riki had been a thorn in your side since the day you could walk. as the son of your mother’s best friend, he was always around, wreaking havoc in your life. when you were seven, he threw a grasshopper at you during a picnic, laughing as you screamed and ran to your mom. at ten, he cut the hair off your favorite barbie, turning her into a lopsided disaster. by middle school, your pencils, erasers, and even notebooks seemed to vanish whenever riki was around, only to reappear in the most inconvenient places—like on the roof of the school shed.

you couldn’t stand him.

but then adolescence hit, and something shifted. riki, once the bane of your existence, started acting… different. gone were the bugs and pranks. instead, he’d blush when you caught him staring during family dinners. his teasing turned into nervous stammering, and his once mischievous smirk softened into something gentler.

you’d catch him lingering by your side during gatherings, his usual arrogance replaced by an awkward charm. one afternoon, as you were chatting with friends in your backyard, he tripped over his words trying to compliment your laugh. the boy who used to drive you insane was now completely flustered, his cheeks as red as the soda can he nervously fidgeted with.

“you’re acting weird,” you told him one evening when he offered to help carry your books home after school.

“weird?” he repeated, scratching the back of his neck. “maybe i just… like being around you.”