking about what Nancy had saidâor worse, if you were starting to see through his mask.
The quiet bedroom suddenly felt suffocating. As the night grew later, you lay completely still, staring blankly at the shadows stretching across your ceiling.
Then, like a sudden flash of lightning, a buried memory broke through the haze.
The image of the crowded, neon-lit bar youâd snuck out to replayed vividly in your mind. But it didn't stop there. The phantom sensation of soft lips against yours sent a shockwave straight through your chestâa moment completely wiped from your brain until now due to the sheer amount of alcohol you'd had in your system that night.
You jolted upright in bed, your heart hammering against your ribs as your eyes went wide in the dark.
I kissed him?!
Meanwhile, Riki was lying flat on his back in the bed of the guest room, staring at his own dark ceiling.
His mind drifted right back to the kiss, just as it had every single night since it happened.
In the quiet of the room, he let out a slow, heavy breath, realizing how profoundly that one single moment had changed everything. Before that night, his boundaries had been crystal clear. He was a professional. He was your shield, invisible and immovable. But the ghost of that touch had cracked his perfect armor, rendering his carefully constructed "ice-cold" persona almost impossible to maintain. Every look, every teasing comment from you today hadn't just been playful banterâit had been an agonizing test of his restraint.
A few doors away, you were panicking. Here, he was drowning in the quiet realization that he could never go back to just being your bodyguard.
end
My WiFi decided to be my op and not save the original part I had for this so sorry if it doesn't make sense (and if it does thank god). Hope you enjoyed! Leave a like, comment, and follow!
synopsis: You shared everything with Riki; he was your partner in crime, after all. But beneath the shared secrets and unspoken understanding, your scars remained the one thing he didnât know about.
genre: angst
Youâd been with Riki for a few months, and in that short time, he became your safe haven. He was the only person who truly made you feel big, who looked at you like you mattered. You shared everything with himâhe was your partner in crime, the one who could turn your worst past regrets into late-night laughter.
But there was a line you could never bring yourself to cross. You could never tell him what happened when you went home. You couldn't find the words for the sound of shattering glass, the suffocating loneliness, or the familiar routine of locking yourself in your room while your parents tore each other apart. It was a vicious, endless cycle, and it was the one thing you had to carry completely alone.
You hid the physical evidence just as carefully as the words. You hid the scars, the crushing pressure, and the ache that lived under your skin. You even hid the semicolon youâd inked onto your hand with a penâa fragile little symbol of a story that wasnât over yet, drawn to look like a real tattoo. You kept it covered, terrified heâd look at your wrist, see the tiny mark, and finally understand exactly how close you were to the edge.
"Are you okay? You seem distracted," he asked.ďżź
You were sitting side-by-side in biology class, the low hum of the teacherâs lecture filling the room. You pulled your sleeves down a little further over your hands, hiding the ink of the semicolon against your skin.
"I'm fine," you said. It was a lie, a practiced reflex to keep the world out. But as you looked at him, you saw the quiet worry in his eyes. You weren't fine, and the worst part was, he knew it.
He reached out and touched the edge of your cuff, his thumb gently tugging at the fabric. It was an innocent gestureâjust a boy wanting to touch the hand of the girl he lovedâbut to you, it felt like a threat to your entire survival.
"You're not fine y/n please just talk to me, it feels like every day I'm slowly losing you to a shadow"
Rikiâs voice broke on the last word, the raw pain in his tone cutting right through the walls youâd spent months building.
The crowded biology classroom seemed to fade away entirely, leaving just the two of you frozen in a heavy, suffocating silence. He was still looking at you, his eyes wide and shining with unshed tears, desperately begging you to contradict him. He wanted you to laugh it off, to tell him he was being dramatic, to be the girl who used to share stupid regrets with him until your stomachs hurt from laughing.
But you couldn't.
Instead, you felt a cold sweat break out across your skin. You pulled your arms tightly against your chest, squeezing your eyes shut so you wouldn't have to witness the sheer heartbreak on his face. A shadow. He was right. You were disappearing into one. Every single night spent listening to the violent crash of breaking glass, every single hour spent locked in the suffocating quiet of your bedroom, was slowly erasing you.
"Riki, please," you whispered, your voice cracking as a single tear escaped and hot-streaked down your cheek. "Just... don't."
"No, I'm not going to 'just don't' anymore," he insisted, his voice a fierce, desperate whisper. He didn't care that the bell was about to ring, or that people might hear. He leaned in closer, his hand hovering just inches from your covered wrist, trembling. "I love you, y/n. And it is killing me to watch you drown in plain sight while you pretend like you're perfectly fine. Please. Just give me something. A piece of it. Let me help you carry it."
You looked down at your lap, your fingers gripping the fabric of your hoodie so tightly your knuckles turned white. Right beneath your palm was the ink-drawn semicolon, a heavy reminder of how fragile your grip on reality actually was. You wanted so badly to scream the truth to him, to collapse into his arms and let him protect you from the nightmare waiting for you at home.
But as you looked at his beautiful, unbroken expression, a terrifying wave of guilt washed over you. If you let him in, the darkness of your world would swallow him, too. And you couldn't bear to be the reason his light went out.
"I can't," you choked out, the words tasting like ash. You grabbed your backpack, shoved your notebook inside with numb, uncoordinated fingers, and stood up just as the loud, jarring screech of the bell finally rang through the room.
Before he could grab your hand, before he could see the trembling in your fingers, you turned and ran into the crowded hallway, leaving him standing there in the wreckage of your silence.
The days that followed were the quietest, heaviest days of your life.
You effectively became a ghost in your own existence. In the hallways at school, you kept your head down, headphones pressed tightly over your ears even if no music was playing, using the silence as a shield. Whenever you saw a flash of Rikiâs familiar jacket or heard his laugh from down the corridor, your stomach would plummet, and youâd immediately turn down another hallway, losing yourself in the crowd.
You stopped sitting next to him in biology. You arrived exactly when the bell rang, slipping into a broken desk at the very back of the room, keeping your eyes glued to your notebook. You could feel his gaze on you the entire hourâa physical weight, burning with a mix of intense worry, hurt, and confusion. He tried to catch you after class the first two days, calling your name through the sea of students, but you were always faster. You ran because if you stopped, you knew youâd fall apart.
At night, the isolation only amplified. Without Rikiâs late-night texts to distract you, the reality of your house felt deafening. The routine didn't stop. The walls still shook with the bitter, venomous arguments of your parents. The sickening shatter of a plate against the kitchen wall still sent you scrambling to turn the lock on your bedroom door, pressing your back against the wood, pulling your knees to your chest.
In those dark hours, the pressure felt absolute. You would look down at your hand in the moonlight, tracing the fading pen ink of the semicolon youâd drawn. It was rubbing off, blurring at the edges, mirroring exactly how you felt insideâfading, blurring, disappearing.
Your phone would buzz on your mattress, illuminating the dark room.
Riki: Please just text me back. Just a punctuation mark. Just let me know youâre alive.
Riki: Iâm not mad at you. Iâm just scared.
Riki: I miss you.
You would stare at the glowing screen, your thumb hovering over the keypad, tears blurring your vision until his name was just a smear of light. You wanted to type Iâm sorry. I miss you too. Help me.
But then a door would slam downstairs, or the muffled sound of crying would filter through your bedroom walls, and reality would pull you right back under. You would turn your phone face down, bury your face in your arms, and let the silence swallow you completely. You convinced yourself you were doing the right thing. You were protecting him from your mess.
But as the days stretched into a week of absolute silence, the emptiness inside you didn't feel like protection anymore. It just felt like drowning in an ocean you chose to jump into alone.
By the second week, the strain had made you careless. The exhaustion of surviving your home life, paired with the crushing weight of ignoring the only person who cared about you, left you moving through school like a hollow shell.
It happened on a rainy Thursday afternoon. The campus was mostly empty, students rushing to get to their cars or after-school activities to escape the downpour. You were standing by your locker in the isolated back hallway of the science building, trying to pull your heavy biology textbook from the top shelf. Your hands were shakingâa symptom of another sleepless night spent pressed against your bedroom door listening to the violent crash of porcelain against drywall.
Your fingers slipped. The heavy book tumbled out, striking your forearm sharply before thudding onto the linoleum floor.
A gasp of pure, white-hot pain escaped your lips. You immediately collapsed against the lockers, cradling your arm to your chest. The impact had hit right against the fresh, tender marks hidden beneath your sleeveâthe physical manifestation of a pressure that had finally boiled over.
"Y/N?"
The voice made your heart stop.
You looked up, breathing heavily, to see Riki standing at the end of the hall. He looked exhausted. His hair was damp from the rain, his jacket hung loosely on his shoulders, and the shadows under his eyes mirrored your own. He had been looking for you.
"Go away, Riki," you choked out, your voice sounding incredibly small in the empty hallway. You bent down frantically, trying to grab your book with your uninjured hand, desperately wanting to run before the tears leaking from your eyes could betray you.
"No. I'm not going away anymore," he said, his voice dropping all of its usual softness. It was raw, hardened by two weeks of agonizing silence. He covered the distance between you in a few long strides, dropping to his knees on the floor right in front of you.
"Riki, pleaseâ"
"Two weeks, Y/N. You've treated me like a stranger for two weeks," he said, his voice trembling with a devastating mix of anger and heartbreak. He reached out, his hands catching your shoulders, forcing you to stop gathering your papers. "You won't look at me. You won't text me back. I have stayed up every single night wondering what I did wrong, wondering how I lost you."
"You didn't do anything wrong!" you cried out, the truth finally tearing out of your throat. "It's me! I'm the one who's broken, Riki! Just leave me alone, please, I'm trying to protect you!"
"Protect me from what?!" he yelled back, tears finally spilling over his eyelashes. "From you? I don't care about the shadows, Y/N! I care about you. But you're dying right in front of me and you won't let me touch you!"
In his desperation, his hands slid down your arms, his fingers gripping your wrists to pull you closer, to force you to see the sincerity in his eyes.
But his thumb pressed directly into the fresh, agonizing ache on your forearm.
A sharp, breathless shriek of pain left your mouth, and you instinctively wrenched your arm back. The sudden, violent motion caught the cuff of your oversized hoodie on the jagged metal edge of an open locker latch.
The fabric tore.
With a sickening rip, your sleeve was yanked completely up to your elbow, pinning the fabric back and exposing your forearm entirely to the harsh, fluorescent lights of the hallway.
The silence that followed was absolute.
The rain continued to lash against the windows at the end of the hall, but inside, the world stopped spinning.
There, under the brutal lights, was everything you had fought so hard to bury. The fading, messy blue ink of the semicolon drawn near your wristâand directly above it, a agonizingly neat grid of parallel, raised red scars, some old and silver, others angry, fresh, and weeping from the impact of the textbook.
Rikiâs breath hitched. The anger evaporated from his face, replaced by a pale, paralyzing horror. He stared at your arm, his mouth slightly open, his hands hovering in the air where he had been holding you. The sheer realization hit him like a physical blow, draining the color from his lips.
You sat frozen on the cold linoleum floor, your exposed arm trembling violently, your deepest, darkest secret laid completely bare between you. You wanted to pull away, to hide, to screamâbut you couldn't move.
Slowly, with a hand that was shaking so hard it barely looked human, Riki reached out. His fingers hovered barely a millimeter above the freshest mark, his eyes rising to meet yours, filled with a terrifying, broken comprehension.
"Y/N..." he whispered, his voice cracking completely into a sob. "What... what did you do?"
end of pt 1
I posted this on my TikTok as well! (riikiholic) give it a follow if you want to see teasers or random edits!
ęąĘÉ´á´á´ęąÉŞęą: When you first met Riki, you were struck by how much of a sweetheart he wasâalways looking out for his peers and eagerly volunteering at school events. It wasnât until you saw someone who looked exactly like him arguing with another student that you realized he had a twin brotherâhis mirror image in appearance, but the complete opposite in personality.
ɢá´É´Ęá´: fluff, love triangle, twin brothers, suggestive
á´Ąá´Ęɴɪɴɢęą: love triangle, reader's life is MESSY, fighting (ni-ki and Riki), mentions of SA, kinda fast paced I've had this in my drafts for a year, I think that's it
á´Ąá´: maybe 20k? Idk
The first day of college hit you like a truck. You moved into your dorm early, eager to meet new people and get familiar with the campus. Luckily, your dorm floor was filled with friendly facesâeveryone was welcoming and more than willing to show you around and help you get settled.
As you struggled to lift your suitcase into the top shelf of your closet, the orientation leader, Riki, decided to help you out.
"need a hand?" He smiles, the most charming smile you'd ever seen in your life "uh.. thanks" you say, it was a curse having such a lack of social skills.
"I'm Riki by the way, I'm one of the orientation leaders" you smile at him "I'm Mika.. nice to meet you"
"Nice to meet you, Mika," he said, easily sliding the heavy suitcase into place before dusting off his hands. He turned back to look at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "If you need help moving anything else, just let me know. I'm usually hanging around the first-floor lounge."
That first interaction was just the beginning.
Over the next few months, Riki proved to be exactly who he claimed to be: a genuine, golden-hearted sweetheart. Despite your total lack of social skills and tendency to clam up around new people, Riki never made you feel awkward. Instead, he seamlessly filled the silences. Heâd invite you to sit at his table in the dining hall, grab an extra coffee for you on his way to early lectures, and text you funny memes when he knew you were stressing over exams.
He was incredibly popular, always volunteering for campus events or helping professors move equipment, but whenever he saw you, his face would light up. He became your safe haven in a massive, overwhelming college environment. Whenever you felt out of place, Riki was there to gently pull you into his circle, standing close enough that his tall frame felt like a protective shield against the rest of the world.
By the time the second semester rolled around, your quiet crush on him had bloomed into something undeniable. He was perfect. Too perfect, almost.
It wasn't until a crisp Friday afternoon in April that the illusion shattered.
You were walking behind the old science building, taking the quiet shortcut to the library. You had two iced coffees in your handsâone of them specifically customized exactly the way Riki liked hisâhoping you'd run into him after his afternoon lab.
As you turned the corner into the secluded brick courtyard, you spotted him. The same tall frame, the same messy dark hair, the same sharp, striking jawline. He was leaning casually against the brick wall.
You smiled, your heart doing a familiar, nervous flutter. You took a step forward, ready to call his name, but the words died instantly in your throat.
This wasn't Riki.
He was standing over a younger student who was visibly trembling, practically pinned against the wall. The boy who looked exactly like Riki had his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his posture relaxed but dripping with pure menace. The warm, inviting aura you knew so well was entirely gone, replaced by something sharp, cold, and dangerous.
"I told you to keep your mouth shut," he spat, his voice dropping an octave lower than you'd ever heard Riki speak. It carried a terrifying, icy edge. "If I catch you spreading those rumors about what happened at the party last semester again, I will personally make sure you don't walk across the graduation stage. Do you understand me?"
The student nodded frantically, his face pale, before scrambling past him and sprinting out of the courtyard.
Your heart hammered violently against your ribs. Horror pooled in your stomach. Was Riki a bully? Was the sweet, charming boy who helped you with your suitcase just a facade? A lie? The sudden shock made your hands shake, and your shoe scraped loudly against the concrete pavement.
The boy whipped his head around, his dark eyes locking instantly onto yours.
For a split second, you expected him to look guilty, to drop the act and apologize. Instead, his gaze slowly raked up and down your body with cold, mocking amusement. A slow, arrogant smirk tugged at the corner of his lipsâa look so entirely foreign on that face it made your stomach drop.
"Take a picture," he sneered, tilting his head. "It lasts longer."
"R-Riki?" you stammered, your voice trembling as you gripped the freezing coffee cups. "What... what are you doing? Why are you acting like this?"
The boy let out a sharp, cynical laugh, stepping away from the wall and walking toward you. The way he moved was completely differentâless like a helpful guide and more like a predator marking its territory. He stopped just inches away, leaning down so his breath brushed against your ear, making you freeze in place.
"You've got the wrong twin, Mika," he murmured, his voice sending an unwanted, confusing shiver straight down your spine.
Your eyes widened. Twin? He knew your name, but Riki had never once mentioned having a brother.
He pulled back, his eyes dancing with a dangerous spark of mischief as he took in your pale, shocked face. "The name's Ni-ki. But don't worry... you wouldn't be the first person to get us confused. Though, seeing how my brother looks at you... I have a feeling I'm going to be seeing a lot more of you."
He gave you a slow, deliberate wink, patted your shoulder with a lingering touch, and walked past you. As you watched Ni-ki disappear around the corner, you stood frozen in the courtyard, a sinking, messy feeling settling deep in your chest. Your quiet college life was about to get incredibly complicated.
You stood frozen in the courtyard for what felt like hours, the ice in the coffee cups melting and sweating against your palms. Your mind was a chaotic blur. Ni-ki. He looked exactly like Rikiâthe same sharp eyes, the same height, the same effortless postureâbut the vibe he gave off was entirely toxic. And the way he had said your name, like he already knew everything about you, made your skin crawl.
"Mika?"
You jumped, nearly dropping the drinks as a voice called out from the opposite side of the courtyard. You whipped your head around, your heart charting an irregular rhythm.
Walking toward you was Riki. The real Riki. He was wearing his bright neon campus volunteer lanyard, a gentle, slightly tired smile on his face as he wiped some dust off his jeans. The contrast between him and the boy who had just left was staggering. Riki felt like sunshine; Ni-ki felt like a storm.
"Hey, I thought I heard someone out here," Riki said, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. Then, his gaze dropped to the two cups in your hands. "Are those... for us?"
"Uh, yeah," you squeaked, your voice still tight. You stepped forward, forcing your trembling hands to hand him his favorite iced coffee. "I was just... I was looking for you."
"You're a lifesaver," he beamed, taking the cup. His fingers briefly brushed against yours, a familiar warmth that usually made your stomach do backflips. But right now, you were too hyper-focused on the bruising grip his brother had just threatened someone with.
Riki took a sip, sighing happily, but his smile faded slightly when he actually looked at your face. He stepped closer, his brow furrowing with genuine concern. "Mika? You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you pale because of the midterms, or..."
"Riki," you interrupted softly, swallowing the lump in your throat. You looked around the empty courtyard, suddenly feeling paranoid. "Do you... do you have a brother?"
Riki stiffened. It was subtle, but you noticed the way his shoulders locked up and how his grip tightened on the plastic coffee cup. The bright, easygoing expression on his face masked over into something heavy and laced with regret.
"You met him," Riki said, it wasn't a question. He let out a long, deflated breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I should have warned you. He's... he's my twin. Ni-ki."
"He was cornering some guy against the wall," you whispered, the image still fresh in your mind. "He threatened him. He told him he wouldn't let him graduate."
Rikiâs eyes darkened, a flash of deep frustration crossing his features before he looked back at you, his expression softening into pure protective instinct. He reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulderâa comforting, grounding weight.
"Don't go near him, Mika," Riki said, his voice dropping into a serious, urgent tone you'd never heard from him before. "Ni-ki is... complicated. He gets into trouble, he gets into fights, and he doesn't care who he hurts. I try to keep him away from my life here, but he always finds a way to mess things up." He looked deeply into your eyes, his thumb lightly brushing against your collarbone through your shirt. "Did he do anything to you? Did he touch you?"
"No," you lied subtly, omitting the way Ni-ki had leaned into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "He just... he knew my name. He said he knew how you looked at me."
Rikiâs cheeks flushed a faint pink, but his jaw remained tight. "Heâs just trying to get under your skin. He likes messing with things that are important to me." He stepped even closer, effectively crowding you against his chest in a way that made your heart race for an entirely different reason. "Promise me you'll stay away from him. If he tries to talk to you again, you find me immediately. Okay?"
"Okay," you breathed, nodding.
Riki smiled, the tension leaving his body as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head. "Good. Come on, let me walk you to the library. I don't want you walking around alone today."
You spent the next couple of weeks doing exactly what Riki asked: avoiding any place you thought Ni-ki might frequent. It wasn't hard since Riki practically glued himself to your side, driving you to lectures, studying with you in the library, and making sure you felt completely safe.
But the bubble burst during midterm week. The exams were absolutely god-awful, and the dorm lounge was far too noisy for the intense cram session you both needed.
"Let's just go to my place," Riki had suggested, rubbing his tired eyes. "My parents are out of town, it's completely quiet, and we can actually focus."
You had agreed, but you hadn't realized "his place" was less of a house and more of a sprawling, multi-story fortress. The minimalist architecture, endless hallways, and towering glass windows made you feel tiny. For the first two hours, it was perfect. You and Riki spread your notes across the massive oak desk in his room, the quiet atmosphere finally letting the information sink into your brain.
Eventually, the massive iced coffee you'd drank caught up to you.
"I'll be right back, I need to use the restroom," you murmured, stretching your stiff arms.
"Sure, it's just down the hall to the left," Riki smiled, not looking up from his flashcards.
The house was a fortress of quiet luxury, all towering concrete walls and polished wood that echoed with the soft, rhythmic thud of your socks against the floor. You had left Riki sitting at his desk, his brow furrowed over a stack of biology flashcards. âDown the hall, first left,â heâd told you with a tired, sweet smile.
But you had taken a wrong turn. The hallway split into an identical corridor of dark wood doors, and the further you walked, the more the silence of the house seemed to press against your chest.
Needing to find your way back before Riki came looking for you, you reached for the nearest brass handle and pushed.
The door didn't just openâit drifted back on heavy hinges, releasing a thick, heavy wave of eucalyptus-scented steam that instantly clung to your skin. And then, the fog parted.
You froze.
Ni-ki was stepping out of the bathroom. He was entirely shirtless, a low-slung dark towel gripped loosely at his hips, hanging precariously low on his pelvic bones. Water droplets were still actively tracking down the sharp expanse of his chest, tracing the deep, shadowed lines of his abdomen before soaking into the fabric of the towel. His hair was pitch-black and soaking wet, strands clinging to his forehead and dripping onto his collarbone.
Your breath evaporated. Every ounce of your already fragile social skills dissolved, leaving you completely rooted to the spot. Because without his clothes, Ni-ki was an entirely different kind of dangerous.
Your eyes, entirely against your will, dragged downward. On the right side of his ribs, stretching boldly across the tanned skin, the word CHOSEN was inked in heavy, black block letters, the sharp lines flexing with every breath he took. But it was what sat lower that made your throat go completely dry. Peeking out just above the dipping edge of his dark towel, right on the sharp slope of his v-line, was a tattoo of a vivid, realistic kiss mark. It looked like a permanent, seductive brand against his skin.
A slow, devastating smirk crawled onto his face as he caught you staring.
"Lose your way, Mika?" he asked. His voice was different than it had been in the courtyardâdeeper, rougher from the steam, a low baritone that vibrated right through the quiet hallway.
"IâI got lost," you stammered, desperately trying to lock your eyes onto the wall behind him. But the sheer magnetism of his presence made it impossible; your gaze kept dragging back to the damp ink on his waist. "I was looking for the bathroom."
"The bathroom?" Ni-ki let out a low, breathless laugh that sounded more like a growl.
He didn't pull the towel tighter. He didn't look embarrassed by his state of undress, or the fact that you were staring at the ink tracing his lower stomach. Instead, he stepped out of the steam and directly into your space.
Because you were trapped by your own shock, you didn't move. He closed the distance until he was standing mere inches away. The heat radiating off his bare skin was intoxicating, wrapping around you like a physical weight. He smelled faintly of expensive soap, rain, and pure trouble.
He was so tall that when he leaned down, his shadow completely swallowed you.
"You're in my wing of the house," he murmured, tilting his head. His dark eyes flicked down to your lips, lingering there with a heavy, deliberate slowness before rising back to your eyes. "The bathroom you're looking for is all the way on the other side. Near Riki."
"Oh," you breathed. The word was barely a whisper, your chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths. You could feel the erratic beat of your own pulse in your throat. "I'll... I'll go back then."
You made a move to turn, but Ni-kiâs hand shot out, his fingers catching your wrist.
His skin was damp and shockingly warm, his grip firm but careful. A sharp, electric shock jolted straight up your arm, making you gasp. Instead of letting you go, he used his grip to gently, unyieldingly steer you backward until your shoulder blades pressed against the cool drywall of the hallway.
He followed you into the space, crowding you, his bare chest so close that if you leaned forward an inch, your fabric would brush against the bold lettering on his ribs.
"What's the rush?" Ni-ki whispered, his eyes burning into yours with an intense, suffocating focus. He lifted his other hand, using the back of his knuckles to slowly trace a line down the side of your heated cheek, his touch agonizingly soft. "You look terrified of me, Mika. But your heart is beating loud enough for both of us to hear."
You couldn't breathe. The intimacy of the gesture, the raw, predatory confidence oozing from him, was terrifyingâbut God, it was thrilling. Your hands trembled at your sides, fingers twitching with a sudden, chaotic urge to touch the damp skin of his waist just to ground yourself.
"Riki is waiting for me," you managed to choke out, your voice trembling.
At the mention of his brother's name, Ni-kiâs eyes darkened, the playful amusement shifting into something possessive, a dangerous edge cutting through the heavy tension. His thumb moved to the center of your lower lip, pressing down slightly, his gaze fixed on the movement.
"Let him wait," Ni-ki murmured, his face dropping lower, his breath brushing hot against your lips. "He gets all your time anyway. Don't I get a turn?"
"Mika? Did you get lost?"
Rikiâs voice cut through the heavy silence of the house, his footsteps echoing faintly from the distant hallway.
The spell didn't break, but the atmosphere shattered. Ni-ki didn't flinch. He slowly pulled his hand away from your face, but his eyes never left yours. The smirk returned, but it was sharper now, laced with a quiet, competitive malice.
"You should go," Ni-ki whispered, his lips practically brushing your ear as he leaned in one last time. "Before he comes around that corner and sees exactly how you look at me when he's not around."
He stepped back, giving you a slow, deliberate look over his shoulder as he retreated into his room, leaving you pressed against the wall, your lungs burning for air and your heart completely compromised.
You quickly backed away from the wall, your legs feeling like lead as you sprinted silently back down the corridor, turning the corner just as Riki appeared.
He stopped when he saw you, a soft, relieved smile breaking across his face. "Did you get lost?" he asked, his voice a soothing balm compared to the fire that had just consumed you. His eyes were entirely warm, completely devoid of the sharp suspicion that colored his brother's gaze.
"A little," you admitted, offering a small, breathless smile as you walked into his space. You let out a quiet sigh, letting the familiar comfort of him settle over your frayed nerves. "I'm good though, since you're here."
Rikiâs expression softened completely at your words, a faint pink dusting the tips of his ears. He reached out, his hand wrapping around yours. His palm was dry, warm, and groundedâsuch a stark contrast to the damp, electric grip Ni-ki had just held you in.
"I should have just walked you," Riki said softly, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. "Come on, let's get back to it. I think I finally figured out that biology section we were struggling with."
He led you back into his room, but as you sat beside him at his desk, your eyes kept tracking the door. The image of the bold CHOSEN ink on Ni-ki's ribs and the vivid kiss mark resting dangerously low on his v-line was practically burned into the back of your eyelids.
Riki began explaining a diagram, his voice steady and sweet, but you could barely process the words. You were sitting next to the boy who made you feel safe, while your skin was still burning from the touch of the brother who made you feel dangerous.
Over the next two weeks, the house became a minefield. You tried your hardest to focus on Riki, but Ni-ki seemed to make it his personal mission to disrupt the quiet, comfortable world you were building.
He was everywhere. If you were studying with Riki in the kitchen, Ni-ki would walk in to grab a drink, deliberately brushing his shoulder against yours as he passed. While Rikiâs back was turned, Ni-ki would lean against the counter, caught in a permanent state of amusement, lazily tracing a finger over his own lips to remind you of how close heâd gotten to yours in the hallway. He loved the power he held over youâthe way a single, slow wink could make your social skills completely short-circuit.
The worst part was that you were starting to look for him, too. The toxic thrill of his teasing was a dangerous contrast to Rikiâs gentle devotion, and it was driving you insane.
The breaking point arrived on a rainy Thursday evening. Riki had gone down to the campus bookstore to grab a textbook supplement, leaving you alone in his bedroom to finish a paper.
The door clicked open. You looked up, expecting Riki, but instead, Ni-ki strolled in. He was wearing an oversized black hoodie, the collar loose enough to show the edge of his collarbone. He didn't say a word; he just walked over to Rikiâs bed and dropped himself onto it, propping his head up with his hand as he watched you type.
"You're in the wrong room, Ni-ki," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the familiar flutter in your chest.
"Am I?" he drawled, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. "Looks like the right room to me. Riki's not here, and you look bored."
"I'm studying."
Ni-ki stood up, walking over to the desk with slow, deliberate steps. He leaned over the back of your chair, trapping you between his arms as he gripped the edges of the desk. The sharp scent of rain and heavy cologne enveloped you completely. "You're always studying, Mika. Don't you ever want to do something... a little more interesting?"
Before you could reply, the bedroom door flew open.
Riki stood in the doorway, his jacket soaked from the rain. He took in the scene instantly: Ni-ki crowding over you, his face inches from yours, and the undeniable tension crackling in the room. The textbook in Rikiâs hand hit the floor with a heavy thud.
"Get away from her," Riki said. His voice wasn't the sweet, gentle tone you knew. It was dangerously quiet, vibrating with a raw fury you had never heard from him before.
Ni-ki didn't move immediately. He slowly stood up, turning around to face his brother, his hands slipping casually into his hoodie pocket. "Relax, brother. We were just talking."
"I told you to stay away from her!" Riki snapped, taking a predatory step into the room. He shoved Ni-ki backward, hard enough that Ni-kiâs back hit the edge of the wardrobe. "I warned you, Ni-ki. You mess with everything in my life, but you do not touch her."
Ni-ki let out a sharp, cynical laugh, his eyes darkening as the playful teasing completely evaporated. He adjusted his hoodie, stepping right back into Rikiâs space, their identical tall frames locking eyes in a battle of pure hatred.
"Why? Because you're scared?" Ni-ki sneered, his voice dropping into a cruel, mocking tone. "You think because you play the sweet little gentleman that sheâs yours? Wake up, Riki. She looks at me when you're not around. She likes the danger."
"Shut up!"
Riki lost it. He threw a heavy, frantic punch that caught Ni-ki squarely across the jaw.
The force of the blow stumbled Ni-ki backward, but he recovered instantly. Whipping the blood from his lower lip with the back of his hand, a terrifying, manic smile spread across his face. With a low growl, Ni-ki launched himself forward, tackling Riki directly into the center of the room.
"Stop it! Both of you, stop!" you screamed, pressing yourself against the desk in absolute horror.
They didn't hear you. The fight was brutal, fueled by months of deep-seated resentment and jealousy. They rolled across the floor, fists flying, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing violently against the walls. Riki managed to pin Ni-ki down, his knuckles bloody as he struck his brother again. But Ni-ki slammed his knee into Riki's ribs, reversing the position and gripping the collar of Riki's shirt, slamming his head against the hardwood floor.
It was a terrifying, chaotic mess. They looked exactly alike, but right now, they looked like two predators trying to tear each other apartâand you were the prize they were fighting for.
"Guys, stop!"
The scream tore from your throat, louder and raw-edged than anything youâd ever managed before. Your hands shook violently as you gripped the edge of the desk, your chest heaving.
The sheer force of your voice seemed to punch through the adrenaline blinding them.
Ni-kiâs fist froze in mid-air, inches away from Rikiâs already bruising cheekbone. Rikiâs chest rose and fell in ragged, heavy pants beneath his brother, his fingers still locked tightly into the fabric of Ni-kiâs black hoodie. For a second, the only sound in the sprawling, elegant bedroom was the harsh, fractured breathing of the two brothers and the steady, indifferent patter of the rain against the glass.
Slowly, almost symmetrically, they both turned their heads to look at you.
They were a chaotic, mirrored image of ruin. Rikiâs lip was split, a thin line of crimson tracing down his chin, his usually neat hair completely disheveled. Ni-kiâs jaw was already swelling, a dangerous, dark bruise forming where Rikiâs knuckles had connected, and a drop of blood was pooling on his lower lip.
When Ni-ki looked at you, the wild, manic spark in his eyes didn't fully fade, but his grip on Rikiâs shirt loosened. He slowly sat back on his heels, never taking his intense, burning gaze off your trembling form.
Riki immediately pushed himself up, wincing sharply as he clutched his ribsâthe spot where Ni-ki had kneed him. Despite the pain, his first instinct was to scramble toward you. He reached out, his bloody, shaking hand hovering near your knee, his eyes wide with a mix of fierce protectiveness and overwhelming guilt.
"Mika," Riki breathed, his voice cracking, entirely stripped of its usual smooth warmth. "Mika, Iâm sorry. Iâm so sorry you had to see that. Are you okay? Did heâ"
"Don't," you whispered, stepping back, away from his touch. You felt completely overwhelmed, caught in the middle of a vortex you hadn't asked to be in. Your eyes flicked from Rikiâs desperate, hurt expression to Ni-ki, who was now standing up with a slow, agonizing grace.
Ni-ki wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his thumb. He didn't look guilty. He looked at you with a heavy, unreadable intensity, his gaze dropping to your shaking hands before rising back to your eyes.
"Look what you did," Ni-ki murmured, his voice low and gravelly, directed at his brother but his eyes still locked on you. "You terrified her, gentleman."
"Get out," Riki snarled, pushing himself to his feet, though he kept one hand pressed firmly against his side. The sweet orientation leader was completely gone; in his place was a man marking his territory with bared teeth. "Get out of my room, Ni-ki. Before I actually kill you."
Ni-ki let out a soft, mocking scoff, but the playful teasing from earlier was entirely dead. The atmosphere in the room was suffocatingly thick, heavy with unspoken threats and a terrifying, possessive jealousy that centered entirely around you.
Ni-ki took a step toward the door, but as he passed your chair, he stopped. He leaned in just enough for only you to hear, his voice dropping into a dangerous, dark whisper that sent a chaotic shiver straight down your spine.
"This isn't over, Mika," he breathed, his eyes sliding down to your lips one last time before he turned and strolled out of the room, leaving the door wide open behind him.
The silence that followed the slam of Ni-kiâs bedroom door down the hall was deafening. The only sound left was the erratic, heavy breathing of the boy standing in front of you.
Riki looked completely wrecked. His knuckles were split and bleeding, his bottom lip was cut open, and he kept his left arm pressed tightly against his ribs, his breath hitching every time he took a deep chest hit. But his eyesâwide, dark, and filled with a desperate, agonizing vulnerabilityâwere fixed entirely on you.
"Mika," he whispered, stepping closer. "Please don't look at me like that."
You swallowed the lump in your throat, your anger and fear melting away into a heavy, aching sadness at the sight of him. "Sit down, Riki," you said softly, your voice finally steadying. "You're bleeding. Let me look at it."
He didn't argue. He let out a shaky breath and sat heavily on the edge of his bed, his broad shoulders slouching as if the weight of the entire world had just crashed down on him.
You hurried into his private bathroom, your hands still trembling slightly as you grabbed the first-aid kit from the cabinet. When you walked back out, Riki hadn't moved. He was staring at the floor, his messy dark hair falling forward, obscuring his face.
You knelt on the floor between his parted knees, setting the medical box down. The proximity immediately changed the air in the room, shifting the lingering violence of the fight into a thick, suffocating intimacy.
"Look at me," you murmured, tilting your head up.
Riki lifted his gaze, his dark eyes locking onto yours. Up close, the damage was stark. You opened a bottle of antiseptic, soaking a cotton pad. "This is going to sting."
"I don't care," he whispered, his eyes never leaving your face.
You gently pressed the damp cotton to the split on his lower lip. Riki flinched sharply, a low hiss escaping his throat, his hand instinctively flying out to grip your thigh to steady himself. His fingers dug into your skin through your jeansâfirm, hot, and desperate.
"Sorry," you whispered, your heart doing a wild, erratic dance against your ribs. You were so close you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, smell the faint scent of rain and iron clinging to him. "I'm trying to be gentle."
"You're always gentle with me, Mika," Riki breathed, his voice dropping into a rough, emotional register. He didn't let go of your thigh; instead, his thumb began to slowly stroke the denim, a grounding, heavy touch. "That's why I lost it. When I saw him crowding you... when I thought about him touching you, or looking at you the way he looks at everything he wants to ruin... I just couldn't breathe."
"Riki, you shouldn't have fought him," you said softly, moving the cotton pad to dab at a scratch near his sharp jawline. Your thumb rested against his cheek, your skin smooth against his feverish warmth. "You could have gotten seriously hurt."
"I'd let him tear me apart before I let him have you," he said fiercely, his grip on your thigh tightening.
The raw, possessive confession hung heavily in the air between you. Riki leaned his face into your hand, closing his eyes for a brief second as if your touch was the only thing keeping him anchored to reality. He looked so entirely different from the smug, unbothered Ni-ki. Rikiâs devotion was a heavy, beautiful thing, but the absolute intensity of it made your breath catch.
"Take off your shirt," you whispered, your voice suddenly sounding fragile in the quiet room. "I need to check your ribs."
Rikiâs eyes fluttered open, dark and intensely focused on yours. Slowly, wincing at the movement, he crossed his arms and pulled his damp jacket and shirt over his head, tossing them onto the floor.
Your breath caught in your throat. Rikiâs torso was just as lean and muscular as his twin's, but where Ni-ki's skin was branded with bold, provocative ink, Rikiâs skin was completely unblemishedâsave for the large, dark purple bruise already blooming across his left rib cage.
You reached out, your fingertips hovering over the bruised skin before making soft, feather-light contact. Rikiâs abdominal muscles flexed instantly under your touch, a low, ragged breath escaping his lips.
"Does it hurt here?" you murmured, your fingers gently tracing the edge of the swelling.
"A little," he lied, his voice strained. But his eyes weren't on his ribs. They were tracked entirely on your face, watching the way your lips parted as you concentrated, watching the genuine worry in your eyes.
Suddenly, Riki reached out with his uninjured hand, wrapping his fingers securely around your wrist. He didn't pull you away, but he stopped your hand, pressing your palm flat against his chest, right over his heart. Beneath your hand, his heart was hammering violently, a frantic, wild rhythm that matched your own.
"Mika," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips before rising back to your eyes, filled with a raw, undeniable hunger. He leaned forward, closing the distance until his forehead was resting against yours, his hot breath mingling with your own. "Tell me you don't look at him. Tell me it's just me."
"I've seen him more times than I can count..."
The confession fell like a physical weight between you, shattering the fragile, quiet intimacy of the room.
Rikiâs forehead remained pressed against yours, but his entire body went completely rigid. The frantic hammering of his heart beneath your palm seemed to stutter, his breath catching in his throat. For a long, agonizing second, he didn't move, didn't blink, didn't even breathe.
Then, slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at you.
