raspberries and mocha | heejake

3

The door swung open with a soft thud as Riki stumbled into the apartment, his usual playful grin plastered across his face. Heeseung looked up from his spot on the couch, already sensing that something was off. Riki was too giggly, too loose. Heeseung raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything at first, watching as the boy wobbled over to him, arms outstretched like he was coming in for a hug.

"Heeseung!" Riki chirped, dragging out his name in a sing-song voice. "Guess who's hoooome~"

Heeseung leaned forward, his gaze steady, worry flickering behind his eyes. "Riki...are you okay?"

"Me?" Riki replied, a little too loudly, stumbling again as he reached the couch. "Oh, I'm fine," he slurred, giggling. "More than fine! I'm...awesome!" The laughter that followed was light and careless, but Heeseung could hear the slight slur, see the sway in his step. Something was definitely wrong.

"Riki," Heeseung said again, this time more firmly. "You don't look fine. Come here."

Riki blinked, still smiling, but instead of answering, he started mumbling something in Japanese. His words were jumbled, almost incoherent, and it only confirmed what Heeseung had suspected. He sighed inwardly, running a hand through his hair as he moved closer to steady the boy. Riki wasn't just tired—he was drunk.

"You've been drinking," Heeseung muttered, more to himself than to Riki.

Riki giggled again, this time leaning on Heeseung's shoulder for support. "Maybe...a little?"

Heeseung sighed aloud this time, his frustration tempered by the fact that Riki was clearly in no shape to answer questions. "Let's get you to bed."

He wrapped an arm around Riki's waist and guided him toward the bedroom, Riki's head lolling slightly as they walked. His steps were unsteady, his weight pressing more and more against Heeseung, until it felt like he was practically carrying him.

As they neared the bedroom, Heeseung caught a whiff of something unexpected. He paused, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air around Riki.

Raspberries?

He frowned, puzzled. That was definitely not Riki's usual scent. Riki didn't wear cologne so sweet, and so distinctly fruity. It didn't fit him at all.

Heeseung gently lowered Riki onto the bed, careful not to let him fall too hard. "What is that smell?" he muttered to himself, leaning in a little closer. The scent of raspberries clung to Riki's clothes, subtle but unmistakable.

Riki's friends must have been with him. Heeseung had met them a couple of times—nice enough, but he never paid much attention to who was who. They seemed harmless, but now...something felt off. This scent didn't belong to Riki. It belonged to someone else, someone who had been close enough to leave a lingering trace on him.

Heeseung sat at the edge of the bed, frowning as his eyes flicked over Riki's half-asleep form. His mind raced as he tried to make sense of it. Whoever it was, they were in Riki's usual group. Heeseung wasn't sure who, but that scent, that sweetness—it had stuck with him, gnawing at the back of his mind.

He watched Riki mumble incoherently as he drifted further into sleep, his usual playful energy replaced by the vulnerability of drunken exhaustion. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, but the smell of raspberries hung in the air like an unspoken question.

Who had Riki been with tonight? Why did it matter so much?

Heeseung didn't know, but the feeling gnawed at him. Whoever it was, they had a dangerous influence on Riki. He could feel it, like an invisible thread tugging at his thoughts. And as much as he wanted to brush it off, he couldn't. Not until he knew the truth.