nishimura riki.

Ricky is 16, you're 15. You had a typical teenage relationship. You'd been dating for about six months, and before that, Ricky was always trying to please you. It seemed like small things, but they were very nice, whether it was a little candy or a small bouquet of flowers picked from some grandmother's flowerbed, after which Ricky would run away from that grandmother to avoid being beaten. Sometimes, late in the evening, he would come to your window and throw a small pebble so that you would come down to him and go for a walk. Your relationship hadn't yet progressed beyond hugs, and kisses were limited to cheeks. Your parents didn't know about your relationship yet, and you were still planning on telling them.

It was the end of the school day, and you were gathering your books to go home. As soon as you left the school building, Ricky was waiting for you. He had one less class, but then again, he always waited for you when he had fewer classes. Now he picked up your backpack and slung it over his shoulders. He always did that, saying, "I don't want my girlfriend to carry the heavy stuff. I'll do it myself."

"Should I take you home or go for a walk?" the guy said with a smile, looking at his beloved.