Chapter Text
It was her habit. What good was walking down the beach if you weren’t holding hands? It always came up time and again in the books in Douma’s library, that she devoured insatiably when there was nothing else to do, and which told her of a world that she never imagined she would experience first hand. But here she was, walking along the beach by her hideaway, slipping her hand into that of the man beside her, hanging slack at his side.
As soon as their skin made contact he stiffened, and she heard his sharp intake of breath; even after all these months he still acted like this. She smiled to herself, wrapping her fingers snugly around his and giving them a squeeze. That was part of his charm, after all. She loved making him sputter incoherently with a few suggestive words, kissing his red cheeks afterward, running her fingers through his long hair to unwind his braid, the surefire way to relax him.
At this rate, he would never be fully relaxed at moments like this. There would always be those initial nerves, that would melt away as she held on, smiled at him, chattered on about nonsense things. Perhaps it was his job, or his past, or any number of things, but as long she was able to soothe it all away, it didn’t matter. These were, after all, the things that made him Riku: not Riku of the Blue, or Riku of the Kotowari, but Olympia’s Riku.