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a-dream-bookmark · 1 month ago

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NEW ARRIVAL:

“Strawberry Milkshakes” by jinnieboosworld

Strawberry Milkshakes

Eric Sohn x Fem Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Drama, Fluff

Summary: Eric Sohn loves his job working as a waiter at a 24 hour diner. So when the diner starts to lose its customers to a rival diner he has to go there to see what all the hype is about, and that’s when he meets you. A pink haired, neon colored- dressed, rollerblader, who makes amazing strawberry milkshakes.

Word count: 10,998

Part of the Meet Cute Series

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The bell over the door of MiMi’s Diner gave a sharp jingle as it swung open. Eric Sohn, standing behind the counter, glanced up from the schedule he was reviewing. Only two customers walked in—a middle-aged couple who were familiar faces in the diner.

“Morning, Mr. and Mrs. Lee,” Eric greeted, trying to keep his tone upbeat, even though a creeping sense of worry had been gnawing at him for weeks now. “Same as usual?”

Mrs. Lee smiled, but there was something distant in it. “Not today, Eric. Just a couple of coffees to go.”

Eric’s heart sank. They always stayed for at least an hour, chatting and enjoying the pancakes or waffles MiMi was known for. “Sure thing,” he replied, watching them settle by the window, their eyes wandering in a way they never had before.

He turned to Kevin, the new and extremely energetic waiter who was already bouncing over to the counter. “Hey, Kev, two coffees for the Lees,” Eric said, running a hand through his hair.

“Two coffees coming right up!” Kevin chirped, his usual enthusiasm undimmed by the day’s lackluster start.

Eric sighed and stepped over to MiMi, who stood behind the register, scanning the empty seats around them. “Twelve customers today. That’s it,” Eric said quietly, leaning on the counter next to her.

MiMi shook her head, her expression one of concern. “I just don’t get it, Eric. We’ve been through slow times before, but this? It’s like they’ve all just vanished.”

Sunwoo, leaning through the serving window from the kitchen, chimed in. “Not vanished—just gone to that new place on 82nd Street. The Midnight Shake or whatever it’s called.”

MiMi waved her hand dismissively. “We’ve had competition before. We’ve always been fine.”

“Yeah, but this place is packed,” Sunwoo said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I snapped this on my way back from lunch yesterday.”

He held out his phone, and Eric and MiMi both peered at the screen. The parking lot of The Midnight Shake was completely full, with people actually waiting outside.

Eric frowned. “I don’t get it. What are they offering that we aren’t?”

Kevin, carrying the Lees’ coffees over to the table, paused and looked back. “Maybe they’re putting something special in their shakes?” he joked, flashing a grin.

Eric didn’t laugh. His eyes narrowed at the image on Sunwoo’s phone. “There’s gotta be more to it than just shakes. Our food’s just as good, and we’ve got a loyal customer base.”

MiMi sighed heavily, resting her hands on the counter. “Maybe it’s time we check them out.”

Eric’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t ready to throw in the towel yet. “I don’t know… it feels weird, doesn’t it? Spying on the competition?”

MiMi glanced around the nearly empty diner. “Call it market research.”

Eric opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the sound of Kevin’s voice from across the room. “Have a great day, Mr. and Mrs. Lee! See you tomorrow, I hope!”

The couple offered a polite wave as they slipped out the door, and the bell’s jingle felt far too loud in the now-empty space.

Eric crossed his arms, staring at the door. “Maybe I should go see what all the hype is about. Just to see if we’re missing something obvious.”

MiMi raised an eyebrow at him. “You sure? I’d hate for you to get too worked up over this.”

Eric glanced back at her. “I’m not worked up. I just want to understand what we’re up against.”

Sunwoo smirked, crossing his arms. “Or who you’re up against. Word around town is their main waitress over there is quite the spectacle.”

Eric frowned. “Spectacle?”

Kevin bounced back over, clearly eager to join in the conversation. “Yeah, I heard she’s on roller skates! And apparently, she makes the best strawberry shakes in the city.”

Eric blinked. “Roller skates?”

MiMi shrugged. “If that’s what it takes to get people in the door…”

Eric shook his head, his jaw tightening. “Well, gimmicks don’t last forever. If it’s just a flashy waitress, we’ll be fine.”

Sunwoo chuckled. “Maybe, maybe not. I hear they’re doing something right. Could be worth your time to swing by and see for yourself.”

Eric clenched his fists, feeling a strange sense of competitiveness bubbling up. “Fine. I’ll check it out tomorrow.”

MiMi looked at him, her concern evident. “Just don’t do anything rash, Eric. It’s just a diner.”

But to Eric, it wasn’t just a diner. MiMi’s had been his life for the past eight years. He wasn’t about to let some new place run them out of business.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“Why do I feel like I’m about to go into battle?” Eric muttered under his breath, checking his reflection in the window.

“You look like you’re about to audition for a movie,” Kevin teased from across the counter. “Just relax, man. It’s a diner, not a gladiator ring.”

Eric shot him a look. “I just want to understand what’s going on over there.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Kevin replied with a smirk, hopping over to refill a few ketchup bottles.

Eric turned his attention back to the door, then squared his shoulders. He grabbed his jacket and took a deep breath. “I’ll be back in an hour,” he called over his shoulder.

“Good luck!” Sunwoo shouted, his laughter echoing through the kitchen.

Stepping out into the cool evening air, Eric made his way down the street. He was on edge, wondering what exactly he would find at The Midnight Shake. Roller skates? Strawberry shakes? It sounded ridiculous, but if it was taking away MiMi’s customers, then it was serious enough.

As he turned onto 82nd Street, the neon sign for The Midnight Shake came into view. It was garish, bright pink and blue lights flickering in the evening sky, casting a glow over the busy parking lot. He could already see the crowds through the windows.

It was packed.

Eric felt a mix of disbelief and frustration. How could they be drawing so many people? He steeled himself and made his way closer.

Before he could even reach the front door, he heard it—the unmistakable sound of roller skates on pavement. Eric glanced to the side, and there she was.

Y/N. She zipped out of the diner’s side entrance, rollerblades gliding effortlessly over the concrete, her neon-colored outfit clashing with the night sky. She had pink hair that caught the last rays of the setting sun, and in her hand, a tray of to-go orders.

Eric stopped in his tracks, watching as she navigated through a small crowd, expertly balancing the tray while weaving between people. She didn’t miss a beat.

He found himself staring, not just at her skills, but at the way she smiled at every customer she passed, like she knew them all personally. There was something magnetic about her presence.

She glanced his way for a split second, and their eyes met.

Y/N gave him a brief, puzzled look, clearly not recognizing him, before skating off toward a group of waiting customers.

Eric blinked, his chest tightening for reasons he couldn’t explain. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

“Focus, Eric. You’re here for a reason,” he muttered to himself as he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The interior of The Midnight Shake was bustling with energy, a stark contrast to MiMi’s. The walls were decorated with retro neon signs, and the atmosphere was vibrant, almost chaotic.

As he stood at the entrance, trying to take it all in, a waitress in roller skates—Y/N—zoomed past him with another tray of milkshakes.

“Welcome to The Midnight Shake,” she called over her shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

Eric clenched his fists. This was more than just a diner; this was a circus. And somehow, they were winning.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The bell jingled softly as Eric pushed open the door of MiMi’s, stepping back into the familiar space. It should have felt like a comfort, but after what he had just seen at The Midnight Shake, it felt strangely hollow. The contrast between the two diners weighed on him heavily. The buzzing energy, the vibrant colors, the constant hum of activity—everything at that place had felt alive. MiMi’s, by comparison, seemed quiet. Too quiet.

“Back already?” MiMi’s voice floated over from behind the counter. She was wiping down the register, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

Eric gave a noncommittal grunt and hung his jacket on the hook by the door. “Yeah. It’s… packed over there.”

MiMi frowned, the lines around her eyes deepening. “What do you mean? Like busy?”

“Busy doesn’t even cover it.” Eric exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “It’s chaos. But organized chaos. People are everywhere, and they seem to love it.”

Kevin, who was leaning against the counter with a milkshake in hand, raised an eyebrow. “So what’s the deal? Are they just giving away free stuff or something?”

Eric shook his head, the image of Y/N on her roller skates still lingering in his mind. “It’s more than that. They’ve got this whole atmosphere. It’s loud, bright, like a party in there.”

Kevin laughed. “A party at a diner? Sounds like a gimmick to me.”

“Maybe,” Eric muttered, though he wasn’t sure if he believed that anymore. “But it’s working.”

MiMi placed the cloth down and crossed her arms. “Do they have better food?”

Eric shook his head. “It’s not that. Their menu’s not much different from ours. It’s the experience. That waitress on skates? She’s the one drawing people in. She’s… flashy, I guess. And she’s good with customers.”

“Roller skates? Seriously?” Sunwoo appeared from the kitchen, leaning against the frame of the door. “What is this, the 70s?”

“It’s ridiculous,” Eric agreed, but his voice lacked conviction. He couldn’t stop thinking about how smooth Y/N had looked as she weaved through the crowd, or how every customer seemed to leave with a smile after interacting with her. “But they’ve got something we don’t. And whatever it is, it’s taking our customers.”

Kevin took a long sip of his milkshake and shrugged. “Maybe we need to shake things up too. Get roller skates, or maybe start doing karaoke nights or something.”

MiMi sighed. “We’ve never needed to do gimmicks before. Our food’s always been enough.”

Eric rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “Yeah, but if we don’t adapt, we’re going to lose everything. We need to find a way to stand out again.”

There was a pause, the silence hanging heavy between them. Kevin, always the optimist, grinned and clapped Eric on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, boss. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Eric offered a tight smile, but inside, he wasn’t so sure. He felt an unfamiliar sense of competition bubbling inside him, not just with the diner itself, but with Y/N. She wasn’t just another waitress; she was becoming the face of the place that was threatening everything he had built at MiMi’s. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was personal.

Days passed, and the situation at MiMi’s grew more tense. Every shift seemed quieter than the last, and Eric could feel the frustration building in the air. Kevin kept trying to lighten the mood, but even his boundless energy couldn’t fully mask the growing worry that was settling over the diner

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

He didn’t have a plan, not really. Maybe he’d just walk by, see if things had calmed down. Or maybe he’d confront Y/N, see what she was doing that was so special. He didn’t know why, but he felt drawn back to that place, like he had unfinished business there.

As he approached, he could hear the familiar hum of the diner, the sound of people talking, laughing. And then, over the din, the unmistakable sound of roller skates on pavement.

There she was again—Y/N. She glided out of the side entrance, her tray stacked high with milkshakes, her pink hair catching the evening light. She didn’t notice him at first, her attention focused on the customers waiting by the curb.

Eric stopped in his tracks, watching her again. She was efficient, no wasted movement, but it wasn’t just that. She had this way of making every interaction feel personal, like every customer was her favorite. He could see why people were drawn to her, even if it grated on him.

As she handed the milkshakes off to a group of teenagers, Y/N glanced up and noticed him standing across the street. Her eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of recognition passing over her face.

For a brief moment, neither of them moved. Then, with a quick motion, she pushed off on her skates and headed straight toward him.

Eric braced himself as she rolled to a stop in front of him, her arms crossed and a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. “Well, well. If it isn’t the competition.”

Eric clenched his jaw. “I’m not here to spy, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Right. Just happened to be in the neighborhood, huh?”

Eric held her gaze, refusing to back down. “Maybe I was just curious.”

“Curious?” Y/N’s smirk widened. “Or worried?”

His fists clenched at her tone, that playful edge she seemed to have. She was enjoying this, that much was clear. “Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, but MiMi’s isn’t going anywhere.”

Y/N tilted her head, looking him over like she was sizing him up. “Oh, I’m not playing any games. Just doing my job. If people want to come here instead of your place, that’s on them.”

Eric’s jaw tightened. “You think it’s just that simple? You’re stealing our customers.”

“Stealing?” Y/N’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “No one’s stealing anything. Maybe they just like the shakes better over here.”

Eric took a step closer, his voice dropping lower. “It’s more than just shakes, and you know it.”

Y/N looked up at him, her smirk fading slightly. For a moment, there was something else in her eyes, something he couldn’t quite place. Then, just as quickly, she shook her head and pushed off on her skates. “Whatever you say, Mr. MiMi’s.”

She started to roll away, but Eric’s voice stopped her. “I’m not done.”

She turned back, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? What else is there?”

Eric opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. He didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t even sure why he had stopped her.

Y/N gave him a long look, then shrugged. “See you around, Eric.”

And just like that, she skated off, disappearing back into the busy diner.

Eric stood there for a moment, feeling a strange mix of frustration and something else—something he didn’t want to admit to himself.

As he turned to walk away, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this rivalry was only just beginning.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The next few days dragged on for Eric. Every shift at MiMi’s felt like a reminder of how quickly things were slipping away. He could see it in the eyes of his coworkers too, even Kevin’s usually upbeat attitude seemed a little deflated. Each day was slower than the last, and the conversations in the diner were quieter, as if everyone was waiting for something to change.

“So, how’s business today?” Kevin asked one afternoon, his voice carrying an almost forced cheerfulness. He was leaning against the counter, tapping his fingers absentmindedly.

Eric didn’t even look up from the receipt he was staring at. “Same as yesterday. Dead.”

Kevin let out a dramatic sigh and slid into one of the stools by the counter. “You think MiMi’s gonna close down if this keeps up?”

“Not if I can help it,” Eric muttered, though the weight of his words felt heavier than he wanted to admit.

