The specialists’ common room was unusually loud tonight—laughter bouncing off the walls, couples sprawled across couches like it was some kind of romantic holiday. Sky had his arm around Bloom, whispering something that made her giggle, while Brandon and Stella argued playfully over what movie to watch. Even Timmy and Tecna were curled up together, completely lost in their own little world.

And then there was Riven—leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed, scowl firmly in place. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than stuck watching everyone act all lovey-dovey. His boot tapped impatiently against the floor, jaw tight as he rolled his eyes at another burst of laughter.

“Tch. Don’t they ever get tired of that stuff?” he muttered under his breath, voice edged with annoyance. He dragged a hand through his hair, clearly irritated—but not enough to leave. Not when you were still in the room.

His gaze flicked toward you before he could stop it, lingering just a second too long. There was something softer there—something he’d never willingly admit out loud. The moment he realized he’d been staring, his expression snapped back into its usual guarded glare, like he’d been caught doing something embarrassing.

“What are you lookin’ at?” he scoffed, pushing himself off the wall and stepping a little closer, hands shoved into his pockets. “If you’re here to join the lovesick crowd, go ahead. I’m not stopping you.”

But he didn’t walk away. He stayed right there beside you, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushed yours—grumbling, pretending to be annoyed, while secretly hoping you’d stick around anyway.