I stopped, frozen mid-step. Her words, "It's been a while?", drifted across the rooftop, but they weren't meant for me in the usual way. They sounded cautious, almost hesitant, like she was testing the air before committing to it.
She looked at me briefly, her gaze shifting quickly away as if she didn't want to hold my attention too long. Her hands twitched slightly in her lap, gripping the straps of her bag. There was something… odd about her posture, the way she carried herself: shy, careful, distant, yet weighted with a subtle worry I couldn't place.
"…I-I'm Takina," she said softly, barely above a whisper. Her voice wavered a little, uncertain, like she wasn't used to introducing herself to anyone up here, ever. She kept her eyes downcast for a moment, then flicked a quick glance at me, only to look away again almost immediately.
The name struck a chord somewhere deep in my mind. Takina… I thought of Tamaki this morning, when she had mentioned the name in passing. But was it really her? I couldn't be sure. I swallowed, keeping the thought locked away. I didn't want to risk being wrong.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out at first. She fidgeted slightly, her shoulders tensing as though she were preparing herself for rejection or sudden disappointment.
"I… didn't expect anyone else to be here," she murmured, her voice quiet, almost fragile. Her tone carried that distant, cautious quality, like she was observing me from behind a thin glass wall, present, but not fully allowing me in.
I stood there, unsure what to say, drawn to her yet hesitant. Her odd, careful demeanor made my usual thoughts feel heavier, slower, more tentative. She wasn't like Tamaki, and she wasn't like anyone I'd ever really noticed before.
And somehow… that made me want to know her more, even if I couldn't say why.
I stayed where I was, unsure if I should step closer. The silence stretched between us, but it didn't feel empty. It felt… careful, like we were both testing how much of ourselves we could reveal without breaking the fragile quiet.
Takina shifted slightly, hugging her bag a little tighter. She kept her eyes down, glancing at the clouds more often than at me. "I… I didn't mean to startle you," she murmured, almost apologetically. Her voice was soft, hesitant, like she was afraid of overstepping, even though I hadn't said anything.
"It's… fine," I said finally, my own voice low, unsure. It sounded stranger in my ears than it did in hers. I could feel the awkwardness, the weight of doing nothing yet saying something.
She nodded faintly, but didn't meet my eyes. I noticed her hands fidgeting slightly with the zipper of her bag. There was a quiet tension in the way she held herself, like she was waiting for something, anything, to go wrong if she moved too freely.
"I… um… were you sent out of class too?" I asked slowly, testing the waters, unsure if she would even answer.
Her head jerked up slightly, startled by the question, then she nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Y-yeah… I wasn't feeling well," she said. Her tone wavered, distant but tinged with worry, like admitting it aloud made her vulnerable. "But… I didn't… want to go to the nurse. I… I came up here instead."
The words were simple, but the way she said them, the pauses, the little catches in her voice, made them feel heavier than they should have. She wasn't seeking pity. She wasn't trying to make a point. She just… existed like that, quiet and careful.
I swallowed and tried to find something to say, some thread to reach her with, but all I could do was nod slightly. "Yeah… I came here too," I admitted softly. My voice felt small, like it didn't belong in the wide, quiet space of the rooftop.
She glanced at me then, briefly, just long enough for me to see the worry behind her eyes before she looked away again. Her hands twitched against the bag straps once more, and I noticed the faint line of tension in her shoulders.
For a long moment, we just sat there, side by side but not too close, each of us careful not to intrude on the other's fragile space. The wind brushed past us, carrying the quiet rustle of leaves from below, the distant chatter of students like faint echoes.
And somehow, in that careful, hesitant silence, it felt like the first real connection we'd made all day.
[Takina's POV]
I kept my eyes on the clouds, pretending I wasn't aware he was here. But I could feel him, the boy who had quietly appeared on the rooftop, and it made my chest tighten. I wasn't used to anyone else being here, not in this quiet spot that was just… mine.
My fingers twisted the straps of my bag without thinking. I hated how aware I was of him, how every small movement he made seemed to tug at something inside me. I wanted to look away, to hide, but part of me wanted to see him too.
"I… I didn't mean to startle you," I said softly, my voice trembling a little. I quickly looked back at the clouds, ashamed that he could hear how nervous I felt.
I wasn't sure if I should say more. I wanted to, I think. I wanted to break the silence, to make it less heavy between us. But at the same time… I didn't want to push him away or make this strange.
He nodded slightly, just enough to show he had heard me, and my chest tightened even more. Somehow, I felt like he understood, even if he didn't know why I was so… careful.
I shifted in my seat, hugging my bag a little closer. The wind tugged at my hair, and I let out a quiet breath. This was my safe place, my quiet corner of the world. And somehow, now that he was here… it felt different.
I didn't know his name yet. I didn't know much about him at all. And maybe that made me nervous, but it also made me want to understand him. I wanted to know why he had come here, too, even if I couldn't put it into words yet.
"Did… did you come up here because you weren't feeling well?" I asked, finally, my voice barely above a whisper. I kept my eyes on my hands, twisting the bag straps until my knuckles were pale.