Kevin studied him for a moment, the usual energy in his voice fading. “You’ve been real quiet lately. You’re not seriously letting that other diner get to you, are you?”

Eric clenched his jaw. “It’s not just another diner. It’s her.”

Kevin blinked. “Who?”

“That girl on skates,” Eric snapped, his frustration boiling over. “Y/N. She’s the one pulling all the customers.”

“Ohh,” Kevin said, his voice suddenly full of interest. “Wait, wait, wait—are you mad because of the competition, or because she’s kinda hot?”

Eric shot him a glare. “This isn’t about that.”

“Uh-huh.” Kevin grinned, leaning closer. “Sure. But you gotta admit, there’s something about her, right?”

Eric’s mind flashed back to their brief confrontation, the way Y/N had looked so confident, so unbothered by the rivalry. “She’s annoying,” he said flatly.

Kevin laughed. “You sound like you’re in high school. Come on, man, if she’s the competition, why not make things interesting?”

“How exactly?” Eric’s voice was thick with sarcasm.

Kevin shrugged. “I don’t know, get creative. Push back a little. Or you know, maybe… ask her out.”

Eric scoffed, shaking his head. “Not happening. She’s the reason we’re losing customers, and I’m not about to make this personal.”

Kevin’s grin didn’t falter. “You sure about that?”

Eric didn’t answer. He turned his back on Kevin, pretending to busy himself with straightening the silverware at the tables. But no matter how much he tried to focus on the task, his mind kept drifting back to Y/N. To her teasing smirk. To the way she glided through the diner on her skates like she owned the place. To how she had brushed him off like he didn’t even matter.

The thought burned at him. This wasn’t just business anymore. It was personal.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It was a late Friday afternoon when Eric found himself standing outside The Midnight Shake again, this time deliberately. He hadn’t told anyone he was coming, especially not Kevin, who would have had too many jokes about it. Eric wasn’t sure what had compelled him to return, but part of him was itching for another encounter with Y/N. He had convinced himself it was to see what else the diner was doing to pull customers away, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

As he approached the diner, he noticed the same lively crowd, the parking lot full of cars, and the hum of conversation spilling out onto the street. But this time, he wasn’t just watching from across the road—he was going in.

Pushing open the door, he was immediately hit with a wave of noise. The place was packed, even more so than before. The neon lights flickered cheerfully, casting a warm glow over the booths filled with customers laughing and chatting. The atmosphere felt electric, like everyone was part of something exciting. And right in the middle of it all, as if she were the ringleader of the chaos, was Y/N.

She was gliding between tables, her skates moving effortlessly across the checkered floor. Her bright pink hair caught the light as she laughed at something a customer said, handing over a strawberry milkshake with a flourish. She didn’t even notice Eric standing by the door, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or annoyed.

He took a deep breath and walked toward an empty spot at the counter, trying to blend in. The last thing he wanted was to cause a scene, but he couldn’t deny the strange sense of anticipation building inside him. Maybe he was hoping for another confrontation. Maybe he just wanted to prove that this place wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

As he sat down, Y/N skated up to the counter, still not noticing him. She was busy making milkshakes, her hands a blur as she poured, blended, and garnished each one with whipped cream and a cherry. Her focus was impressive, and for a brief moment, Eric found himself watching her with a kind of reluctant admiration.

“Order up!” Y/N called out, pushing a tray of shakes toward the end of the counter.

And then her eyes flickered up—and landed on him.

Her expression shifted in an instant, from casual indifference to something sharper, more focused. She raised an eyebrow, skating over to where he sat. “You lost, MiMi’s?”

Eric met her gaze, refusing to back down. “Just curious about the competition.”

Y/N crossed her arms, leaning against the counter. “Thought you said you weren’t spying.”

“I’m not,” Eric replied, his tone even. “Just seeing what all the hype is about.”

Y/N tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “And? What do you think?”

Eric shrugged, trying to appear unfazed. “It’s loud.”

She smirked. “That’s not what the customers think.”

Eric clenched his jaw, the frustration bubbling up again. “Maybe they’re just here for the novelty. Doesn’t mean it’s going to last.”

Y/N’s smirk widened. “You really don’t get it, do you? People come here because they like it. It’s not just about the food—it’s about the experience.”

“And what experience is that, exactly?” Eric challenged. “Skating around and flashing neon lights?”

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “It’s about giving people something different. Something fun. They’re not just here for a meal—they’re here to have a good time. Maybe that’s what MiMi’s is missing.”

Eric’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t need gimmicks to keep our customers.”

Y/N straightened up, shrugging. “Maybe not. But you’re here, aren’t you?”

Eric opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a group of customers called for Y/N from the far end of the diner. She glanced over, then back at Eric, her expression softening just a fraction. “Look, I get it. You’re mad because things aren’t going the way you want. But if you really want to know why people are coming here, you should stop thinking about it like a competition.”

Eric frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Y/N gave him a long, searching look. “It means you’re so focused on beating us, you’re not paying attention to what your own place needs. Figure that out, and maybe you won’t have to worry about us anymore.”

With that, she pushed off on her skates, rolling back into the sea of customers like she hadn’t just left Eric standing there, speechless.

The walk back to MiMi’s felt longer than usual. Eric’s mind was racing with everything Y/N had said, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that she had gotten under his skin in a way no one ever had before. It wasn’t just the rivalry anymore—there was something more to it. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

As he stepped into MiMi’s, Kevin was waiting by the door, his usual grin plastered across his face. “Well? How’d it go?”

Eric hesitated, then shook his head. “It was… fine.”

Kevin raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Just fine?”

Eric didn’t respond. Instead, he moved behind the counter and started wiping it down, trying to focus on the mundane task to clear his head. But Kevin wasn’t letting it go.

“Come on, man. You went there for a reason. What’s the deal? Did you talk to her?”

Eric’s grip tightened on the cloth. “Yeah. We talked.”

Kevin leaned in, his grin widening. “And? Was she as annoying as you thought?”

Eric paused, the memory of Y/N’s words still fresh in his mind. “She’s… not what I expected.”

Kevin let out a low whistle. “Ohhh, so that’s how it is. You’ve got a thing for her.”

Eric shot him a glare.

Eric’s glare only made Kevin’s grin wider, the playful teasing written all over his face. “I don’t have a thing for her,” Eric muttered, turning back to the counter, scrubbing furiously as if it would help him escape the conversation. “She’s the competition. That’s all.”

Kevin let out a laugh. “Sure, sure. But you’re thinking about her, aren’t you? I mean, it’s been weeks since anyone’s gotten under your skin like this.”

Eric didn’t respond right away. The truth was, he had been thinking about her—more than he wanted to admit. But not in the way Kevin was suggesting. Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

Kevin watched him for a moment before leaning closer, lowering his voice as if he were about to share some great secret. “Look, man, maybe she’s right. Maybe we’ve been so focused on trying to beat them that we’re missing what makes us special.”

Eric paused, his hands stilling on the counter. He’d been thinking the same thing ever since Y/N’s words had echoed in his head. Maybe MiMi’s didn’t need to change into something it wasn’t. Maybe it just needed to find a way to bring back the energy and excitement it used to have.

But before he could delve deeper into those thoughts, MiMi herself walked in from the back, looking around at the empty diner with a sigh. “Another slow day, huh?”

Kevin shrugged. “Could be worse. At least we’ve got the regulars.”

MiMi’s face softened. “Yeah, but we used to have so much more. I remember when this place was packed. People couldn’t get enough of our food, the atmosphere…”

Eric glanced at her, his heart sinking a little. MiMi had poured everything into this diner. It wasn’t just a business to her—it was her life. And if it failed…

“We’ll figure it out,” Eric said firmly, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure MiMi or himself.

MiMi gave him a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I know you will. You’ve always had a way of bringing people in, Eric. Maybe you’ll find that magic again.”

Eric nodded, though his mind was already wandering back to Y/N, to the way she had talked about creating an experience, not just serving food. Maybe that was the key. Not trying to copy The Midnight Shake, but finding something that would make people want to come to MiMi’s again—something authentic.

The next day started like any other, slow and quiet. Eric showed up early, as he always did, to get everything ready for the day ahead. Kevin had rolled in not long after, full of energy as usual, chatting about random things that Eric only half-listened to.

But it wasn’t until later that afternoon that something strange happened.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Eric had been walking through the park after his shift, needing to clear his head and figure out a plan for MiMi’s. The sound of kids playing and people laughing filled the air, offering a brief distraction from the diner’s struggles.

As he rounded the corner, though, he saw something—or rather, someone—that made him stop in his tracks.

There, gliding effortlessly down the path on her rollerblades, was Y/N.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on weaving between people as she made her way through the park. She had on the same neon-colored outfit she always wore, her pink hair bouncing with each movement. She looked so carefree, so at ease, like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Eric felt a strange tightening in his chest. Part of him wanted to turn around and leave before she noticed him, but something else—something he couldn’t quite name—kept him rooted to the spot.

He watched as she skated toward a group of kids who had gathered by the park’s fountain. They were giggling and calling out to her, and she skidded to a stop, crouching down to talk to them. Eric couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the kids were laughing and pointing at her skates, and she was showing them some kind of trick, making them cheer.

For a moment, Eric forgot all about the rivalry. He forgot about MiMi’s, about The Midnight Shake, about everything. All he could think about was how different Y/N seemed outside of the diner. How she wasn’t just some competitor trying to steal their customers—she was a person. A person with a life outside of the neon-lit walls of her diner.

He didn’t realize he was staring until she looked up and caught his eye.

Her smile faltered for a second, but then it came back, though this time it was laced with something a little sharper. “You stalking me now, MiMi’s?”

Eric blinked, startled out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat, stepping closer but keeping his hands shoved in his pockets. “No. Just walking.”

She raised an eyebrow, pushing herself up to her full height, which wasn’t much taller than the kids she had been talking to. “And you just happened to be walking through this park?”

Eric shrugged, trying to play it off. “It’s a public park.”

Y/N let out a short laugh, shaking her head as she rolled over to the fountain, sitting on the edge. “Alright. If you say so.”

Eric hesitated, unsure of what to say next. He wasn’t used to this kind of conversation, especially not with someone like Y/N. But there was something about the way she sat there, casual and unbothered, that made him want to keep talking.

“So, do you do this every day?” he asked, gesturing to her skates.

Y/N glanced down at them, as if she had forgotten she was even wearing them. “Most days. Helps me clear my head.”

Eric nodded, though he didn’t know what else to say. He hadn’t expected to run into her, and now that he had, he wasn’t sure where to take the conversation. But Y/N didn’t seem to mind the silence. She just sat there, watching the kids play in the fountain, her expression thoughtful.

“You really care about that place, don’t you?” she asked suddenly, catching Eric off guard.

He frowned. “What place?”

“MiMi’s,” she said, looking at him. “It’s not just a job to you. I can tell.”

Eric wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He hadn’t expected her to bring it up, especially not here, in the middle of the park. But the truth was, she was right. MiMi’s wasn’t just a job to him. It was part of his life. It had been for years.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I do.”

Y/N studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she let out a sigh, stretching her arms over her head as she stood up. “Well, good luck with it. I mean that.”

Eric blinked, surprised. “You… mean that?”

She smirked, giving him a playful look. “Don’t get me wrong, I still want to beat you guys. But it’s nothing personal.”

He stared at her, trying to process her words. She wanted to beat them, but it wasn’t personal? How could it not be personal?

Before he could respond, Y/N pushed off the fountain and started skating backward, giving him a quick salute. “See you around, MiMi’s.”

And with that, she skated off, leaving Eric standing by the fountain, more confused than ever.

For the rest of the day, Eric couldn’t get Y/N out of his head. Her words, her teasing smirk, the way she seemed to float through life without a care—it was all swirling around in his mind, distracting him from everything else. He found himself replaying their conversation over and over, wondering what she really meant.

“Eric, you okay?” Kevin’s voice broke through his thoughts as they both wiped down the tables before closing time.

Eric blinked, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

Kevin grinned, leaning on his broom. “About that skater girl, huh?”

Eric shot him a look. “I told you, it’s not like that.”

“Sure it’s not.” Kevin’s grin only widened. “But seriously, you’ve been acting weird ever since you ran into her. What happened? Did she say something?”

Eric hesitated. He didn’t want to tell Kevin everything, especially not about the part where Y/N had wished him luck. It felt too personal, too complicated to explain. “Nothing important,” he said finally. “Just the usual.”

Kevin watched him for a moment, his grin fading into something more thoughtful. “You know… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk to her. Like, really talk to her.”

Eric frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, she’s obviously not the enemy,” Kevin said, shrugging. “Maybe if you stopped seeing her as the competition, you’d realize she’s just a person. A person who’s running a diner, just like you.”

Eric didn’t respond, but Kevin’s words stuck with him. Maybe he was right. Maybe this rivalry was more in Eric’s head than anything else. And maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop seeing Y/N as the enemy—and start seeing her as something else.

What that “something else” was, though, Eric wasn’t sure yet.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The next few days passed slowly. Eric found himself slipping into a strange routine: wake up, go to MiMi’s, work a slow shift, and inevitably think about Y/N at some point during the day. Even though he tried not to, her words, her carefree smile, the way she seemed both competitive and friendly, stayed lodged in his mind.

Business wasn’t improving. MiMi had started adding more specials, offering discounts to try and bring customers back, but none of it seemed to work. It felt like they were trapped in a spiral, each day slower than the last.

