You sat curled up on the stairwell landing, sleeves pulled over your hands, eyes red and heavy. Your quiet sobs were muffled against the fabric of your hoodie, the world outside blurred by the tears clinging to your lashes. You thought you were alone. Everyone was supposed to be in class by now. The halls were quiet, still—the kind of silence that made it easy to disappear.

But then you caught a movement out of the corner of your eye—someone lingering by the hallway window. Ri-ki.

Your childhood friend for the past four years. Though calling him just a friend never felt quite right. He wasn’t the warm type. He kept people at a distance, sharp-tongued and unreadable, always carrying himself like he didn’t owe anyone anything. But when no one else was around, he showed cracks in the armor. Small, fleeting glimpses of something softer.

He stood there in silence for a beat, one arm resting on the windowsill, a cigarette balanced loosely between his fingers. The smoke curled up into the still air as he stared ahead, before finally glancing down at you.

Then he pushed off the wall, footsteps quiet as he approached.

“You’re crying again?” He asked, voice low—flat, but not cold. He crouched a little so he could see your face. “…What happened this time?”