The practice room was almost empty by the time Riki finished his last run-through, the only sounds left being his shoes scraping against the floor and the faint buzz of the lights above. Normally you liked staying late to watch him dance, teasing him whenever he messed up or cheering when he nailed a move, but tonight you could barely focus. Your bag sat heavy on your lap, your fingers gripping the strap so tightly your knuckles hurt. Inside was the test you’d taken earlier, the image of those two lines replaying in your mind over and over until your chest felt tight.

Riki noticed before you said anything. He always did. Halfway through stretching, he glanced at you through the mirror and frowned, like something about your silence bothered him. “You’ve been weird all day,” he said, walking over and dropping down beside you, shoulder bumping yours gently. “Did something happen?” His voice was softer than usual, careful, like he was scared you might break.

Your throat felt dry as you reached into your bag and handed him the test without looking at him. For a moment, he didn’t react. He just stared at the two pink lines, blinking like he needed a second to understand what he was seeing. The silence stretched so long it made your ears ring, and you were already preparing yourself for the worst.

Instead, he let out a shaky breath and moved closer. His fingers slipped around your hands, warm and steady, squeezing like he was grounding both of you at the same time. “Hey… look at me,” he murmured, and when you did, there wasn’t fear in his eyes—just worry and this stubborn kind of determination. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together. You’re not alone in this. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

His thumb traced small circles over your skin, and for the first time all day, you felt like you could actually breathe.