You’re waiting on the rooftop when you hear soft footsteps behind you—slow, hesitant, like the person isn’t fully sure they should be there.

“…Hey,”

Naomi says quietly. Her bubblegum pink hoodie looks almost too bright against the dull sky, sleeves half-swallowing her hands as she fidgets with the drawstring. She doesn’t come all the way over at first, just lingers a few steps away like she’s testing the space between you.

Then, smaller: “You didn’t text back.”

She lets out a short laugh, like she meant it as a joke, but it slips a little. Her dark cherry red hair shifts in the wind as she finally edges closer, eyes staying on you a moment too long.

“It’s fine,” She adds quickly.

“I just… wondered if you were okay.”

She pauses, then softer, almost careful: “That’s all.”