𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫 │Nishimura Riki

09

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[I like me better] - [Lauv]

The insistent, almost aggressive, rapping on the front door shattered Lily's fragile morning peace. She squinted at the clock: 7:00 AM. In Milan, this was practically still the middle of the night for anyone who wasn't a baker or desperately trying to beat the morning traffic.

Too early for the mailman, too polite for her best friends, who usually just shoulder-barged their way in, and definitely too formal for any of her neighbors.

Lily, still in her "distinguished author" pajamas—a gloriously mismatched ensemble of vintage band t-shirt and cartoon-print flannel bottoms—mentally braced herself for whatever chaotic entity awaited.

Before Lily could even peel herself off the sofa, a piercing, high-pitched shriek ripped through the house, originating from the front hallway.

"SANTO CIELO—!" Sofia's voice cut off abruptly, replaced by a sound akin to a strangled seagull gargling espresso.

Lily blinked. That wasn't a forgotten key. That was a fangirl discovering a celebrity on her doorstep.

She sprang up, tripping over her own feet, and raced towards the hallway. And there he was. Ni-ki. Leaning casually against the doorframe, looking impossibly pristine at this ungodly hour in a chrome hearts t-shirt that hugged all the right places, radiating cool composure.

Sofia stood frozen, jaw practically on the freshly polished pavement, eyes wide enough to swallow the entire living room. She was wearing her bright pink Crocs and her hair looked like a bird's nest, a perfect, hilarious foil to Ni-ki's effortless perfection.

Ni-ki's lips twitched, a small, amused chuckle rumbling in his chest, his dark eyes twinkling as he took in Sofia's utterly stunned expression. "Good morning," he greeted, his voice smooth as aged wine.

Sofia finally snapped her mouth shut, a faint flush creeping up her neck. "You're... you're Ni-ki," she managed, as if he might be a very convincing hologram beamed directly into their hallway.

Just then, Lily's dad, Marco, appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. He was already dressed for work at his motor company, looking far too awake and cheerful.

His eyes, usually reserved for examining engine schematics, widened with genuine surprise. "Nishimura Riki is at my doorstep? What a pleasant surprise!" He beamed, extending a hand to shake. "To what do we owe this unexpected visit, my boy? Are you here to discuss the finer points of engine design, perhaps? Or the new regulations?" His eyes twinkled, already eager to launch into a technical debate.