Chapter Text
!WARNINGS!
-18+ ( Heavy smut )
-R@pe
-Violence
-Boy p^ssy (sunoo)
-Bullying and harassing
-Strong language ( mention of slurs )
-Drug and alcohol addiction/ use mentioned
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Smut chapters will be marked with "✶"
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❈────────•✦•────────❈
-Kim Sunoo-
-17-
-Junior-
-sweet, quiet, adorable, and
soft-hearted cutie-
-chronologically online-
❈────────•✦•────────❈
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-Nishimura Riki-
-18-
-Senior-
-Has a drug addiction-
-Popular, always hooking up with someone,
Toxic af, and an asshole-
❈────────•✦•────────❈
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𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹teaser-
The astronomy classroom hummed with low conversation and fluorescent light, but none of it really touched him.
Riki dropped into his seat as he owned it, his bag hitting the floor with a dull thud that turned a few heads before they quickly looked away again.
He leaned back, slow and careless, stretching out as if the world moved on his time alone.
His fingers slid through his golden locs, pushing them back as sunlight spilled through the window, catching in the strands and making them glow against the otherwise dull room.
Everything felt muted.
The buzz from earlier still clung to him—not enough to blur his vision, just enough to dull the edges.
Enough to make everything feel distant, repetitive.
Faces blurred together when he glanced around—students laughing, whispering, scrolling on their phones.
None of it mattered.
None of them mattered.
They all carried the same empty expression, the same predictable energy.
It was boring.
It was always boring.
Riki exhaled slowly, tilting his head back as his gaze drifted toward the ceiling: the same routine, the same people, the same shallow conversations.
Even the girls—every laugh, every touch, every fleeting moment blended into one forgettable cycle. Nothing stuck. Nothing hit.
Until—
A sudden impact snapped through the haze.
Something—someone—brushed against his knee, light but enough to pull him back into the moment.
His eyes dropped instantly, irritation flickering... only to stall.
The boy standing there didn't belong in the blur.
Soft, but not weak. His features were sharp in a way that made you look twice—plump lips like he was holding back words, flushed cheeks that gave him away despite the calm in his expression, and eyes...
fox-like, bright, aware.
Too aware.
There
was something almost playful in them, something that didn't match the quiet way he carried himself.
And he wasn't dressed like anyone else.
The uniform sat differently on him—fitted in a way that made it impossible not to notice, fabric falling clean against his frame as he shifted.
It wasn't loud or attention-seeking. It just... was like he didn't care who saw.
"Sorry," he said simply.
No stutter. No nervous glance. No reaction.
That was what made Riki's jaw tighten.
Most people flinched.
Most people hesitated, stumbled over themselves, or tried too hard to recover when they realized who they'd bumped into.
But not him. He said it like it meant nothing like Riki meant nothing and turned to leave without a second thought.
And that—
That hit something ugly.
A slow, unfamiliar irritation twisted in Riki's chest, sharp and immediate.
It wasn't interesting.
It wasn't curiosity.
It was something heavier, something that crawled under his skin and stayed there.
The way the boy moved, like he wasn't affected.
Like he wasn't impressed. Like he didn't care.
Why didn't he care?
Why wasn't he reacting like everyone else?
The questions burned faster than they should have, turning into something hotter, something harder to ignore.
His fingers curled slightly against the desk, tension building before he even registered it.
Before he could think better of it—if he even wanted to—he moved.
"Hey." His voice cut clean through the noise, low and sharp.
His hand shot out, catching the boy's wrist before he could get far.
The contact was firm, deliberate enough to stop him completely.
With a single pull, Riki dragged him back, guiding—no, forcing—him down into the empty seat beside him.
Close.
Too close to ignore.
Riki leaned slightly, gaze locking onto him now, fully present for the first time since he'd walked into the room.
Whatever haze had lingered before was gone, replaced with something far more focused.
Something far more dangerous.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"—away... from you." The answer came quickly.
Clean.
Not a tremble in his voice, not a second of hesitation.
Riki stilled.
For a second, it didn't even register—not because he didn't hear it, but because no one ever spoke to him like that.
Not here.
Not in this school where his last name carried weight, where teachers looked the other way, where consequences bent and broke before they ever reached him.
Money talked.
Reputation did the rest.
Riki had always walked untouched.
Detentions disappeared.
Reports got "lost." If anything ever did stick, it never lasted long. His parents were halfway across the world in Japan, unreachable and unconcerned, and the school?
The school knew better than to push too far.
Whether it was influence, money, or something less clean, Riki never cared enough to figure out which.
He got away with things.
He always did.
So this?
This was new.
His grip on the boy's wrist tightened—not painfully, but enough to make a point.
His eyes narrowed slightly, studying him now with something sharper than before.
The calm expression, the way he sat there like he hadn't just said something that should've gotten him in trouble—like he wasn't sitting right next to him.
Like he wasn't affected.
Riki leaned in just a little, enough for his presence to feel heavier, more intentional.
"Say that again," he muttered, voice low, edged with something dangerous—not loud, not explosive, just controlled in a way that usually came before things snapped.
His gaze flickered, taking him in properly this time.
The uniform again.
That stupid skirt.
It wasn't even about the clothes—not really. It was the audacity.
Walking in like that, sitting there like it was normal, like nobody had the right to question it.
Like he didn't have the right to question it.
It got under his skin in a way he couldn't explain.
His jaw tightened.
"You got a problem," Riki continued, tilting his head slightly, eyes locked onto him, "or are you just trying to be funny?"
There was no laughter in his tone. No amusement.
Just irritation. Sharp and growing.
Because this kid—this quiet, soft-looking junior with the steady voice and that unbothered expression—
wasn't reacting the way he was supposed to.
And Riki hated that more than he should've.
𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