This Wasn't in the Floor Plan

I looked up from my screen just as the knock came—two soft taps against the glass.

My heart lurched.

I hadn't seen him all morning. Not in person, anyway. Just that dangerously casual selfie he sent after his client meeting—tie still knotted at his collar, eyes slightly squinted from the sun, that faint smirk like he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on me. I'd stared at that photo for way too long before reminding myself I had deadlines and dignity.

And now he was here.

Tie and all.

Riku stood on the other side of the door, framed by the glass and sunlight like something the week forgot to deserve. Slate-gray button-down, sleeves rolled to the forearms, tie loosened just enough to say I've had a busy morning but I've got time for you. The moment I stood up, I could already smell him—clean and warm, all bergamot and something else I couldn't name but had missed like oxygen.

I opened the door and barely managed a breath before I was hugging him.

He wrapped his arms around me right away, solid and steady, anchoring. His lips brushed my forehead, and something in me finally exhaled.

"Hi," I murmured.

"Hi," he echoed, low and warm, pulling back just enough to look at me. "Missed you this morning."

"You should've," I said, nuzzling my nose briefly against his jaw. "You owe me breakfast and forehead kisses."

"I delivered one of those."

"True. Grab delivery gets a pass."

He pulled back with a grin, holding up a brown paper bag. "Phase two. No third-party delivery this time."

I smiled, stepping aside as he walked in. The door clicked shut behind him. Somehow, the whole room got quieter—like it recognized him, too.

He placed the bag down on my desk, eyes briefly scanning the architectural chaos I'd left strewn across it. Floor plans. Moodboards. My sanity, probably.

He didn't comment. He just rolled up his sleeves higher, popped open the bag, and pulled out the takeout containers.

Chinese food. Garlic rice. Dumplings. Soy chicken. All still warm.

"I don't deserve you," I said, sinking back into my chair.

He slid the chopsticks toward me with a smirk. "I know."

We started eating, and the smell of soy and garlic somehow made the fluorescent lights feel less offensive. I let out a satisfied hum after my first bite.

"You're officially forgiven."

"I knew lunch would fix everything."

"It didn't fix everything," I said, pointing at his chest with my chopsticks. "But the tie helped."

He grinned, then leaned a little closer—like he could read my thoughts before I finished having them. His thumb brushed over my jaw with that kind of gentleness that made me feel like maybe I hadn't been too soft for this world after all.

"Then I'll wear ties more often."

And just like that, Monday didn't feel so heavy anymore.

As long as he kept showing up like this, I think I could survive anything.

I glanced at him between bites, already dreading the moment he'd check his watch and say he had to leave. "Do you have more work after this?"

He shook his head easily, popping another dumpling into his mouth. "Nope. That client meeting this morning was my only task today. I'm all yours."