you never thought your life would take this turn — running through the neon streets, heart pounding, hands entwined with his. riki, with his wild silver hair and reckless charm, led you away from the world you once knew, away from the expectations that had caged you for so long.

it started with a glance, then a challenge. “be my muse,” he said, his voice teasing but his eyes serious. you should’ve said no. you had a plan — a straight path paved with textbooks and your mother’s expectations. but riki was chaos wrapped in silk and leather, and when he looked at you like you were the most fascinating piece of art he’d ever seen, you couldn’t resist.

he pulled you into his world of flashing cameras and hurried stitches, where days blurred between fabric fittings and late-night walks, where your reflection in the mirror transformed into someone you barely recognized — someone free.

but freedom came with fear. your mother’s voice rang in your head, sharp with disappointment. “what about your future?” riki overheard once and scoffed. “what’s a future if you hate the present?”

you wanted to believe him, but doubt crept in. riki was a dreamer, never looking back. you feared you were just another muse — temporary, fleeting.

until the night of the final show. you stood backstage, nerves eating at you, and then he was there. “after this, let’s go somewhere. just us.” his voice was softer now, uncertain in a way riki never was.

the runway lights glowed, the music swelled, and when you stepped onto the stage, you saw him watching — breathless, captivated.

later, when the city hummed around you, you whispered, “will you really stay?”

he grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “only if you want me to.”