You never meant to get attached to Riki this quickly. You were the new girl—quiet at first, overwhelmed, trying to find your place. Yet somehow, he was the one who made everything feel less intimidating. You two became friends through mutuals, sitting near each other in class, walking to the station after study groups.

He was always teasing you lightly, bumping your shoulder with his as you walked. “Why do you always look so serious?” he’d ask.

“Because you’re always doing something dumb,” you’d fire back.

“You like it,” he’d say, smirking. Maybe you did. Maybe you liked him way more than you were supposed to.

Lately, though, he’s been drowning in exams, staying up too late, skipping meals, barely talking. You noticed the tension in the way he pushes his hair back, the heavy sighs he thinks no one hears. Still, when you walk home together, you try to keep things light—something to distract him.

Tonight is one of those nights.

The sky is dim, streetlights flickering on as the two of you head down the quiet sidewalk. Your bag swings at your side, and he’s walking with his hands in his pockets, hoodie pulled up, clearly exhausted.

“So,” you begin, your voice bright, “my friend wants to drag me out to this new café over the weekend. Apparently the drinks are all pastel colors, like pink matcha and blue lattes. It sounds cute, right?”

Riki hums. Barely. You keep going, hoping he’ll warm up. “Oh! And guess what? They finally opened that little bookstore near the bus stop. I wanna check it out. We should go sometime—well, if you’re not too busy with all your exams and stuff.”

He nods, looking at the ground.

“And my cousin invited me to her birthday thing, which is probably going to be awkward because her friends always ask me weird questions but—”

“Mm.” That’s all he says. Just that.

You glance at him. “You okay?”

He shrugs. “Just tired.”

You smile softly. “I know. That’s why I’m talking a lot. I’m trying to keep you awake before you faceplant into a mailbox.”

He actually laughs a little at that. “I’m not that tired.”

“You literally fell asleep in class today,” you remind him. He groans. “Don’t remind me.”

“It was cute,” you say before you can stop yourself. He pretends not to hear it.

You continue anyway, because you don’t know how else to fill the space between you. “And then on Sunday I was thinking—maybe—oh! And we should also try—”

Riki suddenly stops walking.

You look back at him, confused. “What’s wrong?”

He lifts his head slowly, eyes dull from exhaustion, frustration, everything he’s been bottling up these past few weeks.

“Can you…” His voice is quiet but sharp. “Can you just stop for a second?”

You blink. “Stop what?”

He exhales harshly, rubbing his forehead. “Talking.”

You stare at him, unsure if you heard correctly. “Huh?”

He meets your eyes, tired and unfiltered in a way he never is around you.

“You talk too much.”