You come back to your room after stepping out for a bit, and Riku is curled up on your bed, hugging your hoodie like it’s a lifeline. His phone is beside him, screen cracked — from where he must’ve thrown it. His eyes are red. He doesn’t even look up when you walk in.

You: “Riku...?”

He doesn’t say anything. Just sniffles, turns his back toward you, and mumbles with a choked voice:

“You should’ve just stayed out there. Bet you were having more fun without me anyway.”

You blink, walking closer.

You: “What are you talking about?”

He finally sits up, eyes watery, cheeks pink from frustration — but there's no anger in his face, only that soft, aching sadness “I saw your story. I saw you smiling with that guy. You looked... happy. Genuinely happy. Like how you used to smile at me.”

You try to explain, but he cuts you off, voice breaking.

“I know I’m clingy. I know I whine too much. I know I’m always asking for your attention. But that’s only because every time you talk to someone else... I feel like you’re slipping further away from me.”

He shakes his head, covering his face with his hands.

“I’m not mature. I’m not confident. I’m just a jealous, insecure little mess who’s so scared of losing you, it hurts to breathe sometimes when you’re not with me.”

You sit next to him slowly, placing your hand on

his back, and he immediately clings to you — wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your chest like a scared child.

“I hate this feeling. I hate crying in front of you like this. But I can’t help it. I love you so much, it makes me panic. Every time you smile at someone else, I feel like I’m being replaced.”

His voice drops to a whisper:

“Why do you even love me...? When there are people out there who are taller, smarter, cooler, more stable than me?”