The warmth that usually defined his eyes was gone, replaced by a raw, hollow shock that cut straight through you. His grip on your wrist tightenedânot enough to hurt, but desperately, as if he were trying to anchor himself while his whole world shifted.
"What?" he whispered, his voice barely a breath. His split lip parted slightly, a drop of blood welling up again, but he didn't care. "More times than you can count? Mika... what do you mean?"
"Riki, I'm sorry," you breathed, the guilt twisting like a knife in your stomach. You didn't want to see him like thisâbroken, vulnerable, and bleeding on the edge of his bed. "I don't want to hurt you, but yeah... he's not lying. I didn't seek him out. He just... he keeps appearing. In the kitchen, in the hallways. Heâs always here."
Rikiâs gaze raked over your face, searching for something, anything, to tell him he was misunderstanding. The purple bruise on his ribs flamed against his pale skin, a stark reminder of the violence heâd just endured to keep his brother away from you.
"He's been cornering you," Riki said, his voice dropping into a flat, dangerous register that sent a chill down your spine. "While I'm at practice. While I'm getting books. Behind my back."
"He just teases me," you tried to explain softly, your free hand instinctively reaching up to touch his bare shoulder, wanting to calm the storm you could see brewing in his eyes. "He doesn'tâ"
"He's a predator, Mika," Riki interrupted, his voice cracking with a sudden, sharp spike of emotion. He let go of your wrist, only to bring both of his hands up to frame your face, his thumbs wiping away the frantic heat on your cheeks. His palms were hot and trembling. "You don't understand him. He doesn't do anything just to 'tease.' He does it to take. He wants to take you because he knows you're the only thing that matters to me."
He leaned in closer again, his dark eyes wide, pleading, and dripping with an intense, suffocating devotion.
"Did he touch you?" Riki whispered, his breath hot against your lips, his gaze dropping to them with a desperate, possessive hunger. "Tell me the truth, Mika. Did he put his hands on you? Because if he didâ"
Before you could answer, a low, slow chuckle echoed from the doorway.
You both froze.
Ni-ki was leaning against the doorframe, having changed into a fresh shirt. He was holding an ice pack to his swollen jaw, his dark eyes dancing with absolute, malicious amusement as he looked at the two of youâyou, kneeling between Rikiâs bare knees, and Riki, practically wrapping himself around you like a shield.
"You look pathetic, brother," Ni-ki drawled, his voice a smooth, gravelly purr that cut through the heavy tension like a knife. He let his gaze drift slowly down your spine, a knowing, suggestive smirk spreading across his lips. "Why are you begging her? She already told you the truth. She likes having me around."
The walk down to the living room had been silent, heavy, and suffocating. Now, the three of you were trapped in the massive, minimalist space, the ambient light from the rainy evening casting long, sharp shadows across the floor.
The air was thick with an awkward, jagged tension.
Ni-ki sat casually on the leather sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He still held the ice pack to his swollen jaw, but his eyes were wide open, tracked entirely on you. You were sitting on the edge of the coffee table directly in front of him, a fresh bowl of warm water and a new container of antiseptic resting beside you.
A few feet away, Riki stood leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed tightly over his bare, bruised chest. He wasn't tracking the pain in his ribs anymore. His focus was entirely on his brother, a dark, dangerous glare burning in his eyes that looked ready to ignite the room at any second.
"Hold still," you murmured softly, your voice sounding incredibly small in the vast room.
You dipped a clean cloth into the water, wrung it out, and gently reached up to touch the corner of Ni-kiâs mouth, where Rikiâs knuckles had split the skin.
Ni-ki didn't flinch. Instead, he let out a low, rough hum, slowly lowering the ice pack so you could get a better look at his jaw. As your fingers brushed against his skin, his gaze dropped to your lips, the casual smirk on his face fading into something much heavier, more intimate. He leaned forward just a fraction, deliberately closing the distance between your face and his, completely unfazed by the audience in the room.
"You have a softer touch than my brother," Ni-ki murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly purr that vibrated right through you.
From across the room, the sound of Rikiâs knuckles cracking was loud and sharp. "Keep your mouth shut, Ni-ki," Riki snarled, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly low octave. "Sheâs only fixing you up because sheâs nice. Don't flatter yourself."
Ni-ki didn't even look at him. His dark eyes stayed locked onto yours, a dangerous, playful spark dancing in them as he watched the blush creep up your neck. He reached up, his large, warm hand gently wrapping around your wristâholding your hand in place against his jaw, his thumb lazily tracing the sensitive skin of your pulse point.
"I'm just thanking her," Ni-ki whispered, his breath warm against your fingertips. "Right, Mika?"
You swallowed hard, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs. You were trapped in the dead center of their crossfireâtending to the brother who thrilled you with danger, while the boy who made you feel safe watched your every move with a breaking, possessive heart.
"You guys are brothers, why don't you get along?"
The question left your lips in a quiet, exasperated rush, breaking through the suffocating weight of the room.
Both brothers froze.
Ni-kiâs thumb stopped its lazy, rhythmic tracing over your wrist, his dark eyes widening just a fraction in surprise. Across the room, Rikiâs rigid posture shifted, his crossed arms tightening against his bare chest as his jaw clenched so hard the muscles jumped.
For a long moment, the only sound was the distant, muffled patter of the rain outside the towering glass windows. The question was simple, but between the two of them, the answer was an entire lifetime of messy, tangled history.
Ni-ki was the first to break the silence. He let out a sharp, dry chuckle, the sound dripping with a cynical sort of amusement. He didn't let go of your wrist, his grip remaining firm but warm as he tilted his head, looking up at you through his damp dark bangs.
"Get along?" Ni-ki echoed, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly baritone. "Weâre twins, sweetheart. We were born fighting for space. Itâs just how it is."
"Thatâs a lie and you know it," Riki cut in, his voice sharp and cutting across the living room like a blade. He finally stepped away from the kitchen counter, his bare feet making a heavy, deliberate sound against the floor as he walked closer, stopping just a few feet away from the coffee table. He stared down at his brother with pure, unadulterated coldness. "We don't get along because you don't know how to leave anything of mine alone."
Ni-kiâs smirk didn't fade, but his eyes darkened, a dangerous, competitive edge flashing in them as he looked up at Riki. "Maybe if you knew how to keep whatâs yours, I wouldn't have to look so closely."
"She isn't an object, Ni-ki!" Riki snapped, his knuckles turning white as his hands balled into fists at his sides. The gentle, protective orientation leader was entirely gone, replaced by a boy pushed entirely to his limit. He looked at you, his eyes suddenly softening with a desperate, aching vulnerability. "Mika, don't listen to him. Heâs just saying things to get a reaction out of you. Out of both of us."
You looked between the two of them, your hand still trapped in Ni-kiâs warm grip against his bruised jaw, while Riki stood just out of reach, bleeding and desperate for you to choose him. The physical resemblance between them was staggering, but the emotional gulf was terrifying. And right now, you were standing right on the edge of it.
"Enough of this!" You stand up, clearly aggravated "I'm not an object for you guys to fight over like some prize! I'm just me... I'm Mika okay?! So stop saying I'm either of yours!"
The sudden outburst left your throat raw, echoing sharply off the high, minimalist walls of the living room.
You stood up so abruptly that your knees knocked against the edge of the heavy coffee table, but you didn't care. The absolute absurdity of the last hour had finally broken through your usual quiet, anxious demeanor.
For the first time since you had met either of them, both Riki and Ni-ki looked genuinely stunned.
Ni-kiâs hand fell back down to the leather sofa, his fingers empty. The smug, unbothered smirk he always wore completely vanished, replaced by a rare, blank look of shock. He looked up at you, his chest rising and falling slowly as your words sank in.
Riki stepped back a half-inch, his balled fists unclenching slightly at his sides. The desperate, possessive fire in his eyes flickered, overtaken by a sudden, crushing wave of realization. He looked at your flushed face, your chest heaving, and the genuine aggravation radiating from you.
"Mika..." Riki started, his voice dropping into a soft, hesitant tone. He reached out a hand, his bloody knuckles hovering in the space between you, completely stripped of his defensive anger. "I didn't meanâ"
"I don't care what you meant, Riki!" you interrupted, your voice trembling but firm as you locked eyes with him. "And I don't care about whatever twisted game you're playing either, Ni-ki!" You whipped your head around to glare at the boy on the couch, who simply watched you with a heavy, unreadable intensity.
"I came here to study," you said, your voice cracking slightly with a mix of exhaustion and frustration. "Not to be the reason you two tear each other's faces off. I'm not a trophy. I'm not a prize for whoever wins a fistfight on the bedroom floor."
The living room fell into a dead, suffocating silence. The rain outside seemed louder now, drumming against the glass as the three of you stood frozen in the tension.
Ni-ki slowly leaned back against the sofa cushions. He didn't laugh this time. He tossed the ice pack onto the table, his dark eyes tracking you with a newfound, dangerous curiosity. You had finally drawn a line, and instead of backing off, it seemed like he was only more intrigued by the sudden fire in the girl he loved to break down.
Riki looked completely miserable. The purple bruise on his ribs seemed to throb visibly against his skin, a physical manifestation of how badly he had messed up. He swallowed hard, his jaw tight as he looked at the floor, unable to meet your eyes.
"I'm going home," you announced, grabbing your backpack from the floor near the table. Your hands were still shaking, but you forced yourself to zip it up with a sharp, definitive click.
The complete radio silence lasted for three agonizing weeks.
Whenever you saw a tall frame with messy dark hair and a sharp jawline in the distance, you didn't wait around to figure out which twin it was. You simply turned on your heel, adjusted the strap of your backpack, and walked the other way. You started taking the long, exhausting routes to your lectures, eating your lunch in the hidden corner of the library, and keeping your eyes glued firmly to the floor whenever you walked through the dorm lobby.
They tried, at first. Riki had sent a barrage of long, agonizingly apologetic text messages that you left on read, his words practically bleeding through the screen as he begged for a chance to explain, to apologize, to just see you. Ni-ki had been more directâappearing at the end of your Tuesday seminar block, leaning against the hallway lockers with his arms crossed. But the moment you spotted him, you had ducked into a nearby girls' restroom and stayed there until the hallway cleared out.
Eventually, they seemed to get the hint. They stopped cornering you. But the space they left behind felt hollow, and your chest constantly ached with a heavy, complicated mixture of guilt, anger, and a deep, unsettling fear.
Because to you, their little turf war wasn't a flattering display of affection. It was a trigger.
Sitting alone in the back of the campus library, staring blankly at your laptop screen, your mind drifted back to the dark place you had spent the last year trying to run away from. It didn't make sense to you why two boys would think of fighting over you. You weren't a prize. You were just Mika.
But the terrifying weight of their possessivenessâthe raw, physical violence on Riki's bedroom floor, the way Ni-ki tried to trap you against walls and whisper threats in your ear, the way Riki tried to claim you like a piece of propertyâit brought back things from your past that you had desperately wanted to bury forever.
It brought back the memory of your senior year of high school, a time when your lack of social skills hadn't just made you awkwardâit had made you a target. You remembered the suffocating feeling of being cornered in an empty classroom, the terror of someone completely ignoring the word no, and the agonizing aftermath of a situation that bordered dangerously on assault. You remembered the cruel, relentless bullying that followed when rumors spread, the way people treated you like you were nothing more than a problem to be dealt with or a body to be claimed.
You had chosen this college specifically because it was far away from home. You had wanted a fresh start. You had wanted to be invisible, to heal quietly in a corner where no one knew your name.
And then Riki had entered your life with his beautiful, charming smile, making you feel safe for the first time in yearsâonly for his brother to shatter that safety, dragging you right back into the center of a messy, aggressive spotlight.
A single tear slipped down your cheek, splashing onto your open notebook. You quickly wiped it away with the back of your hand, a shuddering breath escaping your lips. You felt so incredibly isolated. You missed the sweet, gentle Riki who used to slide candy across the study table, and if you were being completely honest with yourself, you even missed the sharp, electric spark of Ni-kiâs teasing.
But the fear of being hunted, of being fought over like a piece of meat, was stronger than any crush.
You closed your laptop with a soft thud, hiding your face in your hands. You just wanted to be safe. But as you sat there in the quiet of the library, a sudden, familiar scent of expensive cologne and rain drifted into the space around your desk, making your entire body freeze in instinctual panic.
You didnât lift your face from your hands, but your heart line-toed straight into your throat. The silence of the library aisle felt heavier now, charged with that exact, suffocating energy youâd been sprinting from for three weeks.
"Mika."
The voice was low, careful, and stripped entirely of the mocking smirk it usually carried. It was Ni-ki.
You slowly pulled your hands away from your face, your eyes wide and defensive as you looked up. He wasn't crowding you this time. He was standing a deliberate two feet back from your desk, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black leather jacket. The bruising on his jaw had faded into a faint, yellowish mark, but the look in his eyes was completely new. There was no teasing glimmer. He looked... subdued. Almost hesitant.
"Go away, Ni-ki," you whispered, your voice trembling as you reached for your laptop, your flight instinct screaming at you to pack up and run.
"I'm not here to mess with you," he said quickly, his voice dropping into a rough, gravelly murmur that barely carried over the desk. He took a half-step forward, then stopped himself, as if remembering the line you had drawn in his living room. "I've been watching you run across campus for three weeks. You look like you're looking over your shoulder for a ghost."
"I'm looking over my shoulder for you," you bit out, the anger masking the sudden spike of anxiety in your chest. "For both of you. Can't you just leave me alone?"
Ni-ki's jaw clenched, his eyes tracking the slight tremor in your hands as you stuffed your notebook into your backpack. He let out a slow, heavy breath, looking away for a fraction of a second before his intense gaze locked back onto yours.
"Look, I know we messed up," Ni-ki said quietly, stepping close enough to lean his hands on the edge of the desk, but keeping his distance. "Riki is a disaster right now. He hates himself for making you mad, and I... I didn't mean to drive you completely away. It was just a game at first. But you're taking the long way to class, Mika. You're hiding in the back of the library. It doesn't make sense. Why are you this scared of a stupid argument between brothers?"
The question hit you like a physical blow. Why are you this scared?
The ignorance in his voice sparked something raw and painful inside your chest. A sudden wave of frustration, exhaustion, and years of buried trauma finally broke through your silence.
"Because it wasn't just a stupid argument, Ni-ki!" you choked out, your voice dropping into a fierce, trembling whisper so the rest of the library wouldn't hear. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, hot and angry. "You think it's funny? You think itâs flattering to have two guys cornering me, tracking my movements, and literally tearing each other's faces off over who 'owns' me?"
Ni-ki froze, his dark eyes widening slightly as he took in the sheer panic and venom in your voice.
"You don't know anything about me," you whispered, a single tear slipping down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away, your chest heaving. "You don't know what it feels like to be cornered in a room where someone completely ignores the word no. You don't know what itâs like to have people treat you like a target, or a prize, or a body to be claimed until you have to flee your entire hometown just to breathe. I came to this college to be invisible. To be safe."
You looked up at him, your vision blurred, your defenses completely stripped bare. "And then I met Riki, who made me feel safe for the first time in years. And then you showed up. And suddenly, I'm trapped in the middle of a violent, aggressive spotlight all over again. Every time you trap me against a wall, or every time Riki throws a punch to claim me... it brings it all back. All of it."
The library aisle fell into a dead, suffocating silence.
Ni-ki stared at you, completely unmoving. The absolute arrogance that usually defined his entire existence evaporated into nothingness. For the first time, he looked entirely vulnerable, his mouth parted slightly as the weight of your words settled over him. He hadn't known. Neither of them had. To them, it was a toxic rivalry; to you, it was a living nightmare.
Slowly, carefully, Ni-ki pulled his hands off the desk. He looked down at his own knuckles, then back up at your pale, shaking form. The dangerous, unpredictable boy was completely gone.
"Mika..." he murmured, his voice cracking, entirely stripped of its usual smooth, suggestive purr. He looked genuinely sickened by his own behavior. "I... I didn't know. I swear to God, I didn't know."
"I don't want drama ni-ki, I neverâ" you pause, cutting off your own words "I don't want to be cornered in a room, I don't want people to fight over me, I don't want to be some trophy"
The moment the words left your mouth, a shuddering breath hitched in your throat. You didnât even realize the tears had spilled over until you felt the warm, wet track of one sliding down your cheek, dripping off your jawline.
Ni-ki didn't move. He stood completely anchored to the spot, but the change in his posture was immediate. His tall frame seemed to drop its rigid, guarded edge, his broad shoulders sinking as he absorbed the raw, fractured weight of your confession. The absolute silence of the library aisle seemed to amplify the quiet, ragged sound of your breathing.
"I just want to be normal," you whispered again, the words sounding small, fragile, and utterly exhausted.
Slowly, with a careful deliberation that was a complete departure from his usual aggressive, unpredictable nature, Ni-ki reached out. He didn't corner you. He didn't invade your space. Instead, his hand slid across the smooth wooden surface of the library desk, stopping just an inch short of your trembling fingers. He left it open, palm upâan invitation, not a demand.
"Mika," he murmured. His voice was a low, gravelly rasp, completely devoid of the sharp, mocking baritone he used like a shield. "Look at me. Please."
You slowly blinked through the blur of your tears, your gaze lifting from his open palm to his face.
There wasn't a trace of the smug, predatory boy who had trapped you against the drywall of his hallway. His dark eyes were wide, shadowed with a profound, quiet gravity. He looked at you not like a prize he wanted to steal from his brother, but like something incredibly precious that he had carelessly helped break.
"We're done," Ni-ki said, his tone fiercely steady, making a silent, unyielding vow right there in the quiet aisle. "No more games. No more cornering you. If Riki so much as breathes too loud in your direction, or if I ever make you feel like you need to run again... I'll walk away myself."
He closed his hand, his knuckles resting against the wood, still keeping that respectful, safe distance you so desperately needed.
"Iâm an idiot, Mika. I like winning, and I like taking things from him because itâs the only way we know how to talk to each other," he admitted, his jaw clenching as he forced the bitter truth out. "But Iâm not a monster. I would have never touched you, never teased you like that, if I knew it was hurting you like this. I swear it."
A heavy, thick silence settled between you, but for the first time in three weeks, the air didn't feel suffocating. It felt clearing.
Ni-ki reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, clean pack of tissues, sliding them gently across the desk until they brushed against your hand. He didn't push for more words, and he didn't try to defend Riki or himself any further. He just stood there, acting as a quiet, solid shield between you and the rest of the world, letting you breathe.
You stared down at the tissues on the desk, your chest rising and falling in shallow, quieter breaths. The raw honesty in his voice had done something unexpectedâit had grounded the frantic, spinning panic in your head. For weeks, you had viewed Ni-ki as a predator waiting to strike, but seeing him now, entirely stripped of his armor, made the shadow of your past recede just a fraction.
Slowly, you reached out and took a tissue, dabbing carefully at your eyes. Ni-ki didn't move an inch. He stayed exactly where he was, giving you the time and space to pull yourself back together, his dark eyes never leaving your face.
"Thank you," you whispered, your voice still a little thick.
Ni-ki let out a slow, quiet breath, his shoulders dropping. "Don't thank me. I'm the one who put that look in your eyes." He looked down at the desk for a brief second, his fingers twitching inside his jacket pockets before he looked back up. "Riki doesn't know. Any of this. I won't tell him, that's your story to tell, if you ever want to."
A heavy wave of relief washed over you. The fear that your private pain had become currency in their brotherly war completely vanished. Riki still didn't know; your secrets were safe.
"But you need to know something, Mika," Ni-ki continued, his voice dropping into a deeper, incredibly serious tone. "Riki isn't them. The guys from your past. Heâs an idiot who lost his temper because he was terrified of losing the only girl who ever made him look past his own shadow, but he would never, ever hurt you. Heâs been a ghost for three weeks because he thinks he broke your trust."
You swallowed the small lump in your throat. You knew Riki wasn't a monster. That was why it had hurt so badly when the fight happenedâbecause the safety he provided had suddenly worn the face of the violence you feared.
"I know," you murmured softly, staring at your hands. "I just... I needed time."
"Take all the time you need," Ni-ki said. He slowly straightened up to his full, towering height, stepping back another foot to give you even more room. The familiar, casual air began to return to his posture, but the dangerous edge was entirely gone, replaced by something protective and quiet. "But stop taking the long way to class. If you see me in the hall, you don't have to run anymore. I'll be the one who turns around."
He gave you one last, long lookâunreadable, heavy, but completely safeâbefore he turned on his heel. His boots made a quiet, steady sound against the library carpet as he walked away, leaving you alone in the quiet aisle.
For the first time in three weeks, the air in your lungs didn't feel like ice. You sat back in your chair, looking at the open laptop and the pack of tissues on the desk. You were still Mika. You were still healing. But as you took a deep, clear breath, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn't have to hide anymore.
The words left your mouth before you could fully think them through, cutting through the quiet library aisle like a sudden spark.
Ni-ki froze.
He was already several steps away, but his boots gripped the carpet instantly. For a second, his back remained turned to you, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a sharp, inhaled breath. Then, slowly, he turned around.
The change in his expression was immediate. The serious, somber mask he had just worn cracked, and for a fleeting moment, he looked entirely vulnerableâhis dark eyes wide, absorbing the weight of what you had just admitted. You liked his presence. You didn't want him running away either.
A slow, familiar quiet descended between you, but the heavy, suffocating anxiety from before was gone. In its place was something entirely new, something delicate but incredibly real.
Ni-ki took a single, deliberate step back toward your desk, his hands slipping slowly out of his jacket pockets. A faint, genuine trace of his signature smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it wasn't mocking this time. It was softer, laced with a quiet, surprised warmth.
"You're full of surprises, Mika," he murmured, his voice dropping back into that deep, gravelly purr that made your chest tighten in a completely different way than before. He stopped a respectful distance away, leaning one hip against the adjacent bookshelf. "You almost sound like you're going to miss me pushing your buttons."
"I said I liked your presence," you clarified quickly, a sudden, fierce blush burning its way up your neck, though a small smile finally broke through your exhausted expression. "I didn't say I liked you being annoying."
Ni-ki let out a soft, low chuckleâa sound that felt incredibly grounding after weeks of tense silence. He looked down at you, his gaze tracking the pink on your cheeks before settling back into your eyes with a lingering, unvarnished intensity.
"Fair enough," he said softly. The playful teasing was there, but the dangerous, possessive edge was completely gone. He was meeting you on your terms now. "I can handle just being a 'presence' for a while. If it means you stop hiding in the back corners of the library."
He glanced toward the exit of the aisle, then back at you, his expression turning a bit more serious, though still entirely gentle.
"Go home, Mika. Get some rest," Ni-ki murmured, tilting his head slightly. "And for the record... Riki's still an idiot, but he misses you. Whenever you're ready to stop running from him, too, he'll be waiting. And I'll make sure he keeps his distance until you say otherwise."
The shift didn't happen overnight. It was a slow, quiet unraveling that completely caught you off guard.
In the weeks following the library confrontation, the atmosphere in the house changed drastically. True to his word, Ni-ki had reined himself in. He stopped cornering you in the hallways, stopped the provocative smirks, and completely ceased the turf war with his twin. Whenever Riki was around you, Ni-ki would quietly disappear into his own room, giving the two of you a wide, respectful berth.
Because of that newfound safety, you had slowly let Riki back into your life. You started studying together again, and Riki was gentler, more attentive, and more cautious than ever. He was doing everything right to prove he was the safe haven you needed.
But humans are complicated, and hearts rarely follow a script.
The twist was that the more Riki tried to perfectly recreate the safe, predictable bubble from before, the more your eyes began to wander to the edges of the roomâlooking for the boy who had chosen to step into the shadows for your sake.
You didn't fall for Ni-ki because he was a reckless troublemaker. You fell for him because he was the exact opposite of what you had expected. You had categorized him as a selfish predator, but his absolute silence over your past proved a level of integrity that left you breathless. He hadn't used your trauma as ammunition against Riki. He hadn't used it to manipulate you. He had simply carried the weight of your secret, protecting your vulnerability with a quiet, fierce discipline you didn't know he possessed.
The realization hit you with terrifying clarity on a Tuesday afternoon.
Riki had gone down to the kitchen to make some tea, leaving you in the living room. Ni-ki had walked in a moment later to grab his car keys from the coffee table. Three weeks ago, you would have panicked. Now, your heart just did a strange, heavy thump.
"Hey," Ni-ki murmured, pausing a few feet away. He was wearing a simple grey crewneck, looking softer, less guarded. He kept his hands in his pockets, strictly maintaining the boundary heâd promised. "You look tired. Riki making you study too hard?"
"Just a long essay," you said softly, looking up from your laptop.
Instead of throwing a sharp jab or a teasing comment to fluster you, Ni-ki just nodded, a genuine, quiet understanding in his dark eyes. "Don't forget to breathe, Mika. It's just a grade."
He reached down, snagged his keys, and gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod before turning to leave.
You watched his retreating back, your throat suddenly dry. He was actively stepping back, actively pushing you toward his brother because he genuinely thought that was what would make you happy. He was sacrificing his own desires, burying his naturally loud, chaotic personality just to give you peace.
And in that exact moment, watching him walk away, you realized with a jolt of pure panic that your heart wasn't racing out of fear anymore.
You were looking at Ni-ki, the boy who had rewritten his entire nature just to keep you safe, and you didn't want him to walk out of the room. You wanted him to stay.
The only thing harder than falling for Ni-ki was finding the courage to tell Riki you were in love with his brother.
The conversation took place in the quietest part of the evening, right after the rain finally stopped and left the campus damp and smelling of fresh earth.
You had asked Riki to walk with you to the courtyard behind the dorms, your hands shoved deep into your jacket pockets to hide how violently they were shaking. Admitting the truth to yourself had been a terrifying hurdle, but thisâlooking into the eyes of the boy who had tried so desperately to be your safe haven, and telling him your heart had wandered to his chaotic shadow of a brotherâwas agonizing.
"Riki, I need to tell you something," you started, stopping by the stone bench. Your voice was small, catching in your throat. "And I need you to just listen, because if I don't say it now, I never will."
Riki stopped walking. He turned to face you, his fingers loosely hooked in the pockets of his denim jacket. The night air was cool, and his expression was completely unreadable, silhouetted against the amber glow of the courtyard lamps.
"Okay," he said softly, his voice dropping into that familiar, soothing warmth. "I'm listening."
You swallowed hard, the guilt twisting painfully in your chest. "Itâs about Ni-ki. After the library... after he found out how suffocated I felt, he completely changed. And I didn't expect it. I thought he was just reckless, but he... he kept his promise, Riki. He protected me in a way I didn't think he was capable of. And the more I watched him step back for my sake, the more I..."
You choked on the final words, unable to force them out. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the sharp intake of breath, the flash of hurt, or the sudden wall of defensive anger that you were certain would follow.
Instead, there was only a soft, heavy sigh.
"You started looking for him," Riki said quietly.
Your eyes flew open. Riki wasn't glaring. His knuckles weren't clenched at his sides. He was just looking down at you with a sad, incredibly gentle smile that completely shattered your heart.
"Riki, I'm so sorryâ"
"Mika, stop," he interrupted, stepping just an inch closer, though he kept his hands firmly in his pockets. "You don't need to apologize. I've sensed it from a mile away."
You stared at him, completely stunned. "You... you knew?"
"I know my brother, and I know you," Riki murmured, his gaze drifting over your face with a quiet, bittersweet fondness. "I noticed the way your eyes started tracking the door whenever he walked past. I noticed how you stopped tensing up when his name came up. And honestly? I noticed how much it was killing him to stay away from you."
A single, hot tear escaped your eye, and Riki finally reached out, his thumb gently catching it before it could slide down your cheek. His touch was just as warm as it had always been, but it felt different nowâit felt like a goodbye.
"I wanted to be the one who fixed everything for you, Mika," Riki admitted, his voice cracking just a fraction with genuine emotion. "I wanted to be the safe choice. But safety isn't the same thing as love, is it? Ni-ki might be a disaster sometimes, but when he cares about something, heâd burn the whole world down to protect it. It turns out, he just had to learn how to do it quietly."
He pulled his hand back, offering you a small, encouraging nod that felt like the heaviest gift anyone had ever given you.
"Go tell him," Riki whispered. "Before he drives himself crazy trying to be the gentleman I told him he wasn't."
The library was practically empty, bathed in the quiet, golden warmth of the late afternoon. You walked down the familiar, secluded aisle in the back, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs.
And there he was.
Ni-ki was slumped back in a wooden chair, his long legs stretched out under the table. His eyes were closed, and a pair of large black headphones rested over his ears, a faint, low bass leaking into the quiet space around him. Without his usual sharp, calculated gaze looking back at you, he looked remarkably peacefulâjust a boy resting in the quiet.
Your hands trembled slightly as you slid your backpack off your shoulder. You let it drop onto the floor next to his chair with a soft thud, deliberately breaking the silence.
Ni-kiâs eyes flitted open instantly. For a split second, his dark gaze was blank with sleep, but the moment they locked onto you, he went completely rigid. He pulled the headphones down around his neck in one smooth motion, his brow furrowing as he looked around the empty aisle, as if checking to see if Riki was trailing behind you.
"Mika?" his voice was a deep, raspy whisper, rough from sleep. He immediately sat up a little straighter, his hands sliding defensively into his pockets. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"
Instead of answering right away, you pulled out the chair directly next to him and sat down, closing the distance between you.
"Mind if I steal your time a little?" you asked softly, tilting your head to look at him.
Ni-ki blinked, completely thrown off balance by your proximity. The boy who always had a slick comeback or a dangerous smirk was entirely speechless. His eyes tracked the soft expression on your face, then dropped to the small space between your chairs, before finally rising back to meet your gaze with a heavy, intense focus.
"You can have whatever you want, Mika," he murmured, his voice dropping into that quiet, gravelly baritone that always made your chest tighten. He leaned back slightly, trying to maintain the respectful boundary he had promised you, though his dark eyes were burning with a desperate curiosity. "But aren't you supposed to be with Riki right now?"
"I was," you said, your voice steadying as you took a deep breath, finally letting go of all the fear youâd been carrying for weeks. "He told me to come find you"
Ni-kiâs entire body went absolutely still. The slight, protective distance he had been keeping suddenly felt like a fragile glass wall between you, and his eyes searched yours with a raw, piercing intensity.
"He told you to come find me?" Ni-ki echoed, his voice dropping into a rough, strained register. He swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he tried to read the expression on your face. "Why? Did we... did he do something? Mika, if he messed upâ"
"He didn't do anything wrong, Ni-ki," you interrupted softly, reaching out. For the first time, you didn't hesitate. Your fingers lightly brushed against the sleeve of his jacket, and you felt the subtle tremor that went through his arm at your touch. "Riki was perfect. He tried so hard to give me exactly what I thought I wanted."
Ni-ki looked down at your hand on his arm, his breath hitching. "Then why are you here?"
"Because I realized that what I thought I wanted wasn't what I actually needed," you confessed, the words spilling out in a quiet, breathless rush. You looked right into his dark eyes, refusing to let the old anxiety make you look away. "I spent so long being terrified of the spotlight, running from anyone who looked like a storm. And when you first showed up, you were so loud, and so aggressive... I put you in a box. I thought you were just like the people who hurt me before."
Ni-ki didn't blink. He was listening to you with a fierce, suffocating devotion, his chest rising and falling heavily.
"But you weren't," you whispered, a small, genuine smile finally lifting the corners of your lips. "You took the worst parts of meâthe secrets I was terrified to shareâand you didn't use them. You didn't play a game. You changed your entire nature just to give me a corner of the world where I could breathe. You stepped into the shadows so I could feel safe, even when it was killing you."
A profound, heavy silence settled over the back aisle of the library.
Slowly, carefully, Ni-ki pulled his hand out of his pocket. He didn't grab your wrist this time; he didn't trap you. Instead, he turned his hand over on the table, palm up, mirroring the exact gesture he had made weeks agoâonly this time, you didn't hesitate. You slid your smaller hand into his broad palm, and his large fingers instantly closed around yours, gripping you with a desperate, trembling warmth.
"Mika," he breathed, his voice cracking with a sudden spike of raw emotion. The arrogant, untouchable twin was completely gone, replaced by a boy who looked like he had just been given the world. "You have no idea what you're saying to me right now."
"I know exactly what I'm saying," you said, leaning a fraction closer, your heart hammering a wild, happy rhythm against your ribs. "I don't want you to turn around in the hallways anymore, Ni-ki. I like your presence. And I think... I think I like you."
A breathless, stunned laugh escaped his lipsâa sound completely stripped of malice, full of pure, unadulterated relief. He leaned forward, closing the remaining distance until his forehead almost touched yours, his dark eyes burning with a deep, quiet fire.
"I'm still a bastard, Mika," he whispered against your lips, his thumb tracing the back of your hand with a possessive, protective rhythm that didn't scare you at all. "But for you? I'll be whatever you need me to be. I'm not going anywhere."
"That's kind of a confusing answer on if you like me back or not"
A breathless, genuinely surprised laugh escaped Ni-kiâs lipsâthe sound vibrating warm and sharp against the quiet air between you. The intense, poetic gravity he had just wrapped himself in completely shattered, replaced by a sudden, boyish flush that crept up his neck.
He pulled back just an inch, his dark eyes wide as he stared at you, completely caught off guard by your bluntness.
"Did you just call me confusing?" he murmured, a faint, disbelieving smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Well, yeah," you said, a small, teasing smile breaking through your own nerves. "You just called yourself a bastard and told me you'd be whatever I need. Itâs a little dramatic, Ni-ki. A simple 'yes' would have worked."
Ni-ki let out a low, rough chuckle, shaking his head as he looked down at your joined hands. "A simple 'yes' doesn't really cover it, sweetheart."
His large fingers tightened around yours, firm and unyielding, and before you could process the shift in his energy, he pulled. He didn't just hold your hand; he guided you out of your chair and straight into his lap.
A small gasp left your lips as you landed against his chest, the hidden corner of the library shielding the two of you from view. His free hand instantly came up to anchor around your waist, his palm burning hot through the fabric of your shirt. The proximity was dizzying. The scent of rain and his expensive cologne filled your senses, entirely overpowering the dusty smell of old books.
"Let me make it completely unconfusing for you," he whispered, his dark eyes locked on your mouth.
Ni-ki leaned up, closing the final inch between you, and pressed his lips to yours.
The kiss started with a careful, hesitant softnessâa quiet reassurance that you were entirely safe in his hands. But as you let out a soft sigh against his mouth, your fingers tangling into the damp, dark hair at the nape of his neck, the restraint he had practiced for three weeks completely evaporated.
The kiss deepened, turning into something heavy, desperate, and intoxicatingly possessive. His thumb stroked the bare skin of your waist where your shirt had ridden up slightly, his touch leaving a trail of fire. He pulled you flush against his chest, his large frame swallowing yours up entirely, anchoring you to him as if he never intended to let you go.
When he finally broke the kiss, his breathing was ragged, his lips parted and wet as they hovered just a millimeter from yours. He didn't pull away. Instead, he dropped his forehead against yours, his nose brushing yours as his hand on your waist tightened, pulling your hips a fraction closer against his lap.
"Is that clear enough?" Ni-ki murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly purr that vibrated right through your chest. His dark eyes were hooded, burning with a sudden, heavy intensity that made your lower stomach flip. "Because if it's not... we can find somewhere a lot less public than the library to fix that."
"I might need something more than just a kiss" you laugh a little at your own words
A quiet, stunned beat of silence hung in the air before a low, dark chuckle vibrated right against your chest.
Ni-kiâs hand on your waist tightened instantly, his fingers digging into your hip with a sudden, heavy pressure that made your breath hitch. The playful, boyish flush on his face completely vanished, overtaken by a hooded, dangerous intensity in his eyes that made your pulse skyrocket.
"Careful, Mika," he murmured, his voice dropping into a rough, gravelly whisper right against your ear. His breath was hot against your skin, sending a violent shiver down your spine. "You're playing with fire in a very quiet room."
He shifted his weight slightly, pulling you a fraction higher against his lap. The movement was entirely deliberate, letting you feel the sudden, rigid tension in his frame. His free hand slid up from your thigh, his long fingers trailing a agonizingly slow path up the side of your ribs, making your skin tingle beneath your shirt before his hand settled firmly at the back of your neck.
He tilted your head up, his thumb resting right against the pulse point on your jaw, feeling the frantic, wild rhythm of your heart.
"Riki told me to keep my distance," Ni-ki whispered, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just beneath your earlobe, making your hands clutch at his shoulders for balance. "But you're the one pulling me back in. If you say things like that... I'm not going to stop at a library aisle."
He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze dark, heavy, and intensely focused on your flushed face. A slow, wicked trace of his old smirk finally returned to his lips, but this time, it belonged entirely to you.
"Pack your bag," he murmured, his thumb rubbing a slow circle against your jaw. "My car is parked right outside. Letâs get out of here."
The heavy oak door of Ni-kiâs bedroom hadnât even fully clicked shut before his hands were on you again, the quiet click of the lock sounding like a definitive dividing line between the rest of the world and whatever was about to happen between the two of you.
The drive back from the library had been a blur of tense, quiet anticipation. The air inside his car had been thick, heavy with an unspoken, electric gravity that made it hard to breathe. But the moment you stepped into the total privacy of his room, the rigid restraint he had forced himself to maintain for the last three weeks completely shattered.
Ni-ki backed you against the smooth wood of the closed door, his tall frame instantly crowding yours, shutting out the rest of the apartment. He didn't trap you with the aggressive, threatening arrogance from weeks ago; instead, he leaned into your space with a desperate, heavy hunger that felt entirely different. It felt like someone who had been starving. His hands slid up to frame your face, his large, warm palms cupping your jaw with surprising gentleness while his long fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back.
When he brought his lips down to yours, a soft gasp escaped your throat.
This kiss wasnât a reassurance. It was deep, possessive, and intoxicatingly intense. Ni-ki took immediate advantage of your parted lips, his tongue sliding past them, deep and demanding, claiming your breath as his own. Your hands flew to his chest, clutching at the soft fabric of his grey crewneck for balance as your knees went weak under the sheer force of his mouth.
A low, ragged groan vibrated deep in his chest. He broke the kiss for just a fraction of a second, his breath hitching, before trailing his lips down the sensitive column of your neck. He nipped lightly at the soft skin just above your collarbone, his hands sliding down to grip your waist tightly, grounding you as a quiet, breathy whimper escaped your lips.
"Mika," he muttered against your skin, his voice a rough, gravelly rasp that sent a violent shiver straight down your spine. He paused, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he forced himself to take a ragged breath. "Tell me to stop if itâs too much. Tell me right now."
"Don't," you breathed out, your hands leaving his chest to slide up his neck, your fingers tightening in the dark, damp hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. "Don't stop, Ni-ki."
