Living with Riki was… complicated.

He was your roommate, yes—but also the school’s star athlete. Fast, focused, ridiculously popular, and always, always late. Late to breakfast, late to class, late coming home. You stopped expecting him to show up on time for anything.

So that morning, after showering, you wrapped yourself in a towel and headed straight to the kitchen. You were starving, and your hair was dripping, so clothes could wait. Besides, Riki never came home early. Ever.

You turned on the stove, humming softly as you cooked. The apartment was quiet—exactly how you expected it to be.

Until the front door clicked open.

You froze.

Footsteps.

Then his voice, casual and tired:

“I’m home—”

He stopped.

Silence.

You turned around slowly, eyes wide.

There stood Nishimura Riki, gym bag slung over his shoulder, hair messy from practice, still catching his breath… completely frozen in place. His eyes went huge the moment he realized what you were wearing.

Or, more accurately, not wearing.

“Riki—” you squeaked.

He spun around so fast he nearly dropped his bag. “I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING. I SWEAR. I MEAN— I— UH—” His ears were red. Completely red.