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. I… didn't go to the nurse either." His voice sounded soft, careful, and it made me feel a little less alone, though I didn't want to admit it.
I swallowed. Part of me wanted to look at him, to see his face clearly, but I was too nervous. Too shy. I didn't want him to notice how my chest was beating, how my hands were trembling just slightly. Instead, I stared at the clouds again, tracing shapes that didn't exist.
"It's… nice, I guess, that someone else is here," I added after a pause. My words sounded strange even to me, like I wasn't sure if they were meant to be comforting or just… true. I didn't know if he would understand, or if I would just seem awkward.
He stayed quiet for a long moment, and I felt the tension in my shoulders ease a little. Maybe he didn't expect me to talk at all. Maybe he didn't even want me to. The thought should have made me feel rejected, but it didn't. Somehow, it felt… safe.
I dared to glance at him briefly. He wasn't looking at me directly either. His eyes were distant, like he was thinking about something else entirely. But there was a weight in his expression, something quiet and heavy, and it made me want to reach out, not physically, but somehow, with words, or with just my presence.
"I… I usually come here when I don't want to… be around people," I confessed softly. My voice trembled again, though less than before. "It's… It's my favorite spot. I… I like it because it's… quiet. And… it helps me think." I trailed off, embarrassed by how much I was saying, how much I was letting slip.
He turned his head just slightly, not fully looking at me, but I could feel the shift in his attention. I wondered if he understood. I wondered if he cared.
"I… don't know why you're here," I added, unsure why I even felt the need to say it. "Maybe… maybe it doesn't matter. But… I'm glad, I guess. That you're… here too." My words were soft, hesitant, laced with something I couldn't quite name. Relief? Nervousness? Something in between.
He shifted slightly in response. I could sense him leaning in, ever so slightly, though not enough to be intrusive. His presence was tentative, careful, and it made me feel… less alone. Not entirely safe, never entirely, but less alone.
The wind picked up a little, tugging at my hair again. I moved to brush it from my face and noticed him doing the same. I wondered if he was even aware, if he felt the same strange mixture of curiosity and caution I did.
We stayed like that for a while. Side by side, close enough to sense each other's presence, but far enough to keep our safe distance. I didn't know what to say next. I didn't know if I wanted to say anything.
And yet… I felt something strange and new, like maybe this quiet boy, this strange, distant presence, could be… someone I might want to know. Someone I might not have to keep so far away.
I let out a quiet breath, leaning back slightly, still hugging my bag. The clouds drifted overhead, slow and silent, and for a moment, I forgot about the classroom, the headaches, the noise of the world below. For a moment, it was just me, and him, and the quiet rooftop. And that… felt… good.
I watched him out of the corner of my eye, noticing the way his shoulders slumped just slightly, how his eyelids flickered and drooped. The wind shifted, brushing softly against his hair, and the sunlight dimmed as the clouds rolled over the sun. The world seemed quieter all at once, the edges of the rooftop softening in the gentle shadow.
He let out a quiet sigh, barely audible, and then his body relaxed further. I could see his head tilt just a little, the tension in his jaw softening. My heart thumped strangely, a mixture of curiosity and something I didn't quite understand. He was so… fragile right now, like he was carrying more than he could hold, and it was slipping out in the form of this unguarded sleep.
I wasn't sure what to do. I wanted to speak, to say something gentle, to anchor him back to the present, but my voice caught in my throat. Instead, I stayed still, my hands clutching my bag, unsure whether moving closer would be comforting or intrusive.
The clouds overhead shifted again, and the sunlight dimmed even more. Shadows stretched across the rooftop, turning the world softer, gentler. He shifted slightly in his sleep, and I could see the faint line of worry in his brow fade, replaced by that fleeting, calm expression people sometimes wore when they were truly alone with themselves.
I took a shallow breath and forced myself to stay quiet. I didn't want to disturb him. For once, someone else seemed to understand the peace of this place, even if only unknowingly. My fingers kept twisting the bag straps, my heart quietly hoping he could rest here for just a little while.
I noticed how his chest rose and fell steadily now, slower than before. His hair fell across his forehead, catching the faint light that filtered through the clouds. I couldn't look away, though I tried, pretending to watch the clouds instead. Part of me wanted to reach out, brush the hair away, offer some small comfort, but I didn't. That would be too much, too soon.
So I just sat there, silent and careful, letting the sun hide behind the clouds, letting the quiet wrap around us. I listened to the distant sounds of school, the faint chatter of students, the rustle of leaves, and it all felt muted, like a soft song playing behind a veil.
For a while, I just stayed like that, watching him sleep, feeling a strange mix of relief and worry. Relief that he could rest, even for a moment, and worry that the world would eventually pull him back from this fragile peace.
I didn't move. I didn't speak. I didn't do anything but breathe, quietly, and feel the gentle rhythm of him beside me. And in that small, muted moment, with the sun hidden and the clouds drifting slowly above, I realized… maybe this rooftop, this strange, quiet space, wasn't mine alone anymore.
But I didn't want it to be loud. I didn't want it to feel forced. I just wanted it to be shared, like this, soft and careful, where even silence could carry something true.
And so I stayed.