His dark eyes snapped up to yours, hooded and burning with a fierce, heavy heat that made your lower stomach completely flip. A slow, dark smirk tugged at his lips, entirely stripped of its old mockeryâthis was pure, unadulterated desire, laced with a profound sense of relief.
Without breaking eye contact, Ni-ki reached down, his large hands gripping your hips. With an effortless lift, he hoisted you up. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your back pressing firmly against the door as he held you flush against him. The sudden, intimate heat of his body pressed entirely against yours left you breathless, your heart hammering a frantic, wild rhythm.
He carried you the few short steps to his bed, coming down over you as you hit the mattress. The mattress sank deeply under his weight, his large, imposing frame casting a shadow over you, anchoring you down in a way that, for the first time in your life, felt entirely, beautifully safe.
Ni-ki hovered above you for a heartbeat, supporting his weight on his forearms on either side of your head. His breathing was heavy and uneven as his eyes tracked the flush on your cheeks, the wild rise and fall of your chest, and the slight parting of your wet lips. Slowly, deliberately, his hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt. His warm palm traced the bare skin of your waist, his fingers sending a trail of fire along your ribs as he smoothed the fabric up.
"You're entirely mine tonight," he whispered, his voice dropping into a dangerous, suggestive purr that resonated right through your bones. He leaned down, his lips brushing yours with an agonizingly slow, teasing friction before he kissed you again, deeper this time, letting his body settle heavily over yours.
Every brush of his skin against yours felt like an undoing. The heat radiating off Ni-ki was intense, swallowing up the cool air of the bedroom until the only things that existed were the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress and the frantic rhythm of your shared breathing.
He pulled the shirt completely over your head and tossed it somewhere onto the floor, his eyes never leaving yours. When his gaze dropped to your bare skin, a muscle in his jaw twitched. For all his previous bravado, there was a sudden, fierce reverence in the way he looked at you now. He slid his hands up your midriff, his palms surprisingly warm, tracing the curve of your ribs with a slow, deliberate pressure that made you arch up into his touch.
"You're beautiful, Mika," he whispered, his voice incredibly rough, completely stripped of any teasing edge.
He leaned down again, his lips finding the soft dip where your neck met your shoulder. He sucked gently at the skin there, anchoring his hands at your waist to hold you still as a sharp, breathless gasp caught in your throat. Your fingers tangled tightly into the sheets on either side of his head, your hips shifting instinctively against his under the sudden, intoxicating weight of desire pooling in your lower stomach.
Ni-ki let out a low, ragged sound at the movement. He broke away from your neck, his eyes dark and heavily hooded as he reached down to fumble with the button of his jeans. In one fluid, impatient motion, he rid himself of the restrictive denim, returning to the bed before you could even register the chill of the room.
When he settled back between your thighs, the direct, unshielded heat of him made your eyes flutter shut. But Ni-ki wouldn't let you hide. He caught your jaw in his hand, his thumb pressing firmly against your chin until you opened your eyes to look at him.
"Look at me," he commanded softly, his breathing shallow, his chest heaving against yours. "I want you to see me. I want you to know exactly who is holding you."
You swallowed hard, your hands rising to rest on his broad shoulders, feeling the tight, coiled tension in his muscles. "I see you, Ni-ki."
A devastatingly soft look passed over his features before he shifted, sliding his hand down between your bodies. His long fingers found the edge of your shorts, slowly slipping them down your legs until there was nothing left between you but a thin, fragile barrier of fabric. His touch was agonizingly slow, teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs until your breath was coming in ragged, uneven hitches.
He leaned down, his lips hovering just a millimeter from yours, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding back.
"Tell me you want this," he murmured, his thumb rubbing a slow, torturous circle against your hip bone, his gaze burning into yours. "Tell me you want me, Mika."
"I want you," you breathed out, the confession raw and completely unbidden, your hands sliding up to lock behind his neck. "Please, Ni-ki."
The last vestige of his restraint snapped. Ni-ki slid his hands under your lower back, lifting you slightly to meet him as he discarded the final barrier. When he moved against you, a deep, heavy friction sparked between your bodies, making a quiet, broken sob escape your lipsânot of fear, but of a sudden, overwhelming fullness. He caught the sound with his mouth, kissing you with a fierce, possessive depth that sealed your souls together in the quiet dark of the room.
The heavy, suffocating heat of the bedroom vanished in a flash, replaced by the bright, familiar fluorescent lights of the kitchen table.
Sitting across from the twins, the contrast was almost comical. Riki was staring at his brother with a look of pure, unadulterated exhaustion, his pen hovering aggressively over a crumpled sheet of notebook paper. Ni-ki, on the other hand, was slumped so low in his chair he was practically sliding under the table, spinning a highlighter between his fingers with complete indifference.
"Ni-ki, there's seriously no way you don't know how to do this," Riki said, his voice dripping with disbelief as he tapped the tip of his pen against a problem. "It's basic algebra. You literally just have to isolate the variable."
Ni-ki rolled his eyes, tossing the highlighter onto the table where it rolled lazily against your laptop. He leaned his chin in his hand, a slow, familiar smirk returning to his face as he looked at his brother.
"I'm sorry, genius, I'm not smart like you," Ni-ki shot back, his tone laced with heavy sarcasm. He didn't look bothered at all by his brother's frustration. In fact, he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it.
You sat between them, trying to hide the sudden, fierce blush that crept up your neck. Looking at Ni-ki nowâfully dressed in a casual hoodie, bickering with his twin over a math problemâit was almost impossible to reconcile him with the boy who had been holding you so fiercely against his mattress just an hour ago. The secret weight of what had happened between you still felt heavy and warm in your chest, making your pulse flutter every time Ni-kiâs knee accidentally brushed against yours under the table.
Riki let out a loud groan, rubbing his temples. "It's 2x + 5 = 15. Ni-ki, please. A middle schooler can do this."
"Then go find a middle schooler to do your homework," Ni-ki muttered, though his eyes suddenly flicked over to you. The lazy, sarcastic expression melted away for a split second, replaced by a dark, knowing glint that sent a sudden jolt of electricity straight to your stomach. He kicked your foot gently under the table, a private, hidden gesture meant only for you. "Mika, tell him to leave me alone. My brain is fried."
Riki sighed, completely oblivious to the silent, charged current passing between you and his brother. He turned to you, holding out the pen like a peace offering. "Mika, please explain it to him. He listens to you."
You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady as you looked between the two brothers. "Um... it's just x = 5, Ni-ki."
Ni-ki let out a low chuckle, leaning back in his chair as his gaze lingered on your face, heavy and entirely unconfusing. "See? If you explained it like that from the beginning, genius, maybe I would've gotten it."
"Exactly," Ni-ki said, a smug, devastatingly attractive smile spreading across his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. He kicked your foot again under the table, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. "Mikaâs efficient. You should take notes, Riki."
"Efficient?!" Riki threw his hands up in the air, completely exasperated. He looked at you, practically begging for backup. "Mika, don't enable him! He's going to fail the midterm if he just copies your answers."
You bit your lower lip to keep from laughing, though your heart was still doing double-time in your chest. The absolute normalcy of Rikiâs frustration was the perfect cover, but the secret weight of what you and Ni-ki shared felt like a live wire running beneath the floorboards.
"He's right, Ni-ki," you said, trying to adopt a stern, tutor-like tone, though your voice lacked any real bite. You looked over at him, meeting his intense gaze. "You actually have to know how to get to five."
Ni-kiâs smile softened, turning into something much lower, much more private. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, tilting his head as he locked eyes with you. The chaotic brotherly bickering faded into background noise for a split second.
"Alright," Ni-ki murmured, his voice dropping into that deep, gravelly register that made your skin tingle. "Show me then. Step by step."
Riki let out a relieved sigh, completely missing the thick, heavy tension that suddenly filled the space between you and his twin. He pushed the notebook toward you. "Thank God. He's your problem now. I'm going to get a drink."
The moment Riki turned his back and walked toward the kitchen counter, Ni-kiâs hand slid under the table. His large, warm palm found your knee, his fingers squeezing firmly, a bold, dangerous reminder of the boy who had claimed you in the dark just an hour prior.
"So," Ni-ki whispered, his face just inches from yours as he pretended to look at the math problem. "Where do we start, teacher?"
You stared down at the notebook, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs as Riki clattered glasses over by the kitchen sink.
"First," you began, your voice a little breathless as you tried to focus on the numbers blurring before your eyes, "you have to subtract five from both sides..."
"Right. Subtract five," Ni-ki murmured. But he wasnât looking at the paper.
His hand slid higher up your thigh, his long fingers tracing a slow, burning path over the fabric of your jeans. He shifted closer, his broad shoulder pressing firmly against yours, completely crowding your space. The scent of his cologne, mixed with the lingering warmth of his bedroom, enveloped you entirely.
"Ni-ki, stop," you whispered fiercely, checking over your shoulder to make sure Riki's back was still turned. "I'm trying to help you."
"I'm listening," he lied smoothly, a wicked, low chuckle vibrating in his chest. He leaned his head down, pretending to study the equation, but his lips brushed the absolute edge of your earlobe. "But I've got a lot of built-up energy, Mika. It's hard to sit still."
To prove his point, his thumb hooked into the belt loop of your jeans, pulling you just a fraction closer to him under the table. The sudden, possessive tug made you let out a tiny, sharp gasp.
"What was that?" Riki called out from the kitchen, the sound of the refrigerator door opening echoing into the room.
"Nothing!" you said quickly, your face burning a furious shade of red. You grabbed Ni-kiâs wrist, trying to pry his hand away, but his grip was like ironâunyielding, warm, and entirely teasing.
Ni-ki snagged the pen from your trembling fingers, his dark eyes flashing with pure mischief as he looked up at you. Instead of solving the problem, he flipped the notebook over to a blank page and quickly scribbled something down in messy, bold handwriting.
He slid the notebook back to you.
If I finish this page, do I get to do what we did upstairs again?
You stared at the note, your stomach doing a violent, dizzying flip. You looked up at him, entirely caught off guard, only to find him watching you with a hooded, heavy intensity that made it very clear he had zero intention of learning algebra tonight.
Before you could even think of a response, the sound of Rikiâs footsteps signaled his return. In a flash, Ni-ki ripped the piece of paper out of the notebook, crumpled it into his palm, and slid it into his hoodie pocket, returning to his lazy, slumped position just as Riki sat back down with a glass of water.
"So," Riki said, looking between the two of you, totally oblivious. "Did the genius finally figure out what x equals?"
Ni-ki flashed a slow, devastating smirk, his eyes locking onto yours with a silent, dangerous promise. "Not yet. But I think Mika's about to give me some extra credit."
if I fall in love with you then this love will destroy me
pairings: mafia leader riki! x reader
synopsis: Riki wasn't the type to fall in love. He knew betterâit was a distraction, a danger, a straight line to his own ruin. But never say never. after he came across his enemies daughter, he knew he was completely undone.
Genre: dark romance, mafia au, fluff, suggestive
warnings: trauma, bloodshed, guns, very suggestive, very typical mafia story, smoking, kissing, drinking, the boys are at a strip club for a mission in the beginning, mentions of losing someone dear, I think that's all! Lmk if I missed anything.
wc: 18.2k
"I'm scanning the area now," Sunooâs voice crackled through the earpiece. "He looks like heâs in one of the private rooms." A sharp pause followed, followed by a theatrical groan. "Ugh, never mind. Heâs undressing her. Disgusting." Across the comms, the other five boys winced at his collective gag.
"Count me out," Jake muttered, leaning back. "Iâm not watching a live show." Riki shot the rest of the room a look of pure exasperation. "Grow up. You're all acting like virgins. No one is sitting outâwe all go in."
The club was choked with cheap neon, loud bass, and drunk, married menâcowards who preferred paying for attention to facing their failing lives at home. Slipping through the crowd, the boys readied their weapons, keeping them concealed as they neared the private hallway.
With a single, heavy strike, Riki kicked the door open.
Ryan and the dancer jolted, freezing in terror. The girl scrambled back, suddenly painfully aware of the armed men crowding the doorway. "Are you done?" Riki asked, his voice deadpan and icy.
"Who the hell are you?" Ryan stammered.
Before he could even finish the sentence, Riki lunged forward, fist bunching into Ryan's loose shirt. He dragged him off the bed and slammed him against the floor. "Someone who is going to end your life right here if you don't tell me where your boss took my sister."
Ryanâs eyes went wide as the color drained from his face. He knew this day would come. "I don't know where she is! I swear, I promise!"
Riki let out a harsh, humorless scoff. "Your promise doesn't mean shit to me." Tightening his grip on Ryan's collar, he leaned in, his voice dropping an octaveâlow, lethal, and entirely devoid of patience. "Where is he?"
Ryan shook his head violently, tears of panic brimming in his eyes. "I don't know! Butâbut I know he has a daughter. She means the world to him. If... if you take her, he'll surrender. He'll give you your sister back just to keep her safe."
Riki froze. The fury in his eyes shifted, hardening into something cold, calculating, and infinitely more dangerous.
"Where is this daughter of his?" Riki asked, his voice deceptively calm.
Ryan hesitated, his jaw locked in terror. Before he could even think about staying silent, the sharp, metallic click of a gun echoed through the room. Sunghoon stepped forward, pressing the cold barrel directly against Ryanâs temple.
"Where is she, little boy?" Sunghoon murmured, his eyes empty of mercy.
Ryan gulped, the hard steel biting into his skin as all his resolve evaporated.
"Sheâshe goes to a university campus on the north side," Ryan stammered, the metal of Sunghoonâs gun leaving a red indent against his skin. "She lives in an off-campus apartment. Alone. Security is light during the week."
Sunghoon didn't lower the weapon. He looked over at Riki, waiting for the word.
Riki stood up slowly, wiping Ryan's sweat off his hands onto his jeans. The initial blind fury that had driven him into the club was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating focus. If this man took his sister, he would take his most prized possession in return.
"Get the address from him," Riki ordered, turning his back on Ryan as if the man were already dead. He looked at the rest of the boys crowded in the doorway. "Jake, get the car ready. Sunoo, I want eyes on that apartment complex before we even touch the perimeter."
"On it," Sunoo replied, already tapping away at his phone to pull up the campus blueprints.
Riki stepped out of the suffocating, neon-lit room and into the dim hallway of the club. His chest tightened at the thought of his sister, but a new, dark resolve took over. He didn't care who this girl was, what she looked like, or how innocent she might be in her father's war.
She was his leverage now.
The soft lo-fi beat playing from your laptop was the only thing keeping you awake. Your desk was a chaotic battlefield of highlighters, sticky notes, and half-empty coffee mugs. Outside, the night was perfectly still, the quiet streets of the north-side campus completely oblivious to the chaos unfolding across town.
You rubbed your tired eyes, leaning back in your chair and staring at the textbook open in front of you.
Just two more chapters, you promised yourself, glancing at the clock on your phone. It was past midnight. If I pass this midterm tomorrow, I can sleep for a week.
Your dad had called earlier in the eveningâa short, tense conversation where he reminded you, for the hundredth time, to keep your doors locked. You had laughed it off, teasing him about being overly protective. You were safe here. The apartment complex was quiet, your neighbors were mostly sleepy design students, and nothing ever happened on this side of town.
Unbeknownst to you, miles away, a black SUV was already tearing down the highway, cutting through the dark toward your building.
You stood up to stretch, padding over to your small kitchen to pour another glass of water. As you passed the window, you caught your reflection in the glass. You looked exhausted, completely consumed by the mundane stress of a college exam.
You had no idea that a girl you had never met was missing. You had no idea who Riki was. And you certainly didn't know that right now, your name was being whispered in the dark by five men who were about to shatter your quiet world forever.
A floorboard creaked in the hallway outside your front door.
You paused, glass halfway to your mouth, and listened.
The silence that followed was suffocating. You held your breath, eyes locked on the deadbolt of your front door.
Itâs just an old building, you told yourself, a nervous chuckle catching in your throat. The pipes click. The wood expands. It's fine.
You forced your feet to move, setting the water glass down on the counter with a soft clink. But as you turned back toward your desk, the soft lo-fi music coming from your laptop abruptly cut out. The screen flickered, a strange line of code flashing across the display before the entire device went completely black.
Then, the overhead lights died.
The sudden darkness was absolute, leaving only the weak moonlight filtering through your sheer curtains. Panic, cold and sharp, flooded your chest. Your heart began to hammer against your ribs. You lunged for your phone on the desk, but the screen wouldn't light up. The battery was full, yet it was completely dead.
They had cut the power.
Before you could even scream, the heavy wood of your front door didn't just openâit splintered.
The sound of the deadbolt snapping echoed like a gunshot in the small apartment. Shadows flooded into your entryway, tall, imposing, and moving with terrifying coordination. You scrambled backward, knocking over your desk chair as you tried to find a weapon, a hiding place, anything.
"Clear the rooms," a low, smooth voice commanded from the dark.
"She's right there," another voice murmured.
A flashlight beam sliced through the darkness, blinding you. You blocked your eyes with your arm, backing up until your spine hit the kitchen counter. "Who are you? What do you want? I have money, justâ"
"We don't want your money," a third voice interrupted. It was deeper, colder, and sent a shiver straight down your spine.
As your eyes adjusted to the glare of the flashlight, you could make out the silhouettes of five men closing in on you. One of them stepped forward, stepping directly into the moonlight.
It was Riki.
His eyes were completely devoid of warmth as they swept over your terrified form, taking in your oversized sweater, your trembling hands, and the sheer confusion on your face. For a fraction of a second, his gaze lingered, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his sharp features.
But just as quickly, his expression hardened back into ice.
You tried to push past him, but your hands only met the solid, unyielding wall of his chest.
"Whatâ No! Do you know who my dadâ"
Riki cut you off rudely, his hand instantly clamping around your wrist with a grip like steel. "I know exactly who your dad is, and frankly, I don't give a fuck."
The sheer malice in his voice made you freeze. He stepped closer, crowding you against the kitchen counter until you could feel the dangerous warmth radiating off him, completely contrasting his icy stare.
"Sunghoon, grab her coat," Riki ordered, not taking his eyes off you for a single second. "Itâs freezing outside, and I donât need her dying of hypothermia before we get what we want."
"Please," you choked out, terror finally loosening your vocal cords as tears stung the corners of your eyes. "You're making a mistake. I don't have anything to do with whatever my dad did."
A dark, humorless smile touched Riki's lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You're his daughter. That makes you his greatest assetâand my perfect leverage."
Before you could scream for help, a heavy jacket was thrown over your shoulders, and Riki yanked you forward, forcing you to move with him toward the splintered doorway. The other four boys formed a tight perimeter around you, their silent, lethal presence making it explicitly clear that running was not an option.
The backseat of the SUV was suffocatingly quiet. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the rhythmic click of the turn signal as Jake navigated the dark, winding roads away from your campus.
They hadn't blindfolded you. They hadn't tied your wrists or held you down. In a strange way, that made it worseâit meant they weren't afraid of what you saw, because they knew you had absolutely nowhere to run.
Instead, you were trapped in the crushing weight of Rikiâs gaze.
He sat directly across from you, leaning back against the leather seat with a terrifyingly casual posture. But his eyes were doing all the work. He examined you slowly, deliberatelyâfrom the nervous way you bit your lip to the slight tremble in your hands hidden beneath the oversized coat. Every time your eyes met his, he sent you a threatening, heavy glare. It was a silent promise of violence, a warning drilled into your head so you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was not someone to mess with.
"She's quiet," Sunoo remarked from the front passenger seat, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. "Expected her to scream more."
"She's smart enough to know it wouldn't change anything," Riki replied, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the quiet car. He didn't break eye contact with you as he spoke. "Right?"
You swallowed hard, pressing your back deeper into the seat, unable to look away from the lethal boy who now held your life in his hands.
You didn't answer. You just squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the suffocating intensity of his stare, but you could still feel his eyes burning into you.
The SUV finally slowed down, turning off the paved road onto a gravel path. The tires crunched loudly in the quiet night before the car came to a smooth halt. Through the tinted window, you could see the dark silhouette of a massive, secluded estate hidden deep within the trees. It looked less like a home and more like a fortress.
"We're here," Jake announced, killing the engine.
The heavy silence of the car shattered as the doors opened. Sunghoon got out first, scanning the perimeter out of pure habit, while Riki slid closer to you. He grabbed your upper armânot enough to bruise, but firm enough to let you know he wasn't letting goâand pulled you out into the biting night air.
Your knees wobbled the second your sneakers hit the gravel, the adrenaline finally wearing off and leaving you weak. Riki caught you before you could fall, his grip tightening.
"Walk," he muttered against your ear, his breath warm against the cold skin of your neck.
He guided you through the side entrance of the estate, down a flight of concrete stairs that led into a heavily reinforced basement. It wasn't a dungeon, but it was far from comfortable. The room was large, containing a single bed, a chair, and a heavy iron door with a digital keypad lock on the outside.
Riki gently but firmly pushed you inside. The other boys lingered in the hallway, watching the exchange in silence.
"This is your home until your father decides to give back what he stole from me," Riki said, stepping backward toward the threshold.
You finally found your courage, taking a step toward him. "How long is that going to take?" your voice cracked, desperate and small. "What if he doesn'tâ"
"He will," Riki interrupted, his expression turning completely unreadable as he stared at you under the harsh fluorescent light. For a brief second, his eyes softened as he took in your disheveled, terrified state, but the wall went right back up. "And if he doesn't... well, let's hope he cares about you as much as Ryan said he does."
Before you could say another word, he stepped out, and the heavy iron door slammed shut, the electronic lock clicking into place with a definitive, terrifying snap.
You stood there for a moment, listening to the echo of his footsteps fade down the concrete hallway. Once the silence returned, you let out a sharp, disbelief-filled scoff, violently brushing a layer of basement dust off your sleeves.
"Rude bastard," you muttered to the empty room. "Could've at least had some manners."
Your fear was still there, a tight knot in the pit of your stomach, but your initial panic was fast being replaced by a strange, fiery spark of irritation. And beneath that irritation, a completely unexpected feeling started to take root: intrigue.
Your entire life, people had looked at you with a mix of fear and forced politeness. Everyone knew who your father was. Men twice your age trembled at the mere mention of his name, and anyone who ever approached you did so with extreme caution, terrified of the consequences.
But Riki? Riki had looked at you like you were nothing more than an inconvenience. He had cut you off, dragged you out of your apartment, and openly admitted he didn't give a single fuck about your dadâs reputation.
For the first time in your life, you were dealing with someone who wasn't afraid of the monster that ruled your world.
A slow, cynical smile touched your lips as you turned to look at the sparse bed. Well, you thought, walking over and tossing your borrowed coat onto the mattress, this is definitely going to be interesting.
The relentless glare of the fluorescent light overhead made it impossible to tell when night turned into day. You had managed to drift into a fitful, restless sleep, curling up on the sparse mattress with Rikiâs heavy jacket draped over you for warmth. It smelled faintly of expensive cologne, rain, and leatherâa scent that had completely filled your senses until you finally passed out.
The loud, metallic clank of the electronic keypad clearing woke you with a start.
You bolted upright, kicking the jacket aside as the heavy iron door swung open.
Riki stepped into the room. The cold, dangerous aura from the night before hadn't faded, but he looked different in the morning light filtering down from the hallway. He had changed into a clean black sweater, his dark hair slightly damp, and in his hands, he carried a porcelain mug and a small paper bag.
He stopped a few feet from the bed, his sharp eyes instantly tracking your movement as you scrambled back against the wall, fixing him with a glare.
"You're awake," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that suggested he hadn't slept much either.
"Hard to sleep when you've been kidnapped by a giant jerk," you snapped back, your voice laced with all the morning attitude you could muster.
Riki paused, one eyebrow arching in slight surprise at your tone. Most people in your position would be begging or crying. He took a slow step closer, setting the mug and the bag down on the small table next to the bed. The scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries instantly filled the damp room.
"Keep that attitude up and I'll skip the breakfast next time," Riki replied smoothly, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. He looked down at you, that same intense, calculating gaze from the car ride returning. "Your dad hasn't answered my calls yet. He's playing dumb."
You scoffed, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, refusing to let him intimidate you today. "Of course he is. He thinks he's untouchable. Everyone treats him like a god." You looked up, locking eyes with him, a challenging spark in your expression. "But you don't care about that, do you?"
Riki didn't answer right away. He just stared at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to figure out if you were genuinely brave or just incredibly stupid. The silence stretched between you, heavy and loaded, until a dark, slow smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.
"Treat him like a god?" Riki repeated, taking a step away from the wall. He walked closer, stopping just inches from where you sat on the edge of the bed. He leaned down, bringing himself to your eye level, his gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before snapping back to your eyes. "Gods can bleed. And your dad is about to find out how easily he bleeds if he doesn't give me back what's mine."
You swallowed hard, the proximity making your heart do a strange, treacherous flip. Up close, you could see the sharp, lethal perfection of his features, the dangerous intensity that made him feel less like a captor and more like a storm you couldn't escape.
"You're confident," you murmured, refusing to back down, your voice a challenge despite the racing of your pulse.
"I'm impatient," Riki corrected coldly, straightening back up to his full, imposing height. He kicked the small table closer to you with the toe of his boot. "Eat. I don't need you starving on my watch. We're moving you upstairs in an hourâthe boys think the basement is too depressing for a princess."
He turned on his heel, his long strides taking him back toward the heavy iron door.
"Hey," you called out before you could stop yourself.
Riki paused at the threshold, looking back over his shoulder, his dark silhouette cutting off the light from the hallway. "What?"
"The coffee," you said, gesturing to the steaming mug. "Is it poisoned?"
Riki let out a low, dry chuckleâthe first real sound of amusement you'd heard from him. "If I wanted you dead, sweetheart, I wouldn't waste the caffeine."
With that, he stepped out, and the door slammed shut behind him.
His response made you smile a bit, a small, genuine huff of laughter escaping your lips. You shook your head, reaching for the steaming mug. This may have been a high-stakes, life-or-death hostage situation, but you couldn't deny itâthe guy was funny. In a dark, twisted, incredibly aggravating sort of way.
The coffee was surprisingly good, hot and rich, and the pastry was still warm. As you ate, you found your eyes wandering back to the heavy black jacket heâd left behind on the bed. You reached out, running your fingers over the smooth leather. He was a criminal, a kidnapper, and your father's sworn enemy... but he was also the most fascinating thing to ever crash into your structured, suffocating life.
An hour passed quicker than you expected. You had just finished the last bite of the pastry when the electronic lock chimed again.
This time, the door swung open to reveal Sunoo leaning casually against the frame, a bright, almost playful grin on his face that entirely mismatched the fact that he was guarding a prisoner.
"Alright, princess," Sunoo said, tilting his head toward the hallway. "Time's up. Riki said to bring you upstairs, and trust me, the living room has a way better view than this dungeon."
"I'd hope so, my back was hurting while I was sleeping, i'm too young to have back pain you know?"
Sunoo let out a dramatic gasp, his hand flying to his chest in mock offense. "Oh, absolutely not. We cannot have the hostage getting back pain. Riki would kill us if you broke before your dad even called back."
He stepped aside, gesturing for you to lead the way out of the cell. "Come on. Letâs get you to a couch before you start complaining about arthritis."
You grabbed Rikiâs heavy leather jacket, throwing it over your shoulders as you walked past Sunoo into the hallway. He didn't try to grab you or push you; instead, he just walked a step behind, escorting you up a grand, winding staircase that led out of the concrete basement and into the main floor of the estate.
The moment you stepped into the living room, your eyes widened.
The space was massive, floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over miles of thick, secluded forest. It was minimalist, expensive, and drenched in morning sunlight. Sitting on a massive plush sofa in the center of the room were Jake and Sunghoon, both looking up the moment you walked in.
Riki was standing by a marble kitchen island, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. He watched you enter, his eyes instantly dropping to his own jacket draped over your shoulders before snapping back up to your face.
"Look who decided to join us," Sunghoon muttered dryly, though his eyes held a flicker of curiosity as he took in your completely unbothered demeanor.
"Sheâs complaining about back pain," Sunoo announced to the room, practically pushing you toward the softest-looking armchair. "So, please, letâs accommodate the lady."
Riki set his coffee down with a soft clink, leaning against the counter as he fixed you with that familiar, intense stare. "Back pain? You were down there for eight hours."
"Eight hours too long," you countered smoothly, sinking into the expensive leather chair and looking right back at him. "If you're going to keep me here, the least you can do is provide better lumbar support."
A heavy silence fell over the room as the other boys looked between you and Riki, clearly waiting for him to snap or lose his temper at your audacity. Instead, Riki just stared at you, his jaw tightening slightly before that slow, dangerous smirk crept back onto his face.
"You've got a lot of nerve for someone in a cage," Riki murmured, his voice low and dangerous as he took a slow step toward your chair.
"and you're so rude for someone who has so much boyfriend potential" you bite back, the comment catching him off guard
A collective, stunned silence dropped over the room like an anvil.
Jake choked on whatever he was drinking, letting out a violent cough, while Sunooâs jaw practically hit the floor. Sunghoon just stared at you, his eyes darting between you and Riki as if waiting for a bomb to go off.
Riki froze mid-stride. The cold, calculated mask heâd been wearing since the moment he broke down your door completely shattered. For a fraction of a second, his brain seemed to short-circuit. A dark flush of color crept up his neck, and his sharp eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated shock.
The comment had caught him entirely off guard.
"What did you just say?" Riki asked, his voice dropping an octave, though this time it wasn't out of maliceâit was pure disbelief.
"You heard me," you said, crossing your legs and leaning back into the leather chair, entirely aware of the power dynamic shifting in the room. "You bring me breakfast, you make sure I'm not cold, you move me upstairs because the basement is too depressing... I'm just saying. Lose the attitude, and youâd actually be pretty good at this."
"Oh my god," Sunoo whispered, covering his mouth to hide a massive, delighted grin. "Riki, she's got you there. You did buy her the expensive pastries from down the street."
"Shut up, Sunoo," Riki snapped, though his eyes never left yours. He took the remaining steps toward your chair, leaning down until his shadow completely eclipsed you. The initial shock was gone, replaced by a dangerous, intense heat that made the air between you feel thick and heavy.
"You think this is a joke?" he murmured, his face inches from yours, his gaze dropping to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. "I kidnapped you. I can end your father's entire empire, and I hold your life in my hands. I am not your boyfriend."
"Not with that attitude, you aren't," you replied smoothly, refusing to blink.
Rikiâs jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. He stared at you, completely baffled by how a girl in an oversized sweater and his own jacket was successfully making him lose his composure.
"what did my dad do anyway?"
The playful tension in the room vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by a sudden, heavy coldness.
Jake stopped coughing, and Sunooâs amused smile dropped instantly. Riki slowly straightened up to his full height, the lingering flush on his neck fading as his expression hardened back into unyielding ice.
"You really don't know?" Riki asked, his voice flat and devoid of the banter from a moment ago.
You shook your head, looking around at the boys, who were all suddenly avoiding your gaze. "He keeps me completely separate from his business. He always has. I just thought he was a strict, overprotective businessman."
Riki let out a harsh, humorless laugh that sent a chill down your spine. He walked back to the kitchen island, picking up his coffee, though he didn't drink it.
"Your 'businessman' father runs the largest smuggling ring on the coast," Riki said, his eyes cutting back to you, sharp and unforgiving. "And three days ago, his men ambushed a transport route that belonged to my family. They slaughtered four of my guys, took a shipment worth millions, and took my younger sister."
He set the mug down with a sharp crack against the marble.
"He's keeping her somewhere, and he's refusing to negotiate because he thinks he's a god who answers to no one," Riki stepped closer to you again, his voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper. "So I took you. Because if he won't listen to reason, he'll listen to the sound of his only daughter's life hanging in the balance."
"I always knew he was up to something," you muttered, staring down at your hands, your fingers tightly gripping the fabric of his oversized jacket. A dark, cynical laugh escaped your lips, though it sounded entirely hollow. "That motherfucker killed my mom. His own wife. Can you believe that? They called it a 'car accident,' but I found the files before he shipped me off to that campus. He had her erased because she threatened to go to the police about his 'investments'."
The room went completely, devastatingly quiet.
Jake, who had been leaning back on the sofa, sat up straight. Sunooâs eyes widened, any trace of his earlier playfulness instantly vanishing as he looked at you with a mixture of shock and sudden sympathy. Sunghoon simply stared, his calculating expression faltering for the first time.
Riki froze. The furious, vengeful speech he had been preparing died in his throat. He looked down at you, his sharp eyes searching your face for any sign of a lie, any sign that this was a tactical play to get him to lower his guard.
But all he found was raw, bitter truth.
"What?" Riki asked, his voice losing its lethal edge, replaced by a stunned, low rumble.
You looked up, locking your eyes directly with Rikiâs. The fear was entirely gone from your expression, replaced by a cold, burning resentment that mirrored his own.
"If you think threatening my life is going to make him break," you said softly, your voice steady despite the weight of the words, "you might want a backup plan. Because a man who kills his wife for his business isn't going to give up his empire for his daughter."
Riki didn't move. He stood completely still, his jaw tight as he processed the information. He had taken you expecting a spoiled, protected mafia princess who would cry for her daddy. Instead, he was looking at another casualty of the exact same monster he was trying to destroy.
A heavy shift passed through the room. The boys looked at Riki, silently waiting for his lead. Riki ran a hand through his dark hair, exhaling a slow, heavy breath as he stared at you, the dangerous hostility in his eyes shifting into something much deeper, darker, and infinitely more complicated.
"why are you all stunned? didn't you know he was evil?"
"We knew he was a monster," Jake said softly from the couch, his voice breaking the heavy silence. "But turning on his own blood? That's a different kind of sick."
Riki didn't say anything at first. He just kept his eyes locked on yours, his expression a storm of conflicting emotions. The cold, calculated barrier he usually kept between himself and his targets was completely disintegrating. He took a slow step toward your chair, his hands sliding casually into his pockets, though his shoulders remained tense.
"There's a line," Riki murmured, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register. "Even in our world, you don't touch family. You protect them at all costs."
He looked down at you, his sharp gaze taking in the defiant set of your jaw, the anger still burning in your eyes. He realized then that you weren't his enemy. You were just another piece of collateral damage left in your father's wake.
Sunoo leaned against the back of your chair, his tone unusually quiet. "If he doesn't care about getting you back... then our leverage is gone. What do we do now, Riki?"
All eyes in the room turned to Riki. He ran a hand through his dark hair, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the sprawling forest for a long moment before his eyes snapped back to yours. A dark, dangerous spark ignited in his eyesâbut this time, it wasn't directed at you.
"If he won't trade for you," Riki said, a slow, lethal smirk creeping onto his lips, "then we use what you know. You want revenge for your mother, right?" He leaned down, bringing himself to your eye level, his presence completely consuming. "Help me take down his empire from the inside. Show me where he hides his assets, and I promise you, he will pay for what he did to your family. And what he did to mine."
A slow, sharp smile curved your lips, the fear completely gone from your eyes as you met his intense gaze.
"Like an alliance?" you asked softly.
Rikiâs smirk widened just a fraction, a flash of genuine appreciation crossing his sharp features. He liked that you didn't flinch. He liked that instead of begging for mercy, you were negotiating terms.
"Exactly like an alliance," Riki murmured, holding your gaze. He straightened up and extended a hand toward you, his long fingers open in an invitation. "You give us the keys to his kingdom, and we give you the head of the man who ruined your life."
Behind him, Sunoo let out a low whistle. "Well, this took a turn. From hostage to business partner in less than twenty-four hours."
"Shut up, Sunoo," Riki said, though there was no real heat in it this time. His focus remained entirely on you, waiting to see if you would take his hand.
You looked at his open palm, then back up to his dark, lethal eyes. The monster who raised you had spent your entire life keeping you in the dark, treating you like a piece of property to be hidden away. But Riki was offering you a seat at the table. He was offering you a chance to fight back.
You reached out, your hand looking small against his as your fingers brushed against his skin. The moment your hand slid into his, Rikiâs grip closed firmly around yoursâa solid, unyielding pact sealed in the morning light.
"Deal," you said smoothly, your smile turning cold and dangerous. "Let's burn his empire to the ground."
Rikiâs grip tightened on your hand for a beat before he let go, a dark satisfaction settling over his face. He stepped back, gesturing toward the large dining table at the edge of the living room.
"Sunghoon, get the blueprints of the city sectors. Jake, pull up the financial logs we intercepted last night," Riki commanded, his voice immediately shifting into the tone of a leader who meant business. The boys moved instantly, the playful atmosphere from earlier completely replaced by sharp, professional focus.
Sunghoon laid out a massive digital tablet on the glass table, flickering images of building layouts and secure warehouses illuminating the dark wood.
"If we're doing this, we start from the bottom up," Riki said, looking at you as you walked over to the table, still wrapped in his heavy leather jacket. "He has three main distribution hubs in the city. None of our contacts can get close to them without triggering an alarm. Which one is his favorite?"
You leaned over the table, your eyes scanning the map. Your fingers traced a path toward a secluded dock on the east side of the river.
"This one," you said, pointing to a non-descript warehouse labeled under a dummy corporation. "He always told me he was investing in shipping imports there. But every time he came back from 'inspecting the docks,' he smelled like heavy industrial grease and cigars. He only goes there when he's personally overseeing something high-value."
Riki leaned in next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. The scent of his cologne wafted up again, a sharp contrast to the cold tactical data on the screen. He studied the point you marked, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"The docks," Riki murmured, his voice low. "Thatâs likely where he's keeping my sister. Or at least the records of where they moved her." He looked up, his face only inches from yours. "You're useful, princess."
"I told you," you replied, looking right back at him with a smirk. "Lose the attitude, and we make a great team."
Jake let out a stifled snort from across the table, quickly coughing to cover it up when Riki shot him a warning glare.
"Alright," Riki said, straightening up and tapping the screen to lock in the coordinates. "We move tonight. You're coming with us."
"Wait, she's coming with us?" Sunghoon asked, his eyebrows snapping together as he looked up from the screen. "Riki, itâs a live-fire zone. If things go sidewaysâ"
"If things go sideways, she knows the layout better than any blueprint we have," Riki interrupted smoothly, his voice cutting off any further argument. He kept his eyes locked on you, analyzing your reaction. "Besides, she stays close to me. Sheâll be fine."
The casual way he said she stays close to me sent a strange, sudden jolt through your chest. You covered it quickly, crossing your arms and tilting your head. "Don't worry about me, Sunghoon. I can handle myself. Just make sure your boss here keeps up his end of the bargain."
Riki let out a low, dark chuckle, stepping closer until the heat radiating from him completely enveloped you. "I always keep my word, princess. Now, let's get you prepared."
He led you down a side corridor to a heavily secured armory. The walls were lined with tactical gear, matte-black weapons, and rows of sleek tech. Riki walked over to a rack, pulling down a lightweight, bulletproof tactical vest and a pair of dark cargo pants. He tossed them onto a bench next to you, along with a small, sleek Glock.