“You’ve been quieter than usual,” MiMi remarked one afternoon as she refilled the sugar containers at the counter. “Everything okay?”

Eric wiped his hands on his apron, hesitating before answering. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking.”

MiMi chuckled softly. “You think too much, Eric. Sometimes you’ve just got to let things be.”

He smiled at her, appreciating the sentiment, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. He couldn’t just “let things be” when MiMi’s Diner was at stake. He felt responsible. Like it was up to him to figure out how to turn things around. And no matter how much he tried to push it aside, Y/N kept coming back to his thoughts, almost like a challenge he couldn’t quite solve.

Kevin, as usual, noticed right away.

“You’ve got that look again,” Kevin teased as they worked side by side that evening. “The ‘I’m thinking about the enemy’ look.”

Eric rolled his eyes. “I’m not thinking about her.”

“Yeah, right. Look, man, it’s okay if you are. Just admit it—you’re curious. It’s human.”

Eric sighed, leaning against the counter as he looked out at the empty diner. “It’s not just that. She’s… I don’t know. She’s different than I expected. I thought she’d be all about trying to take us down, but she’s not like that. And now I can’t stop wondering what it would take to really beat her.”

Kevin’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? You think this is about beating her? You sure you’re not trying to figure out something else?”

Eric shot him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kevin grinned, shrugging. “I don’t know, man. I just think there’s more going on here than you’re willing to admit. Maybe she’s not the competition you think she is.”

Eric opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, MiMi appeared from the back, her face lined with worry. “We’ve got a problem,” she said, holding up a flyer.

Eric frowned, taking the paper from her hands. It was an advertisement for The Midnight Shake, plastered with bold, neon lettering and a list of new specials they were rolling out, including a new menu of shakes that promised to be “unlike anything you’ve ever tasted.”

“New shakes?” Eric muttered, feeling a knot tighten in his chest. It wasn’t just that Y/N made incredible milkshakes—it was that she had somehow managed to make them a central part of their rivalry. And now she was pushing even harder.

MiMi shook her head. “We can’t keep up with this. We’ve tried everything—new specials, discounts, but it’s not enough. If we don’t figure out something soon…”

Her words trailed off, but Eric didn’t need her to finish. He could feel the pressure building inside him, the weight of their dwindling business pressing down on him harder than ever.

He folded the flyer in half, shoving it into his apron pocket. “We’ll figure something out. We always do.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

But the truth was, he wasn’t so sure.

It was later that week when Eric found himself wandering back through the park again. He hadn’t planned on it—it just sort of happened. The diner had been slow, his shift dragging by without any real distractions, and before he knew it, he was back at the place where he had first run into Y/N.

This time, though, he wasn’t caught off guard when he saw her.

She was skating again, weaving between people effortlessly, her neon outfit catching the sunlight and making her look like some kind of beacon. She hadn’t noticed him yet, but he found himself watching her again, his thoughts tangled in a mess of confusion.

Before he could decide what to do, she skidded to a stop by the fountain, just like before, and turned around—only this time, she saw him right away.

Her eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Back again, MiMi’s?”

Eric shoved his hands in his pockets, walking toward her but keeping a safe distance. “It’s a public park.”

She rolled her eyes, her smile widening. “You’ve got to stop using that excuse. You’re not very convincing.”

He shrugged, though his heart was beating faster than he wanted to admit. “Maybe I just like walking here.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, pushing off the fountain and gliding closer to him. “Or maybe you’re just curious. Wondering how we keep beating you guys.”

Eric’s jaw tightened. “It’s not about that.”

“Sure it’s not.” She tilted her head, her smile teasing. “But I get it. You want to know what makes us special, right?”

He didn’t respond, but the look on his face must have given something away, because she laughed softly, shaking her head. “It’s not some big secret, you know. People like what they like. Maybe MiMi’s just… isn’t their thing anymore.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, he felt that familiar surge of frustration. But then he remembered what Kevin had said—about seeing her as more than just the competition. And despite the teasing, there was something almost… sincere in her voice. Like she wasn’t trying to rub it in. Just stating a fact.

“Why do you care so much about beating us?” Eric asked suddenly, surprising even himself.

Y/N blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. She hesitated, skating in a small circle before answering. “I don’t know. I guess it’s not really about beating you guys. It’s just… I want to do well. You know?”

Eric nodded slowly, though he wasn’t sure he fully understood. Y/N wasn’t what he expected. She wasn’t just the enemy, the rival diner owner trying to take them down. She was someone who cared about what she did, just like he did.

But that didn’t change the fact that their businesses were in direct competition.

“So, what’s next?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood. “You guys rolling out new shakes or something?”

Y/N’s smile returned, this time with a hint of pride. “Actually, yeah. You’ll have to come by and try one sometime.”

Eric gave her a look. “You really think I’m going to set foot in your diner?”

She shrugged, turning to skate away. “You never know. Maybe one day you’ll be curious enough.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Back at MiMi’s, things were getting worse. The new shake specials had drawn even more customers away, and by the end of the week, they were barely scraping by. Eric could feel the weight of the situation every time he walked through the door. It was like a cloud that hung over the diner, growing heavier with each passing day.

MiMi wasn’t talking about it, but Eric could see the worry in her eyes every time she counted the register at the end of the day. Even Kevin had started to look more serious, his usual joking attitude replaced with something more somber.

One evening, after a particularly slow shift, MiMi pulled Eric aside as they were closing up. “I’ve been thinking,” she said quietly, her hands wringing together nervously. “Maybe it’s time to… consider some changes.”

Eric frowned. “What do you mean?”

MiMi hesitated, glancing around the empty diner before lowering her voice. “I’ve been thinking about selling.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. “Selling? You can’t be serious.”

She gave him a sad smile. “Eric, we can’t keep going like this. We’re losing money every day. If things don’t turn around soon, I’m going to have to close up shop.”

Eric felt a surge of panic. MiMi’s was more than just a diner to him—it was home. It was the place he had grown up in, the place where he had made countless memories. He couldn’t imagine life without it.

“There’s got to be another way,” he said, his voice more desperate than he intended. “We can’t give up.”

MiMi sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I know you want to save this place, Eric. But sometimes… sometimes it’s out of our hands.”

Eric didn’t know what to say. He just stood there, the weight of her words sinking in, making everything feel even more impossible.

Eric didn’t sleep much that night. MiMi’s words echoed in his head, and every time he closed his eyes, he could see the neon lights of The Midnight Shake flashing like a warning. Selling? That idea gnawed at him, twisting his gut in knots. MiMi’s Diner was too important to just let go. He had to figure something out.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The next morning, Eric dragged himself into the diner, trying to shake off the heavy feeling from the night before. As usual, Kevin was already there, his upbeat attitude grating in a way that usually wasn’t so bad.

“You look like you got run over by a truck,” Kevin said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Late night?”

Eric rubbed his eyes, sighing. “MiMi’s talking about selling.”

Kevin paused mid-sip, his expression sobering. “What? She can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious.” Eric grabbed a towel and wiped down the counter, trying to channel his frustration into something productive. “We’ve got to figure out how to turn this around.”

Kevin set his mug down, leaning against the counter. “Have you thought about… doing something drastic?”

Eric glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Drastic like what?”

Kevin grinned, mischief dancing in his eyes. “You know… sabotage.”

“Sabotage?” Eric repeated, incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”

Kevin shrugged. “Why not? It’s not like they’re playing fair. They’ve been stealing our customers for weeks.”

Eric rolled his eyes. “We’re not stooping to that level, Kev.”

Kevin’s grin widened. “Fine, fine. But you can’t deny that it’d be fun.”

Eric shook his head, but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. Kevin was ridiculous, but at least he kept things from getting too heavy.

Their conversation was interrupted when MiMi walked in, her usual upbeat demeanor noticeably absent. She gave them both a tired smile, her eyes reflecting the strain of the last few weeks.

“We’re gonna get through this,” Eric said, more to convince himself than her.

MiMi smiled weakly, but didn’t say anything. She just busied herself with the morning routine, and for a moment, the diner fell into an uneasy silence.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Days passed, and the tension between MiMi’s and The Midnight Shake only grew. Word about their rivalry was spreading around town, and customers were starting to take sides. Some were loyal to MiMi’s, citing nostalgia and history, while others raved about the “fresh energy” at The Midnight Shake.

It didn’t help that the rivalry had started spilling over into more than just business. Flyers from The Midnight Shake were mysteriously appearing in MiMi’s parking lot, and rumors were swirling that someone from their team had been badmouthing MiMi’s to customers.

Eric hadn’t set foot in The Midnight Shake again, but he didn’t need to. He could feel the tension in the air, almost like it was personal now. And maybe, in a way, it was. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Y/N was involved in some way, even if he didn’t have any proof.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The next time Eric ran into Y/N, it wasn’t in the park. It was purely by accident, at a small grocery store on the edge of town. He had been reaching for a carton of strawberries when she appeared on the other side of the display, her neon jacket standing out like a beacon.

They both froze for a moment, eyes locking across the strawberries. Then Y/N smiled—though it wasn’t her usual teasing grin. It was more like a challenge.

“Well, well, well,” she said, crossing her arms. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Eric raised an eyebrow. “I could say the same.”

She tilted her head, her eyes glinting with amusement. “You buying ingredients to make your shakes better?”

Eric didn’t bite, though part of him wanted to. “Maybe I just like strawberries.”

“Sure,” she said, though the teasing lilt was back in her voice. “You should try one of ours sometime.”

He placed the carton of strawberries in his basket, ignoring her suggestion. “No thanks. I’m not a fan of your diner.”

Y/N chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with something he couldn’t quite place. “I could’ve guessed that.”

The exchange was casual enough, but there was an underlying tension that Eric couldn’t ignore. Every time they spoke, it felt like they were circling around something—something neither of them was quite willing to say out loud. Maybe it was the rivalry. Or maybe it was something else entirely.

“What’s it like over there?” Eric found himself asking before he could stop himself.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Over where?”

“The Midnight Shake. What’s it like running the place?”

She hesitated for a moment, like she hadn’t expected the question. Then she shrugged. “It’s busy. Chaotic, most days. But it’s fun.”

Eric nodded slowly, though he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting her to say. “And the rivalry? Is that fun, too?”

Y/N’s smile faded slightly, and for a moment, something like regret flashed across her face. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by her usual smirk. “What can I say? I like a good challenge.”

Eric didn’t respond, but his mind was spinning with questions he didn’t have the courage to ask. There was more to Y/N than he had realized, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that their rivalry was more complicated than just business.

As they parted ways, Eric couldn’t help but feel like something was shifting. The tension between MiMi’s and The Midnight Shake wasn’t going away anytime soon, but there was something else simmering beneath the surface. Something he wasn’t quite ready to face yet.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Back at MiMi’s, the rivalry only continued to escalate. Flyers and rumors were one thing, but it didn’t take long for things to get more direct. One afternoon, a customer came into MiMi’s, their voice low as they leaned over the counter.

“You hear about what they’re saying at The Midnight Shake?” the man asked, his tone conspiratorial.

Eric frowned. “What do you mean?”

The man lowered his voice even more. “They’re saying MiMi’s is on its last legs. That it’s only a matter of time before you guys shut down for good.”

A surge of anger flared in Eric’s chest, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

The man nodded, tossing a few dollars on the counter before heading out. As soon as the door closed behind him, Kevin appeared at Eric’s side, his expression serious for once.

“Did you hear that?” Kevin asked, his voice tight with frustration.

Eric nodded, gritting his teeth. “Yeah. I heard.”

“They’re spreading lies about us now? That’s low, even for them.”

Eric’s jaw clenched as he thought back to his conversation with Y/N. Could she really be behind this? He had started to think there was more to her than just the competition, but now… now he wasn’t so sure.

Kevin punched his palm, clearly itching for a fight. “We should do something about this.”

Eric shook his head. “We’re not going to stoop to their level.”

Kevin threw his hands up in frustration. “Then what are we going to do, Eric? Just sit here and let them run us into the ground?”

Eric didn’t have an answer. All he knew was that the rivalry was growing uglier by the day, and if they didn’t figure out a way to turn things around soon, MiMi’s might not survive.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The following days at MiMi’s Diner felt like they were running on borrowed time. The rivalry between the two diners was at an all-time high, with rumors flying, subtle sabotage at play, and tensions running hot. Kevin’s attempts to keep things upbeat were faltering, and even MiMi was starting to lose the spark that once defined her.

Eric had kept his distance from The Midnight Shake, trying to focus on helping MiMi’s survive. But it was impossible to ignore the lingering thoughts of Y/N. He wanted to believe she wasn’t the type to spread lies or play dirty, but every day there were new rumors—new hits to MiMi’s reputation that seemed to come directly from their rivals.

On the fifth day, Eric was in the middle of prepping tables for the evening shift when MiMi stepped out from the back, holding a letter in her hand. Her face was pale, her hands shaking slightly.

“We’ve got trouble,” she said quietly, handing the letter to Eric.

He took it, unfolding the paper to reveal an official notice. MiMi’s was being sued by The Midnight Shake for defamation. The letter claimed that MiMi’s had been spreading false information about their business practices, accusing them of theft and underhanded tactics. It was a legal nightmare.

Eric’s stomach sank. “This can’t be real…”

MiMi nodded slowly. “I wish it weren’t. But they’ve got a case. Someone’s been spreading rumors about them, and they’re pinning it on us.”

