Before the Punchline Lands

"You can't undo the past. What matters is you're saying it now. And I'm grateful to you for that, because it means we can finally have some closure." Rikki continued to avoid acknowledging the hand on hers, although fully aware of its presence. She didnt want to give him a reason to try to go any further.

The words land with the precision Rikki intended — not cold, not warm, just true — and she feels his thumb go still against her hand, the slow arc pausing mid-motion like a record catching. She keeps her eyes forward, on the dark pool and the villa lights dissolving in its surface, because she made a decision and she's keeping it: this is closure, not an opening. The cool night air settles around them, unhurried, and for a long moment Toji doesn't say anything at all — just holds her hand the way someone holds something they know they're about to have to put down.

Toji Fushiguro: "Closure. Yeah. Okay."

Rikki holds the silence, noting the sadness in Toji's voice. She figured there were some lingering feelings Toji might have, but it was best to not encourage them - their relationship didnt work for a variety of reasons and simply acknowledging his feelings could give him a false sense of hope. Rikki retracts her hand and goes in for the kill, knowing this will probably hurt Toji, "I just hope that our relationship was something we can both learn from, unknown? I want things to go well for you with the next person you date, and I want things to go well for my next relationship.. if that happens." Rikki lets out an embarrassed chuckle.

Rikki draws her hand back — unhurried, no apology in it, just a quiet withdrawal — and laces her own fingers together in her lap, eyes still on the pool's dark surface. The words land the way she meant them to: generous, clean, and completely final. A door closing with care rather than force. She lets the embarrassed chuckle breathe for a moment, real and unpolished, and it softens the edge just enough without taking the point away. Beside her, Toji goes very still — not the dangerous kind, not the guarded kind. Just still, the way something is still when it's absorbing weight.

Toji Fushiguro: "Yeah. You're right. I hope that too."

Rikki stands up, sensing the night ending just the way it needs to. "Want some help up?" She extends her hand out to him

Rikki rises from the pool's edge in one clean movement, the night air cool against her legs where the concrete had been warm, and turns to face him — hand extended, palm up, the same unhurried grace she brought to every hard thing tonight. It's a generous gesture and they both know it, and Toji looks at her hand for exactly one beat longer than a person would if they didn't feel anything. Then he takes it — not the way he took it before, fingers lacing, weight and intent — just the practical press of a palm, letting himself be helped up the way you let someone hold a door. He's on his feet, and she lets go first.

Toji Fushiguro: "You always did know when a thing was finished."

"For what its worth, Toji... I'm glad it happened. We made a lot of good memories together too." Rikki smiled gently, as memories flooded her brain. She wondered if some of the same memories flooded his.

The words settle over the pool like something exhaled — soft, unguarded, the kind of thing you only say when a thing is truly finished and you can finally afford to be generous about it. Toji goes still for a moment, not the guarded kind of still, but the kind where something is actually landing, and Rikki watches the faintest shift move through his expression — not quite a smile, not quite grief, somewhere in the specific territory between the two where real things live. The villa lights ripple in the dark water between them, and she lets herself feel it too: the miso soup memory, the texts that came and went, the good parts that were genuinely good, all of it settling into something she can finally carry without it weighing her down.

Toji Fushiguro: "Yeah. We did. The good ones were really good, Rikki."

"For what its worth, Toji... I'm glad it happened. We made a lot of good memories together too." Rikki smiled gently, as memories flooded her brain. She wondered if some of the same memories flooded his.

Toji goes quiet for a long moment — not the defensive kind, not the loaded kind, just the kind where something is actually being felt. The pool light catches the line of his jaw as he looks down at the water one last time, and when he looks back at Rikki there's something in his face that isn't quite peace but is the next closest thing. He nods, once, slowly — the specific nod of someone who's decided to let a thing be what it is instead of what he wanted it to be. The cool air moves between them, easy and unbothered, and the villa hums warmly through the glass.

Toji Fushiguro: "Yeah. The good ones were real. I'll give you that much."

🚪 walk inside together

They walk in together — not close, not distant, just easy — the way two people move when they've finally stopped performing something for each other. The glass door slides shut behind them, sealing out the cool air, and the villa's warmth settles around Rikki like something exhaled. She catches the faint sounds of the villa breathing around them: a television murmuring somewhere, a fridge clicking, the soft evidence of other lives continuing past the edges of this one finished thing. Toji pauses just inside the door, hands in his pockets, and looks at her with the specific expression of a person who has said everything they needed to say and knows it.

Toji Fushiguro: "Get some sleep, Rikki."

"You too, Toji." Rikki smiles at Toji as she watches him walk to his room. She suddenly realizes, being indoors, that she's... cold? She realized shes still wearing her swimsuit, and although the night air helped dry off most of the water, she still needed a towel to take care of the extra moisture on her skin. She makes her way to the laundry room to see if there are any fresh towels available

the villa hallway — warm overhead light, the faint hum of the air conditioning

Toji's footsteps disappear down the hallway, unhurried — the specific quiet of someone who's made peace with something and is walking it off. The moment he rounds the corner, Rikki feels it: the cool still clinging to her skin, the damp fabric of her swimsuit against her waist, the faint chill of the air conditioning finding every place the pool water hasn't quite dried. She wraps her arms loosely across her chest and pads down the hallway toward the laundry room, bare feet soft on the tile, and when she pushes the door open the clean, faintly soapy warmth of fresh linens hits her all at once — the shelf stacked with folded white towels, neatly pressed, exactly where they should be.

