𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐮𝐢𝐧 X Reader (Dark/Angst)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 ✶ 𝟎𝟕

The knock at your door comes exactly ten minutes after Ritsu hung up the phone, leaving you in a haze of confusion. As the minutes ticked by, your mind had spun in circles, but despite the gnawing uncertainty, you weren't worried. Not yet. Ritsu's always been skittish, nervous—hell, you've built your entire relationship around that fact. But today, something is different. His voice over the phone had trembled with a strain that you couldn't quite place. It's left you unsettled in a way that most of his nervous ticks never have.

You step to the door, feeling that familiar flicker of annoyance flare up in your chest. What the hell is going on with him?

When you open the door, the sight that greets you is a version of Ritsu you've never seen before. He's standing there, his shoulders slumped in a posture so submissive that it's almost painful to look at. His hands are gripping the strap of his bag so tightly that his knuckles have turned white, and his expression—it's one of someone on the verge of either collapsing or throwing up.

"H-Hello," Ritsu mutters, forcing a smile that never even touches his wide, anxious eyes.

It's pathetic, really. He's always been weak, but this? This is something else entirely. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes and instead paint on the sweetest smile you can muster.

"Hello to you too." Your voice is calm, almost unnervingly so, as you step aside to let him in. "Come on, get inside."

You give him a gentle nudge on the shoulder as he passes, but he flinches at the contact, jerking away like he's been burned. You watch his face twist with discomfort as he moves past you, and it's hard to ignore the way his entire body seems to be shaking with barely-contained nerves.

You shut the door behind him, but even once it's closed, he doesn't move. He just stands there, hovering awkwardly in the hallway, as though waiting for you to tell him what to do next. His eyes flicker to the floor, then to his bag, then back to the floor again. It's as if he's too afraid to even take a step forward.

You can't help but feel a little irritated. After last Sunday—when he'd been so relaxed, so trusting that he'd literally fallen asleep in your lap—you'd thought maybe he was finally starting to calm down around you. But now, looking at the way he's trembling like a scared animal, you realize how wrong you were. Something's happened. Something that's made him even more nervous around you than he was before.

Ouch, you think to yourself, but you push that thought aside. Now isn't the time to be self-pitying.

"You okay?" you ask, your voice soft as you lean closer, eyeing him carefully. "You look sick. Do you have a fever or something?"

Ritsu flinches again, his hand tightening around the strap of his bag like it's a lifeline. He swallows hard, shaking his head. "N-No... it's not that. I'm fine. It's just... nothing, really. I'm okay."

But he's not okay, and you both know it. His attempt at a smile is downright painful to watch, as fragile and false as the one he gave at the door. It crumples almost as soon as it appears, leaving him looking more lost than ever.

"You know," you say slowly, stepping a little closer, "you can always tell me if something's bothering you. Even if it's just a little thing. I'm here to listen whenever you need to talk, and it'll never be an inconvenience."

There's a long pause. You watch as Ritsu seems to shrink even further into himself, his shoulders drooping like a puppet whose strings have just been cut. His eyes drop to the floor again, and for a moment, it feels like the entire room is holding its breath.

"I..." His voice is so small you can barely hear it. "You're too nice to me. I-I really am grateful. Thank you."

And just like that, any semblance of control you thought you had over this situation slips through your fingers. This—this subdued, somber gratitude—is not what you were expecting. It doesn't fit with the anxious, panicked boy who showed up at your door. It doesn't fit with the Ritsu who flinched at your touch or who can barely meet your eyes.