Kevin stormed over, looking furious. “They can’t do this! We haven’t spread any rumors—if anything, they’ve been doing it to us!”

Eric clenched the letter in his hand. “We need to talk to them. To Y/N.”

Later that evening, Eric found himself standing outside The Midnight Shake, the neon lights casting an eerie glow on the sidewalk. His heart was pounding as he pushed open the door, stepping into enemy territory for the second time.

The diner was packed, but amidst the crowd, he spotted Y/N behind the counter, pouring strawberry milkshakes with practiced ease. She looked up, and their eyes met across the room. There was a flicker of surprise in her gaze, but she quickly masked it with her usual smirk.

Eric approached the counter, his anger barely contained. “We need to talk.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything, motioning for him to follow her into the back.

Once they were out of earshot of the customers, Y/N crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. “What’s this about?”

Eric handed her the letter, his voice tight with frustration. “Your diner is suing us.”

Y/N unfolded the paper, her expression unreadable as she scanned the contents. “I didn’t know about this.”

Eric crossed his arms, trying to control his anger. “Didn’t know? Your diner is accusing us of spreading rumors and defamation. You’re ruining MiMi’s.”

Y/N met his gaze, and for a moment, something vulnerable flashed in her eyes. “Eric, I swear, this isn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want it to go this far.”

“Then why didn’t you stop it?” Eric asked, his voice sharper than he intended. “You’ve been playing this rivalry game for weeks. You’ve been part of this—fueling the tension, the competition.”

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I never thought it would get like this. It was just supposed to be business, you know? A bit of fun competition. But… I guess it spiraled out of control.”

Eric studied her, searching for any sign of deception. But for the first time since they’d met, Y/N looked genuinely conflicted, like she hadn’t meant for things to go this far.

“I don’t know if I can fix this,” she admitted, her voice quiet. “The owner… she’s not someone who backs down easily. Once she smells blood in the water, she goes for the kill.”

Eric shook his head, his frustration mixing with disappointment. “This isn’t just a game, Y/N. MiMi’s is like family to me. If we lose the diner, it’s over for us.”

Y/N bit her lip, clearly wrestling with her thoughts. “Maybe… maybe there’s something we can do. Together.”

Eric frowned. “What do you mean?”

She straightened up, her expression determined. “I’ll talk to the owner. I’ll convince her to drop the lawsuit. But in return… we need to make peace between the diners. End the rivalry for good.”

Eric’s heart raced at the idea. “And what if it doesn’t work?”

Y/N’s eyes softened slightly as she met his gaze. “It has to work. For both of us.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The next few days were tense, but Y/N stayed true to her word. She spoke with her boss, negotiating behind the scenes to drop the lawsuit and repair the damage that had been done between the two diners. Meanwhile, Eric worked to keep MiMi’s running, doing everything in his power to keep customers coming in.

It wasn’t easy. But slowly, things began to shift.

One evening, Y/N walked into MiMi’s for the first time since their rivalry had started. She didn’t wear her usual bright neon jacket or rollerblades. Instead, she looked almost subdued, a quiet determination in her eyes as she approached the counter where Eric was standing.

“Truce?” she asked, offering a small smile.

Eric studied her for a moment before nodding. “Truce.”

There was a long pause between them, the weight of the rivalry still lingering in the air. But something else had shifted, too—something unspoken, simmering beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said quietly. “For everything. I never wanted things to get so out of hand.”

Eric’s expression softened, his anger fading. “I’m sorry too. I guess I let it get personal.”

Y/N smiled, a genuine smile this time. “Well, we did start off as enemies.”

“Maybe we don’t have to stay that way,” Eric said, his voice softer than he expected.

Y/N looked at him, her eyes searching his. “Maybe not.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The rivalry between MiMi’s and The Midnight Shake wasn’t completely over, but it had changed. It was no longer about tearing each other down—it was about healthy competition. And through it all, Eric and Y/N found themselves growing closer, their animosity giving way to something neither of them had expected.

Maybe, just maybe, their story was only beginning. It had become routine—at least, it felt like it. Most evenings, when their shifts ended, Y/N would lace up her skates and glide around the block. Sometimes, she’d spot Eric leaning against a nearby lamppost, his arms crossed, a smug smile playing on his lips.

She tried to act annoyed when he popped up, but truthfully, she’d grown accustomed to the sight of him. He was always there, waiting to walk her home or invite her out for coffee.

Tonight was no different. Y/N spotted him from across the street, and before she could tell him to leave, he was already walking toward her with a familiar ease.

“You’re getting predictable,” Y/N teased, pushing herself forward on her skates.

“Is that a bad thing?” Eric asked, falling in step beside her.

She shrugged playfully. “Depends.”

“On what?” Eric glanced at her, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“On whether or not you’re buying the coffee this time,” Y/N smirked.

Eric chuckled. “I think I can manage that.”

They wandered through the dimly lit streets, the evening air crisp as they sipped their drinks. Y/N was keenly aware of how natural it felt—this strange routine of theirs. The banter wasn’t quite as sharp as before, and though she’d never admit it out loud, she was beginning to enjoy his company.

As they reached the small park near her home, Eric slowed down, staring at the ground as if he was deep in thought.

“What’s on your mind, Sohn?” Y/N asked, noticing his sudden silence.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began slowly, his voice soft, “about how much time we’ve been spending together.”

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. “What about it?”

“I don’t know… I guess I never thought we’d get along. Not after how things started.” He smiled at her, a little sheepishly this time, without his usual cocky edge.

Y/N stopped skating, turning to face him fully. “Yeah, well, I didn’t think I’d ever tolerate you either,” she admitted with a smirk, trying to lighten the moment. “But here we are.”

They shared a brief laugh, but it quickly faded into a comfortable quiet. Y/N wasn’t sure when it happened—when the annoyance she felt toward Eric melted into something warmer, softer. Maybe it had been gradual, over the course of their accidental meet-ups. Maybe it was the way he’d become more thoughtful, less insufferable. Either way, she didn’t hate him anymore.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Days passed, and soon, what began as a nightly tradition of walking home together grew into something more. Their conversations were no longer filled with competition or sarcasm; instead, they talked about their lives, their dreams, and the things they cared about beyond their rival diners.

One Friday, after work, Eric showed up outside The Midnight Shake, hands in his pockets, waiting for her like always. But tonight, there was something different in his demeanor.

“You’re here again?” Y/N teased, stepping out of the diner, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Surprised?” Eric quipped, flashing that familiar grin.

“Not at all. You’ve been here more than my regulars,” she joked, her voice laced with something lighter than the irritation she used to feel around him.

He glanced up at the sky, then back at her, his expression thoughtful. “I was thinking… how about we go somewhere different tonight?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Different?”

“Yeah. There’s a new place that just opened downtown. Thought maybe we could check it out,” he suggested casually, but there was a flicker of nervousness in his eyes.

Y/N hesitated, but the idea of spending more time with him—even outside of their usual routine—was strangely appealing. “Sure, why not?”

The restaurant was quaint, nestled in the heart of downtown, far from their diners and the usual rivalry they were used to. It was dimly lit, with fairy lights strung across the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the tables. They found a booth near the back, and as they sat down, Y/N realized something she hadn’t before: this felt suspiciously like a date.

They ordered dinner, and the conversation flowed easily, like it always did these days. They laughed about work, shared stories about their childhoods, and talked about their favorite things—things they hadn’t thought to share before. But as the night went on, Y/N found herself growing more aware of the way Eric looked at her. His gaze wasn’t challenging or competitive like it used to be. It was… soft.

It wasn’t until the waiter brought them the check that Y/N froze, the realization hitting her like a ton of bricks. This wasn’t just two people hanging out. This was a date.

And judging by the way Eric was smiling at her, he realized it too.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The next morning, Y/N entered The Midnight Shake with a sense of unease. Last night had been… something. Something unexpected, and something she wasn’t quite ready to admit to herself. But as soon as she stepped behind the counter, her unease grew tenfold—because sitting in one of the booths was Kevin, grinning at her like the cat who’d caught the canary.

“Morning, Y/N!” Kevin called out, far too cheerful for this early in the day.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to hide her confusion as she adjusted her apron.

“Oh, you know, just grabbing a shake before my shift at MiMi’s,” Kevin said nonchalantly. But then he leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So, how was your date last night?”

Y/N blinked, her heart skipping a beat. “It wasn’t a date,” she said quickly, too quickly.

Kevin raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat. “Really? Because that’s not what I heard. Eric wouldn’t stop talking about it this morning.”

Y/N felt her face heat up. “He… he did?”

“Yup. And I gotta say, he looked pretty happy about it.”

She swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. Kevin wasn’t one to let things go, and she knew that if she didn’t leave this conversation soon, he’d start prying even more.

“I’ve got work to do,” Y/N muttered, grabbing a tray and heading to the back.

But even as she busied herself with the orders, Kevin’s words echoed in her mind. Eric wouldn’t stop talking about it. Maybe it had been a date, after all.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

A few days passed, and while Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between her and Eric, she tried to ignore it. She had bigger things to worry about—like her mom, who had been asking more and more questions about where she’d been spending her free time.

It wasn’t until one particularly busy evening at The Midnight Shake that everything came crashing down.

Y/N was in the middle of making a strawberry milkshake when her mom walked into the kitchen, her arms crossed and a stern expression on her face.

“We need to talk,” her mom said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Y/N set down the blender, turning to face her. “About what?”

“About Eric,” her mom said bluntly.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. “Eric?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. I’ve seen you two together. I know he works at MiMi’s. And I know that you’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately.”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest. “Mom, it’s not—”

Her mom held up a hand, silencing her. “I don’t care if he’s a nice guy. I don’t care if he’s the sweetest boy in the world. He works for our competition. And you know how I feel about MiMi’s.”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. She had known this conversation was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“I… I really like him,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I know you don’t like MiMi’s, but Eric isn’t just a rival. He’s… he’s different.”

Her mom’s expression softened slightly, but she still looked conflicted. “Y/N, I don’t want you getting hurt. The rivalry between our diners is more than just business—it’s personal. You know that.”

“I know,” Y/N said quickly, “but this isn’t about the diners. It’s about me and Eric. And I need you to trust me on this.”

There was a long pause as her mom considered her words. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders relaxing. “If you really care about him, I won’t stand in your way. But you better make sure he’s worth it.”

Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. “He is, Mom. I promise.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The next time Y/N saw Eric, she didn’t hesitate. She found him at MiMi’s, leaning against the counter like he always did, and without thinking, she marched up to him.

“We need to talk,” she said, her voice steady.

Eric raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by her sudden assertiveness. “About what?”

“About us.”

Eric blinked, setting down the order he was working on. “Us?”

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking… about everything. About how much time we’ve spent together. About how much I’ve grown to care about you.”

Eric’s expression softened, and he stepped closer, his eyes locked on hers. “Y/N…”

“And I realized something,” Y/N continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’ve been going on dates this whole time. Haven’t we?”

Eric smiled, reaching out to take her hand. “Yeah. We have.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart swelling with emotion. “So, let’s make it official. Eric… will you be my boyfriend?”

Eric’s eyes lit up, and without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight hug. “I thought you’d never ask.”

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Y/N couldn’t help but smile. The rivalry between their diners might never end, but at least they had found something worth fighting for—each other.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

A/N: I’m on a writing streak, so sangyeon’s part will be out at the end of the week.

＼（＾▽＾）／

Taglist: @deoboyznet @a-dream-bookmark

#character: eric #characters: the boyz #length: novelette #novelette: 7.5k to 12.5k #length: novel #novel: anthology #genre: fluff #genre: drama #genre: enemies to lovers #author: jinnieboosworld #bookmark: arrival

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a-dream-bookmark · 7 months ago

Text

NEW ARRIVAL:

“Besok Mungkin Kita Sampai” by writingmochi

cast: trainee!niki ✗ seatmate!fem.reader (ft. &team's taki (takayama riki), p1harmony's soul (haku shota), niziu's nina (makino nina), and xg's cocona (akiyama kokona))

synopsis: graduation is such a melancholic concept, happy to finally be able to escape school, but sad that people will separate to their own road. it is no different for riki. on his graduation day, he spends one last day with his seatmate of three years before he pursues his career across the sea

genre: melancholia, hurt/comfort, coming of age, slice of life, trainee au, high school au, fluff, angst

based on: music hindia's "besok mungkin kita sampai" (2019) (genre: indie pop)

word count: 13011 (13k)

warning(s): blood, some curse words, mention of bruises, pretty heavy life stuff even for a high school age

message to the moon: remember that this story is fiction and do be careful and read the warnings at the top. all the idols mentioned here are not what they are in real life. (y/f/n) = your full name!

i had to open up my japan 2020 trip memories to remember the whole atmosphere + adding a bit of my knowledge and experiences too. i have to post this in april since it is the right momentum for it and riki’s graduating class is THIS YEAR! i wanna thank @oiwxa for her insight into a japanese high school graduation and its rituals (especially since you rb the og riki as a regular hs student hc like that is very useful) and my friends who indulge in japanese culture for helping with additional insights :D this is also part of my milestone now closed collab "discover: 200" which you can check out! hope you enjoy!

masterlist

what does one think about when they hear the word “foam”?

a child will imagine a white porcelain bathtub, the one they are sitting in with most of their seated body underneath the water that fills from the bottom of the tub. bubbles made from the mix of the running water and the poured liquid soap to create a magical concoction of science. more and more fill the tub until it overflows and splashes outside, landing on the tiled floor. one can pick up childish giggles as the bubbles caress the skin before it pops, creating a ring of soap on the skin nearest to it. one could imagine their parent beside them following their giggles, helping wash them up after playing in a grassy park and falling on the dirt patch chasing a squirrel. but the child was having too much fun trying to make their hair stand up from their scalp to care about the suds that clean away the dust and soil.

a person who visits a beach will be reminded of the white foam that flows to the coast, pushed by the tides to escape the blue waters. froths created from the combination of nature’s rhythm on the breaking of seawater and dissolving salt or tiny planktons. one can walk to the edge where the land meets the sea and meet the foams by themselves, letting their leg submerged into the wet sand before the incoming wave tries to push you away with its natural force. the water tickles above the ankle as foam created from the physics of it before receding into the ocean along with more grains of sand. the image of it pairs with the familiar crunchy sound of the waves that instantly show up in the head and from the popping of the tiny bubbles.

for riki, it was both of them and one more.

his hand is full of white fluffy foam. the boy's eyes stare at it before turning to the mirror in front of him. he sees the visual of a makeshift white full beard made from the tiny bubbles on the surface of his skin, all of them spread out to the jaw, cheeks, and even around the top of his neck, making him look like a younger version of father christmas if he ever goes to meet the children in spring—a season too late for the tradition and years too old for him as he knew about the truth of his parents being the “mythical man” that gave him gifts by the bed. the boy opens the tap.

the water runs down and cleans his hands, letting the residue drain down the hole before he picks up the item that he’s been learning and still is learning to adapt to at his age. the shaving razor he had that is in the same color as his toothbrush.

the razor glints under the lights beside the mirror. his hand grips its handle, following the steps his father had taught him. the older man told his child that facial hair grows in different ways depending on where they’re located, and how he has to shave it the other way for the most efficient result.

