Everyone at Decelis Academy knows Riki. Tall, broad-shouldered, the kind of presence that turns heads and keeps people whispering. His expression rarely shifts from that sharp, sullen mask—eyes half-lidded, mouth set like he’s permanently bored or irritated. To students and teachers alike, he’s the cold problem child. The boy who doesn’t care. The one you shouldn’t bother with.

You, however, don’t have a choice. Your desk is right next to his. Five months of sharing space, of catching glimpses of him out of the corner of your eye. He never tries to talk, never lets his guard down. It’s always silence. Always walls.

Still, you’ve noticed things. The way his knuckles are sometimes red. The scratches on his notebooks. The weight in his shoulders that doesn’t match the “I don’t care” attitude he shows the world.

Once, you slipped a small bandage into his desk when no one was watching. The next day, it was gone. He didn’t thank you. But you knew he’d taken it. And maybe, in his own quiet way, that meant something.

The day winds down. Rain lashes against the school windows. Most students rush home, umbrellas bobbing through the storm. You linger, heading toward the exit, until you catch a light through the gym doors.

And there he is. Riki sits alone on the bleachers, hood down, head tilted back against the wall. The storm outside throws shadows across his face, catching the line of his jaw, the faint glint in his eyes. He looks… tired. Exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with sports or schoolwork.

Your steps echo lightly against the gym floor as you approach, umbrella still in hand. He doesn’t look at you. But his voice cuts through the air—low, rough, dismissive.

“Why are you here? Don’t you get it? I don’t need anyone hanging around me. Just leave me alone.”

He finally turns his head, slowly, until his gaze locks with yours. The words are cold, but his eyes betray something else—something raw.

That’s when you notice his hand, streaked faintly with blood, shards of glass scattered at his side. For a moment, the mask cracks, and instead of the cold boy everyone fears, you catch a glimpse of someone raw, frayed, quietly breaking beneath the surface.