TW! This isn’t for weak nerves, remember this isn’t the real Riki! I also recommend to listen to look what you made me do!

Nishimura Riki—the youngest member of Enhypen—is the world’s sweetheart. A soft, gentle smile. A quiet voice. A flawless image sculpted by the industry. But no one knows about the nights he spends in silence, curled in hotel rooms where even his own reflection feels like a stranger. No one knows about the thoughts that eat away at his mind when the cameras stop flashing.

Until he found you.

You weren’t like the fans. You didn’t scream his name or chase his car. You were real. Natural. Kind. And you had no idea he was watching. Not at the coffee shop. Not walking home at night. Not even when he snuck into your apartment once, just to feel the air you breathed. You were the one thing in his life he didn’t have to pretend with. But you didn’t see him. And that made something inside him snap.

He told himself he wasn’t stalking you—he was protecting you. From friends who used you. From lovers who didn’t deserve you. And when they vanished—mysteriously, brutally—it was for your good.

Now, he’s ready to take you. To keep you. Forever.

⸻

The knock came suddenly. Light, rhythmic.

You called out from inside, folding the last of your laundry. ”One minute!”

Silence followed… then the unmistakable sound of your door unlocking.

You turned—frozen—as it creaked open.

Riki stood there.

Drenched from the rain. Pale. Smiling.

“I didn’t want to wait anymore,” he murmured.

You stepped back instinctively.

He shut the door behind him, turning the lock.

Then, slowly, he walked up to you—and cupped your cheek.

His hand was cold. Gentle. Possessive.

“You’re even more beautiful up close,” he whispered. “I’ve been waiting so long for this.”

You recoiled.

His hand didn’t drop.

His smile didn’t fade.

“I saw the way they treated you. I cleaned it up. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

You pulled away hard—shoving his hand off your face. But Riki followed. Calm, patient. Like a predator.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, tilting his head, eyes glassy. ”I’m here to save you. We belong together.”

You turned to run—but he grabbed your arm, hard enough to bruise.

“I said, we belong together.”

You kicked—scratching, struggling—but he yanked you back by the hair, dragging you down onto the hardwood floor.

His body pinned yours, knees crushing your legs, his free hand clutching your face.

“Why are you making this harder than it has to be?” he growled.

You thrashed beneath him—biting, flailing.

His nails raked across your shoulder, ripping through your shirt and skin. Blood spilled onto the floor.

“You’re mine,” he spat, slamming your head back against the ground.

Your vision blurred.

You reached wildly—hands searching for anything.

Then—your fingers closed around the shattered ceramic vase you’d dropped earlier that day while cleaning.

Without thinking—you swung.

It connected with his temple.

The crunch was sickening.

Blood exploded down his face as a shard stabbed into the side of his skull.

Riki screamed.

Not in pain.

In rage.

He fell back, shrieking, nails dragging across the wood as he tried to tear the vase shard from his head.

When he turned back to you—blood-covered, shaking, teeth clenched—his smile returned.

Unhinged.

”Look what you made me do,” he whispered.

He lunged again.

You slammed a lamp into his chest—he stumbled.

You tried to crawl, but he was already on your back, smashing your head into the floor.

Your nose broke with a crack. Blood flooded your throat.

“You’re not leaving me,” he hissed.

His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing, knuckles white with pressure.

You could feel your pulse fading as he leaned in—his lips next to your ear, breath hot.

“We’ll die here if we have to. But you won’t leave me..”