“if it’s on the cheek, then you have to shave it diagonally downwards to the corner of the lips. if it’s above the upper lip, then you have to shave it outwards from beneath both nostrils.”

riki recollects the words accurately as he imagines the visual vividly. how he can see himself in the mirror as his father when the boy remembers he stood beside him, a razor in his own hands as he teaches his son how to shave the facial hair he might not want to own—right in front of the same mirror he stood across now.

shaving your own facial hair seems to be a rite of passage for a boy who is nearing the end of his puberty days. their growing plates are still growing as riki still remembers how he was slightly shorter than his father when he was taught his first lesson in shaving facial hair. now he is taller than his father, either from how many times he has to jump along with the moves of a choreography or run along with a rolling ball on a grassy field.

riki can definitely feel and see the difference. his lanky body now shows more prominent muscles from the physical activities he does, notably his bigger calves from moving on his feet so much. the baby fat on his face has burned enough that his bone structure sticks out as he notices the apples of his cheekbone protruding on his facial features. his voice also deepens as he can still remember how itchy it is, dropping step by step until he can perceive the vibration of his neck’s skin from the moving larynx; a voice that screams baritone or bass, even reaching vocal fry level if he wants to learn the technique.

all of that happens in the three years of high school. if middle school him could witness him now, he wouldn’t believe that that is what he’s going to look like. so many things happened in the past three years that month by month—even day by day—he can feel himself changing physically and mentally.

and today, his three-year journey in high school ends. his graduation day from being a high school student. also, his last day home before pursuing his dream in seoul, south korea.

riki has always been an active kid, but there are two constants throughout his activities in his 18 years on earth: soccer and dancing. one may look at both of them differently, but he has always found a resemblance between the two. the agility of dancing helps control the ball if it’s in his possession. the stamina training he had done to run from one side of the field to another helped him practice longer, thus making him learn the choreographies faster than the other kids.

his hopes and dreams are tied between the two of them. he even wants to continue it to his adult. many of the kids were always asked “what you’ll be when you grow up?” and their answers will be different years later. yet, riki’s stayed the same. always between the two of them.

but he has to choose one to pursue even further, to focus on even in the hardest times he might get in his life.

after seeing korean idols on stage performing in front of thousands of people, he chose to dance. he wants to be like them one day.

yet, that doesn’t mean he’ll let go of soccer that easily.

soccer is still there for riki as a hobby. but he decides to push his dream of being a soccer player behind to train more for his dancing: learning between the street dances and contemporary ones he is still lacking in, yet determined to improve on. it sacrificed him hours of rest time to nail each of the basics in each study, peaking his figure to one of an all-rounder dancer who learned multiple branches of the certain performing arts.

his fruit of labor comes at the right time and moment when he joins an open audition for a big label in south korea that is hosted near here. riki rubs his hand on his pants as he sees a tv playing in the waiting room of a live performance he watched with his own eyes. his figure between all the visible moving lightsticks that decorated the arena, resembling a starry night. they all gave their best to show their craft on stage where people had encouraged them so much to achieve their dreams until that level. it tugs little riki so hard on his heartstrings that he can’t think of his other activities that can bring him the same sense of joy and pride at the same time. soccer seems to be the nearest one but what if he falls out of love and wants to retire early? being a performer means he could also explore other avenues of performing arts if he wants to experiment. though there is a school for it, art is the outlet for human creativity. and each person has their own way of interpreting what they want.

the audition process was nerve-wracking for him; fear flew and crowded the room as riki saw the people he had to compete with. getting tunnel vision from his anxious self, all he could think about when seeing them was how better they were compared to himself. even the lone camera on a tripod makes him nervous as he knows the implications of the recordings being sent to the highest of the higher-ups who have the choice to make his life change forever. as the person before him steps aside, he takes their place and introduces himself like what he practiced. the words flowing out of his mouth smoothly before he let his mind back to when he was alone in the dance studio he called his second home: his actual home is the first and the school’s soccer field is his third.

the fluidity of his body lets him perform the routine he practiced countless times, a routine he trained with his dancing coach that highlights his greatest strengths in performing arts. riki feels how his eyes droop down, letting his movements and muscle memories do the work for him, something he allows as he has been practicing with the lights out.

“when you lose one of your senses, another sense grows to complement it,” his coach reminded him.

riki didn’t even break a sweat when he listened to the unfamiliar song. he just freestyle danced to the rhythm as best as he could to the song he used as a lesson. one has a faster bpm than the other, so he has to adapt with how many milliseconds he has to let his arm stay in the air. in his consciousness, he is confused as to why none of the judges stopped him like the other contestants. many of them were better but stopped earlier that they didn’t even reach the end of the choruses for songs, making his eyes tremble more behind his eyelids. yet, he continued until something stopped him. well, the music does as it fades away.

the process was rigorous when he had to sing and do body shots in another room—alone from the other contestants with people he assumes are higher in the recruitment process. when the papers of the contracts were placed in front of riki, he was halfway through his high school career. a contract to be a trainee in south korea, the place where the performers he saw reside. the headquarters of the leading asian pop culture in the world. riki has to be there to feel it himself.

he had his mom beside him as she read through the contract, a small smile on her face as she tried to understand the best of the contract with the formal and legal lingo that is used alongside the translator they hire for this and her family member who is a lawyer. he had already met up with the trainers before—the judges he auditioned to and more through video calls—and they agreed that riki has the potential to be something more.

he signed the paper that seals the next chapter of his life, agreeing to move to korea when high school ends.

riki returns to the mirror when his hand is unconsciously shaving the foamy area; following a set routine of the parts he has to shave and what section is next. that’s when he sees the thin foam turn pink. eyebrows raised, the sting comes too late as the soapy substance meets his open wound. he instantly flipped the tap open and cupped the water in his palms, brushing the soap substance away as fast as he could, gritting his teeth when he felt the cold liquid caressing his skin. blood flows along with the water as he smoothes the skin down, not recognizing any more slippery base substance when he gently dries his wet area. turning his face, he sees the long thin slit on his clean cheek, right under his cheekbone and going horizontal above the jawline, almost like a secondary of it. the razor he holds is placed under the running water when he sees the translucent crimson color flow down the drain hole.

placing the razor away, he opens the cabinet door for the first aid kit he had always picked up. being such an active kid doesn’t mean that he is immune to injuries. open or close wounded, he has scars of his injuries all around his body. the nasty scar on his right kneecap from when he tripped on himself while playing soccer on an asphalt road, bruises on his forearm from when he slammed himself too hard on the dance studio’s floor, and many more. he once feared that red color flowing on his skin layer, but seeing it so much and its purple-ish-blue companion, he throws that fear away and lets it sink into the ocean that is just a walking distance from his abode.

the first aid kit is filled with the most essential items riki uses to heal himself. his mom always told him to treat his injuries as soon as possible so no nasty virus or bacteria could infiltrate the atoms that encompass his functioning body and destroy it from the inside. and make him worse instead. he always thought the scars he got litter on his skin would disappear one day. time goes on as it denies his assumption. he learned this from biology class where the teacher mentions that the cell tissues of skin cannot get rid of scars because the injuries are being repaired by the same cells that create a scar. the cells in those areas are ever-healing; never going to stop healing because it has been injured before.

another scar to tell, i guess. he sighs as he dabs the wound with the red-brownish antiseptic on cotton all along the opening before he grabs the bandage and sticks it on the wound. pressing it down gently, the bandage nearly blends in with his skin color as it creates an abnormal diagonal patch on his somewhat clean yet acne-scar-filled skin. a minor bump rising because of the white pad on the sticky side. brushing his black hair away from its place that fallen on his forehead, he closes the distinct naruto-themed bag of his first aid kit and brings it to his room.

the navy graphic t-shirt he wore has droplets from the water but not of the blood from the small rectangle mirror sticking on his wall. on his bed lays the final piece of his gakuran as he picks up the suit jacket. riki pushes the golden buttons through the holes in an order, leaving the last button open right at the top so that he looks cooler—and so that he doesn’t get easily choked. his eyes scan his nearly clean room where items are still cluttered here and there. that is until he sees the large suitcase at the leg part of his bed. all the clothes and essentials he has packed to be used in korea are already in there. his flight is tomorrow morning; flying from haneda airport. the open duffel bag of his is still on his bed as he puts the naruto-themed first aid kit inside.

“riki!”

“yes?” his hand on his chest from the surprise calling of his name passing by the barrier of the wall.

“we have to go. we don’t want to be late.” his mom’s voice calls from outside the room. the boy lets the bag rest on the mattress before he picks up his trusty backpack and saunters to the door of his room and opens it, seeing his mom cleaning the dishes and dad slurping on a cup of ramen on the small dining table after leaning almost half of his body. both of them are in an outfit he isn’t used to seeing. only in times of graduations, weddings, or funerals.

“i made one for you.” riki followed his mom’s eyesight to the steaming cup of ramen across from his dad. “your sister has left for school earlier, but you don’t want to be late for your assembly.”

the boy’s long legs reach the seat where the cup of ramen is. its familiar smell enters riki’s senses as he picks up the folding plastic fork and scrumptiously enjoys the hot noodles. he felt the tangled noodle warming up his esophagus while his dad was pouring a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. as riki looked at his dad, he could see himself in him. his dad’s feline-like eyes—combined with his mom’s—make riki’s signature aggressive-looking eyes, like a leopard ready to pounce on its prey. his sisters are also like him but softer as how biology designs feminine features. but, all of them didn’t expect riki’s growth to spurt as he entered high school. he definitely thanked his genetics but also the nutritious homemade food mom made for him full of the omega-3 of fish and the glutinous yet small grains of cooked white rice.

the sunlight enters through the window of the dining and kitchen area where he sees a small garden that is full of little plants and flowers. the beam highlights the light brown of the wood from the last time his family renovated the house fully. small, quaint, yet architecturally smart; with hidden compartments for storage and changing furniture. he can describe his newly renovated home as one of the best things japanese architecture offers. his father learns so much about architectural innovation from watching renovation shows while his mom has the say in interior designing—picking the type of wood to use, placement of the furniture, and others. his new room became his favorite place in the world, with the floor-to-ceiling cabinet and wardrobe combo to put his childhood things he couldn’t bear to let go. though small, he’ll miss his room and the window that overlooks the small one-lane road filled with houses of neighbors he knows.

his nimble fingers expertly pick up the narutomaki along with the noodles from his seafood cup noodles with his chopsticks. the orange-reddish broth colors the inside of the cup as he stares at his phone, scrolling down the news of his favorite player transferring teams—a player exchange that costs millions of US dollars, a japanese player. the player was pretty new for his time, but riki can relate to him so much as the player enters such a big league at such a young age. in a way, riki lives his soccer player dreams vicariously through him. now, as he sees the familiar name transferring from playing in the Premier League to La Liga, his lips pursed as he can imagine the player playing in matches with the likes of many of the skilled players he idolizes in his life.

cupping the cup, he drinks the remaining broth as it warms his stomach, accidentally burping as his dad lets out a giggle in front of him. both of them wait for mom as she finishes up and walks to the shoe cabinet. riki picks up his beaten shoes—his favorite shoes since he bought them in his first year of high school. he remembers how his father agreed to pay him for the pair of shoes before realizing that it’s too big for his feet. yet now, his feet are grown to match their sizes, making them fit him perfectly. he uses those shoes all the time, especially for dancing and soccer. he wore the exact same pair of shoes when he auditioned. but now, he looked at its battered shape with seams ripping from the sole. nevertheless, he wore it to celebrate his and his shoes’ journey every day from when he went to school and the dance studio. riki rather see these shoes break because of his activities than never use them all because of their fragile state.

something he also has to let go like the life he has here to continue to live.

