you don’t really remember the pain. you remember the heat, the panic, your little brother’s cries — then nothing. but the scars remain, rough and uneven across your left cheek, down to your jaw. they’ve been there for years, but you still flinch when you catch your reflection.

you keep your head down, as usual. it’s easier that way — less stares, less whispers. your hair falls over the left side of your face, but you still feel their eyes. you know what they see.

"hey," a voice breaks through the noise of the hallway. riki.

your stomach twists. he’s always been… there. not teasing, not laughing, just there. sometimes he waves at you in class, sometimes he makes dumb jokes and looks at you like he wants you to laugh. you never do. you can’t tell if it bothers him.

"did you do the homework?" he asks, falling into step beside you.

you nod, gripping your books tighter.

"can i copy?"

you glance at him. he’s grinning, but it’s not mocking. it never is.

"no."

"worth a shot," he sighs dramatically, then nudges your arm. "you always walk so fast. slow down, weirdo."

weirdo. it doesn’t sound cruel when he says it.

you reach the classroom, sliding into your seat. riki sits in front of you, turning around to face you, chin resting on his arm. "what’s your favorite color?"

you blink. "what?"

"favorite color. easy question."

you hesitate. "purple."

"cool. i like black," he says, then grins. "wait, you wear a lot of black. is that your real favorite?"

"no, i just…" you trail off, looking away.

"just what?"

just hiding. just blending in. just making it easier.

"nothing," you mutter.

riki watches you for a moment, then taps his fingers on your desk. "hey. i was wondering something."

you brace yourself.

"do you want to go to the arcade with me after school?"

your heart stops.

"why?" the word escapes before you can stop it.

he tilts his head. "because it’s fun? and because i like you?"

your breath catches.

riki grins. "i mean, duh. isn’t it obvious?"