Toji Fushiguro: "You too, Rikki."

Rikki takes the towel, and as she wraps herself in it, finishing drying herself off, she ponders what she should do for the rest of the evening. Her mind wasnt quiet enough for sleep quite yet - so she decides to go back outside to the fire pit.

Rikki pulls a towel from the shelf and wraps it around herself in one slow, practiced movement — the warm linen settling against her shoulders like something earned. She stands there for a moment in the quiet of the laundry room, the hum of the air conditioning filling the space where the evening used to be, and takes stock: the closure with Toji is real, the rooftop still lives somewhere in her chest, and her mind is running laps she hasn't asked it to run. Sleep isn't happening. She pads back through the hallway toward her room long enough to pull on a light hoodie over her swimsuit, and then she's barefoot on the tiles again, moving through the glass doors toward the fire pit — where the embers are still going, low and steady and unhurried, as if someone thought to leave them burning just for her.

Rikki sits down next to the fire, pulling the chair up close to feel the heat of the flames. She pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her hands and head on her knees, taking a deep breath with eyes closed, oblivious to her surroundings, assuming she is alone.

Rikki drags the chair close enough to feel the heat press against her shins and the front of her hoodie, settles into it, and pulls her knees up to her chest — wrapping her arms around them, resting her cheek against her knees, eyes closing. The embers pulse slowly, orange and gold, and she breathes in the smell of woodsmoke and cool night air, the kind of breath that fills every corner of the lungs. She doesn't hear the glass door slide open behind her, soft as it is — doesn't hear the quiet footfall on the stone, doesn't hear any of it, because right now she isn't listening for anything at all.

Completely in her own thoughts, Rikki holds her pose, unaware that someone has stepped outside to join her.

Choso doesn't move closer. He just stands there, a few feet back, hands loose at his sides — watching the way the firelight moves across her shoulders, the way her hoodie bunches at the collar, the way she's breathing with her whole chest like someone who needed to let something go. He could announce himself. He doesn't. He gives her another full beat of silence, the kind that costs something to hold, because she clearly needed to not be looked at for a little while — and he decides, quietly, that this is something he can do for her.

Rikki's eyes part slightly, and to her surprise, she sees - someone?! All alarms go off in her brain before she realizes its someone she recognizes - Choso! Her brother. Which is kind of weird, considering this is a dating show. "Hey Choso!" Rikki says enthusiastically, motioning to the seat next to her. "Whats up?" She asks with a familiarity siblings have.

Rikki's eyes crack open just enough to catch the shape of him — and for one full, embarrassing second her whole body goes rigid, the instinct of someone caught alone in the dark by a stranger. Then the firelight finds his face and everything unknots at once. Choso. Of course it's Choso. She unfolds herself with a small, slightly sheepish exhale and turns in the chair to face him properly, patting the empty seat beside her like it was already his.

"So... whats up?" She asks him

Choso drops into the chair beside her with the easy weight of someone who belongs wherever she is — elbows on his knees, firelight catching the side of his face, the corner of his mouth already pulling toward something warm. He doesn't answer right away, just takes in the embers for a beat, the way he always does: unhurried, like the world can wait for him just this once.

Rikki chooses to let it be. Maybe Choso had a long day too? Can't be easy being in a house full of men who are thirsting after your sister.

Choso lets out a long, slow exhale through his nose — the kind that's doing a lot of quiet work. He reaches forward and picks up a small stick from the ground, turns it over in his fingers once, and then tosses it into the embers just to watch it catch. The fire crackles once, brief and bright, and settles back down.

"You doing ok?" She asks lightly, not trying to make too much of the situation.

Choso turns his head toward her at that — just slightly, like the question found a soft spot he wasn't guarding. He exhales through his nose, something between a laugh and an admission, and looks back at the fire before he answers. The stick he tossed in earlier has burned down to nothing, just a bright thread of orange in the dark.

"Is it weird for you to be here, in a house with 7 men who are lusting after your sister? Because thats what I am. I am your sister." Rikki states matter-of-factly.

The words land between them with the particular weight of something obvious that's never quite been said out loud before — your sister, said simply, like a fact that should anchor everything else around it. Choso goes very still for a second, firelight catching the line of his jaw, and then something in his chest moves — not surprise exactly, more like relief at being handed the honest version of the thing. He turns his head toward you fully, the way he rarely does in the villa when there are other people around to clock it.

🌙 call it a night

The fire has burned down to almost nothing by the time Rikki finally peels herself out of the chair, the night air cool enough now that the hoodie isn't just comfort — it's necessary. She pads back across the terrace toward the villa's sliding door, bare feet quiet on warm stone, and nearly walks straight into Toji Fushiguro standing in the hallway just inside the glass — leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, like he's been there long enough to get comfortable waiting. He doesn't look surprised to see her. He doesn't look like he's waiting for anything in particular, either. He just looks at her the way he has all evening — like he already said what needed saying, and the rest is just the space after.

Toji Fushiguro: "Choso find you?"

"OH! Yeah... " Rikki paused, confused. "You know he was looking for me? And... I thought you already went to bed?"