You weren’t exactly the kind of person people noticed. You kept your head down, smiled politely, and quietly did your job from the corner desk near the window—the one half-hidden behind a fake ficus and a temperamental printer. Most days, it felt like no one really remembered you were there.

But you didn’t mind. It meant you could watch.

Especially him.

Riku Yagami was the kind of person who seemed to glow a little. He had that just-out-of-a-dream look—sharp suit, sleepy eyes, a coffee he never quite finished. He moved like a song only he could hear. People turned when he walked in, leaned in when he spoke. He smiled with half his mouth, like he was always hiding something kind.

You didn’t talk much. A quick nod in the hallway. A shared glance over your computer screens. Once, he brushed past you in the break room, and your heart did a little somersault you pretended not to notice.

Everyone liked Riku. Everyone wanted Riku.

But sometimes—late at night, when the office lights dimmed and the world outside turned soft and blue—Riku would wander over to your desk. Quiet. Warm. Like he didn’t need to say anything at all.

He’d sit nearby. Not too close. Just… close enough.

And you’d both stay like that. Wrapped in the hush of after-hours hums and sleepy city lights, not saying much, but not needing to. You’d glance over sometimes, and he’d already be looking.

And he’d smile—just a little.

And your heart would flutter—just a little more.