climbing up the last stair to the train platform, riki could see the coastline of the beach that is a five-minute walk from where he is. there’s a chugging sound of the moving train from the rails behind him going in the opposite direction of where he will go. behind the curtains of the three and more story high-rises, he can see the light yellow patch of the beach before gliding his eyes to a long grey platform of the small harbour. even with the distance, he can hear the sound of the crashing wave meeting the land. his eyes slowly relax as he stares at the neighborhood and city he calls home and the ocean in its background. the ultramarine spectrum healing his vision along with the lightly cloudy sky as specks of black dots are far at the edge of the horizon. the fishermen fishing for the catches to then be served in the most fresh condition possible in a large franchise sushi restaurant of a small mom-and-pop sashimi booth. the small taste of saltiness in the air because of how close he is to the source.

even with the small islands in his view, he still couldn’t believe that the body of water he was seeing was leading to the largest ocean on this blue rock. how the nearest landmass from japan is the united states with hawaii placed near the middle of the pacific. it always blew his mind whenever he realized how big the world is when he always saw the scaled-down version of it in a map app. he didn’t realize how big japan is when he realize that sapporo is near russia and the western and southern parts of okinawa is nearing taiwan or the phillipines. maybe, the vastness of the unknown world beside his city, the cities he visited, and the little buildings where people he knows do their activities is the one making him rub his palm on his pants so much.

the walk to the train station was short as he viewed people living their lives behind his parents’ footsteps on the clean sidewalk. entrances to office buildings opening one by one, the large signages of buildings that house pachinko machines stay idle as the mini convenience store below it shuts much of its fluorescent light after leaving it on for the night, and sparse numbers of motor vehicles running down the two-lane streets as bicycles are being dominated by workers. riki also found kids his age roaming the sidewalk to their nearest school. some of them wearing their uniforms just fine, while others were still shivering from the leftover winter wind—wearing puffy jackets to conceal them. he could recognize students from the neighboring schools just from the uniforms they were, some wore gakurans but others also used a more modern prep school uniform he has seen looking like the korean ones he found on the internet.

the sound of the distinct train station melody flies through the air as he watches the chugging commuter train on its way to the platform. his head stands out of the crowd as his height helps with easier detection when he identifies the small sliver of color that corresponds with the train line it is. from the outside, he catches a faded reflection of himself with a few people inside; people wearing masks to cover themselves from the flu because of pollen and the cold while others let their faces open as they can smell and inhale the clean spring air. the white LED lights illuminate the train car as he steps in—ducking his head cause he feels like he could slam into something hanging on the ceiling anytime. he turns to stare at himself from the glass’ reflection, how the corner of his mouth turn a bit downwards, which created a slightly intimidating frown. riki knows about what his friends call his resting bitch face, so he mostly gives a small thin smile after wetting his lips, which he did when he notices it on the reflection. his fingertips rubbing against each other to warm himself up before touching the backpack that is hanging by the straps to keep it safe in his arms.

the train is chugging down on the rail as the view outside moves with relativity. riki sees the familiar passing billboards he has seen time to time, changing its every advertisement from new ramen flavors to new animation movies to new j-pop album releases. yet the distinct enormous billboard hangs near a pedestrian crossing of a larger station that he always goes by. people walking about to their destination as the melody sounds every time the train stops at the station, spoken in both english and his native japanese. riki’s being is alert as the sound calls the name of the station near his school, eyes looking at the screen on top of the door as the train stops at another elevated station. the boy could sense how the train wobbled beneath him as he and the others stepped out of the cart. tapping his card at the gate, riki strides along the familiar pavements towards school.

approaching the building complex that has housed him for three years, riki sees the recognizable sailor uniform the girls wears—the same uniform hung outside of his room for his little sister to bring into her room—as he steps forward with every step. calls of names are spoken between one another as he walks closer, some are calling his name which he gives different greetings while others are gathered with each of their friends. in a cautious state of mind, his eyes scoured around to see the groups of parents crowding around their children; some stood up like skyscrapers compared to them. he sensed the bandage on his skin a bit heavier than before when he turned to face his dad, who was staring at him. mom is out of his sight as he watches his father’s hand caressing his injured cheek.

“from shaving…” riki replies after letting out a light hiss, widening his eyes so he wouldn’t turn away. his dad lets out a small giggle as he pats his cheek, making riki actually retreat and copying him with his own giggles. the smell of the distinct flowers and leaves crowds around him as the sakura petals fall down on the paved road of the school that is surrounded by cherry blossom trees. but different flower species are also showing up in the number of bouquets the graduating class has on their hands. the sakura pinks being the background contrast with the whites and yellows in the bouquets. that is when he found a single person who has purple flowers in their bouquet. lifting his head to see the owner’s, the corners of his lips rise just from identifying the familiar face.

you are clutching the ends of the bouquet your parents have surprised you with. your own backpack hangs on your shoulders as you hug your father, seeing a little red panda wearing a graduation cap on the top as your mother asks one of the parents to help capture the picture. posing in between your parents, you let out a wide smile as you hear the familiar clicking sound a few times before you drop from your tippy toes—something you always unconsciously do when taking a picture. you admire the way the white and purple flowers makes the bouquet looks grand yet still screams you—purple has always been and will be your primary color.

seeing the bouquet and the many students makes you wonder if your friends are here or not. you raise your head and chin up, curiously looking at the stream of students and parents gathering at the front of the gate and school buildings before the graduation ceremony begins. that’s when you see the familiar tall boy who was always sleeping on the table beside yours whenever both of you were in class.

“riki-chan.”

he can follow your mouth’s movement, grinning when he picks up even a small sample of your voice on the other side of where he is. your voice calls to him like a siren as he takes one step forward. that is when he felt a hand slapping his back as riki could already guess who it might be.

“shota! i almost choke.”

riki hears shota’s infamous giggle as he turns around, finding him with his eye smile as he wraps his arm behind the boy’s back, “come on, niki. don’t be so serious. we’re graduating today.”

“i know,” he replied. he wanted to return to your presence once again when he let his eyes squint and something flinch to grow on his lips. riki watches his father approaching him with his mother as he takes a peek at the yellow-flower-full bouquet she is holding, knowing that it will be for him as he sees his parents trying to conceal it—even though they failed by how flustered they are to see their son already has his eyes on them.

“ta-da!” his parents proclaimed as he saw the bouquet in close detail, seeing a few white petals scattering the bouquet as the yellow slowly became softer in his eyes. creating a more pastel yellow than the ones that shock his eyes with how bright the yellow is.

“thank you, mom and dad,” he replies as he carefully picks up the bouquet and cradles it in his arms. his father greets shota as he asks the boy questions on where his parents are while his mother finally notices the bandage on his cheek, hearing her clicking her tongue as she tries not to laugh at how clumsy her son was.

shota helped in taking photos for the family, even though his sister is there but it was so hard to reach her when she was already with her friends. he glances at the clock on top of his screen after seeing his chat with his younger sister when he realizes it’s almost time for the graduation ceremony. riki reminds his parents of where the parents will gather as he slowly places the bouquet under the care of his mother. waving and saying a “see you later”, he and shota go to the crowd where the graduating students are—dividing into each class crowd as he is letting the memories of the graduation ceremony replay in his mind from the rehearsals..

shota greeted most of the class students as riki stayed behind, letting the guy feel the fame once more as he couldn’t help but grin at seeing another boy in their usual circle of six—walking towards them with his own grin on his face.

“taki-chan.” riki calls for taki as he did their bro hug. his hand playfully ruffled his dyed locks as he commented, “you’ve already bleached your hair?”

“yes, let’s just say that it’s my graduation gift from my parents. i have to look stylish when i moved to germany for university. how about you, niki? why do you even have a bandage on your face?” taki playfully poked riki’s face as he turned his head, wanting to bite the finger like it was a clawing game for making him sense the reminder of the pain of the cut skin.

his circle of six has two rikis in them. so, to differentiate them, they use their first syllable from the last name as their new nickname during their high school: creating the unstoppable taki-niki duo. taki is also part of riki’s dance studio, but he’s doing it more as a hobby than a career like what riki is doing. shota, on the other hand, frequents the arcade during their high school times. in the nearest arcade from school, he has a high score in playing the arcade’s taiko no tatsujin; even having a pair of specialty gloves he said could help with the grip of the drumsticks. his love for rhythm gaming also shows in school when shota showed riki his device when he plays osu!—the game that successfully gets taki actually after he is numb to it by dancing to hip-hop and b-boying.

“there you guys are!”

the three boys all glanced to the side to find the three girls had completed their circle of six. kokona stands in the middle as he catches her pouting face with her hands on her waist; one part of her hair is already highlighted and even riki can notice she is wearing a slight faint of eyeliner on her eyes. beside her, he sees you with your wide eyes-small smile combo, and nina who is playing something on her phone.

kokona is the musician of the group—"a born-to-be musician" as she likes to call it—as riki has always found her making lyrics upon lyrics, from the most poem-like to outward disses as he knows she can beat him in a rap battle if he wants to. nina is the brains of the group. having mixed parents like shota makes her able to speak in four different languages, but she is also academically smart as she is always representing the school for a social science olympiad and she spearheaded the economics club in school. and, you. you are the artist of the group. every time riki meets you in class, you always have a manga on one side and your sketchbook on the other as you try to read and draw at the same time, making the characters in the manga you are reading on the sketchbook in your own art style.

riki is lucky to have his circle to be as creatively well-versed and supporting each other’s endeavors. they were the first ones to know that riki is now a trainee for a label in south korea. and they couldn’t have been more proud as shota even gifted him his old korean language 101 books for him to start his language learning early; even adding a few korean terms the boy learned from his mother as riki tried to familiarize himself with them.

his homeroom teacher, mister terada, reminds them to stand in line according to their last names instead of seatmates, making all six of you scattered as riki stands with a boy in front of him and a girl behind him. he could hear the coordinator’s voice slowly letting the classes in one by one into the hall where he has seen his parents are in—seating at the bleachers at the top that are lining around the open middle area. riki could sense his legs being numbed as he didn’t know how long he had to stand up when he felt your touch on his wrist as your line was beside his, holding him up as you let out a pout. when it’s his time to enter the hall, he basks in the large space to see the parents sitting in the bleachers surrounding the students. said students all sit at their assigned seats from the rehearsals as riki recalls his path when he'll be walking to the stage to get his diploma.

the assembly finally started and both the boy and girl beside him started to chuckle when he had to cover his mouth to let out a huge yawn. the tiredness of packing his stuff for his later flight last night got into him as he just wanted to be his class’ turn so he could get his diploma and maybe take a few minutes of a power nap. he could hear nina asking for him a few seats away, watching her discreetly pushing her hand out. he reached his own as he felt something on his curled palm. opening it up, he found a small wrapped mint candy that he recognized as a staple of nina's as their “awake pill”. the spicy mint taste makes his nerves alive and aware as he sees the first few classes already getting their diplomas. he had to remind himself of all the rehearsals he had done after the exam for the past two weeks—the correct place to stand while waiting in the line, the etiquette and who to shake hands with, and where you pose for your graduation photo.

riki graciously stands up and stretches his tired body from sitting too long as he walks to the path he had track with his eyes and is currently in the line awaiting his turn. he spots kokona already sitting down with her diploma and also shota who is walking to sit down on his seat. step by step as more and more names are being called, he is now one step away from the short flight of stairs to getting his diploma.

“nishimura riki.”

his name is called as he puts out a smile he has been learning while walking across the stage, bowing deep and shaking the hand of the principal before meeting mister terada who he gives another bow to before he receives the diploma with both of his hands. he turns towards the end of the stage and poses for the camera at the end before sitting down, looking up at the bleachers as he can catch his parents’ voices, cheering for him.

yet, for him. finally, it was time to get a nap as he awaited the last homeroom of his high school career.

thud.

that’s what riki picked up before he leaned down to grab his usual drink from the vending machine’s slot at the bottom. his backpack has been placed once again on his back after he met up with his parents when the assembly was done. he really had a pretty good nap before the boy beside him shook him to wake up when the ceremony comes to an end with the last hurrah from his juniors—seeing his younger sister too as riki chuckles when they both catch each other’s eyes. too many people were crowding the floor when the mc said it was over over, but he knew he will reunite with his friends once again after fulfilling the parchedness of his esophagus.

straightening his back, he felt the weight of the bouquet fall down and rested on the bottom of his bag alongside his diploma as he awaited for the final things to do here: cleaning up his shoe locker and one last meeting with the homeroom teacher about his career sheet. his parents had long gone home and he had already done the nearly complete family photo with his younger sister. riki glanced at the view behind him as he saw a few kids playing soccer in their 30-minute recess time—he could see himself in them as he either helped in attacking towards the goal or defending it against his friends. 30 minutes that seemed like a lifetime when he was there to feel it himself now appears so short as he sees it from an outsider’s perspective.

“boo!”

riki turns around in a whiplash, almost spilling his drink from the bottle before he pauses and calms himself to stare at you. your purple backpack sways alongside your own movement as you laughed—even making you nearly folded yourself to get a grip on your knees because he was too funny. your laughter dies down as flip your backpack around to put your diploma inside the main pocket.

“thought you’d be here,” you mumbled, pulling out your wallet from the bag as you approached the vending machine. the backpack hangs only on one shoulder as you plunge the coins in and press the button of the drink you want.

