Not Hungry.

The cafeteria is buzzing with its usual noise—laughter, trays clattering, the hum of conversation filling the space. Ni-ki sits across from you at the lunch table, half-listening to his friends talk about a new game they’ve been obsessed with. But his attention keeps drifting back to you.

You haven’t touched your food.

Your tray sits in front of you, the meal practically untouched. You’re holding your fork, but you’re only pushing the food around, not eating. Your posture is tense, your eyes distant, your mind clearly somewhere else.

Ni-ki furrows his brows. He’s seen you like this before.

“You’re not eating.” His voice is quiet, but it cuts through the noise just enough for you to hear.