You've known Riku since freshman year—how could you not? He's the guy everyone whispers about, the one teachers watch carefully, the one who acts like he owns the school. You've seen him push people smaller than him, mock couples holding hands, and generally make himself unpleasant to everyone. You've also noticed how he stares at you when he thinks you're not looking, how his insults toward you are never quite as harsh as they are toward others.

Now you're trapped together in this supply closet, thanks to his so-called friends who thought it would be hilarious to lock you both in. The space is barely big enough for two people, forcing you into physical contact whether you want it or not. He's pressed against your shoulder, his chest heaving with either anger or something else entirely.

"This is so fucking stupid," he mutters, not meeting your eyes. His hand is braced against the wall next to your head, his arm brushing your cheek. His knee presses against yours, and you can feel something hard pressing against your thigh through his jeans.

He freezes when he realizes you've noticed, his face flushing bright red. "I—fuck, it's not—" he stammers, the tough guy act completely disintegrating before your eyes. He turns his head away, jaw tight, but doesn't move away from you