"Put these on," he ordered, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms.
You picked up the vest, inspecting it before looking back at him with a raised eyebrow. "Are you going to stand there and watch, or do you actually have some of those manners we talked about?"
A faint, amused smirk tugged at his lips, though he didn't move right away. He took a slow step backward into the hallway, his eyes dropping down your frame one last time before he pulled the door shut. "You have ten minutes. Don't make me come back in there."
When the door clicked shut, you quickly changed out of your oversized campus clothes and into the tactical gear. The vest fit snugly, making you feel instantly grounded, dangerous, and ready. You strapped the holster to your thigh, checking the weight of the firearm just like you'd seen your father's guards do a thousand times.
When you stepped out into the hallway, Riki was leaning against the opposite wall, tossing a pocket knife casually in one hand. He stopped when he saw you. His gaze swept over you, starting from your boots, up your tightly fitted gear, to the defiant expression on your face.
For a second, his composure faltered again, his eyes darkening with something intense and entirely unreadable.
"Not bad," Riki murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rough register as he straightened up and closed the distance between you. He reached out, his long fingers brushing against your collarbone as he adjusted the strap of your tactical vest, pulling it just a bit tighter. His breath was warm against your cheek. "You actually look like one of us now."
"I told you," you whispered, looking right into his sharp eyes, your heart hammering against your ribs from the proximity. "I'm full of surprises."
"Good," Riki said, his smirk returning as his hand lingered on your shoulder for a split second before dropping away. "Because tonight, we're going to need all of them. Let's go."
The heavy, suffocating silence returned, but this time it felt twice as thick. The hum of the SUVâs engine was the only thing anchoring you to reality as the city skyline faded into the dark, jagged outline of the docks.
You couldn't handle it. The quiet always let the ghosts in.
"There's only six of you?"
The sudden question cut through the dark interior like glass. In the rearview mirror, Jakeâs eyes closed tightly for a split second. Sunoo, who had been staring out the window, completely froze. Next to you, Riki tensed so violently his knuckles turned a stark, bloodless white against his weapon. He didn't look at you. He just stared out at the passing streetlights, his jaw tight enough to shatter.
"Yeah," Riki finally rasped. His voice sounded hollowed out, entirely stripped of the arrogant, dangerous confidence he'd carried all morning.
You hesitated, but the quiet was threatening to swallow you whole again. "I saw a picture in the foyer before we left. There were seven in it. Who's the seventh one?"
A sharp, ragged breath echoed from the front seat. Jakeâs grip on the steering wheel tightened until his hands shook.
"His name was Heeseung," Sunoo murmured, his voice cracking so badly he had to stop and swallow hard. He couldn't even bring himself to turn around. "He was our older brother. The one who actually looked out for us when everything else went to hell."
"Itâs been three months," Riki whispered, his voice dropping into a low, devastating register. He finally turned his head, and the sheer, raw agony in his eyes hit you like a physical blow. The cold mafia boss vanished; in his place was a boy bleeding out from a wound that wouldn't heal.
"Your dadâs men ambushed us," Riki said, his words coming out slow and painful. "We were cornered. I made a reckless call... I thought I could outsmart them. I got trapped in the crossfire. I was a second away from taking a bullet to the chest."
Riki stopped, taking a shaky, uneven breath as he looked down at his own hands.
"Heeseung didn't even hesitate," Riki continued, his voice trembling with a dark, bitter fury. "He threw himself in front of me. He took three rounds to the torso so I could keep breathing. He died in my arms on that concrete floor, bleeding out while your father's guys laughed and retreated with our shipment."
The car was dead silent now, save for the faint, stifled sound of Sunoo wiping his eyes in the front seat. Riki leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes as a single, bitter tear slipped down his cheek, though his expression remained hard as stone.
"For ninety days, Iâve had to look in the mirror and know that the only reason Iâm alive is because heâs in the ground," Riki whispered, opening his eyes to lock them onto yours, burning with a mix of profound grief and terrifying resolve. "Your father didn't just kill our leader. He made me live with the guilt of his death. Tonight, Iâm giving that pain back to him."
"Is that why you're the leader now?"
Riki didn't answer immediately. He just stared out the window, the passing streetlights casting long, sharp shadows across his face. The silence in the car grew so heavy you could almost hear the weight of the unspoken words pressing down on everyone.
"I didn't want it," Riki said finally, his voice barely louder than the hum of the tires against the asphalt. He didn't look at you, but his jaw was wound so tight the muscle was practically twitching. "None of us wanted this. But when Heeseung died... everything fell apart. The guys were bleeding, the business was compromised, and your father was already moving in to take the rest of our territory."
He slowly turned his head back to look at you. The grief in his eyes hadn't disappeared, but a terrifying, icy layer of resolve had hardened over it.
"Heeseung spent his whole life protecting us," Riki whispered, leaning slightly closer so his words were meant for your ears alone. "When he died saving me, he left me with his jacket, his gun, and his crew. If I didn't step up, if I didn't take the heat, his sacrifice would have been for nothing. I became the leader because Iâm the one who owes him a life."
From the front seat, Jake let out a low, rough breath. "Heâs doing a good job," Jake muttered, his eyes fixed firmly on the dark road ahead. "Heeseung would be proud of him. We all are."
Riki swallowed hard, looking away from you and fixing his gaze back on his weapon. He didn't acknowledge Jake's words, but you could see the slight rise and fall of his shoulders as he took a stabilizing breath.
"We're five minutes out," Riki announced, his voice instantly snapping back into that cold, authoritative tone, burying the pain back down where it belonged. He looked at you one last time, his eyes searching yours. "When we hit those docks, you stay behind me. No exceptions. We're finishing this tonight."
You nodded silently, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back the prickle of tears threatening to blur your vision. You kept your eyes fixed on the dark floor of the SUV, wrapping Riki's heavy leather jacket a little tighter around yourself.
The name Heeseung was now permanently etched into your mind. He wasn't just a face in a photo anymore; he was a brother, a protector, a young man who had so much to live for, whose life was violently stolen away because of your fatherâs bottomless selfishness and greed. The weight of it settled heavily in your chest, a crushing mix of second-hand grief and a fierce, burning anger. Your father hadn't just destroyed your familyâhe was actively destroying others.
"Hey," a low voice murmured, breaking you out of your thoughts.
You looked up to find Riki watching you. The cold, unyielding mask of a mafia leader was still firmly in place, but as his eyes scanned your face, taking in the slight shine of tears you were desperately trying to hide, his expression softened just a fraction. He didn't say anything comfortingâthat wasn't who he wasâbut he reached over, his large, warm hand briefly gripping your shoulder, a grounding weight that told you he understood.
"Get ready," Riki said, his grip tightening for a split second before he pulled his hand away and racked the slide of his weapon with a sharp, lethal clack.
The SUV slowed to a crawl, the headlights cutting out as Jake pulled the vehicle into the deep, pitch-black shadows of an abandoned warehouse overlooking the east side docks. Outside, the fog was rolling in thick off the water, obscuring the towering shipping containers ahead.
"We're on site," Jake whispered, switching the comms on. "No mistakes tonight, boys."
The heavy iron doors of the SUV slid open with a faint, metallic hiss, and the freezing, salt-laced air of the docks immediately rushed in to fill the cabin. The fog was dense, rolling off the black water like smoke, swallowing the base of the towering shipping containers.
You followed Rikiâs shadow. Every step felt heavy, the lightweight tactical vest pressing against your chest, matching the frantic, irregular rhythm of your heart. Ahead of you, the boys moved like ghosts. Sunghoon and Jake split off to the left, melting into the darkness of the crane towers, while Sunoo stayed low, checking the perimeter with his weapon drawn.
Riki didn't look back, but he kept his pace deliberately measured, ensuring you were right behind him as you navigated the maze of rusted metal and wooden crates.
As you neared Pier 4, the muffled sound of voices cut through the lapping of the waves. Riki held up a hand, and you instantly pressed your back against a cold shipping container, holding your breath.
Through the gap between two crates, the scene unfolded.
Under the harsh, flickering glare of a single halogen work light stood your father. He looked exactly as he always didâimmaculate, wearing an expensive wool coat that entirely masked the monster underneath, a half-burned cigar clipped between his fingers. He was looking down at a map laid out on a wooden crate, flanked by six heavily armed guards.
And tied to a rusted iron pipe just a few feet away was a young girl. She couldn't have been older than sixteen, her face bruised, her dark hair matted with sweat. Riki's sister.
"We move the remaining cargo to the northern border by midnight," your fatherâs voice rang out, cold, clinical, and completely devoid of humanity. "And as for the boy, Riki... let him keep playing his little games. Once we have the docks fully locked down, Iâm going to bleed his remaining crew dry. I want him to watch every single one of his pathetic friends die before I put a bullet in his head, just like I did with that idiot Heeseung."
Next to you, Riki went entirely rigid. A low, terrifying soundâhalfway between a gasp and a growlâescaped his throat. The mention of Heeseungâs name was the final spark in a powder keg that had been building for three months.
"Now," Riki hissed into his comms.
The silence of the night was instantly shattered by a deafening, high-caliber crack. One of your fatherâs guards dropped instantly, a clean shot from Sunghoonâs sniper rifle taking him out.
"Ambush!" someone screamed.
Then, hell broke loose.
Gunfire erupted from all sides, the muzzle flashes illuminating the thick fog in jagged, violent bursts of orange light. The sound was overwhelmingâthe rhythmic thud-thud-thud of automatic weapons, the shattering of glass, the metallic ping of stray bullets ricocheting off the shipping containers.
Riki moved with a lethal, terrifying grace. He stepped out of cover, his weapon raised, firing with absolute, unyielding precision. Two guards rushed toward him; Riki dropped the first with a shot to the chest, dodging behind a stack of pallets as the second guardâs bullets tore through the wood, sending splinters flying into the air. Sunoo flanked from the right, taking the second guard down, but the air was thick with the smell of copper and sulfur.
It was messy. It was bloody. You watched as one of your father's men caught Jake in the shoulder; Jake stumbled back, swearing loudly as he fired back blindly, painting the concrete with dark crimson.
Your father didn't panic. He was a coward who let others die for him, and the moment the chaos started, he drew a heavy chrome revolver from his coat and grabbed Rikiâs sister by the hair, using her as a human shield as he began backing away toward the edge of the pier.
"Riki!" you shouted over the deafening noise, pointing toward the water.
Rikiâs eyes snapped to his sister. Blinded by fury and desperation, he broke cover, sprinting across the open concrete toward your father.
"Stop right there, you little bastard!" your father roared. With a brutal shove, he threw Rikiâs sister onto the wet wood of the dock, freeing up his hand.
Riki raised his gun, but a sudden burst of gunfire from a hidden guard clipped his leg. Riki grunted, collapsing to one knee, his weapon slipping from his grip and clattering across the concrete, sliding just out of reach.
Your father smiled. It was that same, patronizing, hollow smile he used to give you across the dinner table before telling you everything was fine. He stepped forward, raising the chrome revolver, lining the barrel up directly between Rikiâs eyes.
"You should have stayed in the dirt with your brother," your father sneered, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl. You looked at Riki, pinned to the ground, his eyes wide as he stared death in the faceâthe exact same death Heeseung had taken for him three months ago. You saw the exhaustion in Riki's shoulders, the phantom weight of the brother he couldn't save, the sheer, devastating unfairness of a world where monsters always won.
And suddenly, the fear inside you burned away, leaving nothing but a vast, icy void.
You didn't think. You didn't hesitate. You stepped out into the open, raising the sleek black Glock with both hands, your arms locked tight, just like you'd practiced in the mirror hours before.
The image of your mother's pale, lifeless face in the casket flashed before your eyes. The sound of Sunooâs voice cracking when he spoke about Heeseung echoed in your ears. All the stolen futures, all the bleeding hearts, all the greedâit all condensed into the heavy iron weight of the trigger beneath your index finger.
"Hey!" you screamed, your voice tearing through the foggy night.
Your fatherâs head snapped toward you, his eyes widening in complete, genuine shock as he recognized his own daughter standing in tactical gear, a gun pointed directly at him. "What are youâ"
A tear slipped down your cheek, hot and bitter, cutting through the dirt on your face.
This is for Mom, your mind whispered. This is for Heeseung.
You pulled the trigger.
A single, deafening bang echoed off the water.
The recoil shuddered up your arms, but your grip never wavered. The bullet tore through the air, clean and true, striking your father squarely in the center of his forehead.
His eyes rolled back, the shock freezing on his face forever. The chrome revolver slipped from his lifeless fingers, clattering loudly against the wood before he collapsed backward, tumbling over the edge of the pier and disappearing into the dark, icy depths of the black water with a heavy splash.
The silence that followed was absolute.
The remaining guards, seeing their leader dead, immediately threw down their weapons or fled into the dark. The gunfire died out, leaving only the sound of the lapping waves and the heavy, ragged breathing of the boys.
Your arms slowly dropped to your sides. The gun felt incredibly heavy now. The tears were free-flowing, hot and silent, washing over your face as the reality of what you had just done settled into your bones. You had killed the monster. But the ghosts were still there.
A pair of boots crunched on the gravel, approaching you slowly.
You didn't look up until a warm, trembling hand gently gripped your wrist, pulling your fingers away from the weapon. Riki stood in front of you, limping slightly, his face pale and smeared with soot. He didn't look at the water where your father had fallen. He just looked at you.
For the first time since you met him, the dangerous mafia leader completely vanished. His dark eyes were wide, soft, and filled with a profound, overwhelming reverence. He looked at you not as a hostage, not as an ally, but as the person who had just pulled him back from the edge of the grave.
Without a word, Riki reached out, his long arms wrapping firmly around your shoulders. He pulled you into his chest, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his grip so tight it almost hurt. You could feel the rapid, violent pounding of his heart against your ribs.
Wrapped in his warmth, surrounded by the remnants of the smoke and the sea, you finally let out a shaky, broken sob, your fingers tightly gripping the back of his tactical vest as you wept for the past, for the dead, and for the bloody, uncertain future you had just chosen.
The sharp, frantic sound of rubber soles slapping against wet wood suddenly cut through your tears.
"Riki!"
The small, broken voice fractured the heavy silence of the pier. Riki went rigid against you for a fraction of a second before his arms loosened, and he turned around just in time for a small whirlwind to throw itself directly into his torso.
His little sister sobbed violently, her face burying into his tactical vest, her small hands bunching into the fabric as if she were trying to crawl inside his skin just to feel safe again. Riki dropped heavily to his knees, his injured leg giving out entirely, but he didn't seem to care. He wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to his chest, his head dropping onto her shoulder as a ragged, trembling breath escaped his lips.
"I've got you," Riki choked out, his voice completely cracking, stripped of every ounce of the fierce leader he had been pretending to be. "I've got you, Sora. You're okay. You're safe."
You stood frozen a step back, the smoking Glock still heavy in your hand, watching the two of them. The fog swirled around their small, huddled figures on the concrete. For three months, this boy had carried the crushing guilt of Heeseung's death, surviving on nothing but the desperate, burning need to ensure he didn't lose his sister too. And now, the war was over.
Sunoo and Sunghoon limped over, Jake leaning heavily on Sunghoonâs good shoulder as they approached. None of them looked at the dark water where your father had vanished. Instead, their eyes drifted from the reunited siblings straight to you.
There was no judgment in their stares. No fear. Just a deep, silent understanding.
Soraâs quiet sobs began to quiet down, her small frame still shaking against Riki. Slowly, Riki lifted his head. His eyes, rimmed with red and fierce with an entirely new kind of emotion, found yours through the mist.
He didn't say thank you. He didn't have to. The profound, unyielding look in his eyes told you everything. He reached out one hand, keeping his sister securely tucked against his side with the other, and offered his palm to you once again.
Not as a captor. Not just as an ally. But as family.
The reality of what you had just done crashed over you like a tidal wave, heavy and suffocating. The gun slipped from your numb fingers, clattering loudly against the concrete, but the phantom weight of the trigger pull still burned in your palms.
"I-I killed him," you sobbed out, your voice small, trembling, and utterly broken. "I killed my dad."
The word dad tasted bitter, like poison on your tongue, but the biological truth of it anchored the horror deep in your chest. No matter what a monster he was, you had just taken a life. You had crossed a line you could never step back over.
Rikiâs eyes snapped up from his sister. Seeing the sheer panic taking over your face, he didn't hesitate. He gave Sora a soft, reassuring squeeze, whispering, "Stay with Sunoo for a second, okay?"
Sora nodded quickly, wiping her eyes as Sunoo stepped forward, gently pulling her into a protective embrace.
Riki pushed himself up from the ground, ignoring the sharp flare of pain in his injured leg, and closed the distance between you in two strides. He didn't let you spiral. Before you could look down at your hands, his large, warm palms cupped your face, forcing you to look up at him. His thumbs swept across your cheekbones, brushing away the hot, fast-falling tears.
"Look at me," Riki commanded, his voice raw but fiercely steady, cutting through the ringing in your ears. "Look at me, princess."
You blinked through the blur, locking onto his intense, dark eyes.
"You didn't just kill a father," Riki said, his words low and heavy with absolute conviction. "You ended a monster. You saved my sister. You saved me. He was going to put a bullet in my head, and you stopped him." He leaned down slightly, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath warm against your cold skin. "He took your mother, and he took Heeseung. Tonight, you took back your freedom."
Behind him, Jay stepped closer, his hand gripping his bleeding shoulder but his expression softer than you'd ever seen it. "He's right," Jay muttered quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "You did what had to be done. You're one of us now. We don't leave our own behind."
Riki slid his hands down from your face, wrapping his arms securely around your waist and pulling you tight against his chest again, shielding you from the blood-soaked pier and the dark, empty water.
"It's over," Riki whispered into your hair, his grip unyielding, offering you the one thing your father never could: a safe place to fall apart. "I've got you. We've got you. Let's go home."
The silence of the estate was different now. It wasn't the dangerous, tense quiet of a hostage situation, nor was it the heavy, mourning silence that had followed Heeseungâs death. It was a gentle, protective quiet, wrapping around the upstairs bedroom they had given you.
True to his word, Riki had told the boys to fix up the space. They had brought in plush blankets, warm lighting, and things in your favorite colors, trying to create a sanctuary. But no amount of soft fabric could shield you from what was happening inside your own mind.
You didn't leave the room for three days.
Every time you closed your eyes, you were back on that wet, foggy pier. You heard the deafening crack of the Glock echoing off the water. You felt the sharp, violent recoil shuddering up your arms. But worst of all, you kept seeing the life violently draining from your father's eyesâthe exact moment his pupils dilated, his arrogant smirk froze, and his body tumbled backward into the pitch-black abyss.
It was destroying you. You couldn't eat. You barely slept, waking up drenched in cold sweat, the phantom smell of gunpowder clogging your throat. You had wanted revenge, you had wanted justice for your mother, but no one prepares you for the hollow, rotting guilt that comes with actually pulling the trigger.
On the fourth evening, a soft, hesitant knock sounded at your door.
Before you could answer, the door creaked open a few inches. Riki stood in the hallway, carrying a tray with a bowl of warm soup and a glass of water. His leg was heavily bandaged under his dark sweatpants, making him lean slightly against the doorframe.
He didn't have his usual cold mask on. He looked tired, his dark hair messy, his eyes searching yours with a quiet, profound worry.
"I brought you something to eat," he said softly, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room. He stepped inside, setting the tray down on the nightstand before turning to look at you, curled tightly under the blankets. He didn't force you to sit up. Instead, he carefully sat on the very edge of the mattress, leaving a respectful distance between you.
He looked down at your pale face, taking in the dark circles under your eyes.
"The first time is the hardest," Riki murmured, his voice laced with a raw, heavy understanding. He stared at his own hands, his knuckles still scraped from the fight. "The mind doesn't know how to process taking a life, even when it's a monster who deserved it. I still see the face of the first man I killed. He haunts me every time it gets dark."
He looked back up, his intense gaze locking onto yours, filled with a gentle sincerity you hadn't known he was capable of.
"But you aren't alone in the dark anymore," he whispered, reaching out to gently trace the edge of the blanket near your shoulder. "You carried a heavy burden for your mom, and you carried one for Heeseung. Let us help you carry this one."
A broken, watery smile finally cracked through your exhaustion, the faint glimmer of your old spirit cutting through the heavy grief in the room.
"See," you whispered, your voice raspy from days of silence and crying. "When you fix your attitude, you actually have potential."
Riki froze for a fraction of a second, completely caught off guard. Then, the tense line of his shoulders dropped, and a low, genuine chuckle escaped his lipsâthe first real laugh youâd heard from him since you were brought here. It was a beautiful, rough sound that seemed to chase away some of the oppressive shadows clinging to the corners of the bedroom.
"Even when you're falling apart, you're still a brat," he murmured, a fond, amused glint returning to his dark eyes.
He reached over and grabbed the glass of water from the tray, handing it to you. "Drink. You look like a ghost, princess. And I didn't save you from your father just to let you starve to death in my house."
You sat up slowly, wrapping the plush blanket around your shoulders like a shield as you took the glass. The water cooled your parched throat, grounding you in the present moment. The memory of the pier was still there, a heavy ache in your chest, but looking at Riki sitting on the edge of your bed, the crushing weight of the guilt didn't feel entirely unbearable anymore.
"The guys are worried about you," Riki said softly, watching you pull the bowl of soup closer. "Sunoo tried to bake something yesterday to cheer you up. It burnt, and Sunghoon almost threw him out the window, but... the thought was there."
You let out a small, breathless laugh, the image easing the tight knot in your stomach.
you watched as he got up to leave, you took his wrist to stop him "thank you" you muttered "I wouldn't have been able to do this for my mom if it weren't for you"
Riki stopped in his tracks, his back pausing for a beat before he slowly turned around. Your fingers were still wrapped around his wrist, feeling the steady, rhythmic pulse beneath his skin.
He looked down at your hand, then up to your eyes. The moonlight filtered through the window, catching the soft, sincere curve of your lips. The fierce, untouchable mafia leader was entirely gone, replaced by a young man who looked deeply moved by your words.
He didn't pull away. Instead, he turned his hand over, sliding his long fingers between yours to give your hand a firm, grounding squeeze.
"You did the hard part," Riki murmured, his voice dropping into that low, velvet register that always made your heart skip a beat. "We just gave you the map. You had the courage to finish it."
He stepped a fraction closer to the bed, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that burned away the remaining chills in the room.
"Your mother got her justice tonight," he whispered, his thumb gently tracing the back of your hand. "And Heeseung got his peace. Don't ever forget that."
He gave your hand one last, lingering squeeze before gently letting go. He walked toward the door, but just before stepping out into the hallway, he paused, looking back over his shoulder with a faint, genuine smileâthe kind he usually hid from the world.
"Eat the soup before it gets cold, princess," he said softly.
With a quiet click, the door shut, leaving you alone in the warm room. But for the first time in days, the silence didn't feel suffocating. The ghosts of the pier were still there, but as you took a warm spoonful of soup, you knew you had a pack of wolves downstairs ready to help you fight them off.
The cool water of the pool lapped gently against your ankles, a soothing contrast to the warm summer air. You leaned back on your hands, staring up at the sprawling canopy of stars blanketing the night sky. For the first time in what felt like forever, the flashing imagery of the pier was quieted, replaced by the vast, peaceful emptiness of the universe.
You were so lost in the silver light that you didn't even hear the soft padding of footsteps across the concrete.
"The stars are pretty today, aren't they?"
You blinked, snapping out of your daze to find Sora sitting right next to you on the edge of the pool. Her small legs dangled over the water, splashing slightly. She looked so much smaller out here, stripped of the terrifying shadows of the docks, wearing an oversized hoodie that probably belonged to Riki.
Before you could answer, she reached over and slid her small hand into yours, squeezing it tight. She didn't look at you right away; she just kept her eyes fixed on the sky, a soft, resilient smile on her face.
"You saved my brother's life," she said softly, her voice carrying a weight that no sixteen-year-old should ever have to understand. "Heck, you saved mine. Thank you."
The sincerity in her voice caught in your throat. You looked down at your intertwined hands. You had spent the last few days drowning in the guilt of what you had taken, but looking at Soraâwhole, safe, and breathing right next to youâthe reality of what you had saved finally began to break through the armor of your grief.
"You don't have to thank me, Sora," you murmured, your voice thick with a sudden rush of emotion. You squeezed her hand back. "I... I just did what I had to do."
"No, you did what nobody else could," she corrected gently, finally turning her head to look at you. Her eyes looked exactly like Riki's, but without the sharp, dangerous edge. They were just warm. "Riki pretends heâs made of stone because he thinks he has to be Heeseung now. But heâs not. He was going to let himself die on that pier if it meant keeping me safe. If it weren't for you, Iâd be alone."
She leaned her head against your shoulder, a gesture of pure, unprompted trust that made your heart swell.
"You gave me my brother back," Sora whispered against your sleeve. "And you gave this house a chance to actually be a home again. I think... I think Heeseung sent you to us."
A single, quiet tear slipped down your cheek, but this time, it didn't feel bitter. As the two of you sat there with your feet in the water under the watch of a thousand stars, the cold, hollow void inside you finally started to fill with something new: a sense of belonging.
"My brother's really nice, actually," she continued, her voice drifting like the ripples in the water beneath your feet. "He just finds it difficult to love someone, because being in such a dangerous world means you can't trust anyone."
She pulled her head back from your shoulder, turning to look at you fully. The silver starlight caught the genuine, knowing look in her eyesâan expression that seemed far too wise for her age.
"You're the first girl I've seen him go soft for," Sora said, her smile widening just a fraction, a teasing but incredibly sweet edge to her tone. "And in such a short time, too."
A sudden, intense warmth flooded your cheeks, completely unrelated to the summer air. You looked away, staring down at where your feet disturbed the reflection of the stars in the pool. Go soft? Riki? The boy who had threatened you in an alley, who masked his grief in cold authority, who commanded a room with a single glance?
But then you remembered the way he had adjusted your tactical vest, the lingering touch of his hand on your shoulder, and the raw, unyielding way he had held your face in his hands just days ago, forcing the panic out of your mind.
"I don't know about that," you managed to mutter, a small, breathless laugh escaping your lips. "He still calls me a brat."
"Because he doesn't know what else to do with himself," Sora countered instantly with a soft giggle. She squeezed your hand one last time before pulling her feet out of the water, shaking the droplets off. "Heâs been a shield for everyone else for three months. With you... I think he finally feels like he can just be Riki."
She stood up, smoothing down her oversized hoodie. "Don't stay out here too long, okay? The boys are making a terrible mess of dinner downstairs, and Rikiâs already yelled at Sunghoon twice for burning the garlic bread."
With a playful wave, she padded back across the concrete, leaving you alone with the stars once more. You looked back up at the sky, your fingers touching your lips where a real, genuine smile was finally forming. The guilt of the past few days hadn't vanished completely, but for the first time, the future ahead of you didn't look dark. It looked bright, fierce, and undeniably intertwined with a certain young leader who was waiting for you downstairs.
The heavy glass door slid shut behind you, cutting off the cool night air and plunging you instantly into a chaotic wave of warmth, laughter, and the rich scent of burning garlic.
It was exactly the disaster Sora had promised.
Over by the island, Jungwon and Jay were completely covered in white dust, playfully tossing fistfuls of flour at each other while laughing so hard Jungwon was practically doubled over. Sunoo was aggressively tapping his phone screen, muttering about recipes, while Jake stood entirely frozen in the center of the kitchen, looking like a confused golden retriever caught in a crossfire. Near the oven, Sunghoon was gesturing wildly with a spatula, passionately mansplaining to Riki that he was following the instructions perfectlyâdespite the faint trail of black smoke curling out of the toaster oven.
But the moment your feet crossed the threshold, the noise faded into a dull, distant hum.
The frantic clatter of pans and the boys' shouting seemed to drift away as your eyes locked onto Riki. It felt as if a sudden, heavy weight had shifted the room, slowing everything down into a breathtaking, cinematic crawl.
You watched him. He had his dark sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing the sharp lines of his forearms. A faint smudge of flour was dusted across his jawline, and his brow was furrowed in sheer, exasperated stress as he rubbed the bridge of his nose at Sunghoon's antics. He looked entirely human. Not the untouchable mob boss who ruled the cityâs underground, and not the grieving boy bleeding out on a foggy pier. Just Riki.
The overhead kitchen lights caught the sharp angles of his face, casting a soft, golden glow around him. In that split second, as you watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest, a strange, profound quiet settled over your entire soul. The violent, crashing images of your father, the blood, and the smoking gun that had been torturing your mind for days suddenly withered away into nothingness.
Maybe it was love. Maybe it was the sudden, shattering realization of what you had saved. Or maybe it was just the simple fact that in a world full of monsters and ghosts, he was the only thing that made you feel alive. Whatever it was, the truth struck you with the force of a physical blow: you didn't ever want to leave his side.
As if feeling the weight of your gaze, Riki abruptly stopped listening to Sunghoon. His head turned, his dark, intense eyes cutting through the chaotic kitchen until they landed squarely on you standing by the door.
The exasperated, stressed look on his face instantly vanished. The corners of his lips twitched upward into that quiet, private smirk meant only for you, and the intense warmth in his eyes made your heart do a violent, erratic flip.
"Look who finally decided to join the living," Riki murmured, his voice cutting through the noise of the room effortlessly as he leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. "Come here, princess. Help me before Sunghoon burns the entire estate down."
That single word hung in the air between you, slicing right through the kitchen's chaotic noise. Your heart skipped a violent, erratic beat, a sudden jolt of electricity waking up your chest for the first time all day.
You tried to keep your face completely neutral, but the sudden heat rushing to your cheeks gave you away instantly.
"I'm not a princess," you muttered, though your voice lacked any real bite as you finally crossed the room, stepping into the warm light of the kitchen.
"Could've fooled me," Riki teased, his voice dropping into a lower, private register as you came to a stop beside him. He didn't move away. In fact, he leaned just a fraction closer, his shoulder brushing against yoursâa small, grounding touch that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. "You spent four days hiding out upstairs like royalty."
"Hey! Don't let her distract you, Riki!" Sunghoon interrupted, completely oblivious to the shift in the air as he aggressively waved his spatula again. "I am telling you, the garlic bread is supposed to have a rustic char. It's French."
"It's burnt, Sunghoon," Riki sighed, though he didn't take his eyes off you. The sharp, guarded look he usually wore was completely gone, replaced by a soft, relaxed ease that made him look younger, happier.
Jungwon suddenly let out a loud laugh as a stray handful of flour from Jay caught Jake square in the face. Jake blinked through the white dust, looking completely betrayed, which only made Sunoo join in on the giggling.
Standing there in the middle of the mess, surrounded by the loud, ridiculous warmth of the boys, you felt the last lingering chill of the docks finally melt away. You glanced up at Riki, catching the way his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners as he watched his friends.
You didn't know what the future held, or how long it would take for the nightmares to stop completely. But looking at him, you knew you were exactly where you belonged.
The next few months were a blur of golden light and quiet healing. The boys took you far away from the city, traveling down the coastline to an isolated villa where the air smelled of salt and pine, not smoke and gunpowder. There were long, lazy afternoons by the water, midnight runs for junk food with Jake and Sunoo, and quiet mornings on the porch where Jungwon and Jay would argue over who made the better coffee.
For the first time in your life, you breathed. And through it all, there was Riki.
He was always just thereâa steady, silent shadow at your perimeter. It was the way heâd silently slide his jacket over your shoulders when the ocean breeze picked up, or how his hand would instinctively find the small of your back to guide you through crowded markets. You didn't talk about the pier. You didn't have to. The way his dark eyes followed you around every room whispered everything his lips wouldn't. By the time the autumn leaves started to fall, you didnât have to guess anymore: you were deeply, irrevocably in love with him.
But peace in their world is always borrowed time.
Eventually, the burner phones started ringing again. The calm, domestic bubble shattered the morning Jay walked into the kitchen, his expression deadpan as he dropped a thick manila folder onto the table. The syndicate your father had left behind was fracturing, and new enemies were rising to claim the vacuum. The missions were starting up again.
The atmosphere in the estate shifted overnight. The laughter died down, replaced by the clean, rhythmic sound of weapons being stripped and reassembled.
Watching Riki slide back into his tailored black suits and strap a holster to his shoulder broke something inside you. The soft, relaxed boy who had laughed with you under the stars was locked away again, replaced by the cold, unyielding leader who had to carry the lives of six people on his back.
One evening, you found him in the study, illuminated only by the green glow of a desk lamp as he went over blueprints for a high-risk warehouse raid scheduled for the morning.
The urge to tell him rose up in your throat so violently it almost choked you. You wanted to cross the room, wrap your arms around his neck, and bury your face in his chest. You wanted to tell him that you loved him, that he didn't have to be stone, that you needed him to come back alive because your heart was entirely in his hands.
But you froze at the edge of the desk.
The brutal reality of their world crashed back over you. In a life where a single second of distraction meant a bullet to the brain, love wasn't a sanctuaryâit was a liability. If you told him now, would he hesitate on the battlefield? Would he make a reckless call to protect you instead of his crew, just like he had three months ago before Heeseung saved him?
"You're staring," Riki murmured, not lifting his eyes from the map. He circled a perimeter point with a red marker, his jaw tight. "If you're here to tell me I'm stressing out, save your breath, princess."
You forced a small, hollow laugh, swallowing down the confession that tasted like lead in your mouth.
"Just making sure you aren't planning on burning anything down like Sunghoon's garlic bread," you whispered, keeping your voice light despite the ache in your chest.
Riki paused, his pen hovering over the paper. He slowly raised his head, his dark, piercing eyes locking onto yours. For a fleeting second, the cold mask cracked, and you saw the profound, exhausted longing hiding underneath. He looked like he wanted to say somethingâlike he could read the unspoken words hanging heavily in the space between you.
But he just shook his head, a ghost of a smirk appearing on his face. "Go to sleep. Itâs going to be a long night."
"how am i supposed to sleep if you're on my mind all the time?" you say suddenly, making him freeze
The words left your lips before your brain could stop them. They hung in the heavy, shadowed air of the study, loud and undeniable.
Riki froze. The red marker in his hand stopped a millimeter above the blueprint, his entire body locking up as if he had just been hit by a sniperâs laser. The quiet in the room became so absolute you could hear the frantic, uneven thud of your own pulse.
For three long seconds, he didn't move. He didn't breathe.
Then, slowly, he set the marker down. He didn't look up at you right away. He kept his eyes on the map, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a deep, shaky breath that seemed to tear through his chest. When he finally lifted his head, the cold, calculating mafia leader was completely shattered. His dark eyes were wide, burning with a mixture of raw shock, intense longing, and a profound, terrifying vulnerability.
"What did you just say?" he whispered, his voice dangerously low, rough around the edges.
You swallowed hard, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the edge of the doorframe. The fear of his world was still screaming at you to run, to take it back, to laugh it off as a joke. But looking at the sheer intensity in his gaze, you knew you couldn't lie to him anymore. Not after everything.
"You heard me," you said, your voice trembling but resolute. You stepped back into the room, closing the door behind you with a soft, definitive click. "You tell me to go to sleep like it's that easy. But every time I close my eyes, I'm worried about tomorrow. I'm worried about you. How am I supposed to sleep when you're all I think about, Riki?"
Riki pushed himself up from the desk so fast his chair rolled backward, slamming against the bookshelf. In three long, predatory strides, he crossed the room, completely erasing the distance between you.
Before you could even gasp, his large, warm hands clamped onto your waist, his grip fierce and desperate as he pressed you back against the closed door. He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his breath hot and ragged against your lips.
"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" Riki growled softly, his voice thick with a dark, suffocating emotion. His dark eyes searched yours, frantic and wild. "I have spent months trying to keep my distance. I have spent every single night reminding myself that I'm dangerous, that my life is a curse, and that the best thing I can do for you is keep you out of it."
He leaned closer, his forehead dropping heavily against yours, his grip on your waist tightening until it almost hurtâbut you didn't care. You could feel the violent, chaotic hammering of his heart against your chest.
"But I can't do it anymore," he whispered, a broken, breathless confession spilling into the space between your lips. "You think you're the only one? I sit at that desk for hours staring at these maps, and all I see is your face. I go into these fights, and the only target I care about is making it back to this house alive because you're in it."
He pulled back just enough to look you dead in the eye, his thumbs digging into your hips with an overwhelming, possessive reverence.
"If you tell me this now," Riki whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifyingly beautiful certainty, "I am never letting you go. Dangerous or not, you're mine. Do you understand?"
"I've been yours since I decided to take my dad's life just to save yours," you whisper.
The words leave your lips in a breathless rush, and for a fraction of a second, the entire universe seems to grind to a halt. Riki goes utterly rigid. The cold, calculating composure he wears like armor shatters into pieces, leaving his dark eyes wide, frantic, and completely undone. The sheer weight of what youâve confessedâthe raw, bleeding truth of itâhangs heavily in the space between you.
Then, a low, rough growl escapes his throat, and the fuse is lit.
Riki doesnât hesitate. He closes the final fraction of an inch between you, his large hands clamping onto your waist with a fierce, possessive grip. Before you can even gasp, he lifts you effortlessly, pressing your back firmly against the heavy wood of the study door. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips to stay anchored, the sudden friction sending a sharp jolt of electricity straight down your spine.
"You have no idea what you do to me," he mutters, his voice a gravelly, breathless whisper against your skin.
His lips travel up your jawline, trailing a path of pure fire until they find yours. This time, the kiss isn't just a promiseâitâs an all-consuming demand. It is deep, heavy, and thick with months of starved, suffocating desire. His tongue parts your lips with a slow, agonizing precision, tasting you completely, destroying any remaining thoughts of the dangerous world outside this room.
You gasp into his mouth, your fingers tangling desperately in his dark hair, pulling him closer until there isn't a single millimeter of air left between your chests. You can feel the hard, rigid muscles of his torso pressing against you, his intense heat seeping right through your clothes.
Riki groans, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as he slides one hand down your thigh. His long, warm fingers grip your skin, shifting you slightly higher against the door, anchoring you to him. Every touch is deliberate, heavy with a raw, unspoken hunger that makes your head spin. He kisses you harder, as if heâs trying to pour his entire soul into you, replacing every nightmare you've ever had with the feeling of his mouth on yours.
Slowly, without breaking the kiss, his hand migrates from your thigh up to the hem of your shirt, his calloused palms slipping underneath to find your bare skin. The contrast of his burning, rough hands against your soft waist makes your back arch against the door, a quiet whimpering sigh escaping your throat. He drinks the sound in greedily, his thumb tracing the curve of your ribs, memorizing the frantic, erratic beat of your heart beneath his palm.
