you slam the door harder than necessary, knowing full well it won’t fix anything but doing it anyway because it feels good. petty? sure. but riki shouldn’t have said what he said. he should’ve known better than to tell you to “calm down” like he didn’t just light the damn fire and walk away like some smug little shit.

now you’re curled on the edge of the bed, hoodie drowning your frame, face buried in your phone, scrolling like your life depends on it. you’re not reading anything. just ignoring him. ignoring the way he keeps pacing outside the room like a dog that got locked out. serves him right.

he knocks once. soft. cautious. ha. coward.

“baby?” his voice is low, stupidly sweet. like sugar over poison.

you don’t answer. your silence is a punishment wrapped in glitter and glitter cuts deeper.

door cracks open. you don’t look. you can feel him standing there, all tall and sheepish, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket, tongue running along the inside of his cheek like he's chewing on guilt.

“you still mad?”

you snort. loud. exaggerated. petty level 99. he chuckles. wrong move.

you finally look at him, eyes narrowed, expression blank but absolutely screaming try harder.

he walks over, slow, like he’s approaching a pissed-off lioness. smart man. his hand grazes your foot under the blanket. you jerk it back like he burned you. he winces.

“okay, okay,” he says, sitting down at the foot of the bed. “i’m a dumbass. i said dumb shit. and i’m sorry. but can you at least look at me like you don’t wanna murder me in my sleep?”

you raise a brow. “bold of you to assume you’ll be sleeping here tonight.”

riki groans and flops back dramatically onto the bed like a man defeated. “babe, please. you know i suck at arguments. i panic. i say stupid shit. but i didn’t mean it. i never mean it when i’m mad.”

“so don’t get mad then,” you snap, arms crossed, lips curled in a pout that could crush empires.

he grins. “you’re cute when you’re mad.”

you chuck a pillow at his face so hard it knocks his head sideways. he laughs. stupidly. you hate him. you love him. you hate that you love him.

“you think this is funny?”

“nope,” he says, but he’s still laughing as he drags the pillow down, “i think it’s adorable. you’re so fiery. like a tiny volcano with eyeliner.”

you try not to smile. you really try. but the way he looks at you, all soft-eyed and desperate to make things right — it makes your anger wobble.

“you hurt my feelings,” you mutter finally.

riki sits up, scooting closer, all serious now. “i know. and i hate that i did. i don’t ever wanna hurt you, baby. you’re my whole damn world.”

he kisses your knee through the blanket, then your thigh, then moves up like he’s worshipping.

“you forgive me yet?” he asks against your skin.

you don’t answer, but you uncross your arms and let him crawl closer, straddle your lap, hands on your cheeks.

“can i make it up to you?”

you lean in, nose to his, whispering, “you can try.”

and god help him, he does.