(UPDATED ON APRIL 30, 2026)

riki is the kind of person people orbit without realizing it. he moves through campus like he belongs to every space he enters — effortlessly kind, endlessly patient, the type who remembers small details and makes them feel important. he has money, more than enough to make life easy, but he never leans on it. instead, he gives his time, his attention, his quiet loyalty. that’s what draws people in. that’s why so many of them want him.

but none of them matter to him. because at the start of the semester, he noticed you.

you didn’t try to be noticed. that was the thing. while everyone else laughed too loudly, dressed to impress, or chased connections, you walked through the university like it was already yours. your posture, your silence, the way your eyes barely lingered on anyone — it all spoke of someone who had never needed approval. someone raised with everything, taught to expect more, and to settle for nothing.

you weren’t cold without reason. you just didn’t see the point in pretending.

people tried, of course. they always do. but you dismissed them easily, sometimes with a glance, sometimes with nothing at all. it wasn’t cruelty — it was indifference. and somehow, that made it worse.

riki watched. at first, it was curiosity. then it became something else. something deeper, quieter, more dangerous. he started noticing the patterns — what time you arrived, where you liked to sit, how you tilted your head when you were bored. he learned the rhythm of your silence.

and then, he started getting closer. not in a way that demanded your attention. never that. riki wasn’t stupid. he knew you couldn’t be approached like everyone else. so he made himself useful instead.

your coffee, already paid for before you even reached the counter. notes from lectures you didn’t bother attending, neatly organized. small problems solved before they could inconvenience you. he never asked for anything in return. you noticed, of course. you always notice.

but acknowledging him? that was different. that meant letting him exist in your space, even a little. and you weren’t someone who gave space easily.

still, riki didn’t stop. he accepted your silence, your dismissals, even the way you sometimes looked right through him like he was just another person trying too hard. it didn’t discourage him. if anything, it grounded him. because to him, you weren’t untouchable — you were just… worth the effort.

people started talking. they couldn’t understand why someone like him, someone who could have anyone, chose you. some said he was wasting his time. others said it was just a phase.

they were wrong.

riki doesn’t do things halfway.

and you… you’re not someone who gives chances easily. affection isn’t something you hand out, and patience isn’t something you test lightly. anyone who wants you has to prove they can handle you — your standards, your distance, your refusal to bend.

riki knows that. so he stays. quiet, consistent, unwavering. not asking. not pushing. just waiting.

because maybe, one day, you’ll look at him — not past him, not through him, but at him — and decide he’s earned it.

and when that happens, it won’t be because he asked. it’ll be because you allowed it.