He pulls back just an inch, his lips swollen and his breath coming in ragged hitches against yours. His dark eyes sweep over your flushed face, his gaze dripping with a fierce, heavy intensity. "I'm going to make sure you forget every single thing in this world but me."
He doesn't wait for your answer. He eases you down just enough to let your feet touch the floor, but before you can lose the warmth of his body, he takes your hand, his fingers locking tightly with yours. He guides you out of the shadows of the study and toward his bedroom, his gaze never leaving yours, promising a night where the only thing that matters is the two of you.
The heavy door to his bedroom clicks shut, and the rest of the world instantly ceases to exist.
Riki doesnât waste another second. He presses you back against the wood, his body crowding over yours with a desperate, heavy heat that leaves you completely breathless. The moonlight filters through the sheer curtains, painting the room in silver shadows and illuminating the raw, unbridled desire burning in his eyes.
"You're mine," he growls softly against your lips, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that shudders straight through you. "Say it."
"I'm yours," you breathe out, the confession melting into a gasp as his mouth comes down on yours again.
This time, the kiss is intoxicatingly deep, thick with a possessive rhythm that makes your knees go weak. His hands are everywhereâsliding up your waist, tangling into your hair, gripping your hips to pull you impossibly closer until you can feel the hard, unyielding line of his thighs pressing against yours. The heat between you builds rapidly, heavy and undeniable.
Slowly, his calloused hands find the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath the fabric to map the bare skin of your waist. You shiver as his rough palms slide upward, his thumbs tracing the curve of your ribs and brushing against the soft skin just beneath your bra. A soft, needy whimper escapes your throat, and Riki groans into your mouth at the sound, the last vestige of his restraint snapping.
He breaks the kiss, his breath ragged and hot as his lips trail down your jawline, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He sucks gently at the sensitive skin just above your collarbone, marking you, making you arch into him as your fingers grip the fabric of his shirt to stay grounded.
"Riki..." your voice is a breathless plea, your head tilting back against the door as his hands slide lower, pulling your hips flush against his.
He responds by hooking his hands under the back of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. You wrap your legs tightly around his waist, anchoring yourself to his heat as he carries you across the room, never breaking the searing contact of his lips against your skin. When your back hits the plush mattress, he follows you down, his heavy frame pinning you into the soft sheets, shadowing you completely.
Hovering over you, Riki slides his hands to the hem of your shirt again, pulling it up and over your head in one fluid motion, leaving you in just your underwear beneath his dark, burning gaze. His eyes darken significantly as he takes you in, his chest rising and falling heavily.
He reaches down, his fingers unbuttoning his own shirt and discarding it, exposing the lean, muscled lines of his torso. When he settles back down between your thighs, the friction of his bare skin against yours sends a violent rush of heat straight to your core.
"Every nightmare you've had," Riki whispers, his voice dropping into a dangerously soft, velvety register as his fingers slide down to your hips, his thumbs dipping beneath the waistband of your underwear with a slow, agonizing promise. "Let me take them away. Tonight, there is only this."
He leans down, capturing your lips again, his body pressing heavily, intimately into yours as he drags you under a wave of pure, exquisite sensation that makes everything else fade to black.
The soft, rhythmic hiss of the shower running against the tile is what finally wakes you.
Sunlight filters through the heavy curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across the messy bedsheets. As you shift to sit up, a subtle, deep ache blossoms through your lower back and thighsâa sweet, heavy reminder of exactly how thoroughly Riki kept his promise last night. A small smile tugs at your lips as you pull his discarded button-down shirt off the floor, slipping it over your shoulders. It hangs halfway down your thighs, smelling purely of himârich cedar, rain, and a lingering trace of warmth.
Your bare feet pad quietly across the cold hardwood toward the bathroom. Steam pours out of the cracked door, carrying the scent of his cologne.
Pushing the door open, you find the glass shower stall completely fogged up. Through the blurred glass, you can see the sharp, muscular silhouette of his back under the cascading water. Without a word, you slide the glass door open, stepping inside the spacious stall. The sudden wave of hot water and steam envelops you instantly.
Riki turns around, pushing his wet, dark hair back from his forehead. Water droplets track down the sharp lines of his face, chest, and the lean muscles of his stomach.
The moment his dark eyes land on youâwearing nothing but his oversized shirt, your skin still flushed from sleepâthe usual cold, guarded wall he keeps up for the world vanishes completely. A soft, breathtakingly genuine smile breaks across his face, lighting up his eyes in a way very few people ever get to see.
"Look who finally woke up," he murmurs, his voice deep and raspy from the morning.
Before you can answer, he reaches out, his large, wet hand wrapping gently around your waist to pull you directly into his space under the warm spray. The soaked fabric of his shirt clings instantly to your skin, making you gasp softly against his chest. He cradles the back of your head, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your wet lips, tasting of clean water and mint.
"How are you feeling?" he whispers against your mouth, his thumb gently caressing your hip, his gaze dropping to notice the faint, dark marks he left on your skin the night before. "Did I break you, princess?"
"Shut up" you say, lifting your hand to smack him
Riki lets out a low, rough laugh, the sound vibrating deeply against your chest as he catches your wrist mid-air. He doesn't pull away; instead, he wraps his long fingers gently around your hand, bringing it up to his lips to press a soft kiss right against your knuckles.
"Make me," he murmurs, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners with a playful, dangerous spark that makes your stomach do a familiar, violent flip.
You don't give him the satisfaction of a witty comeback. Instead, you hook your fingers into his wet hair, pull his head down, and kiss him.
The sound of his teasing laugh is instantly swallowed into your mouth. Riki goes entirely rigid for a fraction of a second, caught completely off guard by your sudden boldness, before a low, deep groan rumbles in his chest. His restraint shatters all over again.
His large, wet hands slam against the tile on either side of your head, pinning you against the wall as he takes control of the kiss, deepening it with a fierce, possessive hunger. The hot shower water cascades over both of you, completely soaking the oversized shirt youâre wearing until it clings to every curve like a second skin, but neither of you cares.
You arch your back against the warm tile, your fingers tangling desperately in his dark hair as you drink him in. His mouth is hot and demanding, tasting of clean water and a desperate, intoxicating devotion.
Slowly, Riki breaks the kiss just enough to breathe, his forehead resting heavily against yours. His breath comes in ragged hitches, his eyes burning with a dark, intense heat as he looks down at your flushed face and swollen lips.
"God, princess," he whispers, his voice rough and breathless against your skin as his hands slide down the wall to grip your waist, pulling your hips flush against his bare, burning skin. "You really don't know how to play nice, do you?"
"I assumed thats what you like about me hm?"
A slow, wicked smirk pulls at the corner of Riki's lips, his dark eyes darkening until they look almost black beneath the wet strands of hair clinging to his forehead.
"Smart mouth," he growls softly, the vibration traveling straight through his chest into yours.
He doesn't deny it. Instead, he slides his large, calloused hands down from your waist, his palms tracing the smooth curve of your hips before hooking firmly under the back of your thighs. With a single, effortless lift, he hoists you up against the wet tile wall. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, anchoring you to him as the soaked fabric of his shirt bunches up between your bodies, leaving your bare skin pressing directly against his burning heat.
You let out a breathless gasp, your hands flying to his slick shoulders to stabilize yourself as he crowds impossibly closer, pinning you securely.
"I like everything about you," Riki whispers, his voice dangerously low, rough with an intensity that makes your head spin. His thumb strokes the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, sending a violent rush of electricity straight to your core. "Especially when you think you're in control."
He leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a maddeningly slow tease, his breath hot against your mouth.
"But let me remind you who you belong to," he murmurs against your lips before burying his face in your neck, his teeth gently nipping the sensitive skin just below your ear. A soft, helpless whine escapes your throat, and Riki drinks it in greedily, his grip tightening on your thighs as he deepens the kiss, thoroughly erasing the rest of the world once again.
By the time you and Riki finally head downstairs, the heavy, high-stakes tension of the upcoming mission has completely settled over the kitchen. But the second your feet hit the bottom step, the atmosphere shifts into something much more familiar.
The boys are scattered around the space, looking entirely exhausted. Sunoo is nursing a mug of coffee like his life depends on it, Sunghoon is aggressively rubbing his temples over a map, and Jay is quietly cleaning a blade at the island.
Jungwon is the first to look up. His eyes dart from youâwearing one of Riki's clean, oversized hoodiesâto Riki, who looks remarkably relaxed, a faint, rare trace of a smirk still lingering on his lips.
"The lovebirds finally decided to make it down?" Jungwon says, a knowing, amused glint in his eyes as he takes a slow sip from his mug.
"Shut up, Jungwon," Riki mutters, though there's absolutely no weight behind it. He instinctively slides a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his side as if declaring his territory to the entire room.
Across the table, Jake suddenly drops his head flat onto the wood with a dramatic, echoing thud.
"How the fuck did the youngest get a girlfriend before we did?" Jake whines into the table, his voice muffled and full of pure, unadulterated betrayal. "I'm older. I'm nicer. I don't threaten people for a living! It's statistically incorrect."
"Because you act like a golden retriever, Jake," Sunghoon chimes in without looking up from his blueprints, a dry smirk playing on his lips. "Women don't want a puppy, they want someone who can actually carry the groceries without getting distracted by a squirrel."
"Hey! I am incredibly focused!" Jake snaps, lifting his head to glare at Sunghoon, though a stray piece of hair sticking straight up ruins the effect entirely.
Riki just lets out a low, quiet chuckle, his grip tightening protectively around your hip. The warmth of his body beside you is a solid, grounding anchor, and despite the heavy mission looming over them, the ridiculous, loud bickering of the boys makes the estate feel exactly like what it has become.
Home.
Jake pauses, his dramatic pout freezing on his face as he actually processes your advice. He sits up straight, running a hand through his messy hair, his eyes widening as if youâve just handed him the secret blueprints to the universe.
"Mysterious..." Jake echoes, his voice dropping an octave as he tries to narrow his eyes in what he clearly thinks is a smoldering, enigmatic look. "Like... 'I have secrets, but I'll only tell you if you survive the night' mysterious?"
"You look like you're having an allergic reaction, Jake," Sunoo chimes in from behind his coffee mug, not even blinking.
The entire kitchen erupts into chuckles, and you can't help but laugh against Rikiâs chest. Even Jay looks up from his blade, a rare, amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Don't encourage him, princess," Riki murmurs over your head. His voice is a low, rumbling purr, and you feel his arm tighten around your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer. He leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear so only you can hear him. "The last thing we need is Jake trying to corner a girl at a bar looking like he forgot his own name."
You stifle another laugh, nudging Riki playfully with your elbow, but he just traps your hand in his, his long fingers locking securely with yours.
"Hey, I could be mysterious!" Jake defends himself, pointing a finger at Riki. "Just because you have the whole 'brooding, silent assassin' thing down naturally doesn't mean I can't adapt. Watch me."
Jake grabs a piece of toast, takes a bite while staring intensely at a blank spot on the wall, and tries to slowly back out of the kitchen. Except he immediately stumbles over a stray chair legs, nearly dropping his food.
"Very mysterious," Jungwon sighs, shaking his head and sliding a fresh plate of breakfast toward you and Riki. "Sit down and eat before Sunghoon loses his patience."
The entire kitchen drops into a dead, ringing silence as there's a knock on the door. The easy laughter evaporates instantly, replaced by the rigid, hyper-vigilant instincts of seven trained killers.
Jayâs hand subtly slides over his blade, concealing it beneath a dish towel. Jungwon gently nudges you behind his shoulder, while Rikiâs grip on your waist tightens to a vice-like hold, his body shifting seamlessly to shield yours from the line of sight.
Jake doesn't hesitate. His playful golden-retriever energy vanishes, replaced by a cold, cautious gravity as he glides silently toward the grand front foyer. The rest of the boys follow in a loose, coordinated sweep, weapons concealed but ready, keeping you safely in the center of the perimeter.
Jake reaches the massive oak door. He rests his hand on the handle, takes a breath, and quietly pulls it open.
Standing on the porch isn't a hitman or a rival syndicate enforcer.
Itâs a girl.
She's wearing a slightly oversized denim jacket, her hair a bit messy from the coastal breeze, and she looks thoroughly intimidated by the sheer size of the estate.
"Um... does a Jake Sim live here?" she asks, her voice a little breathless as she holds up a small, plastic rectangle.
It's Jake's driver's license. He must have dropped it at the local convenience store during one of his midnight junk-food runs.
The entire universe seems to laugh at the timing. Jake stares at her, his jaw slightly slack. The lethal mafia soldier who could take down three men in a dark alley completely evaporates. His brain shorts out, all his social skills flying right out the window as he looks from his ID to her face, utterly struck dumb.
Sunghoon, standing just a step behind him, takes one look at Jakeâs frozen, useless expression and canât help but seize the opportunity. He steps forward with a smooth, effortless charm, flashing a dazzling smile.
"Yes! Sorry, he's a little shy," Sunghoon says, his voice dripping with playful warmth as he gently nudges Jake out of the way with his elbow.
Behind them, in the hallway, you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from bursting into a loud laugh. Riki relaxes his posture just a fraction, a dark, highly amused glint returning to his eyes as he leans down, his breath tickling your ear.
"Look at that," Riki whispers, his lips brushing your hair as he watches Jake turn a vivid shade of crimson. "Your advice worked sooner than you thought, princess."
The girl offers a small, slightly awkward smile, adjusting her grip on her purse strap. "I saw it on the floor when I left the convenience store," she explains, her voice soft against the quiet morning air. "The address on the back led me here."
Jake is still completely paralyzed. The world around him has slowed to an absolute crawl, the tough mafia enforcer entirely replaced by a guy experiencing love at first sight. Heâs staring at her like she just handed him a winning lottery ticket, his cheeks a brilliant, burning shade of red.
Sensing the lingering, heavy silence from the massive house behind Sunghoon, the girl clears her throat nervously. "Anyway... I'll uh... head out now. Glad I could get it back to you."
She shifts on her feet, turning to take a step down the grand stone porch.
That movement finally shocks Jake's brain back online. Panic flaring in his eyes, he blurts out, "Wait!"
He steps right past Sunghoon, his hand reaching out instinctively before he catches himself. The girl stops, blinking in surprise as she turns back to look at him.
Jake swallows hard, trying to channel every single ounce of the "mysterious, intriguing" energy you had just been teasing him about inside. He squares his shoulders, but the sheer nervousness in his eyes gives him away completely.
"Could I maybe... get your number?" Jake asks, his voice cracking just a tiny bit before he clears his throat to deepen it. "It'd be nice to take you out somewhere. As a thank you. For, you know, not identity-theft-ing me."
Behind him in the foyer, a collective, silent gasp ripples through the boys. Sunoo quickly covers his mouth to muffle a squeal, Jungwon closes his eyes in mock prayer, and Riki hides his face directly in the crook of your neck, his shoulders shaking with silent, breathless laughter.
The girl stares at Jake for one agonizing second, two secondsâand then a genuinely pretty, amused smile breaks across her face.
"Sure," she says softly, pulling her phone from her jacket pocket. "I guess a thank-you coffee wouldn't hurt."
Jake types his number into her phone with hands that are visibly shaking, handing it back to her like itâs a fragile piece of glass. She gives him one last sweet, lingering smile before turning to walk down the driveway, leaving him standing on the porch like a man who has just seen a vision.
He watches her until she clears the gates, then slowly turns around, closing the heavy oak door behind him. The moment the lock clicks, Jake slides his back down the wood until heâs sitting flat on the floor, a completely dazed, goofy grin plastered across his face.
He holds his phone up to his chest like a prized trophy.
The boys immediately swarm him, dropping the tactical guard completely. Sunoo is the first to cross his arms, a brilliant, teasing smirk on his face as he looks down at Jakeâs pathetic, love-struck form.
"Wow, Jake," Sunoo says, his voice dripping with playful mockery. "Maybe you'll also get a girlfriend sooner or later."
"Shut up, Sunoo, I'm having a moment," Jake groans from the floor, hiding his burning red face in his hands. "She smelled like vanilla. Did you guys smell that? Sheâs an angel."
"Sheâs a civilian who almost saw Jay's combat knife, you idiot," Jungwon sighs, though a fond smile cracks through his leader persona.
Riki guides you back toward the kitchen island, his arm still firmly hooked around your waist. He looks down at you, his dark eyes brimming with amusement as he leans his chin right on your shoulder.
"you gave him hope" Riki says, as he caresses your hip
"Well noâI gave him a little nudge of confidence, there's a difference," you correct him, leaning back slightly into his solid frame to watch the chaos unfold.
Riki hums, a low, vibrating sound that rumbles pleasantly against your spine. His long fingers trace lazy, possessive circles against your hip bone, the heat of his touch bleeding right through the thick fabric of the hoodie.
"A nudge," Riki repeats, his voice laced with a dark, velvet amusement. "Princess, the guy looked like he was about to propose right there on the porch. He's practically planning the wedding."
As if on cue, Jake suddenly scrambles up from the floor, clutching his phone like it's a live grenade. "I should text her. I need to text her right now so she has my number. Waitâwhat do I say? Is 'Hey' too eager? Should I use a period to look serious? An exclamation mark?!"
Sunghoon groans loudly, stepping forward to snatch the phone right out of Jake's trembling hands. "Give me that before you ruin it. If you use a period, she's going to think you're a serial killer."
"Give it back!" Jake yelps, lunging for the device while Sunoo happily steps in to block him, laughing hysterically as the three of them start wrestling for the phone in the middle of the grand foyer.
Jay just sighs, rubbing his temples as he heads back toward the kitchen to pour himself a much-needed cup of coffee, muttering under his breath about dealing with children.
Through it all, Riki simply shakes his head. He turns his attention entirely back to you, completely unfazed by the noise of his syndicate brothers turning into a bunch of high schoolers. He drops his forehead against your shoulder, his nose brushing the sensitive skin beneath your jaw.
"Let them deal with that," Riki murmurs, his tone dropping back into that heavy, intoxicating register meant only for you. His hand slides from your hip to wrap securely around your waist, slowly turning you in his arms until you're facing him.
His dark eyes sweep over your face, the playful amusement fading into something much hungrier, much more deliberate.
"I have much better things to do with my morning than watch Jake forget how to speak English," he whispers, his thumb gently tilting your chin up as he backs you slowly into the edge of the kitchen counter. "Now... where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?"
End
maybe jakes little crush is the next part.. hope you liked it, i rushed a little and didn't know what to do halfway so it's a little fast paced. This wasn't proofread so please call out any mistakes!
there's a million reasons why I should give you up, but the heart wants what it wants
synopsis: you figured after Riki got a girlfriend you could easily get over your feelings for him that you've always ultimately denied, turns out, forgetting about your first love is harder than you think.
genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers, suggestive
warnings: angst obv, Riki is a yearner, both are down bad for one another, a bit suggestive (not smut but it's very... suggestive), kissing, maybe a little more than kissing.. riki has been WAITING
pt 1 back to friends
The theory was simple: Riki had a girlfriend, which meant the boundary was no longer invisible. It was concrete. It was undeniable. You were a pre-med student; you understood logic, cause and effect, and lines that shouldn't be crossed. You genuinely figured that seeing him with Maya would be the final, painful push you needed to snap out of it and bury your feelings for good.
Turns out, forgetting your first love doesnât follow a logical formula.
And what you didn't realize was that while you were trying to forget him, Riki was quietly drowning in his own regret.
"Mimi, you're doing that thing again," your friend whispered, nudging your shoulder across the library table.
"What thing?" you mumbled, keeping your eyes glued to your biology textbook.
"The thing where you stare at the same page for twenty minutes without blinking. You're thinking about him."
You let out a heavy sigh, closing the book with a muted thud. It had been three weeks since the frat party, three weeks of convincing yourself you were fine. You and Riki had slowly dialed things back to a strictly "safe" distance. No more sharing a bed. No more late-night movie binges in his room.
Your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar buzz on the wooden table.
Riki: hey mimi. u at the library? maya and i are grabbing smoothies nearby. want us to drop one off for u?
Your heart did that familiar, frustrating little flip before plunging into a dull ache. Maya and I. It was always the two of them now.
You: Thanks, Ki, but I'm actually wrapping up and heading back to my dorm to sleep. Next time!
It was a lie. You had at least three more hours of studying to do, but you couldn't bear the thought of sitting across from him, watching him slide his hand into hers. You hit send and shoved your phone into your bag.
Across campus, sitting at a metal table outside the juice bar, Riki stared at his phone screen. His jaw clenched as he read your reply, a profound, heavy disappointment settling over him.
"Is she coming?" Maya asked, smiling as she set a green smoothie down in front of him.
"No," Riki said softly, his voice devoid of its usual energy. He locked his phone and shoved it into his pocket, his thumb brushing against his palm, right where your hand used to rest when you walked across campus together. "She's tired. Studying."
"Oh, bummer," Maya murmured, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. "You've been missing her lately, haven't you?"
Riki looked down at Mayaâs hand over his. She was sweet, she was talented, and she liked him. She was everything a guy was supposed to want. But as he looked at her fingers intertwined with his, he felt absolutely nothing. A hollow, terrifying emptiness expanded in his chest.
"Yeah," Riki whispered, his throat tight as he looked past Maya, his eyes scanning the campus path toward the library. He was yearning. He was starving for the sight of you, for the sound of your laugh, for the way you would push your glasses up your nose when you were frustrated. "I miss her a lot."
maya smiles at him, squeezing his hand "She'll eventually come around"
A week later, the summer heat broke into a sudden, torrential downpour. You were caught completely unprepared, rushing out of the science building with a stack of research papers clutched to your chest, trying to shield them from the rain.
"Mimi!"
You blinked through the downpour, wiping water from your eyes. Running across the flooded quad toward you was Riki. He didn't have an umbrella, his oversized hoodie already soaked through, but he was sprinting like his life depended on it. Before you could say anything, he reached you, instantly taking off his heavy jacket and holding it over your head to shield your papers.
"Are you crazy? You're going to get soaked," you gasped, looking up at him.
Riki didn't care about the rain. He was breathing heavily, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping down his sharp jawline. But his eyes, intense, wide, and filled with a desperate kind of relief, were completely locked onto yours. He hadn't been this close to you in a month.
"I saw you from the studio window," Riki said, his voice a low, rough rumble over the sound of the thunder. He stepped closer, crowding you against the brick wall of the building to block the wind, his body heat radiating through the damp air. "You don't check your weather app? You're going to catch a cold."
"I was busy," you whispered, suddenly hyper-aware of how his gaze dropped to your lips for a agonizing second before snapping back to your eyes. The memory of that denied kiss rushed back, making the air between you scorching hot despite the freezing rain.
Riki reached out, his hand hovering in the air for a fraction of a second, trembling slightly, before he finally allowed his fingers to brush a wet strand of hair away from your cheek. His touch was so light, so achingly tender, it felt like a silent plea.
"You're always busy now," he murmured, his voice laced with a quiet, hidden grief. "You're always avoiding me, Mimi."
"I'm not avoiding you, Riki. I'm just... letting you have your space. With Maya," you said, forcing the words out even though they felt like glass in your throat.
Rikiâs hand dropped from your face, his fist clenching at his side. He let out a breathless, bitter laugh, looking away for a moment before staring back at you with a raw vulnerability that terrified you.
"Right," he whispered, the carefree persona completely shattered. "Maya."
I He looked like he wanted to scream. He looked like he wanted to grab you by the shoulders and tell you that he was losing his mind, that every routine he choreographed was about you, that every night he spent with his girlfriend was just a hollow attempt to build a wall high enough to keep his feelings for you from spilling over.
But he couldn't. He had chosen the "easy" way out, and now he was trapped in it.
"Come on," Riki said, his voice dropping to a forced, quiet calm as he adjusted the jacket over your head, his arm lingering just inches from your shoulder. "Let's get you back to your dorm."
"I'm fine Riki I can go on my own" you say, he was always stubborn there was no way he'd possibly let you avoid him any further. "It's not okay, come on I'm taking you" he takes your hand, a habit of his since you've known him.
The walk to your dorm was quiet, not like the other times you would chase each other or laugh when the other fell down, it didn't feel like it used too and it made your chest ache.
Your fingers felt incredibly small inside his grip. His hand was warm, damp from the rain, and wrapped tightly around yours with a desperate, unyielding strengthâas if he knew that the moment he let go, the distance between you would become permanent.
You stared down at your joined hands as you walked, your feet splashing into puddles. It was a gesture that used to mean safety. Now, it felt like an anchor dragging you down into a sea of things you werenât allowed to feel.
When you finally reached the awning of your dorm building, the sudden lack of rain was jarring. You stepped under the concrete roof, pulling your hand from his grip to adjust your wet books against your chest. Your hand felt instantly freezing without his warmth.
Riki stood just on the edge of the shelter, the rain still pouring down behind him, framing him in a gray, blurred curtain. He didn't put his jacket back on; he just stood there in his soaked t-shirt, his chest rising and falling with heavy, quiet breaths.
"You should get inside and change," he said softly, his voice cutting through the steady roar of the storm. He didn't move to leave. He just watched you, his dark eyes tracing the damp contours of your face, looking completely miserable.
"You need to go back and dry off too, Ki," you replied, keeping your tone as even as possible. "Mayaâs going to worry if you catch a cold."
The mention of her name hit him like a physical blow. Rikiâs jaw clenched, and for a second, a flash of pure, agonizing frustration crossed his face. He took a half-step forward, his boots clicking sharply against the concrete, closing the distance between you until you had to tilt your head up to look at him.
"Stop doing that," he muttered, his voice dropping to a rough, breathless whisper.
"Doing what?"
"Bringing her up. Acting like you don't care," he said, stepping even closer. The scent of rain and his familiar cologne enveloped you, making your head spin. He reached out, his hand hovering over your arm, his fingers trembling with a restraint that looked exhausting. "Act like you used to, Mimi. Please. Just yell at me, or laugh at me, or... do anything but look at me like I'm a stranger."
Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs. The yearning in his voice was so loud, so raw, it stripped away all your defenses.
"We can't go back to how we used to be, Riki," you whispered, a tear slipping out, disguised by the rainwater on your cheek. "You drew the line. Youâre the one who said that night didn't mean anything."
Riki closed his eyes, letting out a fractured sigh that brushed against your forehead. When he opened them, the intense, agonizing depth of his feelings was completely exposed. He looked at you the way a starving man looks at a feast, full of a desperate, quiet hunger that he had no right to satisfy.
"I lied," he breathed, his voice barely audible over the rain. His hand finally dropped, resting heavily against the brick wall right next to your head, effectively trapping you in his space. "Mimi, I lied."
"Lied? That's not like you"
A bitter, breathless laugh escaped his lips, sounding completely devoid of humor. He leaned his forehead forward, stopping just inches from yours, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.
"Itâs not like me," he whispered, his voice dropping to a rough, gravelly register. "Youâre right. I donât lie about how I feel. Iâve never had to. But with you... Mimi, I panicked."
Your fingers tightened around your books, the cardboard edges cutting into your skin, but you barely felt it. "Why would you panic, Ki?"
"Because you were talking about the bubble bursting," he breathed, his gaze dropping to your lips for an agonizing second before snapping back up. "You were talking about after graduation, about hospitals, and stars, and how we wouldn't be able to do this anymore. I realized... I realized that if I let myself have what I actually wanted, if I let myself love you the way Iâve been secretly loving you for years, losing you when the bubble burst would actually kill me."
The admission hung in the damp air between you, heavy and devastating.
"So you got a girlfriend?" your voice cracked, the hurt finally bleeding through the cracks of your composure. "To protect yourself?"
"To try and force myself to snap out of it," Riki admitted softly, a tear finally escaping his eye and tracking down his wet cheek. He looked completely defeated, the powerful, confident dancer entirely stripped away. "I thought if I put a wall between us, I could go back to just being your best friend. I thought I could preserve some version of us. But itâs not working. Seeing you look at me like Iâm just some guy from your classes... it's tearing me apart from the inside out."
He reached out, his hand finally defying the boundaries he had built, his damp fingers gently cupping the side of your neck. His thumb brushed your jawline, trembling.
"I'm sorry, Mimi," he whispered, leaning in until his breath fanned across your lips. "I'm so sorry I was a coward."
Somehow, you found yourself letting him into your dorm again. The two of you sat tucked beneath the blankets, your favorite show playing quietly in the background, though neither of you was really watching. His confession lingered in your mind, replaying over and over until it drowned out everything else.
âRikiâŚâ you called softly.
He didnât even have to look at you for you to know he was listening. His attention had always been on you.
âWhat now?â You asked
Riki didnât answer right away. The only sound in the small room was the low hum of the television and the rhythmic patter of the rain outside, but the air between you had shifted entirely. It was no longer cold or sterile. It was heavy, thick with a sudden, intoxicating heat that made the space beneath the blanket feel entirely too small.
Slowly, he turned his head to look at you. His dark hair was still slightly damp, a few stray pieces clinging to his forehead, but his eyes were wide awake, burning with an intensity that sent a sudden, electric shiver straight down your spine.
He shifted his weight, turning his body toward you. The movement caused his thigh to flush completely against yours under the blanket. Even through the fabric of your clothes, his body heat was scorching.
"What now?" Riki echoed, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly murmur that felt dangerously intimate in the quiet room.
He didn't pull away this time. Instead, he reached out, his large hand sliding beneath the blanket to find yours. His fingers didn't just hold your hand, they moved slowly, tracing the sensitive skin of your wrist before tangling deeply with yours, pressing your palms together. His grip was tight, possessive, and entirely devoid of the platonic carelessness he usually wore like armor.
"I don't know, Mimi," he whispered, his gaze dropping deliberately to your lips, lingering there until your breath hitched. He hitched himself closer, crawling slightly over the space between you until he was hovering just inches away. The scent of rain, damp cotton, and his distinct, musky cologne enveloped you completely, making your head spin. "But I know I'm tired of pretending."
"Riki, Mayaâ" you started, your voice trembling as you tried to find a shred of your usual logic, but the word died in your throat as his free hand came up to touch your face.
His fingers slid into the hair at the nape of your neck, his thumb resting right against the pulse point on your jaw. You could feel his own heart hammering through his chest, a frantic, desperate rhythm. He leaned down, his forehead brushing against yours, his lips so close that every time he breathed, his warm air fanned across your mouth.
"Don't say her name," he breathed against your lips, his voice tight with a dark, suffocating desire he had suppressed for entirely too long. "Not right now. Not when I'm finally touching you."
His thumb applied a fraction of pressure, tilting your chin up just a hair. The casual, playful frat boy was entirely gone. In his place was someone completely consumed, his gaze burning into yours with a silent, heavy promise. He slid his hand from your neck down to your shoulder, his fingers digging in slightly through your shirt, pulling you flush against his chest.
"If you want me to stop, Mimi, you have to tell me right now," he murmured, his voice a rough, desperate plea as his lips brushed the corner of your mouth, testing your resolve. "Because if you don't... I'm not letting you go tonight."
Your breath caught, trapped in your throat as the sheer weight of his proximity pinned you in place. You looked into his eyesâdark, blown-out, and completely stripped of the casual armor he usually wore. The logic that had always governed your life, the rules that dictated your future, all of it seemed to evaporate under the heat of his touch.
You didn't tell him to stop. You couldn't.
Instead, your hands found the hem of his damp t-shirt, your fingers curling into the fabric as you pulled him that final, agonizing fraction of an inch closer.
Taking that as the only permission he needed, Riki let out a low, ragged breath against your skin and closed the distance.
This kiss wasn't like the desperate collision from a month ago. It was slower, deliberate, and thick with the heavy yearning that had been quietly suffocating him for years. His lips parted yours with a smooth, commanding possessiveness that made your knees weak even while sitting down. He tasted like the rain and a dangerous, addictive sweetness that ruined any chance you ever had of getting over him.
A soft gasp escaped you, and Riki used the moment to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing yours in a rhythm that felt entirely too natural, entirely too right. He shifted his weight, shifting fully over you, his heavy frame pressing you down into the mattress. The blanket tangled around your legs as he settled into the space between your thighs, the solid, unyielding heat of his body pressing flush against yours.
"Mimi..." he groaned against your mouth, his hands sliding down from your face to grip your waist, his long fingers digging into your hips through your shirt. He pulled you up against him, leaving no space, no air, no room for doubt.
Every touch was electric. His lips left yours, tracing a path of scorching kisses down your jawline to the sensitive skin of your neck. When his teeth lightly grazed your pulse point, a sharp, involuntary shiver ran through your entire body, and your hands instinctively slid up his chest, tangling deeply into his hair to hold him there.
"Riki," you whispered, your voice a breathless, unraveled sound that only seemed to drive him crazier.
He moved back up, his lips brushing yours once, twice, before resting his forehead against yours. He was breathing heavily, his chest expanding hard against yours, his eyes dark with a raw, intoxicating hunger as he looked down at you. His hands remained firmly locked onto your hips, anchoring you to him.
"Tell me this is real," he breathed, his voice rough and uneven as his thumb stroked the bare skin of your waist where his shirt had ridden up. "Tell me you're not going to wake up tomorrow and pretend it was another fluke."
You smile tenderly and give him a little pinch "it's real"
A low, ragged sound escaped the back of Rikiâs throat when you confirmed it was real. The soft smile on his lips faded, replaced by a dark, intense hunger that made your stomach do a sudden, nervous flip.
"Good," he growled softly against your skin. "Because I donât think I could stop even if you told me to now."
He didn't give you a chance to reply. His mouth came back down on yours, no longer hesitant or testing, but entirely consuming. He kissed you with a heavy, rhythmic pressure that made your head swim, his tongue sliding against yours, demanding everything you had to give. You arched into him, your hands moving desperately from his hair down to his shoulders, feeling the hard, lean muscle of a dancer shifting beneath his shirt.
Riki shifted his weight, sliding one of his knees higher between your thighs, pinning you fully beneath him. The friction of his body against yours through your clothes sent a sharp, electric jolt straight to your core. Your breath hitched, a soft, helpless whine breaking into the kiss, which only seemed to drive him crazier.
His hands, still tucked beneath your shirt, slid up from your waist. His palms were hot, a little rough, and utterly possessive as they traced the curve of your ribs, moving higher until they were brushing against the bare skin just beneath your bra. Every spot he touched felt like it was catching fire.
"Mimi..." he breathed, breaking the kiss for just a second to pull the wet, heavy hoodie over his head and toss it blindly onto the floor.
When he came back down, he was only in a thin tank top, and the feel of his bare chest pressing flush against you was intoxicating. He buried his face in your neck, his lips biting gently at the sensitive skin right where your shoulder met your collarbone. You gasped, your fingers digging into his back as he left a hot, bruising mark there, a deliberate, unplatonic claim that you wouldn't be able to hide tomorrow.
He slid his hands down to the button of your shorts, his fingers brushing against your stomach, making your muscles coill tightly. He paused there, his breathing heavy and ragged against your ear, his body heavy and warm between your legs.
He closed the distance again, his mouth crashing onto yours with a fierce, intoxicating heat. His hands didn't hesitate anymore; his fingers deftly unbuttoned your shorts, sliding them down over your hips with an urgency that made your breath catch. Every touch of his bare skin against yours felt hyper-sensitized, a beautiful torture that left you completely helpless beneath him.
Riki shifted, sliding his hands down to grip the back of your thighs, pulling you up and pinning you flush against his hips. The solid, heavy heat of him pressing directly against your center made your head tilt back into the pillow, a soft, broken sound slipping from your throat. He caught the sound with his own lips, drinking it in as if it were air.
His hands tracked back up, sliding underneath your top to undo your bra, discarding it into the tangled blankets. When his bare chest finally met yours, the friction of skin against skin was electric. Riki let out a low, shuddering breath, his lips leaving yours to trace a burning path down your throat, over your collarbone, down to the heavy swell of your chest. He kissed his way down, his tongue flicking against the sensitive peaks until you were arching off the mattress, your fingers tangling so tightly in his hair it must have hurt.
"You're beautiful," he breathed against your skin, his voice a gravelly, reverent whisper. He looked up at you, his eyes completely dark, blown-out with desire, his face flushed. "You're mine, Mimi. Say it."
"I'm yours," you gasped, your hips instinctively shifting against his, a silent plea for him to close the agonizingly small distance left between you. "Riki, please..."
He let out a ragged laugh, a dark, possessive sound, as his hand slid down between your bodies, his fingers brushing against the damp heat of your underwear. He leaned down, his lips resting right against your ear, his breath hot and uneven.
"I've waited so long for this," he murmured, his fingers sliding beneath the lace, finding you completely ready for him. You cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders as he began to move, a slow, torturous rhythm that had your vision blurring. "I'm not going to rush a single second of it."
When you woke the next morning, Riki was still there. His arm remained draped around your waist, holding you close as if youâd been molded perfectly against him. He looked so peaceful, as though this was exactly where he was always meant to be, right beside you.
The heavy storm from the night before had passed, leaving behind a soft, muted morning light that filtered through your window. For the first time in months, the air in your room didnât feel thick with tension or heavy with unspoken rules. It felt warm. It felt quiet.
You shifted slightly, the soft friction of the sheets reminding you of the bare skin beneath them. As you moved, Riki let out a low, subconscious grunt, his grip on your waist instantly tightening. He pulled you back against his chest without even opening his eyes, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm, puffing softly against your skin, right over the faint, bruising mark he had left there hours ago.
You couldn't help the tender smile that tugged at your lips.
This morning was nothing like the painful, awkward awakening from a month ago. There was no rush to leave, no defensive walls slamming down, and no forced, casual nicknames. He was just here. Completely, entirely yours.
Slowly, you turned around in his embrace so you were facing him. Up close, the fierce, possessive dancer from last night was gone, replaced by the soft, boyish expression he only ever showed you. Your fingertips traced the smooth line of his jaw, completely marveling at how easily the lines had blurred when you finally stopped running.
As if sensing your touch, Rikiâs eyelashes fluttered open. His dark eyes were still hazy with sleep, but the moment they focused on your face, a soft, incredibly lazy smile spread across his lips.
"Morning," he rasped, his voice deeper and rougher than usual from sleep. He didn't pull back. Instead, he slid his hand up from your waist, his long fingers gently cupping your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin. "You're still here."
"Of course I am," you whispered, leaning into his palm. "It's my dorm, Ki."
He let out a soft chuckle, the vibration rumbling against your chest as he leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally against your lips. It wasn't the frantic, consuming heat of last night, but something slow, sweet, and profoundly reassuring.
"Good," Riki murmured, his eyes locking onto yours with a quiet, unyielding intensity that told you everything you needed to know. "Because I'm not going anywhere either."
âWhat about Maya?â you asked quietly. Guilt tugged at your chest. She had been nothing but kind to you, and the last thing you ever wanted was for her to get hurt.
Riki buried his face in the crook of your neck, a soft laugh escaping him. You could feel the smile against your skin.
