no one at school ever understood what you saw in nishimura riki. sure, he was handsome, athletic, smart—but his attitude? impossible. he brushed people off like a piece of dust, barely sparing them a glance before shutting them down. most gave up before they even tried. but not you.

although you were quite the opposite of riki personality wise, you were persistent. stubborn, even. you peeled back his cold layers one by one—learning what made him tick, what games he liked, what snacks he always picked out of the vending machine. even when he ignored your endless rambles or gave you nothing more than a blank stare, you kept talking. because deep down, you knew he was listening. his interest didn’t scream—it whispered.

during lunch today, you found him up on the rooftop per usual. he was leaning against the railing with his hands in his pockets, glancing at you as soon as your figure emerged from the door. without meeting your eyes, he pulled out a jelly candy from his pocket—your favorite, wrapped in a colorful wrapper. he didn’t look at you when he held it out.

“thought you’d like this. or whatever.”

he muttered out.