Yuuka

Taglist: @sstarxgene @phonkdemon @pxrcyjcksons @won1yoiz @starriwon @wvndrls @brat444gene @miajojojo @seafoodboil10 @zqxej @miemiem9 @nishimurariks9128 @xxddeonu @evaflms @amipng @liziwon @nanilis @woninlove @moontmoochi @nonchalantkumi @heeseungswifeee @sleepymochiiii @lingxio @jazzygirlengene @simplyangelixa @ssiiwave @niggletta @seyoungiesleeps @simjaeyunslut @yumjyun @k4y-sh @namjinnumberonedihrider @en-muse @jakeycakeys @saffy26jade @tenaciousfamilliarphilosophet

“Then why the fuck did he hug you?” he snapped, his voice echoing through the room. “Why did he kiss you on the fucking cheek? You seriously expect me to believe there's nothing going on when he walks up to you, wraps you in a fucking bear hug, kisses your cheek, and casually says, ‘See ya’? What guy friend does that?”

It was the early 2000s, when flip phones clicked shut after every call, iPods blasted playlists through wired earphones, low-waisted jeans and fitted tank tops ruled every closet, and girls paired heels with denim while the guys lived in oversized hoodies and sneakers. 

Earlier that evening, everyone had gathered for a barbecue at Ni-ki's huge backyard. It was supposed to be the perfect night music playing through old speakers, burgers sizzling on the grill, everyone laughing over stupid jokes before watching movies and crashing there for a sleepover. You had casually mentioned the plan earlier that week, and somehow your friend Kenji had overheard. Without really asking, he'd invited himself, and you hadn't known how to tell him no.

From the moment he arrived, something felt off. He kept standing too close, brushing against your arm whenever he talked, resting his hand on your shoulder longer than necessary. Every chance he got, he'd sling an arm around you or pull you into side hugs that made your stomach twist. Each time you awkwardly laughed it off, gently pushing him away and quietly asking him to stop. He never listened. Instead, he'd grin as if it were some harmless joke.

Ni-ki watched everything.

He barely spoke for the rest of the evening. Every laugh that escaped your lips while talking to someone else, every accidental touch, every glance in Kenji's direction only fueled the storm brewing inside him. He stayed quiet until the very end.

Around ten-thirty, Kenji checked the time and groaned dramatically. “Night shift,” he sighed.

Before you could react, he stepped forward, wrapped both arms tightly around you in a suffocating bear hug, and planted a quick kiss on your cheek.

“See ya.”

Your body immediately stiffened.

You pushed lightly against his chest, trying to create distance while forcing an uncomfortable smile. “Bye... get to work safely.”

By the time you looked back, Ni-ki's expression had gone completely blank.

Without saying a word to anyone else, he grabbed your wrist not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that you couldn't pull away and led you through the house and upstairs into his bedroom. The moment the door slammed shut behind you, the argument exploded.

“I told you there's nothing going on between us!” you cried. “Why can't you trust me?”

His breathing was uneven, his eyes burning with jealousy and hurt.

“Then explain that,” he shouted. “Explain why he acts like he's your fucking boyfriend!”

“But, Ki...” Your voice trembled. “I was uncomfortable. I don't know why he keeps hugging me and touching me. I've told him to stop so many times. He doesn't listen...”

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head.

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “If you like him so much, then go date him. Get out of here.”

The words hit harder than any slap ever could.

For a moment, everything inside you went silent.

You stared at him, lips trembling as another wave of tears blurred your vision. You gave his chest a weak shove not enough to move him, only enough to express the heartbreak you couldn't put into words. Then you turned and ran.

No one downstairs stopped you.

Your friends were too busy laughing over the movie they'd just started, unaware that your heart had shattered upstairs.

With trembling hands, you slipped your heels back on, grabbed your purse, and walked out into the cold night.

It was nearly eleven.

The streets were almost empty, lit only by flickering streetlights and the occasional passing car. Your heels clicked against the wet pavement as tears blurred your vision, making it difficult to see where you were going. Every sob escaped louder than the last, your chest aching with every breath. You hugged yourself tightly against the chilly air, wishing more than anything that he'd come after you.