âI told her the truth,â he murmured. âAbout how I feel about you. We broke up yesterday⌠before I saw you from the studio.â
The words hung in the quiet room, instantly dissolving the last lingering bit of anxiety in your chest. You stared at him, your eyes wide as the reality of what he had just said fully sunk in.
"Yesterday?" you echoed, your voice barely a whisper. "Before the rain?"
Riki pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression softening into something incredibly tender. "Yesterday," he confirmed, his thumb gently tracing your lower lip. "I couldn't keep doing it to her, Mimi. And I couldn't keep doing it to myself. She's a great girl, and she deserved someone who was actually present. Not someone whose mind was always across campus, wondering if a certain pre-med student had remembered to eat lunch."
A watery laugh slipped past your lips, and you reached up, tangling your fingers into his messy bedhead. "You're an idiot, Nishimura Riki."
"Yeah, but I'm your idiot," he murmured, a beautiful, unbothered smirk spreading across his face.
He leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss that tasted of absolute relief. There were no more lies to hide behind, no more safety nets or defensive walls. Maya was safe, the truth was out, and for the first time since you could remember, the bubble wasn't something you had to fear. It was a space the two of you had finally built together, completely on your own terms.
As Riki pulled you closer, shifting his weight to press you back into the mattress, you realized that the long, agonizing burn of the past few semesters had been worth every single second.
End
I might've went a bit overboard with the suggestive part lol, I invested myself in this part way too much but as much as I enjoyed writing it, I hope you enjoyed reading it!
I just want to give you the loving that you're missing
synopsis: For months, Ni-ki stood on the sidelines, watching you wither away in a toxic relationship with Jungwon. He always knew you deserved a love that didn't make you feel like an afterthought. Now that you're finally free, Ni-ki is stepping out of the shadows. Heâs determined to show you exactly how you deserve to be loved, and just maybe, the guy who always put you first will finally get his own happy ending.
genre: fluff, angst, unrequited love (at first), ni-ki is a yearner
Warnings: nothing just kissing
note: yes this is part two of "you broke me first" if you're reading this before, click here for part 1!
The heavy, final thud of the door closing seems to echo through the apartment, leaving a suffocating silence in its wake. For a second, you just stand there, staring at the blank wood. Then, your knees simply give out.
You collapse onto the floor, your hands covering your face as the first sob tears through your chest. Breaking up with Jungwon was the right choice, you knew that, but knowing it doesn't make the pain any less agonizing. It feels like tearing away a piece of yourself, a brutal end to months of hoping, waiting, and hurting. It is easily the hardest thing youâve ever had to do.
Ni-ki watches you from the hallway, his heart aching at the sound of your crying. He doesn't rush you, and he doesn't tell you to cheer up. Instead, he walks over quietly and drops to his knees right beside you on the hardwood floor.
Without a word, he wraps his long arms around your trembling shoulders, pulling you gently against his chest. He holds you tight, letting you bury your face into his hoodie, offering a silent, steady anchor in the middle of your wreckage. He doesn't say "I told you so," and he doesn't mention Jungwon's name. He just holds you while you break, silently promising himself that he's going to be the one to help you put the pieces back together.
A few days later, the apartment is quiet again, but the heavy, suffocating weight has lifted just a fraction. Youâre sitting on the couch, staring blankly at your phone screen. Your thumb hovers over the photo gallery, specifically, the folder filled with months of memories of Jungwon. Photos from when things were good, before the distance, before Hana, before everything fell apart. Tears blur your vision as you stare at his smiling face, your finger frozen. You know you need to let go, but you just can't bring yourself to press delete.
Ni-ki walks into the living room carrying two mugs of hot cocoa, but he stops when he sees the tense line of your shoulders and the quiet tears slipping down your face.
He sets the mugs down on the coffee table without a sound. He doesn't lecture you, and he doesn't ask you what's wrong, he already knows.
Sitting down beside you, Ni-ki gently but firmly slides his fingers under yours, lifting the phone right out of your hands. You look up, startled, but he doesn't look angry. His expression is incredibly soft, filled with a quiet, protective determination.
Without saying a single word, his thumb moves across the screen. He selects the folder. He hits the trash icon. And then, he empties the recently deleted folder, wiping the digital ghosts of Jungwon out of your life for good.
He locks the phone and sets it face down on the table, finally turning his dark eyes back to yours.
"You don't have to be strong enough to do it yourself yet," Ni-ki says softly, handing you one of the warm mugs. "Let me handle the hard parts for a while."
Ni-ki hadn't forgotten the previous afternoon. He had been over at your place, helping you reorganize your space to get a fresh start, when that frantic, desperate knocking started. When you opened the door to reveal a soaked, sobbing Jungwon dropping to his knees, Ni-ki had quietly stepped back into your bedroom, closing the door just enough to give you privacy but keeping it cracked enough to ensure you were safe.
Standing in the shadows of your room, his chest had ached with a terrifying, suffocating pain.
Listening to Jungwon beg, Ni-ki had clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. His heart hammered against his ribs, terrified that you would yield to the tears, that you would take Jungwon back out of habit or pity. He knew, with absolute certainty, that he could treat you infinitely better than Jungwon ever could. He would never make you feel like an afterthought. He would never make you compete for his attention.
When you finally closed the door and turned the lock on Jungwon, Ni-ki had let out a breath he felt like heâd been holding for months.
Now, sitting next to you on the couch after deleting those photos, he looks at your exhausted profile. The memory of his fear from yesterday still lingers in his chest, making his voice a little thicker, a little more vulnerable than usual.
"Yesterday..." Ni-ki starts quietly, breaking the silence as he stares at his own mug. "When he was on his knees out there... I was terrified you were going to let him back in." He finally turns his head to look at you, his eyes intense and fiercely honest. "Because you deserve someone who stands up for you, Y/N. Not someone who only gets on their knees when they've already lost you."
You smile weakly at him, the warmth from the mug in your hands seeping into your palms as you look into his intensely honest eyes.
"You're too good to me, Ni-ki," you whisper, your voice cracking slightly under the weight of everything heâs done for you. You look down at the floor, a familiar wave of guilt washing over you. "You don't deserve this. You shouldn't have to clean up the mess someone else made."
Ni-ki doesn't hesitate. He sets his mug down on the coffee table with a soft clink and reaches over, gently placing his hand over yours, stopping your fingers from nervously tracing the ceramic.
"Don't do that," he says softly, his voice firm but incredibly tender. "Don't talk like you're a burden. Iâm here because I want to be. Iâve wanted to be here for a long time."
He waits until you finally look back up at him, making sure you see the absolute sincerity in his eyes.
"You didn't ask for any of this to happen to you, Y/N," he continues, a gentle smile finally breaking through his serious expression. "So stop worrying about what I deserve, and let me focus on what you deserve for once. Deal?"
You open your mouth to argue, to tell him that he shouldn't waste his time on someone whose heart is still recovering, but the look in his eyes stops you completely. There is no pity in his gaze, just an unwavering, steady devotion that you haven't felt in a very long time. Fighting his words is entirely useless; Ni-ki has always been stubborn when it comes to taking care of you.
You hesitate for a long beat, looking down at his hand resting securely over yours. The warmth of it feels grounding.
Slowly, the tension leaves your shoulders, and you nod. "Deal," you whisper.
A genuine, brilliant smile breaks across Ni-ki's face, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle and completely changes the energy in the room. He gives your hand a reassuring, gentle squeeze before leaning back against the couch cushions, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
"Good," he says, his tone shifting back to his usual playful self. "Now drink your cocoa before it gets cold, and then we're picking a movie. No sad ones allowed."
For the first time in months, as you sit next to him in the quiet apartment, the future doesn't look so dark. You're still hurting, but looking at Ni-ki, you realize you don't have to heal all on your own.
Weeks quickly melt into a completely different kind of normal.
Ni-ki doesn't just talk about treating you better; he actually does it, every single day. He takes you out on dates that feel entirely focused on making you smile, whether it's driving out to see the city lights, hunting down the best late-night street food, or just walking through a bookstore for hours.
But itâs the little things that truly shift something inside you. For months with Jungwon, you had grown used to waiting hours for a text, constantly guessing where you stood. Ni-ki completely shatters that habit. Even if he's busy, even if he's out with the rest of the guys, your phone lights up with a reply within seconds. He never makes you feel like an interruption; he makes you feel like the priority.
Slowly, you start to notice the shift in yourself. You appreciate every single ounce of effort he pours into you, but lately, it's becoming harder to deny the sudden, erratic skipping of your pulse whenever he's around.
When he leans across the table to wipe a bit of sauce from your face, or when his hand naturally finds yours to pull you through a crowded sidewalk, your chest tightens in a way that has nothing to do with sadness.
It feels like you are finally seeing him clearly for the very first time. The protective, attentive, and incredibly charming side of him had always been there, you were just too blinded by the heartbreak of trying to fix Jungwon to notice it. But now, the fog has completely cleared, and every time Ni-ki looks at you, you realize your heart is beating for someone else entirely.
"Hey, Y/N!"
The front door swings open, and Ni-ki walks into your apartment, his arms completely full of rustling shopping bags. He uses his elbow to nudge the door shut behind him, a massive, bright grin lighting up his face as he balances the load.
"I got you some stuff," he says, practically vibrating with excitement to show you whatâs inside.
You look at the sheer amount of bags, a wave of familiar fondness and slight guilt washing over you. "Ni-ki, you really didn't have toâ"
"I wanted to," he cuts you off instantly, not even letting you finish the sentence.
He marches over to the living room and dumps the bags onto the coffee table with a satisfied flourish. Turning to you, he crosses his arms, looking incredibly proud of himself.
"No protests allowed, remember? We made a deal," he reminds you, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. "Now come over here. I found a few things that practically had your name written all over them, and I wasn't about to leave the store without them."
You walk over to the table, looking from the pile of bags up to his face. "Did you even buy anything for yourself, Ki? You shouldn't just focus on me all the time."
Ni-ki immediately shakes his head, reaching into one of the bags to pull out a beautifully wrapped box.
"Don't worry about me," he says, his voice softening as he steps a little closer, handing the box to you. "Your birthday is soon. This is about you."
Your heart does that familiar, erratic skip at his words. For so long, your birthday had been something you dreaded, remembering how Jungwon had brushed it off the year before as just another day. But Ni-ki had clearly been counting down the days, planning for it before the week had even started.
"I wanted to make sure you had everything you could possibly want," he adds, his eyes locked onto yours, completely sincere. "So don't even think about trying to feel guilty. Just open it."
You nod, the guilt melting away into pure excitement as you sit down on the floor by the coffee table. Carefully, you untie the ribbon on the first box and peel back the tissue paper.
Inside lies a beautiful, vibrant yellow sundress. Your breath catches in your throat, it is the exact dress you had paused to look at in a storefront window weeks ago, a piece you'd been secretly eyeing ever since summer started but never bought for yourself.
"Ni-ki, what..." You lift the soft fabric, looking up at him with wide, genuinely touched eyes. "How did you even know?"
He leans against the edge of the couch, folding his arms with a soft, knowing smile. "I saw you looking at it when we walked past that boutique three weeks ago," he says, his tone entirely casual, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to remember a fleeting glance from nearly a month ago. "Figured you wanted it, so I went back for it."
A warm, heavy ache blossoms in your chest, but this time, it's entirely full of happiness. Jungwon used to ask you for a literal list of gifts and still forget to buy them; Ni-ki just paid attention. He noticed the tiny details you didn't even realize you were giving away.
"Go on," he urges gently, nodding toward the remaining bags, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "There's more."
You reach for the next box. It's much smaller, fitting perfectly in the palm of your hand. Your fingers tremble slightly as you lift the lid, and your breath hitches.
Resting on a velvet cushion is a delicate, stunning silver necklace, its fine chain holding a beautifully scripted pendant of your name. It catches the living room light, gleaming perfectly.
"Ni-ki... oh my god," you whisper, staring at it in disbelief.
You look up at him, your chest swelling with so much emotion it almost hurts. Itâs elegant, thoughtful, and completely personal.
Ni-ki pushes himself off the couch and kneels down on the floor right in front of you. The playful, teasing smirk he usually wears is entirely gone, replaced by a gaze so soft and intense it makes your heart hammer against your ribs.
"Do you like it?" he asks quietly, his eyes searching yours.
"I love it," you say, your voice a little breathless. "Itâs beautiful, Ki. Seriously, youâve done so much for me already..."
"Hey," he murmurs, gently taking the small box from your hands and setting it down. He reaches out, his warm fingers brushing against your cheek, tilting your face up slightly so you can't look away. "I told you, you don't have to feel guilty. You deserve to be celebrated, Y/N. Especially on your birthday. I wanted you to have something you could wear every day, just to remind you..." He pauses, his thumb lightly tracing your cheekbone. "...to remind you that you're precious. To me."
You reach out for the final, medium-sized box sitting at the bottom of the pile, but before your fingers can even brush the wrapping paper, Ni-ki darts forward and snatches it away with lightning-fast reflexes.
"Hey!" you laugh, your hands left hovering in the air.
"This one..." he says, pulling the bag behind his back and holding it out of your reach like a protective guard, "...is for later."
You look at him, completely confused, your brows furrowing as you try to peek behind his shoulder. "What do you mean later? Theyâre all birthday gifts!"
Ni-ki just lets out a soft, melodic laugh, his eyes crinkling into that bright, boyish shape youâve grown so fond of. He reaches out with his free hand and gently taps the tip of your nose.
"For your actual birthday, silly," he teases, his smile widening at your pouting expression. "A guy's got to keep some secrets. If I let you open everything today, what am I supposed to give you when the midnight clock strikes?"
He stands up, safely hiding the mystery gift in his jacket pocket, but his eyes never leave yours. Looking at him standing there, proud, attentive, and completely dedicated to making you happy, the last lingering shadows of your past officially fade away. You finally have someone who wants to celebrate you, and for the first time in a long time, you can't wait for the clock to strike midnight.
The cool night air brushes against your skin as Ni-ki carefully guides you forward, his large, warm hands securely wrapped around your waist to make sure you don't trip over your own feet.
"Ni-ki, seriously, where are you taking me?" you ask, a helpless laugh escaping your lips. The soft fabric of the blindfold covers your eyes completely, leaving you entirely dependent on him.
"Shhh, just trust me," he murmurs near your ear, his deep voice sending a sudden, electric shiver straight down your spine. His grip on your waist tightens just a fraction, pulling you securely against his side as you take a few more steps. "Almost there. Don't look yet."
"I can't look, Ki, you have my eyes covered," you point out, giggling as you blindly reach out, your fingers instantly finding the soft fabric of his jacket.
"Exactly. Perfect design," he teases, and you can practically hear the smug, excited grin on his face.
He guides you to a sudden stop, the ambient sounds around you opening up into a wide, quiet space. The faint, soothing rustle of leaves and the distant, twinkling hum of the city tell you that you're somewhere high up.
Ni-ki steps behind you, his chest brushing against your back. You feel his fingers gently reaching for the knot of the blindfold at the back of your head.
"Alright," he whispers, his breath warm against your neck, making your heart do a violent flip. "On three. One... two... three."
When the blindfold drops, you blink against the sudden light, and your breath completely catches in your throat.
The entire rooftop is transformed into a glowing, fairy-tale escape. String lights hang in delicate, golden canopies overhead, casting a warm, flickering glow across the space, complemented by dozens of soft candles placed safely along the perimeter. In the center sits a beautifully set table, arranged with your absolute favorite takeout containers and a single, elegant flower in a vase. Off to the side, giant metallic balloons bob gently in the night breeze, proudly displaying your new age.
"Surprise," Ni-ki says softly from behind you.
You turn around to look at him, your hands flying to your mouth as tears of pure, overwhelming happiness prick the corners of your eyes. Heâs standing there, hands tucked loosely into his pockets, looking a little nervous but incredibly proud of his handiwork.
"Ni-ki... you did all this?" you whisper, looking around the rooftop before locking your eyes back onto him. "How long did this take you?"
"Doesn't matter," he says, stepping closer, a soft, relieved smile breaking across his face when he sees how happy you are. "I wanted your midnight to be perfect. Happy birthday, Y/N."
You are so entranced by the glowing lights and the sheer effort he put into everything that you don't even hear him step back. Youâre spinning around, trying to take in every single detail, until his deep voice cuts through the quiet night air.
"Y/N L/N."
You turn around suddenly, the words dying on your lips. Your breath hitches, and tears instantly pool in your eyes at the sight before you.
Ni-ki is down on one knee on the rooftop floor.
The playful, teasing boy youâve known for years is gone, replaced by someone looking up at you with absolute reverence, his gaze unwavering and fiercely sincere.
"I've known you for years," he begins, his voice steady but thick with emotion. "Way before your relationship, and way before I even realized what the word 'love' meant. But upon being with you all these years as your best friend, I realized that love was you."
Your heart hammers violently against your ribs, a beautiful, overwhelming warmth flooding your chest as a tear finally spills over your lashes.
Ni-ki pauses, his hands trembling just a fraction as he reaches into his jacket pocket. He pulls out the mystery box from earlierâthe one he wouldn't let you openâand clicks it open. Resting inside is a stunning, delicate promise ring, catching the golden glow of the candlelight perfectly.
"So on this special day, I want to ask..." He looks up at you, his dark eyes holding a lifetime of devotion, offering you the happy ending he had only ever dared to dream of. "...will you be my girlfriend?"
A single tear finally slips down your cheek, catching the golden light of the candles as you look down at him. The weight of the past weeks, the healing, the laughter, and the steady, unwavering safety he brought back into your life, all comes rushing to the surface.
You smile through the tears, nodding slowly. "I would love to be."
The tension instantly evaporates from Ni-kiâs shoulders, and a brilliant, breathless smile breaks across his face. He lets out a laugh that sounds entirely relieved, standing up quickly and closing the small distance between you.
Before he even puts the ring on your finger, he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you right off your feet, spinning you around once under the canopy of string lights. You laugh, burying your face in his shoulder, holding onto him tight as the last pieces of your heart finally click right back into place.
He sets you down gently, keeping his hands on your waist for a second just to look at you, his eyes incredibly dark and filled with a happiness you haven't seen in him before.
"I've been waiting to hear you say that for a really long time," he whispers, his thumb reaching up to gently brush the tear from your cheek. He takes your left hand, sliding the delicate promise ring onto your finger. It fits perfectly. "Happy birthday, Y/N. I promise you're never going to have to doubt how much you're loved ever again."
And if the night couldn't get any more perfect, it did, sealed with a kiss under the glowing lights that you knew you would cherish for the rest of your days. It wasn't just a moment of celebration; it was a quiet, breathtaking promise of the future. Standing there in his arms, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours, any lingering shadows of the past completely dissolved. For the first time in a long time, you looked ahead and saw a beautiful, clear path, a life you knew, without a single doubt, you wanted to build entirely with him.
I wasn't originally going to make a version for ni-ki but I figured the story needed to end happily, let me know if you want another one based on who Jungwon meets and if he changed at all! This was Lwk rushed, it's 11 pm here and I have an event to attend tmr but hope you enjoyed!
Hey queen!! I donât wanna rush but I really loved Back to friends it was so good when do you think part 2 is gonna come out :)
Hiii omg I'm glad you loved it! I'm actually starting to work on it, I can't promise a guaranteed time because I am busy this time around but I will most def try to post it next week!
I was scared to take a breath, didn't want you to move your head
synopsis: You did everything with rikiâtraveled together, took classes side by side, shared the same bedâyet somehow, you were still nothing more than friends. No matter how much it looked like something else to everyone watching, that was all you were allowed to be.
genre: fluff, angst, friends to eventual lovers (next part)
warnings: none except kissing and riki gets a gf at the end
Pt 2
Papers were due, students hustling to get their assignments in. With the end of the semester looming, the stress had reached a whole new level for you and your friends. Everyone was scrambling, grumbling about their impossible professors or the maddening difficulty of their assignmentsâeveryone, that is, except one.
Your closest friend, Riki, was different. Like most frat boys at your college, he lived for parties and seemed completely unbothered by deadlines. Why would he care? He had a whole dance studio to inherit from his parents, talent that could make him a celebrity if he wanted, and nothingâabsolutely nothingâholding him back. Nothing like you, trapped behind textbooks you half-understood, weighed down by expectations you couldnât escape.
You and Riki were polar opposites. You wanted to be a doctor; he wanted to be a dancer. Yet somehow, despite your divergent paths and wildly different perspectives on life, you were inseparable. Best friends, glued at the hip, knowing each other inside and out.
âStudying in my room again?â Riki asked, stepping out of the shower with a towel draped around the back of his neck to keep the water from dripping, his usual sweatpants hanging low and no shirt in sightâtypical Riki.
âI have a final in three hours,â you replied, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose. âYour roomâs the closest to my class building.â
He smirked, flopping onto his bed and scrolling through his phone. âAh, Mimi, always buried in your books, huh? What class is it even for?â he asked, feigning interest but probably not understanding a word of what you were saying.
âCalculus,â you replied, eyes glued to the problems as you worked through them one by one, completely locked in.
âBoring,â he muttered, tossing his phone onto the bed and strolling over. Before you could react, he closed your textbook and lifted your chin to look at you. âWe could just binge a new drama together,â he said, his grip light but firm.
You jabbed him with your elbow. âI donât have time for that, ki. I canât just fail.â
He groaned, pouting dramatically, and flopped back onto the bed. âSuit yourself. Iâm going to sleep,â he said, crossing his arms and shutting his eyes.
as your final approached, you started to pack your things "it's time already?" Riki groans, he was so deep into his nap but he couldn't let you leave without walking you out the door. He gets up lazily and rubs his eyes "come on" he walks you out of his dorm and to your classroom.
"thanks riki" was all you could say to him
"Good luck, Mimi. Don't let your brain explode," Riki said, offering a lazy, lopsided smile as he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze.
That brief touch lingered long after the classroom door clicked shut behind you. You took a deep breath, trying to flush the image of his messy bedhead and soft, post-nap voice out of your mind, and focused entirely on the calculus exam.
Three hours later, your brain felt thoroughly fried. The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long, amber shadows across the campus quad as you walked out of the building. You checked your phone, half-expecting a text from him, but there was nothing.
Of course, you thought with a faint, bitter smile. He's probably back at the frat house or at the studio.
But as you reached the bottom of the concrete steps, you spotted a familiar silhouette leaning against a brick pillar. He was wearing an oversized hoodie now, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, tapping his foot to a rhythm only he could hear. When he caught sight of you, his face instantly lit up.
"Look who survived," Riki called out, jogging over to meet you.
"You waited?" You blinked, genuinely surprised. "Or did you just go back to sleep out here?"
"Ha-ha, very funny," he rolled his eyes, but naturally slotted himself right into your personal space, his arm looping casually over your shoulders. It was a heavy, comforting weightâone you were entirely too used to. "I went and grabbed food. You haven't eaten a real meal all day, Mimi. Let's go."
This was the rhythm of your life with Nishimura Riki.
To anyone else passing by, you looked like a textbook campus couple. He pulled you in close when a group of rowdy students passed by, his fingers brushing against your neck, completely unbothered by how intimate it looked. He knew your favorite takeout order by heart. He shared your bed when the storm got too loud or when he simply didn't want to walk back to his own room.
Yet, as you walked side-by-side toward his dorm, the heavy silence of the unspoken rule hung between you.
Friends.
You were the anchor that kept his chaotic, free-spirited world grounded, and he was the breath of fresh air that kept you from suffocating under medical school prerequisites. But anchors and air don't mix; they just exist in the same space.
Back in his room, the scent of Thai takeout filled the air. You sat cross-legged on his floor, finally letting the exhaustion wash over you. Riki sat on the edge of his bed, watching you eat with a soft, unreadable expression.
"You look like a zombie," he noted softly, leaning down to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His thumb brushed your cheekbone, a gesture so tender it made your throat tight.
"I feel like one," you whispered, freezing under his touch.
For a second, just a fraction of a second, Rikiâs gaze dropped to your lips. The playful, careless frat-boy facade completely melted away, replaced by something intense, heavy, and terrifyingly real. Your heart hammered against your ribs. You held your breath, wondering if this was the moment the boundaries finally blurred into something permanent.
Then, just as quickly as it came, the shutter went down. Riki pulled his hand back, snapping a bright, carefree smile back onto his face as he leaned back.
"Well, lucky for you, your favorite dancer is going to let you hijack his bed for a celebratory nap. Come on, Mimi, move it." He patted the mattress beside him.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a small laugh to mask the ache in your chest. "You're too kind, Ki."
As you crawled onto the bed, settling into the familiar space beside him, he pulled the blanket over both of you, tugging you against his chest without a second thought. You closed your eyes, listening to the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart. You were closer to him than anyone else in the world, yet as his arms tightened around you in a purely platonic embrace, you had never felt further away.
The steady thud of Rikiâs heartbeat beneath your cheek was supposed to be a comfort, but tonight, it felt like a countdown.
He fell asleep quickly, his breathing deep and even, one heavy arm slung carelessly over your waist to keep you anchored against him. It was a position youâd found yourself in a hundred times before. To Riki, this was just second natureâhe was a tactile person, a dancer who grew up sharing spaces, entirely unbothered by physical proximity. He didn't think twice about the fact that your noses were practically brushing, or that his warmth was seeping through your clothes.
But you were wide awake, staring at the faint shadow of his jawline in the dim room, your chest aching with a familiar, hollow weight.
Friends, you thought bitterly. Thatâs what your entire life with him was. A beautiful, agonizing contradiction. You got to hold his hand when he was anxious before a showcase, you got to sleep in his bed, you got to be the first person he called when things went wrongâyet you had absolutely no right to be jealous when girls at the frat parties asked for his number.
Slowly, trying not to wake him, you lifted your hand and let your fingertips hover just millimeters away from his face. You traced the line of his eyebrow, the sharp bridge of his nose, the soft curve of his lips. He was so frustratingly beautiful, a storm of talent and effortless charm, while you were just... Mimi. The responsible one. The safe harbor.
Riki stirred, letting out a soft, subconscious grunt. Instead of rolling away, he shifted closer, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, sending a violent shiver down your spine. His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him until there was no space left between you at all.
"Mimi..." he mumbled against your skin, his voice thick with sleep. "Stop thinking so loud. Go to sleep."
A watery laugh escaped your throat. "I can't help it, Ki."
He didn't reply, just nuzzled closer, his lips brushing lightly against your collarbone in a way that made your heart completely stop. It was devastating how easily he could wreck your entire composure without even trying. You knew that if you woke him up right now and kissed him, he would probably kiss you back. He might even enjoy it. But tomorrow, the reality of his world and your world would crash back in, and heâd go back to treating you like his irreplaceable, platonic shadow. He was a free spirit; he didn't do strings, and he definitely didn't do forever.
And you couldn't handle just being a temporary stop in his life.
"Riki?" you whispered into the dark, your voice trembling just a fraction.
"Hmm?"
"What happens after we graduate?"
The question had been eating at you for months. He was going to take over his familyâs studio, maybe travel the world choreography-touring. You were going to spend the next four to internal medicine or surgery residency, locked away in a hospital for eighty hours a week.
Riki didn't answer right away. For a moment, you thought he had drifted back to sleep. But then, his grip on your waist tightened even moreâalmost painfully so. He opened his eyes, the dark irises reflecting the faint moonlight filtering through the blinds. The sleepy haze was gone, replaced by a raw, quiet intensity.
"Why are you asking that now?" he murmured, his voice dropping an octave.
"Because we're living in a bubble," you said softly, looking directly into his eyes, refusing to back down even though your chest felt like it was fracturing. "And bubbles burst. You're going to be a star, Ki. And I'm going to be buried in a hospital. We won't be able to just... do this anymore."
Riki stared at you, his gaze searching your face, lingering on your eyes, your nose, your lips. For a terrifying second, the playful frat boy completely vanished, and the sheer gravity of what you meant to him hung heavy in the air. He reached up, his large hand cupping your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a tear you hadn't even realized had fallen.
"Then don't think about after," Riki whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. Your breaths mingled in the tiny space between you. "Just stay right here. With me. Don't leave yet."
It wasn't a confession. It wasn't a promise of a future, or a declaration of love. It was just a desperate plea to keep the illusion alive for a little while longer.
And because you loved him entirely too much, you closed your eyes, tangled your fingers in the fabric of his hoodie, and let yourself be held.
The silence that followed his words wasnât peaceful; it was heavy, thick with everything neither of you was brave enough to say.
Rikiâs thumb was still resting on your cheekbone, his skin warm and a little rough from years of floorwork in the studio. You could feel the slow, steady pulse in his wrist against your jaw. He was so close that if you leaned forward just a fraction of an inch, your lips would brush his.
The tension in the tiny space between you stretched until it felt ready to snap.
"You always do that," you whispered, your voice catching in your throat. "You just tell me not to think. Like itâs that easy."
Rikiâs gaze dropped. In the dim moonlight, his dark eyes looked almost black, intense and entirely focused on you. "It is easy, Mimi. Why does everything have to be a calculation with you?"
"Because my life isn't a dance routine, Riki! I can't just wing it," you fired back, a sudden surge of frustration masking the ache in your chest. You tried to pull away, to put some distance between your racing heart and his suffocating proximity, but his grip on your waist tightened.
"I don't wing it," he muttered, his voice dropping to a low, rough register that sent a shiver straight down your spine. He pulled you back in, his chest flushing against yours. "And I'm not winging this."
"Then what is this?" your voice cracked, the raw vulnerability leaking out before you could stop it. "Because from where I'm standing, we're playing a game with no rules, and I'm the only one who's going to get hurt when it ends."
Rikiâs breath hitched. His eyes locked onto yours, blazing with a sudden, frustrating heat. He looked angry, conflicted, and completely consumed all at once.
"You think you're the only one?" he breathed.
Before you could process the words, the last line of defense crumbled. Riki leaned down and closed the distance.
The kiss wasnât gentle, and it wasnât careful. It was a sudden, desperate collision born from months of forced restraint. His lips were soft but demanding, pressing against yours with an urgency that stole the air straight from your lungs. For a breathless, terrifying second, the entire world tilted on its axis. Your hands instinctively flew to his chest, gripping the fabric of his hoodie as you kissed him back, completely helpless against the current. It tasted like years of shared secrets, late-night drives, and a terrifying amount of unexpressed longing.
Then, just as abruptly as it began, it stopped.
Riki pulled back, his breathing ragged, his lips parted. He stared at you, his eyes wide, a rare flash of genuine panic crossing his features. The absolute certainty he usually carried himself with evaporated in an instant.
You sat frozen, your lips tingling, your heart hammering so loudly against your ribs you were certain he could hear it. The gravity of what just happened crashed down on both of you. You had crossed the line. The illusion was broken.
Or so you thought.
Riki swallowed hard, his expression shifting, hardening as the familiar, protective shutter slammed right back down over his eyes. He let out a breathless, forced laugh, moving his hand away from your face to rub the back of his neck.
"Wow," he said, his voice entirely too casual, though it was still a little rough around the edges. "Okay. That... we definitely shouldn't have done that. Post-nap brain is real."
The words felt like a physical blow to your chest, freezing the warmth in your veins. You forced your own walls to shoot up, your pride kicking in to save you from completely falling apart in front of him.
"Yeah," you agreed quickly, your voice remarkably steady despite the storm inside you. You managed a small, dismissive shrug, even forcing a hollow chuckle. "Just academic stress. My brain is totally fried. I think I just needed... a distraction or something."
"Exactly," Riki said, nodding a bit too eagerly as he lay back down, staring up at the ceiling. "Total fluke. Didn't mean anything. We're just tired."
"Totally," you whispered, turning your back to him so he couldn't see the way your eyes welled with tears. "Didn't feel a thing."
"Me neither," he murmured into the dark.
Behind you, Riki didn't put his arm around your waist again. The space between you on the mattress felt miles wide. You both lay there, wide awake in the dark, desperately lying to yourselves about the fire that had just torched your entire friendship.
The next morning, the sun broke through the blinds, ruthless and bright, forcing both of you to face the wreckage of the night before.
The air in the room was stifling, thick with an awkwardness that had never existed between you before. Riki was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to you, silently running a hand through his messy hair. The easy, lazy morning banter that usually defined your routine was entirely missing.
"I have an early rehearsal," he said quietly, his voice a little raspy as he stood up. He didn't quite look you in the eye. "You can stay and sleep if you want. Just lock up."
"It's fine. I should get to the library anyway," you replied, your voice tight as you scrambled to gather your calculus textbooks.
When you finally stood by the door, your hand hovering over the knob, you turned back. Riki was standing by his desk, watching you. For a split second, his eyes searched yours, raw and unreadable, as if he wanted to reach out and pull you back. But the protective, carefree shutter slammed right back down over his face.
"See ya, Mimi," he said, forcing a faint, casual smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Bye, Ki," you whispered.
Four weeks later, the sting of that night had finally begun to dull, buried under the relentless mountain of your pre-med summer coursework. You and Riki had slowly dialed things back to "normal", or at least, a carefully orchestrated version of it. You still texted, you still grabbed coffee, but the late nights in his bed were quietly, collectively erased from the script.
Until Friday night.
The frat house was overflowing, music thumping through the floorboards and red solo cups littering every surface. You had only agreed to come because Riki insisted it was a "mandatory celebrate-passing-finals" night.
You found him near the kitchen, laughing with a few guys from his dance crew. But as you walked closer, the breath caught in your throat.
There was a girl standing right next to him. She was beautiful, a fellow dancer from the studio, with effortless grace and a bright, easy smile. And Rikiâs arm was slung casually over her shoulders. It was the exact same heavy, comforting weight he always rested on you, but this time, his fingers were gently tracing patterns on her bare arm.
As if sensing your eyes, Riki looked up. His smile flickered for a fraction of a second when he caught your gaze, a sudden flash of tension crossing his features before he recovered.
"Mimi! You made it," he called out, guiding the girl over to you. His grip on her waist tightened just a bit, almost defensively. "Hey, this is Maya. Maya, this is Mimi, my best friend."
Best friend. The words felt like a bucket of ice water.
"Nice to meet you," Maya smiled warmly, entirely sweet and blameless. "Riki talks about you all the time. The future doctor, right?"
"Yeah, that's me," you forced a smile, your chest tightening so hard it physically ached. You looked at Riki, searching his face for something, a hint of guilt, a sign that he remembered the heat of his lips against yours just a month ago.
But Riki just looked back at you with that same carefree, frat-boy expression, his eyes entirely blank. "Mayaâs helping me choreograph the opener for the fall showcase," he added, his voice a little too casual. "We've been spending a ton of time together at the studio."
"That's great, Ki. Really," you managed to say, the nickname tasting bitter on your tongue.
An hour later, you couldn't take the suffocating heat of the house anymore. You slipped out the back door, stepping onto the quiet, moonlit porch to catch your breath. The cool night air hit your face, and you finally let your shoulders drop, swallowing down the lump in your throat.
The door clicked open behind you.
"Mimi?"
You didn't need to turn around to know it was him. Riki stepped onto the porch, letting the door swing shut. He didn't have his arm around anyone now, and without the crowd watching, that heavy, unresolved tension from a month ago instantly flooded the space between you.
"Hey," you said, keeping your back to him for a moment before turning around. "Shouldn't you be inside with Maya?"
Riki rubbed the back of his neck, leaning against the wooden railing. He looked down at his sneakers, a rare shadow of conflict washing over his face. "She's getting a drink. I just... wanted to make sure you were okay. You left kind of abruptly."
"I'm fine, Riki. Just needed some air." You leaned against the opposite railing, crossing your arms to keep yourself from reaching out. "She's really nice. I'm happy for you."
Riki lifted his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. He took a slow step closer, closing the distance until you could smell the familiar scent of his cologne. For a second, his gaze dropped to your lips, and the ghost of that forbidden kiss seemed to burn in the space between you.
"Mimi, about Maya..." he started, his voice dropping to that low, rough register that always made your heart race. "It's just... it's easier this way. You know?"
You stared at him, the realization hitting you like a physical blow. Easier. A girlfriend was a boundary. A safety net. A tangible wall he could put up to ensure neither of you ever crossed the line again. He was running from what happened in the dark, and he was using her to do it.
"Yeah," you whispered, forcing your voice not to tremble as you took a step back, intentionally putting space between you. "It's much easier."
Rikiâs jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with something that looked remarkably like regret. But before he could say anything else, the porch door opened, and Mayaâs voice called out for him.
Riki held your gaze for one last, agonizing moment. The lie was still there, hanging heavily between you, but now it had a name. He gave you a tight, conflicted nod before turning back toward the door.
You stood alone on the porch, watching him walk back into the crowded house. The summer was just beginning, graduation was still semesters away, and the game you were playing had just gotten a whole lot more dangerous.
this is a year late, I ran out of ideas so again, this one is rushed, apologies on my behalf I barely had any time to lock in on fics after graduation
You could say you miss all that we had, but I don't really care how bad it hurts
Synopsis: Jungwon is too oblivious to see that his female best friend wants him all to herself, leaving you to deal with the canceled dates and distance. Exhausted by his blind loyalty to her, you finally call it quits. Now that you've moved on, the truth has finally registered, and heâs at your doorstep on his knees, begging to be let back in.
Genre: angst, fluff, distant relationship, one shot
warnings: Jungwon's bsf is a pick me so be warned, break up, second chances, Jungwon is cold asf and dry, Jungwon is toxic and distant, Jungwon gets jealous that you hang out with Riki, brace yourselves..
pt 2 (ni-ki's version)
The silence in the apartment is deafening, save for the ticking of the clock passing 10:15 PM. The food you spent hours cooking has long gone cold, and the candles you lit with so much excitement have burned down to stubs, pooling wax onto the tablecloth.
You stare at your phone, a heavy, familiar sinking feeling settling into your stomach. Not again.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you open his chat and type out a message.
You: Hey, it's past 10. Where are you? Dinner's completely cold.
It takes nearly ten minutes before a short, detached notification pops up on your screen.
Jungwon: Still at Hana's. She's having a hard night. Don't wait up, I'll probably just crash here.
No apology. No mention of the date he missed, or the effort you put in. Just a dry, matter-of-fact text that treats you like an afterthought while he plays savior to a girl who knows exactly what she's doing. He's so completely blind to her intentions that he doesn't even realize how much he's freezing you out.
You type out the words, your fingers trembling slightly over the screen.
You: today's our... date, I set the table and everything..
You stare at the draft. It feels like begging. It feels like pleading for a bare minimum he used to give you without a second thought. Looking from the text to the cold plates on the table, a wave of profound exhaustion washes over you. He doesn't see it. Or worse, he just doesn't care enough to see it.
Before you can lose your nerve, you hit backspace, watching the letters vanish one by one until the text box is completely empty.
You shut your phone off, the screen going completely black, reflecting your own tired face in the dark.