“you always get a drink when you’re sleepy.” you then added, making riki chuckle.

it’s a habit of his he had always overlooked but, somehow, you remember. once in class, he had been taking a huge nap during japanese history class as he let the thick textbook cover him. he had a very late practice session for a choreography because he hadn’t nailed each move—maybe because it was near the exam time or whatnot. yet, no one seems to wake him until the end of the period. lifting his head up groggily, he looks at his classmates who are eating or talking with each other. that shock coming from him made the thick book fall as he heard a snicker coming from one of the crowd. riki sheepishly smiled as he wanted to crouch down to grab the book when he finally noticed the light-colored soda on the edge between his and your desk. the brand is his favorite, yet he thought it might be yours. but with the way the bottle sits behind the line between yours and his desk, he knew that it must be for him as he unconsciously swallowed his saliva; picking up and cracking the bottle lid open as he sipped the soda before going to his usual hangout place with the rest of the six.

he picks up the familiar set of thuds as you lean down and grab your purchase—the same brand yet different flavors. he watches you as you playfully shake the bottle, seeing the foam forming from the chemical reaction as he remembers what you say: “i like the soda fizzy.” but it is also like you that you are not careful when you open the bottle, seeing the pastel-colored foam flowing out of the cracks and landed on the pavement before you instantly gulp nearly a third of the bottle.

you let out a huge aahhhhh as you felt the coldness of the soda trailing down into your stomach, looking behind the color-glazed bottle to catch riki with a small smile on his face, but no movement in his eyes, gazing at you—making blood flow towards your cheek.

“hello? riki-chan?” you waved your sticky soda-stained hands in front of riki’s face before he seemed to snap out of it. that’s when you finally notice the little bandage on his cheek, spread wide right underneath his eye and cheekbone.

“what happened?” you softly poke your finger against the bandage, making riki back off as he looks away, eyes moving so rapidly before he lets out a small smirk.

“pressed my shaving razor too hard. it bleeds, so… yeah. gotta have to be reminded of that whenever i see my graduation picture now,” he told you in such a nonchalant manner, making you let out your own chuckle.

“you look like those bad boys i’ve seen on high school animations… you just need your lollipop and done!” you tuck the closed soda bottle beneath your armpit right after you say that.

“aren’t i a bad boy, though?” he raised his eyebrows, mimicking those bad boys you described by poking the tip of his tongue towards the inside wall of his cheek—as if there is a lollipop there.

you scoffed, “you? nishimura riki? a bad boy? bah…”

laughter falls out of you because you can’t seem to see him in the bad boy role. sure, he being a former soccer player and a dancer makes him popular with other people. you remembered near valentine’s day this year that many girls—including your juniors—asked you about his favorite candy or chocolate brand and flavors so that they could give that to him. some even leave gifts to you so you can give them to them and you are obliged to give them because you don’t want to experience the wrath of a teenage girl; you know that feeling too much yourself. yet, riki seemed to be more nonchalant about that, dividing the chocolates into the rest of his circle and not really giving anything back on white day—except for giving you, nina, and koko-chan different popin’ cookin’ sets you recognize costs money.

maybe he is a bad boy after all because of that. but, to you, that is his charm. riki doesn’t seem to be someone who is trying to please what society asks of him. he should’ve felt proud to get so many gifts for valentine’s day, but he doesn’t, and he is not afraid to show it. he has this sense of agency in him to know of what he is seeking even at such a young age, and to him, it is dancing.

“we don’t want to be late.” you get a last glance at him when he nods his head, brushing his bangs away from his forehead as he leads the way toward the locker area.

riki views some students replacing their outside shoes with their indoor slippers as he had done the same, tucking in his battered-up shoes inside his locker as he had to remind himself to bring the slippers home instead of putting them in the locker. or maybe it can be a gift for the first-year junior who is going to be assigned his previous locker for their shoes. that’s for him to think more about because he still sense he has time to think about it—the day felt both fast and slow at the same time.

the hallways are as clean as ever as he and you climb up the flights of stairs toward your homeroom class. his eyes gaze at the ever-changing properties hanging on the wall, yet he can definitely remember what it looked like when he was first here.

the newly painted wall now has chips of paint fallen off to show the dried concrete. the bulletin board where each club is advertising their project changes with every new administration. some plants he had first seen as sprouts now grow into a beautiful shrub. with a few of the existing shrubs died because of various reasons. yet, the look of the hallway still is the same as he could pinpoint places he had touched before: he had leaned his body against those set of windows, he had taken a peek inside one of the classrooms as he awaited taki to come out of the class, and he had also sat down on the floor there with his circle to their bento boxes because their usual hangout place is being renovated.

riki reached the handle and slides the classroom door as he is greeted by some students already sitting there, hearing the same roar as you step inside behind him. his eyes landed on the seats where you and he had sat for the past year, empty and inviting to both of you as you gazed at your classmates with their own bouquets (if they have one) and definitely their own diplomas as you watched them still admiring it. your eyes gazed to see the rest of your circle already in the classroom as you placed your backpack to hang on the seat and immediately walks towards nina, asking if she has any wet tissue.

“what took you so long?” riki heard shota’s scolding from the seat in front of him as he placed his own backpack beside his desk.

“didn’t expect for all of you to be here already. so (y/n) and i took our time,” he answered so honestly, hearing taki’s snicker beside shota as he was eating a snack. riki sits on his chair as his hand reaches for the cupboard underneath the desk in front of him, tapping his palm against the surface to recognize if he has any leftover items he hasn’t brought home. that’s when he felt sheets of paper that were united by a paper clip. he pulled it out, seeing the dusty paper of what looked to be a musical notary for his music class exam.

he remembered it was a final group project for the music class, and he had to do it with all six of the circle. riki remembered all the music lessons he had learned from his brief training with the trainers as he helped the group create their own song. shota in the drums, taki on the bass, nina on the guitar, and you on the piano whilst kokona and riki sing along with koko who uses her lyricist prowess to make a song that is seemingly about friendship and farewells. if riki hasn’t been accepted by his south korea agency, he would definitely pitch the idea to all of you to create a band. maybe all of you can be the latest sensation japan will meet on those shibuya crossing’s digital billboards.

yet fate says otherwise.

riki’s nose itches as he dusted the paper as the specks of dust floated towards the ground, looking at the clear version of the notation and even his own scribbles as he remembered how kokona berated him for not being able to match her melody—"i’m a dancer, koko-chan. not a singer." “but you’re an idol trainee. surely, you can sing.”—before carefully tucking it into his bag as he pulled the bouquet out of the bottom and let the bag open because he just knew that his whole backpack would smell like it if he kept it close.

looking towards the surface of the desk, riki sees a shadow standing menacingly in front of his desk. the shadow slides the glico’s pocky box in his vision. his head shifts upwards as he sees nina holding two more boxes of different flavors, making him look to his side to detect both you and kokona already having your own pocky with your own differing flavors.

“my gift to you all because i know i won’t be able to see you much in america.” nina says after putting the rest of the boxes in front of taki and shota. he could hear the two boys coo and send her gratitude before grabbing the boxes and opening them to ravage them for themselves. riki finally took a closer glimpse of yours as he finally noticed how both of your boxes are green-colored.

“did she give us the same flavor?” he mumbled to himself, yet he mumbled outwardly, making you shift your head and face him.

“i think our flavors are similar, let me see.”

you gently grip the wrist he is holding the box with and bring it beside yours. riki examines how his box has a dark chocolate gradient on it while yours is fully green, trailing his eyes down to read the flavor name on the front of the box.

“see, yours says green tea while mine is rich matcha.” you say what you observed as he can’t help holding back a giggle as you seem to unconsciously play around with your lip after you say the word “matcha.”

though purple is your favorite color—matcha is your favorite flavor. you have always been seen with matcha-flavored everything if you are given a chance. matcha lattes whenever all six of you visit a cafe, matcha mochi whenever you buy mochis, or matcha roll cakes when the gang is trying to buy something inside family mart. it’s no surprise nina gives you that, but why did she give him a similar, lighter version of it?

whatever, let’s just eat-

the sliding door opens and behind it, the figure of the class’ homeroom teacher appears. everyone, including riki, is applauding him—slightly drops the box on the table as he didn’t get to rip it properly. mister terada slowly steps inside, a surprised face on his face as he slowly walks to stand by the table in the middle of the class. he is carrying a large box with both of his hands as the holler continues, which is followed by whistles before he places it down on the table. mister terada raises his hands and slowly pushes it down as the volume follows.

“settle down kids. this is our last homeroom meeting.” mister terada says as riki gazes at the open box, knowing that it’s probably the yearbook that he had shot the photos for in january. he remembered that day cause it was still cold as heck. many of his classmates brought their own properties for the shoot, yet riki only wears his gakuran with a loose button and his trusty shoes—the black and white soccer ball is being lent by the committee because he has and wants to represent soccer on some sort so that he won’t forget.

“today, i’ll be giving you your yearbooks and also recapitulate your career sheet to see how each has progressed. i’m sure by now you have picked to focus on one of the three choices you made from those you picked in your first year to pursue.” mister terada stated as he started to call each name in the student's list, starting with the class president.

the giving off of the yearbook is also followed with a mini consultation of each student's progress. yes, right in front of the class, which can lead to embarrassment if they can’t keep up. but so far, everything still goes according to their plan, some even find themselves straying from their primary focus to explore something new or getting caught in something that becomes their infatuation.

most of his friends that have come forward and got their yearbooks have spoken about the same thing that they have spoken about just between the six of you: kokona is going to music school, nina is going to america and studying macroeconomics, and shota is pursuing game development. then, it was time for his turn as he heard the calling of a certain nishimura riki.

“that’s our idol!” he picked up taki's shouted words as the rest of the class laughed. everyone knows just how much riki likes to dance. he had shown his skills numerous times in the school’s talent shows either alone or with taki as the riki duo that they are. so it isn’t also a surprise for his classmates to find out he had been accepted into a label in south korea that has been throughout his school—courtesy of taki, as he is the one that always spills it.

it even created a whole discussion on why riki picked a korean label instead of japanese one, but one thing is prevalent in the discussion: the korean idol industry will see his dancing skills as more valuable than in the japanese idol industry. it’s just the way those industries goes honestly. but riki also wants to appreciate the korean idols that inspired him to be who he is right now; especially with the existence of japanese people in the korean idol industry and how the numbers are still going up.

the class seems to unanimously sing yoasobi’s idol as riki playfully does the gesture in the viral dance challenge as he now stands in front of mister terada. bowing down to greet him, he picks up the yearbook with two hands as the teacher asks, “how is it with your idol training?”

“it’s going good. i’m actually already planning to move to seoul after graduation so i can train better and have a higher chance of debuting.” yet, riki didn’t mention he will actually move tonight.

“well, we can’t wait to see you on the world stage, riki-kun. i love how consistent you are with it and i sure hope that your consistency could also inspire the juniors to follow their dreams.”

“thank you, mister terada.” he bowed his head once again before returning to his desk as mister terada called for the name after his. he playfully opened the yearbook and skimmed it before landing on his class. his fingers flip the paper to finally open to the page where all six of his friends are—because they shoot their pictures together. riki’s photo is the one where he had all the gakuran buttons off from their respective slots and he is holding the soccer ball against his hips.

“look at that, a very bad boy of a manga.” he could hear his thoughts speaking to him in your voice as he wished you acknowledged that. he also moved to the superlative pages as he could remember his same-year peers and juniors him in the running. he didn’t expect to win most changed by his peers. maybe it is because he has his growth spurt as he could tell that he might even grow 10 centimeters whilst in high school. but also with how his voice changes because of puberty and how his style changes to accommodate his interests, including more exposed yet baggy clothing and the clip-on earrings he likes to wear.

“(l/n)(y/n).”

riki heard the scrapping from the chair beside him as he watched you standing up and walking towards the front of the class. though you haven’t fully spoken about what you wrote on your career sheet, being a mangaka is what everyone knows that you wanted to be. your illustrating prowess has always been shown in the festivals the school made yearly, whether it is when you helped with the class’ food market by creating brochures and banners or when you even opened an illustration service where you drew students and teachers alike for them to have. it seems that you’ve got your life in line alongside him. and that’s why it shocked him to listen to what you’ve answered to mister terada’s question.

“yes, my progression with my university application is great. i’ve been accepted as a student in the international relations major in kyoto.”

riki’s eyes enlarged because he can’t believe what he is hearing. he turns his head towards his friends who are also looking at each other in quick succession, all of them having confusion on their faces before returning to you who is smiling like you didn’t even feel the quake that shook your friends’ beliefs about you. as you walked to your chair and look around at each of your friend’s face, you give them a tight-lip smile. yet, all of them hesitate to ask you why you choose international relations instead of design or art school. they have to respect your choice just like any of their classmate's changes.

the revelation shocked riki the most as he thought that you had trusted him enough to tell him everything. he has been your seatmate for three freaking years and you have grown up together since the first year. he had always seen you drawing in sketchbooks you bring in class, even ignoring some lectures so you can focus on drawing and reading manga. sure, he can see you must picked studying social science for a reason but he thought that—maybe just like he is as you both are creatives—you just don’t want to do math and natural science like he is.

the number of students without the yearbook dwindles as every desk has one on top of it. mister terada stares at the group he can call his kids while mumbling, “i’m so proud of all of you. hopefully you can continue to grow and be impactful towards society-“

“wait, mister terada!” the class president shouts as she scrambles to get something underneath her desk to then watch her pick up a new bouquet. “this is our gift to you so you also have your own bouquet alongside us.”

riki remembered when the class treasurer suddenly asked him if he wanted to contribute to gifting a bouquet to mister terada during the class’ yearbook photoshoot. he gladly accepts it as mister terada is the nicest homeroom teacher he had throughout high school. some of his other homeroom teachers are unnecessarily harsh towards the students and even shamed for not following through with their career sheets—knowing that teenagers also can get stressed too in doing so. mister terada is the only teacher riki can comfortably consult about his choice of being an idol. at that time, he was contemplating if he should audition for one or just focus on becoming a professional dancer. yet, mister terada’s push also helps contribute to him filling in the audition form.

mister terada received the bouquet from the class president as he stared at it, his eyes glimmering before saying, “thank you so much. could we get a class photo with all of us?”

the students are standing up as they try to set their places. one of the student’s parents, who is watching the class outside from the hallway window, steps in to take the picture. riki stands beside you, taking a peek to see you already in your pose as he can’t help but put his hand on your shoulder. what’s wrong with friends of the opposite sex being touchy with each other anyway when he had seen all the different hugs and leaning against shoulders between the six of you?

as the click of the phone camera taking the picture rings and dissipates, it’s followed by a chorus of thank yous being thrown around as some students hug each other. he is busy too, as some of his classmates are trying to take a few last selfies with riki before he becomes famous—making the rest of the gang just snicker from the side.