He didn't.

By the time you reached your house, the sky had opened.

Rain poured relentlessly, soaking your clothes, your hair, your makeup washing away everything except the pain.

The house was just as empty as always.

Your parents were away on another business trip, and your older brother was out partying with his friends, leaving the place dark and silent.

You stepped inside, slammed the front door behind you, and let your purse fall onto the floor. With shaky hands, you ripped the clips from your hair, letting it tumble messily over your shoulders. You kicked off your heels, leaving them abandoned near the entrance before stumbling toward your bedroom.

The moment you reached your bed, your legs gave out.

You collapsed face-first into the mattress, burying your face in your pillow as muffled screams dissolved into uncontrollable sobs. You cried until your throat burned raw, until your chest hurt from trying to breathe between broken gasps. The only sounds filling the empty house were your cries and the relentless rain pounding against your bedroom window.

You didn't realize how much time had passesd.

Minutes turned into hours as you lay there, curled into yourself, completely alone while the storm outside raged just as violently as the one inside your heart.

Somewhere between your endless sobs and the rhythmic sound of the rain pounding against your bedroom window, exhaustion finally claimed you.

You weren't sure how long you'd been asleep when a series of soft knocks pulled you back to consciousness.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Groggy and emotionally drained, you slowly lifted your head from your tear-soaked pillow. Your eyes burned from crying, and your head throbbed. For a brief moment, you thought you had imagined the sound. Then it came again.

Knock.

Frowning, you turned toward your bedroom window. A figure was standing outside. Your heart nearly stopped.

"What the fuck…"

You scrambled backward off the bed, staring wide-eyed at the silhouette clinging to the outside of your second-floor window. Who the hell climbs up to someone's second floor? You cautiously stepped closer, wiping your eyes to clear your blurry vision. The moment the porch light caught his face, you let out a long, exhausted sigh.

"Riki..."

It was Ni-ki. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, completely soaked by the heavy rain. Water dripped from the sleeves of his hoodie and pooled beneath his sneakers as he balanced awkwardly outside the window, looking both miserable and determined.

You slid the window open. The second he climbed inside, he tracked rainwater across your bedroom floor, shivering slightly as he caught his breath. You crossed your arms over yourself, too emotionally drained to even scold him.

"What is it?" you asked quietly, your voice hoarse from hours of crying.

For the first time that night, he didn't argue. He didn't raise his voice. Instead, he slowly walked toward you until only a few inches separated you. His expression had completely softened, guilt written across every feature. His eyes were just as tired as yours.

"I'm so sorry, pretty," he whispered.

His voice cracked.

"I shouldn't have gotten mad at you."

He hesitated before gently cupping your face in both of his cold hands.

"It wasn't your fault."

His thumbs brushed away the fresh tears that escaped despite yourself.

"I should've stepped in. I should've told him to keep his hands off you... hell, I should've punched that bastard in the face instead of taking it out on you." He shook his head, his eyes full of regret. "I'm so, so sorry."

Standing so close, his tall frame seemed to envelop you completely, shielding you from everything outside your room the storm, the silence, and the ache that had settled in your chest. You searched his face for a long moment before letting out a watery laugh.

"I hate you," you mumbled weakly, trying to glare at him through your tears.

The corners of his lips lifted into the smallest smile.

"I love you too."

Before either of you could say another word, he leaned down and gently pressed his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of rain and his cologne, the comfort you'd been missing ever since you'd walked out of his house. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he brushed his lips against yours. The kiss was soft at fist apology more than anything else.

When you didn't pull away, he kissed you again, lingering this time, his hand resting gently against your cheek while yours found the front of his rain-soaked hoodie. Every bit of hurt, guilt, and longing neither of you had managed to put into words seemed to melt into that quiet moment.

When you finally pulled back for air, he rested his forehead against yours once more, a faint, relieved smile crossing his face.

"I climbed up your second-floor window," he murmured with a crooked grin.