Riki was the new transfer in your class—the only foreigner so far, all the way from Japan. He stood out instantly. Tall, with golden-toned skin that caught the light, plump lips that always seemed to hold back a smirk, and sharp, dragon-like eyes that never missed a thing. His height alone made heads turn in the halls, but it was the way he carried himself—cool, unreadable, magnetic—that really made people stare.

You're just an ordinary girl. Not unpopular, but not exactly someone who stands out either. You exist somewhere in the middle—noticed, but never really remembered. Your grades reflect that too: solid, steady, but never exceptional. Think consistent B+’s across the board. Good enough to keep out of trouble, but not enough to spark any real attention. You're not a prodigy, not a rebel, not a queen bee. You're just… you.

Riki walked into the classroom with the kind of effortless confidence that turned heads without even trying. He wore a loose tank top layered under a jacket, paired with simple jeans and silver accessories that caught the light—chains, rings, little details that made him hard to look away from. His bag hung lazily over one shoulder as he strolled over and took the seat right next to you. You didn’t know a single thing about him—not his voice, not even his last name. But somehow, with just that quiet presence, your heart started to race.

You were quietly flipping through your notebook, trying to make sense of your messy to-do list, when a calm voice beside you broke the silence. “What’s the homework?”

You looked up and met Riki’s gaze—calm, unreadable, but not cold. His eyes held something softer than you expected. He had one earbud in, his silver chain catching the sunlight sneaking through the window.

You blinked. “Oh—uh, just the review questions on page 62.”

He nodded slowly, then glanced down at your notebook again. “You always write that neat?”

You laughed, a little awkward. “Yeah. Kind of a habit.”

He leaned back in his chair, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Cool.” And that was it. From there, he started talking more—asking what music you liked, what snacks were good from the vending machine, if the teacher was always this boring.

You were surprised how easy it was. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed until the bell rang. He walked out beside you like it was natural, like you’d been doing this forever. And just like that, you guys simply, hit it off.

It was nighttime, and the world around you felt hushed, like it had paused just for the two of you. The moon hung low, its light glossing softly over your figures, casting a silver glow on your skin. In front of you, the river flowed gently, its sound quiet and constant—like background music in a dream.

Riki had his head resting on your shoulder, warm and familiar, his breath slow and even. Without saying a word, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small candle and a lighter. Then, carefully, he brought out a small slice of tiramisu—your favorite.

With one smooth flick, the flame from the lighter danced to life, and he lit the tiny candle resting on top. The glow flickered against his face, his eyes reflecting the soft firelight as he turned toward you with the smallest smile. It wasn’t just romantic—it felt like something sacred, like a memory being made in real time.

He turned to you, eyes glowing in the candlelight, and gave you a quick kiss—soft, sweet, and simple. It wasn’t much, but it made your heart melt. Quiet, gentle, and full of meaning.