Standing up, you don't bother blowing out the dying candles. You just walk past the romantic setup you spent hours perfecting, leave the cold food on the table, and head straight to the bedroom.
You switch your phone back on, the harsh light stinging your eyes in the dark room. You don't want to text Jungwon. You don't want to hear another dry excuse. Instead, you find Ni-ki's name in your contacts. As one of Jungwonâs closest friends, Ni-ki has seen this whole trainwreck happening from the sidelines, often looking on with a frustration that mirrored your own.
You type out a quick message.
You: are you awake?
Itâs late, but Ni-kiâs sleep schedule is notoriously nonexistent. Sure enough, the status changes to online almost instantly.
Ni-ki: yeah. what's up? aren't you supposed to be on a date night or something?
A bitter, breathless laugh escapes your lips, the sound echoing hollowly in the quiet bedroom. Itâs funny in the cruelest way possible. Everyone else could see it. Even Ni-ki knew what today was.
You type out the reply, staring at the five words that felt like a final nail in the coffin.
You: hes with Hana
On the other side of the city, Ni-ki stares at his phone, his chest tightening. The sheer simplicity of your text speaks volumes. You aren't typing out paragraphs of angry rants, and you aren't spamming emojis. Itâs just flat, exhausted, and defeated. He can practically feel the heartbreak through the screen.
He runs a hand through his hair, a wave of genuine anger toward Jungwon washing over him. How could he be this incredibly blind?
His fingers fly across the keyboard.
Ni-ki: shit really? Today's your anniversary
Ni-ki: Please tell me he didn't forget. Tell me he didn't blow you off for her tonight of all nights.
Your reply is bare, stripped of any energy to even use capital letters.
You: he didn't say anything about it
Ni-ki stares at the words, his blood running cold before turning into pure, hot anger. Jungwon didn't just lose track of time. He completely forgot. He let his oblivious, misplaced loyalty to Hana entirely erase the person who actually mattered.
Throwing his sheets aside, Ni-ki swings his legs out of bed. He doesn't even bother changing out of his sweatpants. He grabs his hoodie, shoves his wallet into his pocket, and snatches his car keys off the nightstand.
As he heads out the door, his phone buzzes in his hand with your response to his previous question.
Ni-ki: are you still at home?
You reacted with a đ emoji
That single, detached thumbs-up is louder than any breakdown. It tells him everything he needs to know: you're sitting alone in a dark apartment, surrounded by a date night meant for two, while Jungwon is across town playing protector to a girl who is secretly smiling at her own victory.
Ni-ki unlocks his car, the engine roaring to life in the quiet night. He pulls out of the driveway, hitting the steering wheel in frustration. Jungwon is his friend, but right now, Ni-ki can barely stand the thought of him.
He sends one last text before driving off.
Ni-ki: Don't clean up the table. Don't touch anything. I'm coming over.
You stare at the screen for a long second, his words sinking in, before finally locking your phone and tossing it onto the bed. You intentionally avoid clicking on Instagram. You already know what would be waiting thereâa candid photo of them, a captioned "emergency," or a subtle, smug tag from Hana designed to mark her territory. You're done torturing yourself.
True to his word, exactly thirty minutes later, a soft but firm knock echoes through the quiet apartment.
When you pull the door open, Ni-ki is standing under the hallway light, looking slightly breathless. In one hand, heâs holding a fresh bouquet of flowers, and in the other, a bag with your favorite chocolates.
"You drove all the way here? That's an hour drive," you say, your voice cracking slightly from the shockâand the sudden, overwhelming warmth of someone actually showing up for you.
Ni-ki shrugs, a gentle but fierce look in his eyes. "Well, I got here in thirty, so I guess you can see where my priorities lie."
He steps inside, handing you the flowers and the bag before bending down to unlace his sneakers. The contrast hits you like a physical blow: Jungwon couldn't be bothered to cross town for your anniversary, but Ni-ki just flew down the highway in record time just to make sure you weren't alone.
He walks into the dining room, his eyes scanning the beautifully set, untouched table and the candles that had finally burned themselves out. Instead of pointing out the obvious sadness of the room, he takes a seat, grabbing the silverware Jungwon was supposed to be using.
"Now," he says, looking up at you with a soft smile, "we wouldn't want this to go to waste, hm?"
Without waiting, he takes a generous bite of the cold curry you had spent hours preparing.
"Mmm!" His eyes instantly light up, wide with genuine delight. "As always, chef Y/N making the best meals."
His dramatic enthusiasm breaks through the heavy silence of the apartment, forcing a real, breathless laugh from your chest. For the first time all night, the crushing weight in your chest lightens just a bit. Ni-ki really was the best friend you could have ever asked for. While one person was busy taking you for granted, another didn't hesitate to show you exactly what you were worth.
Ni-ki casually wipes his mouth with a napkin, sets his phone on the table, and slides it toward you with a sly smirk. On the screen is his Instagram story: a picture of the beautifully set table, the delicious curry, and a corner of your sleeve in the frame.
The caption reads: Perks of being the favorite. Best cook in the world.
"Let's see how long it takes for his one remaining brain cell to connect the dots," Ni-ki mutters, taking another bite.
It doesn't take long. Across town, sitting on the couch in Hana's living room while she complains about something he isn't even listening to anymore, Jungwon opens Instagram. When Ni-ki's story pops up, his chest instantly tightens with a sharp, ugly jolt of jealousy.
He recognizes that table. He recognizes that curry.
A hot wave of confusion and anger washes over him. What is Ni-ki doing at your apartment? Why are the two of you eating a romantic dinner together late at night?
Ignoring Hana completely, Jungwon switches over to your direct messages, his thumbs flying across the screen with an uncharacteristic sharpness.
Jungwon: why is ni-ki there?
You read the message, staring at the screen with a completely blank expression. The audacity of his jealousy after completely abandoning you doesn't even make you angry anymoreâit just makes you cold.
Your fingers tap out a brief, detached response. You don't mention the anniversary. You don't tell him the food was meant for him, or how long you spent setting the table. He doesn't deserve the satisfaction of knowing he hurt you, nor does he deserve the explanation.
You: he was helping me finish the food I made
You send it and immediately put the phone face down on the table, completely cutting off the conversation before he can even reply.
Across the table, Ni-ki watches you, noticing the sudden shift in your demeanor. He doesn't say anything, but he slides the plate of chocolates closer to you, offering a quiet, supportive nod.
Meanwhile, miles away, Jungwon stares at his screen. The utter lack of warmth in your text hits him like a physical blow. You didn't argue, you didn't ask when he was coming home, and you didn't even sound upset, you just sounded completely indifferent. And for the first time, a sickening knot of unease begins to form in his stomach.
Jungwon stared at your dry text, a toxic mix of jealousy and panic twisting in his gut. You didnât ask him to come home. You didnât care that he was at Hanaâs. He abruptly stood up, ignoring Hanaâs protests as she suddenly claimed her anxiety was returning. For the first time, he tuned her out, grabbed his jacket, and stormed out.
The drive to your apartment was a blur of speeding tickets and white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. When he finally arrived, he didn't even knock, he used his spare key, throwing the door open.
The sight inside made his blood boil. Ni-ki was sitting on your couch, wearing one of his old hoodies, laughing at something on your phone. You looked relaxed, a look he hadn't seen on your face in months.
"What the hell is this?" Jungwon's voice boomed, his eyes darting between you and his best friend.
Ni-ki didn't even flinch. He stood up slowly, stepping in front of you. "It's called showing up. You should try it sometime."
"Get out of my girlfriend's apartment, Ni-ki," Jungwon snarled, stepping up until they were chest-to-chest.
"Your girlfriend?" Ni-ki let out a mocking, angry laugh. "You don't get to call her that. Not after tonight. Do you even know what today is, you idiot? It's your anniversary. She sat here for hours waiting for you while you played house with Hana."
Jungwon froze for a fraction of a second, the realization hitting him like a punch to the jaw. He had forgotten. But his pride and jealousy overrode the guilt. "Thatâs none of your business! Hana needed meâ"
"Hana is playing you!" Ni-ki shouted, shoving Jungwon back. "Everyone sees it but you! She doesn't want you as a friend, Jungwon, she wants to ruin your relationship because she's in love with you. And you're too damn blind and oblivious to see how much you're taking Y/N for granted!"
Blinded by pure rage and the stinging truth, Jungwon pulled his fist back, throwing a punch that caught Ni-ki across the jaw.
Ni-ki stumbled back against the kitchen counter. Before Jungwon could lunge again, you threw yourself in front of Ni-ki, your hands firmly pressing against Jungwonâs chest, pushing him back with a strength born of pure exhaustion.
"Stop it! Touch him again and Iâm calling the police!" you screamed, your voice echoing off the walls.
Jungwon panted, his eyes wide as he looked down at you. "Y/N... I'm sorry, I just... he was here, and I lost itâ"
"He was here because you weren't," you said, your voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm, dead whisper. Tears finally spilled over your cheeks, but your gaze was ice. "I am so tired, Jungwon. I am tired of competing with a girl who manipulates you, and I am tired of a boyfriend who is too stupid to see it. We're done. Get out."
"Y/N, please, let's talkâ"
"I said get out!"
Seeing the finality in your eyes, and looking at Ni-ki wiping a bead of blood from his lip, Jungwon realized he had lost completely. He stumbled backward out of the apartment, the door slamming shut in his face.
Two days later, Jungwon was a wreck. He was sitting at a cafĂŠ with Hana, trying to process the breakup, when he noticed her phone lying face-up on the table. A text preview popped up from one of her friends: 'Did it work? Did he finally leave Y/N for you?'
The world seemed to stop spinning. Jungwon snatched her phone, ignoring her gasps as he scrolled through her texts. There it wasâmonths of calculated texts detailing how she purposely threw fake panic attacks, planned fake emergencies, and explicitly stated her goal to make you dump him so she could have him.
The veil of his obliviousness shattered in an instant. He looked at Hana, disgust twisting his features. "You ruined my life," he whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying rage. He stood up, knocking his chair over, and blocked her number right in front of her. "Never look at me, speak to me, or come near me again."
The rain was pouring heavily when a frantic, desperate knocking sounded at your door. You opened it, expecting Ni-ki or a delivery, but instead, you found Jungwon.
He was soaked to the bone, shivering, his hair plastered to his forehead. The moment the door opened, his knees buckled. He dropped straight to the floor, his hands gripping the hem of your sweatpants as sob after sob racked his body.
"Y/N... Iâm so sorry, Iâm so stupid," he choked out, his voice completely broken. He wouldn't even look you in the eye, too ashamed of what heâd done. "You were right. Everyone was right. She used me to tear us apart and I let her. I blocked her, I threw her out of my life, I swear sheâs nothing to me."
He lifted his tear-streaked face, his hands trembling as he begged. "Please, Y/N. Just give me one more chance to fix this. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Please don't leave me."
You look down at him, your expression entirely numb. Seeing Jungwon like this, soaked, sobbing, and completely broken at your feet, used to be something you thought would bring you closure. Instead, it just feels incredibly empty.
Slowly, you reach down and gently but firmly pull your sweatpants out of his trembling grip. You step back, forcing him to look up at you from the floor.
"Get up, Jungwon," you say, your voice flat and devoid of the warmth he used to rely on.
He pushes himself up onto his shins, looking at you with desperate, pleading eyes. "Y/N, please... I know I messed up, but now I see it. I see what she was doing. Itâs over between me and her. It's just you. It's always been you."
"That's the problem," you reply, letting out a soft, bitter breath. "It wasn't always me. You only see the truth now because you read her texts. You didn't believe me when I told you. You didn't believe Ni-ki. You didn't care about my tears, or the dates you missed, or our anniversary. You only care now because your pride got hurt by her manipulation."
"No, that's not true!" he cries out, reaching for your hand, but you step further back into the apartment, out of his reach. "I love you. I was just stupid, I swearâ"
"You were oblivious, Jungwon. But being oblivious doesn't excuse how badly you treated me," you say, your voice cracking slightly, though you refuse to let yourself cry in front of him again. "You left me alone on our anniversary to play savior to her. I spent months feeling second best, wondering what was wrong with me."
"Nothing is wrong with you! You're perfect, I'm the one whoâ"
"I know nothing is wrong with me," you interrupt firmly, looking him dead in the eye. "It took you leaving me alone in the dark to finally realize that. I don't hate you, Jungwon. But I'm not going to let you back into my life just because you finally woke up."
You take a step toward the door, holding it open as the cool, rainy air sweeps into the hallway.
"Go home, get dry, and figure your life out," you say quietly. "But do it without me. We're done."
Before he can utter another desperate plea, you gently close the door on him, turning the lock with a final, definitive click. You lean your back against the wood, closing your eyes, and take a deep, clear breath. For the first time in a very long time, you feel completely free.
The End
This was lowkey rushed so please ignore that, I got this idea from a TikTok I saw and I wanted to make a fic out of it!
Literally I don't have much to say except i'm very shocked, I know I'm a week late on making this post but I just haven't been active on this app either way. The whole thing with Heeseung's departure doesn't sit right with me, someone who literally talked about the Melbourne trip and how happy and excited he is to be with his members just 48 hours before the announcement wouldn't leave like that.
The whole news in itself is a shocker but with how the company acts and has always acted, i'm truly not surprised they pulled something like this. No matter what let's not give up on our boy because he never gave up on us and the members wouldn't want us to give up on him either. This whole thing is so last minute, so fucked up, and the mistreatment is at the breaking point.
I hope you guys can continue to drop tags on twitter and instagram along with other platforms who are spamming as well! if you want you can even drop tags here too, we just want Heeseung back and we can't give up- not now especially not until we find out the truth. I will be trying my best to post whether it's text reactions or instagram story scenario's or even fics themselves. I have my last final tomorrow so i'm trying my best to digest information and study the best I can but you can expect content from me like usual.
I WILL be including Heeseung in my content as enhypen is and will always be ot7 whether hybe and belift's bitchasses want to accept it or not. Remember, he will be back, always hold onto hope and never let this bring you or your mental health down. I understand Enhypen as a whole has saved a lot of us but we don't want them to feel guilty if anything were to happen. If anyone needs to rant or talk, comment and i'll be here to listen if you need an outlet :), stay healthy, stay safe, stay hopeful!
ęąĘÉ´á´á´ęąÉŞęą: people would say your relationship with your family was like any other normal asian household but of course, no one knows the extent of how bad living really was for youâuntil ni-ki came across something he shouldn't have.
ɢá´É´Ęá´: angst, fluff, non idol! au
á´Ąá´Ęɴɪɴɢęą: 15+, ni-ki is a dickhead, academic pressure, expectations, mentions of depression and mental health issues, mentions of therapy, heartbreak, isolation, lack of freedom, broken family, arguing, story of my life with a bit of fictional stuff added.
á´xá´Ęá´: Rei (ive), Eunchae, (Le Serrafim), Leeseo (Ive), Maki (&TEAM), Heeseung, Jungwon, and Sunoo as your school friends.
á´á´á´Ęá´Ęęą É´á´á´á´: Finally, Iâm done with this. Before you continue reading, I just want to sayâthis story is based on my life. While my dad isnât exactly how Iâve portrayed him here, the way I wrote him reflects how I feltâthe pressure, the weight of expectations, the emotional reality I experienced. As for the parts with Riki, many of those moments are inspired by real events. But please remember, not everything in this story is factualâsome parts are fictionalized or dramatized for the sake of the narrative.
wc - 10, 963
You could hear the sharp crash of glass shattering in the kitchenâyour parents were at it again, locked in another heated argument. It had become a nightly routine: your dad stumbling in after a day wasted on gambling, and your mom finally letting her frustrations spill over. Words turned to shouting, names were thrown like daggers, and the walls echoed with the kind of noise that made your head throb.
All you could do was sit in your room, headphones jammed in your ears, music blasting loud enough to drown out the chaos downstairs. It had become your daily escape, a routine you were forced to grow numb to as your parents' fights became a permanent fixture of your life. People assumed you came from a perfect family, but that illusion shattered years ago. The broken pieces were scattered beyond repairâtoo sharp for anyone to touch, let alone try to piece back together.
âCan you guys shut up already!â your older sister shouted from her roomâthe same room where you sat beside her on the bed, trying to blink back tears. These arguments always hit you the hardest.
âY/N, just go to sleep. You have school tomorrow,â she said softly, her voice laced with frustration but also protectiveness. She wanted to shield you, even if just a little, from the chaos of your home.
You nodded wordlessly, slipping off your headphones and crawling into bed. Turning your back to her, you let the tears fall in silence, hoping she wouldnât notice how broken you really felt.
Your phone vibrated suddenly beside you, the soft buzz cutting through the heavy silence. You wiped your eyes quickly and reached for it, half-expecting another useless notificationâuntil you saw the name on the screen.
Heeseung: are you at school yet?
you: I just woke up to your message, parents fought i don't want to drive with them.
Heeseung: get ready in 10, i'll pick you up
You reluctantly pulled yourself out of your warm bed, the last place you wanted to leaveâbut you did it anyway. You got dressed in silence, grateful for at least one constant in your life: Heeseung. He made school bearable, like the weight of everything at home wasnât quite so crushing when he was around.
Just as you finished getting ready, you heard the soft hum of his car pulling up outside. A few seconds later, he stepped out, casually walking up to your door. With that familiar, gentle smile, he opened it for you like alwaysâno words, just quiet comfort.
âMustâve been a rough night, huh?â Heeseung said softly, his eyes flicking over to you as he drove, just long enough to check if you were okay.
You didnât answerâjust kept your gaze fixed on the window, watching the world blur past. The silence between you spoke volumes. Heeseung didnât push. He knew better. It was clear you werenât in the mood to talk, especially not about them.
So he let the silence settle, quiet and steadyâoffering presence, not pressure.
After a moment, he broke it gently. âAre you gonna sign up for the engineering program?â
His voice was hesitant, like he already knew the answer but needed to ask anyway. He knew what the topic meant to youâhow heavy it felt under the weight of expectations you never asked for.
You let out a soft breath. âI donât want to,â you said, eyes still on the window. âBut you know my dad... he wonât leave me alone about it.â
Your tone wasnât passionate or even annoyedâit was tired, resigned. Like someone talking about a chore theyâd been doing their whole life, not a dream they actually wanted.
âYeah, I know,â Heeseung replied quietly, his fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. He paused, like he was choosing his words carefully. âYou should really stand up to him, yâknow?â he said at last.
âYouâre doing things you donât even want to do.â
The words stung a littleânot because he was wrong, but because he wasnât. His voice wasnât angry or judgmental, just honest. Still, it made your chest tighten.
You looked down at your hands, fingers clenched in your lap. If only it were that easy, you thought.
You werenât like your sister. She knew how to fight back, how to raise her voice and push back when things got too much. But you? You had never learned how to say no. You just nodded, agreed, followed along. It was a habitâone that had carved itself deep into who you were.
Heeseung glanced at you again, sensing the heaviness behind your silence. He didnât push any further. He just kept driving, letting you sit with your thoughts.
âItâs not that easy, Hee⌠you donât know my dad like I do,â you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. There was no anger in your toneâjust quiet exhaustion.
Heeseung nodded, his eyes staying on the road but his attention fully on you. He understood, or at least he tried to. He didnât press, didnât dismiss what you were feeling.
âI know I wonât ever fully get it,â he said after a pause, his voice low, careful. âBut Iâve been your friend for years. Iâve seen how much this eats at you. Youâve gotta show him youâre not a kid anymore. Weâre gonna be seniors next year, for Christâs sake.â
There was a hint of frustration in his voiceâbut not at you. It was at the situation, at your dad, at how powerless he felt watching you go through this. His tone was heavy with concern, laced with the kind of care that only came from someone who genuinely wanted better for you.
He didnât have all the answers, and he knew that. But still, he was hereâdoing his best to hold space for you, even when the weight wasnât his to carry.
The rest of the car ride passed in silenceâcomfortable, if a little heavy. Neither of you said another word as the school parking lot came into view. Heeseung pulled into his usual spot near the back, away from the crowd. He never liked parking in cramped spaces; said it felt suffocating.
You opened the door and stepped out, and the moment the cold morning air hit your skin, you shivered. The wind slipped beneath your jacket like it belonged there, adding another layer to the discomfort you were already carrying.
Heeseung walked around to your side, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. He glanced at you briefly, noticing the way you hugged your arms around yourself.
âYou shouldâve brought a thicker jacket,â he mumbled, his tone half-scolding, half-soft.
But he didnât wait for a responseâhe just started walking toward the school, falling into step beside you like always.
You quickly matched his pace, nudging his shoulder with a light smack. âWhy donât you be a gentleman and lend me your jacket, then?â you teased, raising a brow with a playful smirk.
Heeseung rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. Your silly sideâthat sarcastic humor even in the middle of everythingâwas one of the things he secretly loved most about you. Still, he couldnât help but let out a dramatic sigh.
âHmm⌠let me thinkâŚâ he said, pretending to mull it over. âYeah, no. I donât feel like freezing today either.â
And with that, he suddenly took off toward the school gate, his laugh echoing behind him.
âHey!â you shouted, breaking into a run after him, laughter spilling from your lips despite everything.
For a moment, the weight on your chest lifted. The cold didnât seem so harsh, and the chaos at home felt a little farther awayâall because of him.
Unknown to the two of you, someone else had been watching the whole exchangeâquiet, unnoticed, and saying nothing. He sat alone at one of the outdoor tables near the school entrance, eyes tracking your playful chase without a single word leaving his lips.
Nishimura Riki.
The guy no one ever expected to pay attentionâbut somehow, always did. He wasnât much of a talker, especially at school. Despite his popularity, he kept to himself, headphones always in, eyes often somewhere far off⌠like now.
He took a sip of his apple juice, one earbud loosely hanging as the other played something only he could hear. His gaze lingered just a second longer on you, unreadable.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he looked away.
You stepped into your first periodâAP U.S. Historyâstill a little out of breath from running, cheeks flushed from the cold and the laughter. The mood quickly shifted, though, as you scanned the classroom and remembered exactly where you were headed.
Seatmates with him.
Nishimura Riki.
Of all the people to be paired with, it had to be the quiet, unreadable guy who barely said a word in class but somehow had a presence that was impossible to ignore. He was already at his desk, one earbud still in, a pencil lazily spinning between his fingers.
He didnât look up when you sat down beside him, and you didnât say anything either. That was kind of how it always wasâsilent, awkward, tolerable.
You pulled out your notebook and avoided glancing his way, but you could feel itâhis quiet awareness. Like he saw more than he let on.
You took your usual notes, eyes flicking between the board and your notebook, trying to stay focused. But every now and then, your gaze would wanderâjust for a secondâto the boy sitting next to you.
Riki.
Sometimes, as if he knew exactly when you'd glance over, heâd smirkâjust the faintest curve of his lips, smug and knowing. It was annoying how he always caught you looking, like he could sense it before you even turned your head. He never said anything, but that look was more than enough to make you roll your eyes and snap your attention back to your notes.
He wasnât always this quiet. Around his friendsâmostly a mix of girls and guys from elementary schoolâhe came alive. Loud laughter, inside jokes, shared glances. He had that easy charm, the kind that made people want to be around him. But when it was just the two of you at this desk, it was like he switched into a different modeâobservant, calm, almost unreadable.
Still, that smirk⌠it was starting to get under your skin.
âBe my partner.â
Rikiâs voice cut straight through your daydream, snapping you out of your thoughts like a cold splash of water. You blinked, turning to look at himâhis expression unreadable, but his tone serious and direct.
âP-Pardon? Partner for what?â you asked, brows knitting together in genuine confusion.
Without saying another word, he tilted his chin toward the front of the room.
You followed his gaze.
Sure enough, on the board was a new assignment: Partner projectâdue next week. Groups of two.
âOh,â you mumbled, mentally kicking yourself for zoning out. Again.
âFor that,â he said around the lollipop in his mouth, the stick sticking out slightly as one of his cheeks puffed from the candy.
It was oddly adorableânot that youâd ever admit that out loud.
You looked at him, then back at the board, then back at him. âWhy me?â you asked, curiosity slipping through your voice.
Riki shrugged, lips curling into that familiar, subtle smirk. âWhy not?â
You rolled your eyes, already suspicious of his sudden interest. Did he really just want a free ride on the assignment? Tchâpathetic.
âIf you're gonna make me do all the work,â you said, voice flat and unimpressed, âthen... no thank you.â
Riki chuckled under his breath, the lollipop stick bouncing slightly as he leaned back in his chair. âWow. You think that little of me?â
You gave him a look. âShould I not?â
He tilted his head slightly, that same cocky smirk tugging at his lips. âIâm smarter than I look, you know.â
âThen prove it,â you shot back, arms crossing.
He shrugged. âFine. Partnered or not, Iâm still getting an A.â
You scoffed, but a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. Maybeâjust maybeâthis wouldnât be the worst project ever.
Reluctantly, you agreed to be his partner. You didnât have high expectationsâhonestly, you assumed youâd be carrying most of the weight. But to your surprise, Riki wasnât as bad as you thought. In fact, he knew his research, had strong points, and if you were being honest... he mightâve even been a little smarter than you.
You were so deep in your thoughts, typing and erasing the same sentence for the third time, that you didnât even notice him watching you until he spoke.
âHave you done your part of the slides yet?â Riki asked, pulling you out of your mental spiral again.
You glanced over at his screen, expecting to see a half-finished messâbut instead, his slides were already done. Polished. Thorough. There were even citations at the bottom. You blinked, a little stunned.
ââŚSeriously?â you muttered, eyes widening slightly. His work made yours look like a blank canvas.
You turned to your own screen, the cursor blinking on an empty slide, and scratched the back of your neck awkwardly.
âNoâŚâ you mumbled, a little embarrassed now.
Riki leaned back, lollipop still in his mouth, that same annoying smirk playing on his lips. âTold you I was smarter than I look.â
You didnât replyâjust glared at him half-heartedly while dragging your fingers across the keyboard.
âShut up⌠Iâm trying to think,â you muttered, eyes glued to your blank slide as frustration simmered beneath your skin.
Riki burst into laughter, genuinely amused, throwing his head back in that carefree way that made him look too relaxed for someone in AP History. His laugh echoed softly between the two of you, and for some reason, it didnât annoy you as much as it shouldâve.
âWhile you figure that out,â he said, still grinning as he gestured lazily to your untouched screen, âIâm gonna sleep.â
He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head like this was just a casual hangout instead of a graded assignment. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, exasperated.
âYouâre unbelievable.â
âIâve been called worse,â he replied with a smirk, closing his eyes without a care in the world.
And there you satâstaring at your slide, lowkey stressed, while your annoyingly competent partner napped next to you like he didnât just finish the whole project two days early.
After school, you climbed into your dads car, the familiar chill in the air wrapping around you as you shut the door. Your dad didnât even glance at you as he started the engine, his expression as monotone as always. You could feel the unease creeping in. It wasnât a question of if he knew about the programâit was a matter of how heâd found out. You hadnât mentioned it, but somehow, he always did.
âThe deadline for the engineering program is tomorrow,â he said flatly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. âHave you done it?â
His voice was neutral, but there was an edge to itâa kind of quiet pressure that made the air between you feel heavier. He didnât ask about your day, didnât even glance in your direction. Typical.
âI havenât⌠Iâll do it today,â you responded quickly, your words almost automatic, not daring to say anything more.
When you walked in the door, your momâs smile was the first thing you saw. It was a soft, genuine one, the kind that made you wish things could be different. She seemed to be in a better mood todayâfor now. The tension of last nightâs argument was somehow pushed aside, like a storm that had passed, leaving calm in its wake.
âHi, sweetheart. How wasââ
But before she could finish, your dadâs voice sliced through the air, cold and commanding.
âForget how she is and just let her get to studying. She has a lot of programs to do.â
His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You fought to hold back the tears threatening to spill, the sting of his dismissal burning in your chest. In that moment, you realizedâthatâs all you were to him. An academic weapon. Something to show off.
He didnât care how you felt. He didnât care what you wanted. All that mattered was the programs, the deadlines, the image he could project to his friends.
Your mom didnât say anything. She never did. She just looked at you, a mixture of sympathy and helplessness in her eyes. But that only made it worse. She didnât deserve thisâyou didnât deserve this.
You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, trying to keep your composure. Your dadâs harsh gaze lingered on you for a moment, but then he turned away, disappearing into his study without another word.
Dinner was always the worst part of the day.
The silence around the table felt suffocating, like you were all trapped in some unspoken tension. Your dad sat at the head of the table, his expression as unreadable as ever, but his eyes flickered over everyone, almost like he was waiting for somethingâanythingâto set him off.
You couldnât move without feeling his gaze on you. The silence seemed to thicken the air, each bite of food like a step closer to a breakdown. It was as if any wrong move, any misstep, would trigger his lashing out, so you kept still, barely even chewing as you forced yourself to eat.
Your mom was the only one who tried to break the silence, but her words always came out too soft, too careful, as if she knew the wrong phrase could make everything unravel. But still, she didnât dare say much more. Neither did your sister. No one did.
The sound of silverware scraping against plates was the only noise, a constant reminder of how disconnected everything had become. No one dared to look at each other for too long, and all you could do was eat, pretending this suffocating silence didnât feel like it was closing in on you.
After the silent, tense dinner, you practically bolted to your room. The door clicked shut behind you, and for a moment, you let out a breath you didnât even realize you were holding.
The quiet of your room was a relief. You could finally breathe again, finally feel like yourself, even if it was only for a little while. You sat on your bed, the weight of the day still hanging heavy on your shoulders.
Just as you pulled out your phone, a familiar buzz vibrated in your hand. A group chat with your long-distance friends lit up on the screen.
Nerd Squad:
Maki: is anyone free to call?
Leeseo: I am!
Eunchae: same here
Rei: yeah
You hesitated for a moment, feeling the ache of missing them even more now. It wasnât the same talking to them through a screen, but their messages always made you feel a little less alone. You quickly tapped out a response, the familiar comfort of their words reminding you that, despite everything, there were still people who cared.
Nerd Squad:
you: I don't know if I can, I have exams coming up
Eunchae: oh thats no fun! we haven't talked in a while
rei: yeah can't you make a bit of time right now?
you: you guys know how my dad is.. I can't- i'm sorry
After sending the messages, you tucked your phone away, feeling that familiar tension creep back in. You didnât want to risk itâdidnât want your dad showing up at the worst moment, ready to unload his frustration on you again. So, instead of staying on your phone, you decided to wash up and try to shake off the weight of the day.
The cool water from the sink felt like a small, fleeting relief as you splashed your face. It was like your whole body was trying to reset, to shed the heaviness that had followed you all day.
When you were done, you changed into your pajamas and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over your head as if hiding would somehow shield you from everything. The darkness of your room was both comforting and isolating. The silence felt less suffocating now that it was your choice.
But sleep didnât come easily. Your mind kept racingâthoughts of your dad, the fight, the project with Riki, the weight of expectations⌠Everything pressed in on you, refusing to let you rest.
You closed your eyes, hoping for some kind of escape, but the only thing that filled your head was the same old cycle of what ifs and I canâts.
Before you knew it, the first light of dawn began creeping through your window, casting soft beams across your room. You hadnât even realized youâd stayed up all night. The ceiling above you had become your focusâjust staring at it, letting the time slip by while your mind raced with the never-ending stress about school, the engineering program, and the pressure your dad was constantly placing on you.
It felt like there was no way out of the endless cycle. No way to escape the expectations. No way to feel good enough.
In the distance, you could faintly hear the sound of your momâs voice, muffled by the thickness of your thoughts. She was calling out to you from the kitchen, telling you it was time to get ready for school. Her words were gentle, but you could sense her exhaustion, too. She always tried to keep things normal, but you could tell it was wearing on her.
You had a vague awareness that Heeseung had been your ride to school on days like this, and while you appreciated it, your mom was always hesitant to ask him for too much. She didnât want to burden him with your problems every day. She didnât want him to see how hard everything really was.
You sighed, knowing it wasnât just your mom who was trying to hold everything together. It was you, too.
As your mom pulled up to the front gate of the school, you spotted Heeseung standing near one of the pillars, leaning casually against it like heâd been waiting for you. His smile was a welcome sight, one that eased the tension from your shoulders, even if just a little.
Your mom waved to him as she slowed to a stop, her tone light and affectionate. âHeâs a good boy, Y/n. Donât lose him.â
You couldnât help but glance at your mom, feeling a mix of gratitude and guilt. She wasnât wrongâHeeseung had been there for you more than anyone else, especially when you needed it most.
Heeseung opened your door before you could even get out of the car, his usual cheerful demeanor making the morning feel a bit more manageable.
âHave a great day, Mrs. Park,â he said politely, giving her a small wave as she drove away.
Your mom smiled at him, her expression soft and warm. âYou too, Heeseung. Take care of my daughter.â
And just like that, the brief exchange between your mom and Heeseung felt like a small moment of comfort in an otherwise chaotic life. You climbed out of the car and shut the door behind you, giving Heeseung a small, tired smile as you caught up with him.
Heeseung let out a soft chuckle as he noticed how zoned in you were on your phone, your thumbs moving like you were in some kind of trance. Without a word, he reached over and gave your forehead a light flick.
âHey,â he said, grinning, âIâm right here, yâknow. Free entertainment, and yet youâre glued to that screen? So mean.â He pouted dramatically, the playful tone in his voice tugging a smile out of you.
You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your lips betrayed you, curving upward just a little. This was always how it was with Heeseungâlighthearted teasing that somehow made things feel normal, even when your life was anything but.
You two had been best friends for years, closer than anyone else in your little circle with Sunoo and Jungwon. Maybe it was because youâd grown up together. Maybe it was because your mom adored him and trusted him more than most. Whatever the reason, his presence always felt like a kind of anchor.
And right now, with everything going on at home, you were silently thankful he was still that anchor.
âHello again, partner.â
The voice came from your leftâsmooth, a little smug, and unmistakably Riki.
You blinked, pulled abruptly from your thoughts for what felt like the hundredth time today. Riki stood beside you, head tilted slightly as he stared, trying to read your face like it was some kind of puzzle he was determined to solve.
You didnât answer right away. His presence had caught you off guard, again. It was almost impressive how he always seemed to show up right when your brain decided to wander.
âYou space out more than anyone I know,â he added, narrowing his eyes in mock suspicion. âYou sure youâre not secretly composing a novel in your head or something?â
You sighed, shaking your head just enough to brush him offâbut the faint twitch at the corner of your lips gave you away. He was annoying, but in a weird way, his timing was oddly consistent⌠and maybe even comforting in its own unexpected way.
âIs that what you think?â you said, lifting a brow. âThat Iâm sitting here creating fake scenarios in my head because I have nothing better to do?â
Your tone was laced with sarcasm, like you were brushing off the ideaâbut the truth? He wasnât completely wrong. Sure, it wasnât about daydreams or fantasies. Your head was spinning with stressâupcoming competitions, school pressure, and the ever-present weight of your dadâs expectations. A thousand possibilities ran through your mind at once, each one tightening the knot in your stomach.
You glanced at Riki, who was now quietly sucking on a lollipop again, still watching you like he knew there was more to your silence than you let on. His eyes narrowed just slightly, not in judgmentâbut curiosity.
âDidnât say it was a bad thing,â he muttered casually, eyes flicking to the floor for a second before returning to you. âSometimes fake scenarios are better than real life.â
You lingered on his words for a momentââSometimes fake scenarios are better than real life.â Maybe he had a point. Maybe thatâs why you did it so often. Escaping into your head was the only place that felt remotely safe.
Your eyes drifted to his screen, and thatâs when you saw itâhe was signing up for the engineering program. The same one you had reluctantly submitted your name to earlier, your dadâs voice echoing in the back of your mind as you did.
âYouâre doing it too?â you asked, your voice quiet, almost uncertain. A small part of you hoped heâd say he wasnât being forced into it like you wereâthat maybe not everyone was drowning under pressure at home.
âYeah, why not?â he replied casually, glancing at you with a raised brow.
The nonchalance in his voice was almost frustrating. Why not? Because your whole future felt like it was being decided for you. Because if you didnât do it, you wouldnât hear the end of it. Because it wasnât about wanting toâit was about surviving it.
You didnât respond right away. The silence between you stretched thin, but not uncomfortable. You werenât sure if Riki was doing it for himself or someone else⌠but maybe, just maybe, you werenât the only one pretending to be okay with something that didnât feel like your choice.
âNo reasonâŚâ you murmured, eyes flicking away from his screen and back to your textbook in a weak attempt to refocus. You didnât dare look at him again after that.
For the rest of the day, you avoided Rikiânot because you were angry, but because fear had settled heavy in your chest. Riki didnât joke around when it came to engineering. It was practically his domain. He was sharp, confident, and always ten steps ahead.
You, on the other hand, felt like you were barely holding it together.
The thought of going up against himâor anyone, reallyâin a competition that your father was dead-set on made your stomach twist. There was no room for error in your house. If you lost, your dad would twist it into a personal failure. Youâd be lectured, belittled, and reminded again of how âuselessâ you were if you couldnât bring something home to brag about.
It wasnât just fear of losingâit was fear of what came after. Of disappointing someone who never cared about you, only what you could achieve.
And now Riki, unintentionally, had become another pressure point. Another name on the list of people you had to keep up with.
âYou good, Y/n?â Sunooâs voice broke through your thoughts as he walked beside you, his tone light but laced with concern. âYouâve been ignoring Riki.â
You blinked, caught off guard. Of course Sunoo noticedâhe sat just a few desks away in the same class, and his observation skills were razor-sharp when it came to the people he cared about.
âI havenât been ignoring him,â you replied, a little too quickly.
Sunoo gave you a look. âYou havenât even looked in his direction all day. For you, thatâs basically a restraining order.â
You sighed, tugging your sleeves over your hands as if that could shield you from the conversation. âI donât know⌠Itâs stupid.â
Sunoo tilted his head, urging you to keep going.
âI just⌠I found out heâs doing the engineering program too,â you said quietly. âAnd heâs actually good at it. Like, scary good. I canât compete with that.â
He was quiet for a second, then gently nudged your arm. âY/n, you donât have to compete with him. This isnât about Rikiâitâs about your dad, isnât it?â
Your silence was the answer.
Sunoo softened. âRikiâs not your enemy. And if he is, he definitely doesnât know it.â
You managed a half-hearted smile, appreciating Sunooâs blunt honesty. Deep down, you knew he was right. But it didnât make the pressure feel any less real.
Was Riki your enemy?
You werenât sure. In class, he talked to you like a friendâteasing, sarcastic, always acting like he knew exactly what buttons to press. But that was the problem, wasnât it? He did know. And he pressed them constantly.
It was like he had a radar for your patience and made it his mission to dance right on the edge of it.
He made you mad. Irritated you to no end. And yet, there was something about him that didnât quite fit the mold of someone you could truly hate. He wasnât cruel. He never went too far. But he had this way of slipping past your defensesâforcing you to feel, react, care, even when you didnât want to.
