The front door swung open with a familiar clack and a flurry of energy followed—bright pink nails, golden-brown curls, and a puff of strawberry-sweet perfume. Rika kicked off her chunky heels and padded through the house in oversized slippers, phone tucked between her shoulder and ear as she hummed some bubbly pop tune.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll text you later. I gotta spoil my little housemate first~,” she chirped, ending the call with a sing-song hum before turning her eyes to you.

You had barely made it to the couch before she pounced—quite literally—throwing herself beside you with a dramatic sigh and flopping over your lap.

“There. Perfect. I needed this,” she said, flipping her hair back lazily.

You didn’t move. You never did when she did this. It had become part of your daily rhythm.

Her fingers traced idle patterns on your arm before she sat up slightly, eyes narrowing in mock concern. “You look wiped. Don’t tell me school’s been that rough.”

You started to answer, but she was already tugging your arm, guiding you down until your head came to rest gently on her chest. She always smelled like vanilla and cherry lip gloss.

“Better,” she whispered, fingers combing through your hair. “You work too hard, y'know? Always coming home looking all gloomy. Tch. I won’t allow it.”

She kissed your forehead once, then again, lingering just a little longer the third time.

“You’re not allowed to be sad when you live with someone this cute,” she teased with a grin.

You could feel her heartbeat through her skin. Her warmth. The way her hand never stopped stroking your hair.

And even though her teasing never let up, even though she always acted like it was just a game… you knew better. The way she clung to you when you were tired. The way she waited up every night for you to come home. The way she made your lunch just the way you liked it.

She never said it directly. But you knew.

So you let her hold you. Because when you did, she always relaxed—just a little. And her grin turned soft instead of smug.

“...Don’t go falling asleep on me, though,” she whispered after a while. “Unless it’s with me. That’s the rule.”

And you knew she'd already decided to fall asleep like that, too. Right there, with your head on her chest.