✓ BECAUSE WE WERE YOUNG | NIKI

11 - Nishimura Riki

I didn't think that a few days after meeting Niki, I'd be watching him try on different shirts my father told him to consider. Yet, here we are, sitting on a bench outside the dressing room, surrounded by stacks of folded clothes and discarded hangers. My knee doesn't quite ache as much now, instead, my attention is focused on Niki as he steps out of the dressing room once more, this time wearing a dark blue blue shirt that makes him look effortlessly stylish. The fabric drapes nicely over his frame and I remind myself not to stare at him for too long. 

As he stands before us, a tentative smile plays on his lips, a silent question lingering in his eyes. My father's gaze shifts from the shirt to Niki's face, and a subtle nod of approval passes between them. "That's the one." He signs and Niki's eyes light up.

"Thank you." He signs back and all I do is stare at him, already forgetting what I just said to myself about not staring. He looks good, not the kind of good that you notice right away, but the kind that grows on you slowly, like a melody that lingers in your mind long after the song has ended. I've always noticed this about him; how he looks like the most beautiful poem you hear sometime in a lifetime. Alluring, beautiful, and candidly real.

I'm drawn to the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, the way his hands move when he signs words, and how his presence seems to fill the space around us with an undeniable warmth. But as Niki's gaze meets mine, I realize I've been lost in my thoughts, staring at him for too long. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I quickly avert my eyes, hoping he hasn't noticed my lingering gaze. 

"Sorry," I mumble, feeling a bit self-conscious. "I was just... admiring the shirt. It looks really good on you." He frowns, leaning closer as if he'd hear me if I spoke louder. The gesture makes me wince, it also makes me wonder if Niki forgets that he can't hear sometimes, that even for a fleeting second, he can be just like any other person. When I sign the words to him, his smile widens and those crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepen. Gosh, just how beautiful he looks when he smiles like that. It's as if the whole world lights up around him.

"Thank you," He signs back, his fingers moving gracefully through the air. "I'm glad you like it." His gaze lingers on mine for a moment longer, and I feel a flutter of something indescribable in the pit of my stomach. It's a feeling I can't quite put into words, but it's there, undeniable and intoxicating.

"Good. I'll go pay for it. You can keep it on." I hear my father say before he heads to the cash register to settle the bill. Left alone with Niki, nervousness settles over me. Here we are, alone together, in a moment that feels strangely intimate despite the mundane setting of a clothing store. I search for something to say, something to break the silence that has fallen between us, but my mind comes up blank.

"Does your knee hurt?" I watch as he signs before shaking my head slightly. "You can tell me if it hurts, it's okay." His concern is evident in his eyes, and I can't help but soften mine. The way he seems to effortlessly put others' needs before his own, just like the way he saved me earlier, risking his own safety to protect mine, it's touching.

"A little bit?" I smile, slightly tilting my head to the side. "But it's nothing compared to your wound. You had to get it stitched."

"It's nothing. Just a scratch." A wound as big as that is definitely not just a scratch, and the fact that so much blood had stained his shirt says otherwise. But I choose not to argue about it. "When I got into the car accident, I had worse injuries. I almost died, but I'm here now, so it's okay." Niki's signing is calm, but I can see the way his fingers tremble slightly as he recalls the traumatic experience. It's clear that the memory still haunts him, despite his attempts to make it sound like some other ordinary event.

"I'm glad you're here," I sign back, a genuine smile spreading across my face. "You're a really good person, Niki. I'm grateful to have met you." Niki is changing a lot of things in me, from my perspective on life to the way I interact with others. He's teaching me to appreciate the small moments, to just be present in the now. And I'm so thankful for the fate that made our paths cross.

He nods, his eyes still fixed on mine. There's a warmth in his gaze that sends a shiver down my spine, a feeling I can't quite explain but one that leaves me yearning for more. And then his face turns red and my heart does a little flip-flop in my chest. 

Before I can decipher the reason for his sudden blush, my father returns, interrupting the moment with his usual knowing smile. "Ready to go?" He asks, his eyes flickering between Niki and me. I nod, suddenly feeling disappointed at the interruption, though I can't quite understand why. My father is a demon, always one step ahead, always knowing just when to intrude on a moment that feels too intimate, too personal. I do resent his impeccable timing.

"Yeah, let's go," I reply, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. Niki helps me to the car, carrying my oxygen tank while my father opens the door for us. "Where are we going?" 

"Dinner. Where do you want to eat?" He asks and I look down, thinking of some of my favorite places. But then I turn to Niki and sign to him, asking him if he has any preferences. He just frowns and shrugs. 

"I don't know. I've never been to a restaurant in here." He signs and it's my turn to frown. It dawns on me that Niki's experiences have been quite different from mine. The accident, his hearing loss, and perhaps the subsequent isolation from his family might have limited his exposure to various places. Niki's world appears to be much smaller than I thought, but what does he mean by 'in here'? I don't ask, though I really want to know more about him. Everything, actually.

Not able to choose, my father ends up driving us to a Japanese restaurant that's a favorite of ours. Upon stepping inside, his phone rings and when he picks it up, I hear him talking about work and I know he's about to leave us here because whenever something is work-related, he runs to it. I don't blame him, he's working hard managing his business while also taking care of me. But it leaves me feeling a bit disappointed, yet again. "I should head back to work. They need me to sort out a few urgent matters," My father says, glancing apologetically at me and Niki.

I nod understandingly, even though a part of me wishes he could stay and bond with Niki. "We'll be fine." I hold Niki's hand and pull him with me, walking into the restaurant. What are we supposed to do now? I've never been in a situation like this before, alone with someone I barely know, someone who's becoming increasingly important to me with each passing moment. It's both exhilarating and terrifying, this feeling of being on the cusp of something new and unknown.

Niki finds us an empty table and we sit down, the menu right in front of us. "Do you like Japanese food?" He signs and I nod, fixing the tube of my oxygen tank. "What do you want to eat?"

I glance at the menu, scanning the array of dishes listed. "I think I'll go for dragon roll," I sign back to Niki, a smile playing on my lips. "What about you? Have you tried Japanese food before?"

"I'm Japanese." He signs and it takes me a few seconds to process what I just heard. Read. Whatever. My eyes widen with surprise as I look up at him, the realization sinking in. Of course, it makes sense now. His name, his features, his quiet demeanor—it all falls into place. Niki is Japanese.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." I sign and watch as he shakes his head. Of course, he's Japanese, now that I look at him, really look. He looks like he walked straight out of an anime, or a manga, or perhaps a classic Japanese film. "What's your name?" My fingers move before me, instinctively wanting to know more about him now that this new piece of information has come to light.

"Nishimura Riki," He signs back, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's the first time someone asked for my real name." The realization that the real Nishimura Riki had been hidden behind the Niki we all know, that he would have kept on hiding if it wasn't for me asking, never being able to fully know the person behind the facade, hits me like a ton of bricks. I'm the first one to talk to him, to hear him, to know the real him. 

"Nishimura Riki," I whisper, savoring the sound of his name on my lips. It feels like a secret, something precious that he's shared with me. It suits him perfectly, elegant yet understated, just like him. "Thank you for sharing your name with me." 

"Thank you for being the first to ask." Nishimura Riki signs, his smile growing warmer. "It feels good to finally be seen."