There was a line, a limit to how much you could handleâand somehow, Riki, being Riki, always managed to tiptoe across it like it was a game.
Maybe thatâs what made it worse.
Because it wasnât a game to you.
Today was the day.
The competition you had dreaded for weeks was finally here. Your heart thudded in your chest as you stood among rows of projects and polished presentations, students buzzing with nervous energy and last-minute adjustments.
And then there was him.
Riki stood calmly by his station, his prototype already on display. It was sleek, functional, and preciseâeverything yours wasnât. His design had clearly been thought through to the smallest detail, like heâd known exactly what the judges would be looking for from the start.
You hated to admit it, but in your mind, he had already won. Just looking at his project made your stomach twist.
You glanced at your own setupâyour design worked, sure. But it wasnât perfect. It felt rushed, under pressure, patched together by late nights and fear of your fatherâs voice in your head, not passion or inspiration.
No one could come close to Rikiâs level. Not you, at least.
And the worst part? He wasnât even gloating about it. He wasnât rubbing it in or bragging. He was just thereâconfident, quiet, and so infuriatingly good.
Your parents sat in the crowd, and you could feel their presence like a weight on your shoulders.
Your mom smiled supportively, her eyes soft and hopeful. Beside her, your sister gave you a subtle thumbs-up, mouthing you got this with a gentle nod. Their encouragement meant the worldâbut it was hard to focus on it when he was sitting right next to them.
Your dad.
Stone-faced. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. His eyes didnât waver from the stageânot watching the competition, but watching you. His gaze wasnât full of pride or nervous excitement like the others in the crowd. It was sharp, expectant, demanding.
To him, there was only one acceptable outcome: you win.
Anything else was failure.
And in your father's eyes, failure wasn't just losingâit was weakness. A personal disappointment. A stain on his pride.
Your fingers curled around the edge of your project board, knuckles whitening. It wasnât about showcasing what youâd learned anymore. It wasnât even about the competition.
It was about surviving the aftermath.
You stood tall, doing everything in your power to hide the storm brewing inside you as the judge carefully examined your project. You answered questions with steady words, maintained eye contact, even managed a polite smile. No one could deny the creativity in your designâthe effort was there. It wasnât perfect, but it was yours.
But when they announced the winner, it was exactly who you expected.
Nishimura Riki.
The applause that followed rang hollow in your ears.
Of course he won. He was the engineering prodigy, the schoolâs golden boy when it came to this field. Compared to him, you felt like a dull light trying to shine next to a spotlight.
You looked out into the crowd, trying not to search for your dadâs faceâbut your eyes found him anyway.
He wasnât clapping.
And he definitely wasnât smiling.
The moment the ceremony ended, he wasted no time. As students celebrated and teachers offered praise, your dad stormed backstage, grabbing your arm with a grip just tight enough to hurt.
"What the hell was that?" he hissed, his voice low but full of venom. "Second? Second? You think thatâs something to be proud of?"
You flinched.
"Dadâ" you tried to explain, but he wasnât listening.
"Youâve embarrassed me," he said sharply, ignoring the few people glancing your way. âAll that work, and for what? I told you not to let anyone get ahead of youâespecially not him."
It wasnât like you didnât try. It wasnât like you hadnât stayed up night after night perfecting what you could. But to him, it didnât matter.
You werenât first. And in his eyes, that made you nothing.
Riki stood on the stage, holding his award with the kind of pride that felt almost weightless, like it didnât even belong to him. The cheers of the crowd were muffled in his ears as his gaze drifted from the podium to the backstage area, where he spotted you.
He noticed your dad first, his voice loud and harsh, cutting through the thin fabric of your composure. Rikiâs eyes flickered between you and the storm that was your father. He couldnât hear what was being said, but the anger in your dadâs posture was unmistakable. His fists were clenched, his body rigid, like he was ready to lash out.
And then it happened.
Rikiâs heart skipped when he saw your dadâs hand rise, his fingers curled into a tight fist. Time seemed to slow down as he watched the slap land against your face.
The sound of it was drowned out by the thudding in Rikiâs chest.
His jaw clenched. The briefest flash of fury ran through him. But he didnât move, didnât reactânot yet. He was frozen, watching the scene unfold before him like it wasnât real.
Is that why youâd been so distant lately? Why youâd looked so scared when heâd teased you? Why youâd always kept your head down around your dad?
It made sense now. That sharp, fragile edge to your nerves. The fear in your eyes when youâd refused to talk about your family. Riki thought he knew youâhe thought your life was like his, full of the chaos of teenage years but grounded by love and understanding at home. How wrong he was.
Your father had crossed a line. And Riki wasnât sure how long heâd been standing there, silently fuming, but he knew one thing: he couldnât just stand by and watch you endure that.
âGood job, Y/n,â Rikiâs voice broke through the storm in your mind, and you looked up to see him standing beside you. His words felt strangely hollow in the midst of everything. âYour design was goodâjust like I expected.â
You didnât answer. It wasnât that you didnât appreciate his words; it was just that your head was still spinning from your fatherâs anger, and you couldnât shake the sting on your cheek. The silence between you and Riki stretched as you tried to steady your breath, fighting to keep the tears from spilling.
Your fatherâs eyes shifted to Riki then, his expression cold and unimpressed. He looked at him as if he were nothing more than an obstacleâsomeone whose only value came from his hard work, not his name, his wealth, or his pedigree.
To your father, Riki was just a peasant, a product of struggle, someone who was never meant to be in the same circle as you. Rikiâs background was clear to himâa kid who probably worked twice as hard as most people, but whose success would always be tainted by his lack of status. Your father barely looked at him, instead turning back to you with that same suffocating gaze.
âYou still have a lot to learn, Y/n,â your father muttered under his breath, his eyes cutting through Riki as if he wasnât even there. âDonât get distracted by people like him. They donât belong in the same world you do.â
The words hit you like a brick. You felt like you couldnât breathe, your pulse racing as you clenched your fists at your sides. You wanted to scream, to tell him how wrong he was, but the fear of his wrath held you in place.
Riki, however, didnât flinch. He stood there, unwavering, his gaze flicking from your father to you. He wasnât about to be silenced by the disdain in your fatherâs eyes.
time skip
The silence between you and Riki was heavyâalmost deafening despite the soft scribbling of pencils and the occasional whispers around the classroom. You sat next to him, your body tense, eyes glued to your worksheet though your mind was far from it. Every so often, you glanced sideways, hoping to catch a hint of expression on his face, anything to show what he might be thinking. But he was unreadable. Focused.
The way he didnât say anythingâno sarcastic remark, no teasing commentâwasnât like him. And somehow, that hurt more than if he had mocked you. You didnât know if he was ignoring you out of awkwardness or if he was genuinely upset by what he saw, or worse, what he heard your dad say about him.
You tapped your pencil against the desk, heart beating a little faster. The words from the night before echoed in your head. âDonât get distracted by people like him.â Like he wasnât worth anything. Like he didnât belong.
You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and shifted slightly, the urge to break the silence crawling under your skin. But what could you even say? Sorry you had to witness that? Sorry my dadâs an asshole? It all sounded weak in your head.
So instead, you just said his name quietly, almost like a question.
ââŚRiki?â
He didnât look at you right away, just paused in the middle of filling in an answer. Then finally, his eyes met yoursâcalm, but distant. âWhat?â
Just one word. Not cold. Not angry. But not playful either.
"i'm sorry for what happened yesterday, you werent supposed to see that" you say, trying to sound as calm as possible.
Riki stared at you for a second longer, his gaze steadyânot in a way that made you feel small, but like he was trying to see past your words. He shifted in his seat, closing his notebook quietly. The silence between you stretched, and for a moment, you thought he might just brush it off or say nothing at all.
But then, in a low voice only you could hear, he spoke.
âYou donât have to apologize for something that wasnât your fault.â
His words were quiet but heavy, and something in his tone made your chest tighten. He wasnât angryâyou could tell. Just⌠disappointed. Maybe not in you, but in the world that let something like that happen to someone like you.
âYou okay?â he asked, softer this time. Still guarded, but the concern in his eyes was real.
His words hit harder than you expected. Youâd heard sympathy beforeâpity, evenâbut never something that sounded so much like anger on your behalf. It shook something in you. You didnât reply right away. What could you even say? Thanks? Please donât care?
You bit the inside of your cheek, blinking back the sting in your eyes as you kept looking down, afraid that if you met his gaze, youâd fall apart.
Riki leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose like he was trying to calm himself. âYou donât have to act like youâre okay just to make everyone else comfortable,â he muttered, more to himself than you. âIâm not saying I get itâbut I see it now. And Iâm not gonna ignore it.â
That was when you finally looked up at himâhis face was serious, almost stubborn, like heâd already made some silent promise to himself.
You didnât expect that from him. Not from Riki.
You didnât know why, but watching him act so casual right after such an intense moment made your chest tighten againâthis time with something a little more complicated than sadness. Maybe it was relief. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was just the realization that someone actually noticed.
You shifted in your seat, fingers still restless on the edge of your notebook.
âI never wanted anyone to know,â you finally said, voice barely above a whisper. âItâs easier when people think everythingâs fine.â
Riki didnât look at you right away, but you could tell he was listening.
âYeah⌠but easier for them,â he replied, his tone flat but not unkind. âNot for you.â
You didnât answer, but your silence said enough. And maybe for now, that was okay.
Riki went back to tapping his pen, but after a beat, he leaned slightly closer, his voice quiet and dry:
ââŚYou still owe me your half of the slides, by the way.â
A weak laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
Sometimes, the smallest distractions meant the most.
Riki never said much, but you could tell he carried secrets like they were his own. It wasnât just about trustâit was about safety. As odd as it sounded, you felt safe next to him. Maybe it was the way he never pressed too hard, never asked for more than you were willing to give. Or maybe it was the silenceâcomfortable and steady in a world that never stopped screaming.
You werenât sure why you looked forward to sitting beside him now, but you did. Not just out of fear heâd expose your truthâbut because, deep down, he saw you. And didnât look away.
And maybe, just maybe, that meant something.
"WaitâRiki? As in Nishimura Riki?" Heeseung practically choked on his own disbelief, eyebrows raised as he side-eyed you. "You mean the guy you called an 'egotistical menace with a god complex' like... last week?"
You rolled your eyes, nudging his shoulder as you walked. "Yeah, that Riki."
Heeseung scoffed, dramatically clutching his chest. "Wow. I must be dreaming. Y/n Park voluntarily talking about Riki without cussing him outâwhat a time to be alive."
You didnât have the energy to defend yourself. Because deep down, you didnât even understand it either.
you roll your eyes at him as you smack his shoulder "enough with your sarcasm" you say with a low tone.
Heeseung winced dramatically and rubbed his shoulder where you smacked him, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "Okay, okayâI'll stop," he said, leaning a little closer, lowering his voice to match yours. "But seriously, what is going on with you two? Youâve been weird ever since the competition."
You pause, debating if you should even say anything. The hallway was too open, too full of wandering eyes and ears.
âIt's nothing,â you mutter, eyes focused ahead, trying not to let your thoughts betray you.
Heeseung wasnât buying itâhe knew you too well. âY/n... if itâs nothing, why are you whispering like weâre in some spy movie?â
"shut up Heeseung!" you smack him in the arm again.
He raised both hands in mock surrender, grinning like heâd just won. âOkay, okay! Geez, touchy much?â he teased, but his voice was gentle, not mocking.
He nudged your arm lightly. âJust saying⌠if anythingâs up, you know you can talk to me, right?â
His expression softened, concern peeking through his usual sarcasm. No matter how much he joked, Heeseung always made it clearâhe had your back.
"Yeah, yeah, I know." You were genuinely thankful he had your backâmost of your school friends didnât really care about you, so it was refreshing to be around someone who actually enjoyed your presence.
You settled into the far corner of the cafeteria, expecting to see Riki join his usual crowd of friends, laughing and chatting as they always did. But as you watched him gather his lunch, your expectations were quickly thrown off. To your surprise, he walked right past the table full of his friends and instead slid into the seat next to you.
Heeseung, who had been watching the entire scene unfold, raised an eyebrow and cast a confused glance between you and Riki. But as soon as his gaze met yours, a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his lips. You could already feel the trouble brewing, and you shook your head, trying to silently convey your disapproval of whatever scheme was cooking up in Heeseungâs mind. But of course, he didnât listenâhe simply gave you a wink before sauntering off to find a seat elsewhere, leaving you alone with Riki.
Riki, seemingly oblivious to Heeseungâs antics, caught the corner of his eye and flashed a small, almost imperceptible smile. It was brief, but it carried a warmth that made your heart flutter. The subtle expression spoke volumesâit was the kind of smile that seemed to say he found the dynamic between you and Heeseung both amusing and endearing. And as much as you tried to ignore it, you couldnât help but feel a small surge of happiness at the thought.
Your friend Cara walked into the cafeteria, her steps slowing the moment her eyes landed on Riki sitting beside you. Her posture stiffenedâsubtle, but obvious to you. She made her way over and slid into the seat across from you, her gaze flicking between you two.
âDidnât expect Riki to be hereâŚâ she muttered, her voice trailing off as she avoided his eyes.
Riki didnât say anything, but you could feel the tension radiating off both of them. He was suddenly quieter, less relaxed than usualâsomething about Cara clearly threw him off too.
Cara was a grade below you and Rikiâa sophomore, still figuring things out. She had the kind of beauty that drew attention, but her personal life was a whirlwind. She was in the middle of an identity crisis, still unsure of her sexuality, still piecing herself together one day at a time. It made her unpredictable, sometimes guarded, and often caught in silent battles no one else could see.
And right now, whatever historyâor unspoken tensionâexisted between her and Riki was sitting loud and uninvited at the table.
After lunch, you found yourself trailing behind Cara, your mind buzzing with everything that had just happened at the table. The tension between her and Riki wasnât just awkwardâit felt personal. Too personal to ignore.
âHey, Caraâwait up!â you called, jogging to catch up. You gently grabbed her arm, prompting her to stop and turn toward you. She looked surprised, but not exactly shocked.
âYouâre gonna ask me about Riki, arenât you?â she said flatly, hugging her books to her chest before pulling you aside to a quiet bench in the hallway.
You didnât even have to answer before she dropped the truth on you.
âThe guy I cheated on Josh with⌠was Riki.â
Your breath caught, eyes widening in disbelief. You knew that storyâeveryone in your circle did. Sophie, your close friend and Rikiâs ex, had told you how she was cheated on, how the betrayal broke herâbut she never told you who it was with.
âBut you and Sophieââ you started, stunned.
Cara cut you off, her voice sharp and bitter, more at herself than at you. âI know, Y/n. We were best friends. And I still did it.â She looked away, blinking rapidly. âI donât even have an excuse. I was lonely, confused, and he⌠he got under my skin. I hated him for it and wanted more of it at the same time.â
Her voice cracked a little, and for a moment, she didnât look like the confident, sharp-witted girl everyone knewâshe looked tired. Guilty. Human.
âI didnât mean to screw everything up, but I did.â
She explained everything to you and your jaw tightened as her words sank in. Riki? With Joshâs girlfriend? That wasnât just betrayalâit was personal. They were best friends. And now Josh wanted her back? This was messier than you ever imagined.
âWait⌠so Josh wants to get back together? After everything?â you asked, trying to wrap your head around it all.
Cara nodded, eyes glassy with frustration. âYeah. He says he forgives me. That he wants to try again, fix thingsâlike it never happened. ButâŚâ she exhaled harshly, shaking her head. âIf I go back to him, Iâll drown. The guilt, the expectations, the pressure to be someone Iâm notâitâll eat me alive.â
You stayed silent, watching her unravel in front of you.
âAnd the worst part?â she laughed bitterly. âI like Riki. I shouldnât. God, I know I shouldnât. But I do. Itâs like⌠no matter how wrong it is, heâs the only one who doesnât make me feel like I have to be someone Iâm not.â
Her voice dropped lower, raw. âThereâs so much going on in my life right now, Y/n. You have no idea.â
You blinked, suddenly realizing something maybe you and Cara werenât as different as you thought. The details were differentâbut the feeling? Being trapped in a life you didnât choose, scared to ruin whatâs left, quietly falling apart?
Yeah⌠you knew that part way too well.
Seeing Riki again felt off. The cafeteria, the classroom, the casual way he leaned against lockers or spun his pen during lecturesâit all felt different now. He wasnât just the cocky guy who teased you and sat next to you in class. He was capable of something you didnât think he was.
You kept your distance that day, watching him from across the room as he laughed with a few classmates like nothing had happened. Like he hadnât torn apart his best friendâs heart and walked away from it untouched.
Your chest tightened.
How could someone like himâsomeone who had shown you kindness, who had stood up when your father didnâtâalso be the same person who slept with his best friendâs girlfriend?
It didnât make sense. And maybe thatâs what scared you the most. That someone could wear both faces and still look so normal.
So composed.
So innocent.
You found yourself clenching your pencil without realizing it, mind racing with questions you couldnât ask. Was it a one-time mistake? Did he regret it? Did he even care about Josh? About Cara? Or was he just as heartless as Sophie made him out to be?
Whatever the truth was, you couldnât look at him the same. Not until you got answers.
âWaitâwoah, woah, stop there. Cara and Riki slept together?â
Heeseungâs voice practically echoed through the hallway, his expression flipping from curious to shocked in less than a second. His brows shot up and he turned fully toward you, books forgotten in his hands.
You grimaced, grabbing his arm and pulling him into a quieter corner. âCan you not announce it to the entire school?â you hissed under your breath.
He blinked, still wide-eyed. âYouâre telling me that happened and Iâm supposed to just stay calm?â
âI didnât mean to tell you, it just⌠slipped.â
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing slightly as he tried to process it all. âDoes Josh know? Does Sophie? Waitâdo Sunoo and Jungwon know?â
You gave him a look.
ââŚOh no. Youâre gonna tell them, are you?â
âItâs not like I want to!â you whisper-yelled. âBut itâs eating me alive and I trust them!â
Heeseung gave you the flattest look possible. âYeah. And they trust everyone else.â
You groaned, already regretting everything. Because once Sunoo found out? Thereâd be no stopping the domino effect.
Thankfully, Heeseung had the sense to practically tape your mouth shut for the rest of the dayâfiguratively and literally. He knew how much you cared about Cara, and spilling her secret to Jungwon or Sunoo wouldâve only added fuel to an already raging fire. Cara was barely holding herself together as it was; the last thing she needed was more people whispering behind her back.
As you walked beside him, he leaned in and whispered, âDo you even know how it happened?â
You shook your head, mumbling unintelligibly behind the tape heâd jokingly slapped over your mouth.
Without warning, he peeled it off in one swift motion.
âOw!â you hissed, immediately smacking his arm. âWhat the hell, Heeseung?!â
He laughed, rubbing the spot you hit. âWell, I had to know.â
You rolled your eyes. âI donât know, okay? She said it just⌠happened.â
The words tasted bitter as they left your mouthâbecause even if it was spontaneous, careless, or emotional, the damage it caused wasnât going to just disappear.
âWell⌠what are you gonna do now?â Heeseung asked, his eyes scanning your face for an answer.
You only shrugged. âI donât know. I do like him, but⌠Cara.â
That name alone carried the weight of your hesitation. Sheâd confessed her feelings first. She had history with himâmore than you ever did. And she was your best friend. How could you just step in and take something she still cared about?
Heeseung let out a sharp sigh, rolling his eyes. âYou seriously need to wake up and stop being so damn selfless.â
His tone wasnât harshâjust tired. Tired of watching you put everyone else first.
âYou always give,â he continued. âAlways let people take from you and never do anything for yourself. Itâs like you think you owe everyone your happiness.â
His words hit harder than you expected. Maybe because they were true.
You looked down, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. It wasnât just about Riki. It was everything. Youâd spent so long trying to be enough for everyoneâyour parents, your friends, people who never really saw youâand the only people who actually cared were Heeseung⌠and the ones who existed behind a screen.
And now here you were againâhesitating, stuck, shrinking yourself for someone else's sake.
You stepped into the house and were instantly met with the familiar sound of your parents arguingâagain. The same shouting, the same cycle, always over nothing.
With a deep breath, you headed straight upstairs, slipping your headphones in before the yelling could dig deeper into your already anxious thoughts. Everything going on at school with Riki had your mind spinning, and now thisâthe chaos at homeâonly made it worse.
But then you heard it.
âWhatâs distracting her so much that sheâs getting a C in class?â your fatherâs voice boomed from downstairs. âHow hard is it to turn in work, huh?!â
You froze halfway through unzipping your bag.
âSheâs trying her best,â your mom said, voice strained but steady as she tried to de-escalate the situation. It only made him angrier.
The shouting grew louder.
Thenâthe sound of heavy footsteps storming up the stairs.
Your stomach twisted into knots.
The door flew open and your father stood there, eyes blazing, report card crushed in his fist.
âYou dumb little shit,â he snarled, holding up the paper like a weapon. âYou canât even keep an A? What, English is too hard now? Or is it that boy from the competitionâyou think I donât see whatâs going on? Heâs a distraction!â
His voice rang in your ears, every word like a slap.
âItâs a passing grade,â you snapped before you could stop yourself. âI donât understand what the issue is.â
That was a mistake.
His jaw clenched. The crumpled paper in his hand only seemed to fuel his rage.
âOh, youâve grown up, huh?â he hissed. âTalking back now? Disrespecting me?â
His tone wasnât just angryâit was dangerous.
âIf you live under my roof, you live by my rules,â your father growled, voice low and threatening. âGet that C up by next report card, and maybe Iâll cut you some slack.â
He extended his hand, palm open. âNow give me your phone.â
You hesitated for a secondâjust a secondâbut the tension in the air was enough to crush your will. With a defeated sigh, you pulled your phone from your pocket and placed it in his hand, the weight of it leaving yours like a quiet surrender.
He stared at you with narrowed eyes, voice colder now.
âIf I see you with that boy again⌠it wonât be pretty.â
The threat wasnât empty. You could feel it in your chest, settling like ice.
And just like that, he turned and walked out, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving you alone in the suffocating silence of your roomâwith nothing but your thoughts and the feeling that even your own life wasnât yours anymore.
âI seriously hate your dad,â Reiâs voice echoed through your laptop speakers during your late-night call.
âShh, be quietâheâll hear you,â you whispered, glancing toward your bedroom door as you hushed her.
Rei was your long-distance friendâthe first person you truly connected with online. Through her, youâd met Leeseo, Eunchae, and Maki, and the five of you had built a group chat that somehow made the world feel smaller. Even though you were older than them, the age gap didnât matter. You just clicked.
Eunchae and Maki were cousins, and Rei had met Maki at a birthday party years ago. At first, you were hesitant around him, but over time, he grew on you. Now, he was part of the core.
They all knew how strict your dad wasâhow controlling he got when it came to socializing. Even when Rei wanted to meet you for the first time in person, it took weeks of negotiating with your mom, scouting neutral public locations, and praying he wouldnât say no. Honestly, it was a miracle it even happened.
Your friends didnât just sympathize with you. They understoodâespecially Rei. Thatâs why she never hesitated to speak her mind⌠even if you had to keep her volume in check.
âIâm being dead serious with youâstand up for yourself,â Rei said firmly, her voice cutting through the screen with more clarity than anything else you'd heard all day. âYou canât keep being selfless for people who are just going to take advantage of you. Thatâs not strength, Y/nâthatâs self-destruction.â
She wasnât angryâjust tired. Tired of watching you let everyone walk all over you like your feelings didnât matter. And deep down, you knew she was right.
You sat there, staring at the screen, debating whether or not to tell Rei about Riki. A part of you hoped sheâd freak outâcall you crazy, tell you to drop him, to run. But the other part⌠the part clinging to something hopelessly soft and delusional, wanted her to feed into it, just for a second. Just long enough to feel like it wasnât a mistake.
But knowing Rei? She wouldnât.
You told yourself youâd waitâwait until things were more stable, until you were more stable. Until you understood what you actually wanted from Riki.
What you didnât know⌠was that the decision would be made for you.
Just a few days later, your class had a substitute. The mood was light, relaxed. You ended up next to Rikiânothing unusual. You were friends now, after all. The rest of your group was scattered nearby, the atmosphere calm and familiar.
Then it happened.
Without warning, Rikiâs hand slipped into yours.
You froze. Every part of your body stilled, unsure what to do. Your mind screamed a thousand questions, but your fingers made the decision for you.
You held it back.
And just like that, something unspoken shifted between you.
It was small. Quiet. Innocent, almost.
But it was also the beginning of something youâd come to regret.
Not because it wasnât realâŚ
But because it was.
It went on like that for a few weeksâRiki holding your hand in class, sitting closer than necessary, exchanging glances that lingered longer than they should have. Eventually, people started whispering, labeling you two a couple without even asking. And you? You didnât correct them. You just⌠went along with it.
It felt strange. Like playing a role you hadnât auditioned for.
What surprised you most was Caraâhow suddenly supportive she became. At first, it almost scared you. But then you found out she got back with Josh.
That explained everything.
One afternoon, with your heart tangled in a mess of guilt and uncertainty, you finally worked up the courage to speak.
âRiki, Iââ
He cut you off, gaze steady and calm, like he already knew.
âI donât think I can do this,â he said quietly. âThereâs someone else I like.â
His words landed like a punch and a sigh at once. Equal parts of heartbreak and relief. Youâd both been dancing around something that never really belonged to you to begin with. The guilt of knowing he had history with three of your friends was a weight you carried constantlyâso finally being on the same page shouldâve felt like freedom.
But it didnât.
Because the worst part?
You kept liking him.
That was where it all fell apart.
You confessed eventuallyâcouldnât hold it in anymoreâand he rejected you. Simple. Blunt. No hesitation.
From that moment on, you tried everything to forget him.
And failedâevery single time.
You stayed friends with Riki throughout the rest of the year and into senior year. Slowly, the feelings you once had began to fade. You started rooting for your friends insteadâsupporting them when they caught feelings for him or ended up dating him. But no matter how sincere it seemed at first, Riki always ended things. Every single time.
Heâd love them so deeplyâshower them with attention, make them feel like they were the only ones who matteredâand then just drop them the moment someone new came along.
So much for growth.
You wanted to ask him whyâwhy he kept breaking hearts like it was nothing. But every time you got close to confronting him, your voice just... stopped. It wasnât fear. It was exhaustion.
In the final weeks before graduation, you found yourself pulling awayâignoring him in the hallways, pretending he wasnât there in the group chat. Not because you hated him. But because looking at him reminded you of everything you'd tried to move on from.
Then graduation day came.
You spotted him across the crowd, his cap and gown fitting perfectly, laughter shared between him and his friends. For a secondâjust one secondâyou allowed yourself to look at him the way you used to.
He looked... different. Grown. Motivated. Captivating, even.
But that fantasy ended as quickly as it came. He wasnât a book character. He wasnât going to chase after you in the rain or suddenly realize what you meant to him. He was real lifeâand real life didnât work like that.
He was a lesson. A beautiful, heartbreaking one.
The only thing heâd ever truly given you was that moment of protectionâfrom your dad. And even that felt like a distant memory now.
As he walked across the stage to receive his diploma, you couldnât help but smile. He looked so at peace, so confidentâand it made you sick how much you still admired that.
After the ceremony, while weaving through the crowd looking for your family, you saw him again. Before your mind could catch up to your mouth, the words slipped out.
âHug? One last time?â
He blinked in surprise, then smiled and nodded, wrapping his arms around you in a warm, familiar embrace. It didnât last long. Just a passing moment before he turned and walked away with his family.
But stillâa memory.
You couldnât believe you had the guts to ask. But it didnât matter. It was supposed to be a happy day.
And you promised yourselfâright then and thereâyouâd never speak to him again.
Because some people donât belong in your future.
They were only meant to teach you how to choose it.
á´Ąá´Ęɴɪɴɢęą: nothing just a bunch of cute moments
Lee Heeseung
Youâd seen tons of prank videos on TikTokâcouples pulling harmless tricks on each other for laughsâand out of pure curiosity, you decided to try one on your boyfriend too. The prank? Referring to him as your âcurrent boyfriendâ on camera just to see how he'd react. You figured he might get a little offended and start sulking, but then again, he was Lee Heeseungâhis reactions were anything but predictable.
âBabe!â you called out after setting up your camera. He came downstairs without question, plopping down next to you, already used to being part of your random little videos. He probably thought you wanted him to taste something or join you for a casual vlog.
Without missing a beat, you hit record and began speaking, Heeseung sitting beside you, quietly listening.
âHi guys! So today, I have some Japanese food Iâve been wanting to try, and Iâll be tasting it with my current boyfriend hereââ
The moment the words left your mouth, his head snapped toward you.
âYour what?â he said, a little sassier than usual.
You couldnât hold it inâyou burst out laughing.
âIâm your what now?â he repeated, squinting at you like youâd just committed the ultimate betrayal.
He shakes his head dramatically, grabbing the bag of chips off the counter like it was his last shred of dignity.
âWell, your current boyfriend is gonna go cry in your shared room,â he declares with mock betrayal, already turning on his heel and walking away like a heartbroken K-drama lead.
You canât stop laughing, nearly doubling over as you call after him between giggles.
âHee, it was just a prank!â
He doesnât look back, but his voice echoes down the hallway with perfect comedic timing.
âTell your next boyfriend I left him some chips!â
Park Jongseong
It had been one of those lazy, uneventful days at homeâfilled with naps you didnât need and a lingering sense of boredom. But everything shifted the moment your boyfriend walked through the door, arms full of groceries⌠and your favorite snacks.
You rushed into the kitchen to greet him, your energy instantly lifted. As he unpacked the bags, an idea sparked in your head.
âIâm gonna record a little taste-testing video for TikTok,â you said, already grabbing your phone. Jay nodded with that soft smile of his, fully supportiveâhe knew how much joy you got from making videos for your followers.
You sat down beside him, camera propped and recording. What he didnât know was that you were also about to prank him mid-video.
âHey guys! So today Iâm here with my current boyââ
Before you could finish the sentence, Jay clapped a hand over your mouth, cutting you off with perfect comedic timing. Then he turned to the camera, eyes wide and dramatic.
âOh hell naw,â he said in an exaggerated accent, like a character straight out of a sitcom.
You burst into silent laughter, shaking as you tried to hold in the sound, while he gave the camera the most betrayed, meme-worthy look.
âIâm NOT your current boyfriend,â he says with full offense, making you finally burst into uncontrollable laughter. The look on his face was priceless, and the way heâd immediately silenced you with his palm? Even funnier.
âIt was just a prank!â you manage between laughs, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes.
Jay shoots you a side-eye, his voice dripping with sass.
âIt better have been, âcause youâre not gonna have an ex or a next. Iâm your first and your last.â
He casually pops a slice of apple into his mouth like he didnât just drop the most possessive rom-com line ever, then turns and strolls off toward the bathroom, leaving you sitting there, phone still recording, absolutely wheezing.
Sim Jaeyun
Jake was known for being a little naiveâand even more famously, for getting sulky over the smallest things. He took everything to heart, which made this prank feel perfect. You figured there was no harm in teasing him a little. After all, that cute pout of his was practically a reward.
You hit record on your camera, pretending to film a casual video while Jake sat in the background, eyes glued to his phone. You started talking to the camera like it was nothing, trying not to laugh in anticipation.
Hearing your voice, Jake wandered over, phone still in hand, and wrapped his arms around you in a warm hug. âWhatâre you doing?â he asked sweetly, smiling like a puppy.
You glanced at him, then looked back at the camera.
âSorry, guys, I forgot to introduce you to my current boyfriend.â
You barely finished the sentence before Jakeâs face shiftedâhis brows knit together, and that signature pout made its debut. He didnât say anything at first, just gave the camera a slightly betrayed, skeptical look. Then, quietly, he mumbled:
âHi⌠Iâm the boyfriend,â and sat down beside you, shoulders slumped, refusing to meet your eyes with the most dramatic sulk you'd ever seen.
You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing right awayâhe was already down bad and the prank had only just started.
You carried on with the prank, trying to keep your voice casual.
âAnyways, so Iâm eating thisââ
Before you could finish, Jake leaned in close and whispered into your ear, his voice heavy with genuine hurt,
âWhat do you mean, current boyfriend?â
The sadness in his tone hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, the prank felt a little too real.
You fought back the laugh threatening to burst out and gave him your biggest, most reassuring smile.
âItâs a prank,â you said gently.
Instantly, you saw the tension drain from Jakeâs eyes, his expression softening as relief settled in.
âDonât ever do that again,â he murmured, voice small but serious.
You nodded, feeling a mix of affection and sympathyâand maybe deciding this prank had reached its limit.
Park Sunghoon
You had been racking your brain trying to prank Sunghoon, but he was notoriously difficult to catch off guard. Confident to a fault, no joke or prank ever made him flinch. Still, you were determined to find one that finally wouldâand you thought youâd hit the jackpot.
Setting up your camera in front of you, you invited Sunghoon to sit beside you as you prepared to film.
âHi everyone! So, me and my current boyfriend went out to get Dubai chocolate strawberries, and weâre gonna try them today,â you said casually, watching his reaction.
At first, Sunghoon didnât register the slip-up. His eyes were fixed on the decadent strawberries, fully focused on how good they looked.
But when you repeated itââMy current boyfriend actually bought these because he knew they were on my taste listââhis brow quirked up in realization.
âExcuse me?â he said, eyes narrowing playfully as he looked at you, phone still in hand. âYour current boyfriend? Is he⌠in the room with us?â
You bit back a laugh as Sunghoon shot you a mock-annoyed glare.
âIâll just wait and see if you can find someone better than me,â he said with a sly smirk. âmaybe then you can call me your current boyfriend. Hmph.â
He crossed his arms and turned away, the picture of exaggerated sass and pride.
âIt was a prank,â you said, trying to keep a straight face.
Sunghoon just flashed you a confident smirk, like he already knew you well enough to be sure. âYouâre lucky I know you,â he teased, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Kim Sunoo
Sunooâs sass was practically legendaryâit was the first thing people noticed about him and the last thing they forgot. Even your family had made a running joke out of it, often teasing you about dating the sassiest man alive. But despite his dramatic flair, everything about him was perfect. He was sweet, attentive, and the kind of boyfriend whoâeven when you pulled a prank on himâjust let it happen like it was part of the script.
He didnât get mad. He didnât even flinch. He just leaned into the drama, as always, like he was born for it.
âOkay guys, so I went to the store and bought some new clothes,â you began, smiling at the camera as you hit record on your TikTok. Behind you, Sunoo was sprawled comfortably on the bed, scrolling on his phone but still half-watching you with casual interest.
You held up the first outfit, giving a little spin before stepping off camera to try it on. As you came back into frame, Sunoo glanced up and raised a brow, clearly unimpressedâbut in the most Sunoo way possible.
âMmm⌠seven out of ten,â he said, lips pursed. âCute, but is it giving main character energy?â
You laughed and shook your head, grabbing the next piece. âOkay, tough critic.â
He flipped his phone facedown, sitting up slightly just to get a better look at you. âBabe, I am the main character. I have standards.â
You look at the camera and speak again
âMy current boyfriend, whoâs beside me right now, is ranking which outfit he likes more,â you said casually to the camera, pretending like it was just another part of the video.
Sunoo immediately caught on.
He sat up straight, cleared his throat, and gave you the lookâhead tilted, eyes wide, and a disgusted expression that could win an Oscar.
âYour what?â he repeated, his voice laced with sass and mock betrayal.
âGirl, you better be joking,â he added in the most dramatic tone, flipping an imaginary strand of hair.
You burst into laughter, nearly dropping your phone from how fast you broke character.
âI hate that you always know!â you whined through your laughter.
Sunoo nodded proudly, arms crossed. âIâm smarter than you think. And prettier too, by the way.â
Yang Jungwon
Jungwon was lying on the couch, eyes glued to his phone, completely unaware of the chaos you were about to bring. You had gone live on TikTok just moments ago, and the comments were already flooding inâeveryone begging you to prank him.
You gave in with a mischievous grin, walking into the room with your phone held up and the camera rolling.
Quietly, you sat on the floor near him, pretending to scroll aimlessly while waiting for the right moment. As soon as Jungwonâs hand moved to casually rest around your shoulder, you took your chance.
âSorry guys, if you hear background noise, thatâs just my current boyfriend on his phone right now,â you said smoothly, trying not to crack.
His head snapped down immediately, eyebrows raised in disbelief, the corners of his lips twitching like he was fighting a smirk. He stared at you, then glanced at your phoneâand with zero hesitation, grabbed it and flipped the camera to face himself.
âOh, right, sorry guys,â he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. âLet me lower my volume so my current girlfriend here can hear everything she needs to.â
He handed your phone back, still smirking, before dramatically falling back on the couch and planting a quick kiss on the top of your head.
âDonât ever prank me like that,â he muttered with fake sternness. âItâs not funny.â
You looked up at him, trying to act innocent, but the laugh youâd been holding in finally slipped outâand he couldnât help but laugh too.
Nishimura Riki
Riki never let you get away with a prank. Ever. Even if you managed to sneak one past him, he always had something bigger, crazier, and more chaotic lined upâlike it was a competition he refused to lose.
But this time, you were prepared. Heâd been locked in his room for three straight hours, yelling at his friends over a losing game. It was the perfect storm: distracted, loud, and emotionally invested. No chance heâd notice what you were up to.
You quietly sat on the bed behind him, turned on your front camera, and went live on TikTok. His voice echoed in the background, filled with frustration over missed shots and bad calls.
âWHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU CANâT JUSTâbroâŚâ he groaned.
The live chat blew up immediately.
âWhatâs that noise in the background?â you read aloud, smirking.
âSorry, thatâs just my current boyfriend playing video games.â
The second the words left your mouth, everything went still.
Rikiâs hands froze on the mouse and keyboard. His character on screen probably got eliminatedâbut he didnât care. He pulled off his headphones, stood up, and turned toward you slowly.
âWhatâd you just say?â he asked, voice lower now, more serious.
Before you could even finish repeating itââMy current boyââ
He was already leaning in, placing both hands on either side of you, trapping you between the mattress and his body.
And then he kissed you. Firm, confident, shutting you up entirely.
When he pulled back, he looked you right in the eye.
âDonât say shit like that,â he said, voice calm but serious. âWeâre gonna date until I propose to you."
Then, just as casually, he turned and went back to his chair like nothing happened
You sat frozen on the bed, heart racing, face red, while the live chat exploded.
âHE SAID WHAT??â
âPROPOSE?! RIKI YOU CANâT JUST DROP THATââ
âYOU BETTER MARRY HIM AFTER THAT OMG.â
You ended the live with shaky hands and a stunned smile.
theartofmadeline
tangentwithtanner
snowghoul