“i’m going to miss you guys,” shota spoke as all six of you were huddled in the group hug. one last warm hug before all of you are going to your separate ways. riki also should go back home to rest up as he will go to haneda airport later but when the hug separates and all of you six are promising to catch up and communicate in your line group chat, he is trying to keep up pace with you who is tidying up your purple backpack.

“(y/n)-chan.”

“yeah?” you looked up from the backpack after zipping it up, wanting to grab your drink and the pocky that you know you’ll be eating on your way home. yet, with the way riki is looking at you; you know he is trying to let something out.

“do you wanna hang out on the rooftop? for old time's sake, as it is our last chance.”

you held down your smile, knowing that you also didn’t want today to end so early.

“yes. let me text the others in the group-“

“just,” his voice cuts yours, “just the two of us.”

you watched as his glittering eyes told you something, telling you to follow him as you could definitely feel that something was hanging that you had to speak about. and you knew it was about the changes in your plan for the future, especially as you confide with riki so much of your dream in creating your own manga series.

putting the straps on your shoulders, you point your chin towards the door and say, “ok.”

the breeze comes rushing in even if you stand behind riki’s figure, blowing your hair as his figure turns into a silhouette when meeting the afternoon sun. you step out onto the concrete ground as you glance at the half wall circling around the perimeter, seeing a few chipped-out paint coming off from said walls before you turn around to be greeted with the rooftop garden. the rooftop that you and your friends have always been on since your first year.

the rooftop is a somewhat famous destination per se, but only the people who are brave enough to trudge against the ever-changing weather could remain here even within the three terms. so that’s why only a handful of people can call this rooftop their hangout place—other than the back of the school or the cafeteria. you glance at the shorter half wall near the garden, the place you and the rest of the six usually hung out at; ate lunch at, doing homework at, and spending your free time at. you can even remember when you initiated the circle’s “logo” as you write your name in an arch, making the others write their own to create a full circle following the curve.

you’re going to miss this place when you’re in kyoto. you’re going to miss the friends that you meet here.

stepping in front of you as you follow, riki approaches the short half wall that is also acting as a multi-use bench, eyes taking a glimpse at the garden’s chlorophyll coming back after winter has frozen them up. insects that seemed to be brave enough to fly this high are visiting here, carrying the pollen for the plants to grow faster. you follow his movement as you sit beside him, gazing at the beautiful view behind the half wall of the sky as the sun is on the way to setting on the west horizon.

riki reaches for his pocky as the sound of the box ripping is heard beside you, making you take your own opened one as you finally rip the plastic packaging open that separates you from the delicious cream on a biscuit stick. yours were more green than riki’s—hence the “rich matcha” flavor nina gave you. silently, you both take a bite of the stick that you pull out. your taste buds are overwhelmed by the combination of the matcha-flavored cream with the matcha-flavored biscuit stick. you look between the front of where you’re sitting to peeking from the corner of your eyes as you see riki doing the same, making you hold back the chuckle before awkwardness comes to remind you quick, making you finish your whole biscuit as your hand reaches inside the aluminum bag for another one.

“you said you want to be a mangaka?”

the breath that you are holding is slowly dripping out, knowing that your intuition is right as to why he brought you here.

“i thought we were gonna fulfill our dreams together…” riki’s voice seemed so cold—even colder than the leftover winter wind in spring.

your facial muscles twitch, maybe it’s because of the sudden sensitivity your face felt the breeze or is the answer that you don’t wanna think about suddenly popping into your mind. yet, when you turn your head—forcing yourself to be brave—you find riki already staring at you. his piercing eyes making goosebumps rising on your skin as, even through his eyes, you can read what he is telling you. you’ve drawn and seen characters in those eyes, but feeling it in real life feels different. much more hurting. much more loathing.

you try to think of the words that you remember you discussed with your parents as you talk about the future, as they’ve reminded you of how dangerous that industry could be—"many animators are crunching their hours. we don’t want to see you like that."—and the fact that they knew, they knew you couldn’t be creative under pressure makes you rethink it. and here you are, trying to explain that to your number 1 supporter, just as you are to him in his dancer-now-future-idol career.

“i, i don’t know if it’s viable for me…” you started, glancing between the pocky box you’re holding and him as you let out a sigh.

“then choose something else other than an illustration, like, i don’t know, painting? graphic design? you like those, right?” you can hear the way riki’s throat is getting hoarse as he speaks, how he is gritting his teeth when saying those words before he takes another stick from his pocky box and takes a bite. the muffled crushing of the biscuit is much louder than when you both are eating it.

“i have to think about my future, riki. you do know i like history and geography and international relation calls to me the same time as a career as a mangaka.” you said in nearly the same tone, not wanting to hold back as you can’t believe just how one-sided he seemed to think of you. that you’re not more than just an art kid in his eyes. “just like how you pick between being a dancer and a soccer player.” you said the last sentence, voice getting lower until the sentence ends near mumbling. but you know riki’s listening.

this is now the correct time for you to pour why you hid your choice from him.

“don’t you know just how dangerous the animation scene in japan is? people are overworked to churn out season upon season nearly every year. being an independent mangaka is also hard when you have to fight against the big guns in the industry. though i’m good at drawing, i don’t know about my writing skills-“

“you’re writing skill is perfectly fine.” he cuts your tangent, pivoting his head back towards you, still not stopping you from continuing.

“okay, but people are suffering there and if i join that system, i know i’ll be suffering too.” you rub the bridge of your nose near the corners of both of your eyes, pressing down on it as you don’t want a single tear out. not right now when you are trying to defend your choice. you’re willing to let out different words just to try to make him understand.

“and if i’m going to school in international relations, that doesn’t mean that i’ll be giving up on drawing. maybe i could join an organization or event there that needs someone to illustrate stuff. maybe i could try doing freelance whilst also working part-time in some convenience stores near tourist spots in kyoto. that doesn’t mean i’m going to easily give up on that dream, it’s just i’m taking the longer way.”

riki held his breath as he heard your reasoning, the way the look of your eyes seemed to dwindle but also increased in sparkles as he couldn’t figure out what feelings you were trying to say. anger? sadness? satisfy?

but when he felt your hand reach to hold his, he knew that you now want him to, at least, believe in you.

“you don’t know just how frustratingly messed up my thoughts are when you said you are accepted to a korean label and to fulfill your dream as a k-pop star.” your thumb caressed his pinky finger, “because i know that it’s going to be hard for me or for anyone in our circle to reach your level of success this young and to talk to you in general because you’re either going to be in korea all the time or you’re going to be layers behind bodyguards when you’re not there.”

you gulp down your saliva, “i’m glad one of us is going to fulfill our dreams faster.”

the last sentence hits riki so much that he has his life’s perspective turn in some random of degrees. he had heard of his parents talking about his older sister who is now in university, about just how different her childhood dream is compared to what she pursued whilst growing up. the same goes for riki, who wanted to be a soccer player before becoming a professional dancer and now being an idol. you must be facing the same thing. he recall how you mentioned you wanted to be a chef during your childhood, how it changed to your love for drawing, before seeing yourself as a diplomat, yet that could definitely change given you have four years of university.

life is definitely much more mysterious than what riki has been accepting. people’s wants and needs change given the situation, from the farthest to the nearest. dedicated people are there but the environment and instinct seem to tell them to change paths. he definitely realizes more that one person doesn’t have a definite answer to what is their purpose in life. is it like him to perform on stage? is it like what he thought you’d do in making a best-selling manga? all of that is a possibility, but that is not definite.

now he knows that the purpose of life is to live. every change of heart is there for a reason that is at the same level as every dedication. that, in life, anyone can define themselves as plural, like his mother who is also a businesswoman, and his father who is also an engineer. like you, who may become a diplomat and an artist. or even maybe him, who can be an idol but likes to play soccer. he had felt that he was erasing one dream for the next. but actually, he is just changing priorities to the one he is focusing on. that is his idol career for him and the international relations major to you—because that dream is still there, now lying dormant.

“you can fulfill your mangaka dream too, (y/n).” your ears perked up at what he was saying. your hand rests and is idle on top of his as you can feel his hand underneath yours flipping unto the other side. “what you said is true. that you can still have drawing as a hobby to help relieve you from school stress, that you can make pocket money out of it. that the place is still there for you even if you change your destination to try something else. and i’m sorry for not realizing that.”

his fingers move to be in between yours before curling in, making you look down at them before at his face, “i don’t know when we will arrive at the place that we want to go. maybe never. maybe someday. maybe even tomorrow.”

riki let out a tremendous sigh.

“but i believe that you can still get there. i believe that you, me, and our friends will eventually reach there,” he spoke his mind, making him turn away his head because of how his hand is randomly holding onto yours.

before he turns his back, he felt your fingers also curling to meet his hand, locking both of your hands as the sky is turning from a blue to an orange, letting you know just how much time you have with him as he had told you, and only you, that he’ll be leaving tonight.

“thank you.” your sentence of appreciation is enough to lift a smile on his face as it reflects on yours.

the scribble on the half wall remains there as you hoped some school officials wash it or paint it some months after today. the sunbeams shining through the window to the hallway where students are finishing cleaning up their class so they can return home. the green grass on the field creating short shadows beneath them as the sun starts to sink. your hand remains in riki’s as you both step out from the school gate for the last time—seeing your juniors, giving you a sad look to see you for the last time, but also a cheeky look after finding your connected hands.

you and him stood in front of the gate as you faced each other. both of your houses are on separate ways as you slowly let go of his hand, letting out a shrug whilst also having a small pout on your face.

“so, this is a goodbye, then? i can’t even contact you anymore because you’re going to be busy,” you spoke out the truth—knowing that k-pop trainees aren’t also allowed to have their phones most of the time.

“more of like a see you later because i know that i’ll be giving you and the rest of us six tickets if i someday hold a concert here,” he replied, holding onto the strap of his backpack as you find his pocky box peeking out from when the water bottle is supposed to be placed—mirroring your own self.

riki’s eyes seemed to glimmer with something as he reached to the buttons of his gakuran, tracing his fingers on the thick gold button as he reached the second from the top, easily popping it off as he pushed it towards you. you looked down and up at his face, not wanting to show the shock on your face as you reached for the button, pinching it between your fingers before you placed it on your palm and instantly curled it up to keep it safe.

his body got knocked back as he felt the arms wrapping around him. his arms are in a pause before he naturally lets go, raising his hands to rest on your back as he tugs you in closer. his mouth beside your ear.

“promise me you’ll remember me,” he whispered, sending chills running down your spine.

“i promise and i hope you do the same,” you replied, sensing a single tear falling out of your eyes as you wiped it away with his uniform.

“of course, i do,” he spoke back. his body seemingly not wanting to let go of you as you pull yourself back, feeling him holding onto your upper arms as you let out a tight-lip smile.

“go on. you have a flight to catch,” you smirked and took a few steps back when you sensed his grip loosen. your curled hand with the button in the grip is resting by your heart while you see riki’s wide smile as he steps backward opposite to where you are going. flailing his arms as a wave of goodbye as you just want him to go back fast so you can finally shed the tears that are wetting your eyes.

you raise your own hand as you wave a goodbye when riki looks at your figure getting smaller and smaller with every step he takes backwards, wanting to run back to you to give you one last hug because he knows he’ll be missing you so much. he hopes that you’ll arrive at your dream tomorrow, but he will always give a word of encouragement to you in his mind even if he is training in the dance studio in seoul starting tomorrow.

he hopes you keep and take care of his second button, just like how you have supported and encouraged him to pursue his dream. and he is now more determined than ever to make you and everyone who knows him deep down proud as he closes this chapter of his life and opens up the next.

taglist: @raeyunshm @leilasmom @evidive @boba-beom @kwiwin @heesw1fe @aloverga @endzii23 @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @cha0thicpisces @y4wnjunz @yeehawnana @beansworldsstuff @kimipxl @blurryriki @amazzwon @reallysmolrenjun @stealanity @deobitifull @gandaengene @beomgyumineiro

#character: niki #characters: enhypen #length: novelette #novelette: 12.5k to 17.5k #genre: fluff #genre: angst #genre: coming of age #genre: hurt/comfort #genre: slice of life #genre: high school #author: writingmochi #bookmark: arrival

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