riki used to think you were terrifying. not in the monster-under-the-bed kind of way, but in the oh-god-don’t-make-eye-contact-or-i’ll-implode sort of way. you had this face — stone-cold serious, no-nonsense, eyes that looked like they could slice through titanium. and it wasn’t like you meant to look like that. it was just your face. resting judgmental mode, as some might say.

you didn’t talk much in class. always in the back, hoodie on, focused. never laughed at dumb jokes, never raised your hand. and riki, being the chaos gremlin he is, immediately assumed you hated his guts. he’d nudge his friends and whisper, “they’re probably plotting my murder,” after every group project.

but what he didn’t know — what no one really bothered to notice — was that you were actually... kind. like, ridiculously nice. like, holding-the-door-open-for-ten-people kind of nice. like, “hey, your shoelace is untied” nice. your face just didn’t get the memo.

one day, fate — or some bored teacher — paired you and riki up for a biology project. his soul left his body for a solid five seconds when he read the seating chart. he walked up to your table like he was approaching a wild bear. twitchy. nervous. already sweating.

“uh… hey,” he said, voice cracking like bad vinyl.

you looked up, blinked once. “hi.”

one word. calm. smooth. emotionless.

riki was ready to fake a fever.

but then, something weird happened. you offered him your notebook. neatly organized. color-coded. with tabs. and your handwriting looked like a damn font.

“i already highlighted some topics we could do,” you said, voice soft. “but we can change anything you want.”

riki blinked. twice.

you weren’t mean. you weren’t scary. you were… helpful. respectful. you even smiled a little when he joked about dissecting a frog wrong and accidentally creating a mutant.

that smile? changed his entire worldview.

it wasn’t until the third group meeting that riki realized he’d been a dumbass. you laughed at one of his jokes — an actual laugh, not just a polite exhale. and suddenly, he wasn’t scared anymore. he was interested.

you, with your terrifyingly serious face and cinnamon-roll personality, wormed your way under his skin like some wholesome virus. before he knew it, he was looking for you in the halls. waving. smiling. flirting. testing the waters.

and when he finally asked you out, he half-expected you to say no in that ice-cold tone of yours.

but instead, you just blinked, tilted your head, and said, “i was hoping you would.”

now, riki brags to everyone that he pulled the coolest, scariest-looking, secretly-sweetest person on campus.

and you? you still have the serious face. still look like you’d fight with everyone on a tuesday.

but now riki knows the truth. you’re just a softie with a resting murder face.

and he’s absolutely obsessed.