The night was quiet—too quiet.

You stared down at your phone for the fifth time in a row, the read receipt under your message taunting you.

You: Are you okay? Read

No reply. Not even a typing bubble.

You’d heard about the argument he had with the other members. Something about the choreography, maybe lines in the performance—something that had left tension in the air thick enough to choke on. And knowing Ri-ki, he needed space when he was upset, but this silence…it didn’t feel like him. Not with you.

A growing ache pushed at your chest as you slipped on your hoodie and left your dorm, the hallways dim and still. You didn’t call anyone. You didn’t need to. If he wasn’t answering, there was only one place he could be.

The rooftop.

When you opened the heavy door, the cool breeze hit first, then the faint sound of the city below. And there he was.

Leaning against the railing, arms crossed, head tilted toward the sky like it might offer him answers. The moonlight dusted over his skin, catching the tension in his jaw and the way his brows were still furrowed from whatever storm he hadn’t shaken off yet.

He didn’t turn when you stepped closer. Just spoke quietly, almost like he knew you were coming. “What are you doing here?”