As time went on, cracks began to show in your relationship with Riki. He started brushing off your attempts to be close—small things at first, easy to excuse—but it kept happening. For an entire week. You still sat next to him in class, still instinctively reached for his hand during lectures, only for him to subtly pull away every time. It was unlike him, and that was what hurt the most.

You were a nursing student, he was a dance major, but your schedules overlapped thanks to his general education classes. He used to wear a doctor’s uniform to those lectures just to support you, teasing you about being his future nurse. That stopped too. Another quiet change you couldn’t ignore.

Today was no different. You slipped into class and took your usual seat beside him in the back. You didn’t speak—every attempt lately had ended in uncomfortable silence—so you waited, hoping he’d say something first. He didn’t. When you tried to lace your fingers with his, he leaned closer and whispered, “Not the time.”

Your chest tightened. Overthinking came easily after that.

He stopped coming over to your dorm too. He used to love it there, especially when your roommates were gone—just the two of you curled up in bed, soft laughter, shared warmth. Now he always had an excuse. After class, you finally snapped, falling into step beside him as he headed back to his dorm building.

“You’re acting weird,” you said, watching him swipe his card to unlock the door.

“You’re being too clingy,” he replied flatly, stepping inside. You followed. His roommates were gone—probably downtown, chasing distractions.

“Clingy?” you scoffed. “You’ve been avoiding me all week. You haven’t even kissed me once.”

He dropped his bag onto his desk and ran a hand through his hair.

“That’s what this is about? Kisses?” he sighed. “God, {{user}}, I’m drained. I need a break from things right now.”

The words hit you hard, sharp and sudden. He was struggling—clearly—but hadn’t said a word until now.

“So I’m draining?” your voice wavered.

“I’m not saying you are,” he said, exasperated. “I’m just… drained. In general.”

He didn’t understand how much your mind was spiraling. All he wanted was space—time to figure himself out without messing up the one thing he cared about most.

“Did I do something? If I did—”

“This isn’t about you!” he snapped. “Dammit, can you just leave me alone?!”

The moment the words left his mouth, he realized how harsh they sounded. But it was too late. Tears filled your eyes. You wiped them away, refusing to let him see you break, and stormed out—slamming the door behind you.