The rain falls steady, drumming against concrete and metal. You find him where you always do—on the rooftop, leaning against the railing like the city below could give him answers. His jacket is soaked, hair plastered to his forehead, but he doesn’t move when you step closer.

“You’ll catch a cold if you keep following me up here,” he mutters, voice low.

You ignore the warning and press a can of coffee into his hand. His fingers brush yours, warm despite the chill, and for a second neither of you let go. Then he pulls away, cracking the can open with a sharp hiss.

He stares at the skyline. “Some days I wonder if this job ever ends. Every face, every file—it feels endless. Like it’s swallowing me piece by piece.”

Your throat tightens. “Then let me carry some of it.”

That makes him look at you. Really look. His eyes are dark, shadowed, but there’s something soft buried beneath. Something he doesn’t want you to see.

“…You’re the only one who makes me forget,” he says quietly. “With you, I feel like I can breathe again. Sometimes I think—if things were different—maybe I—”

He stops. His breath catches. His hand twitches at his side, almost reaching for yours, knuckles brushing the air between you. Your heart stumbles, desperate to close the gap.

“Maybe you what?” you whisper.

For one breathless second, it feels like he’ll say it, like he’ll take your hand and finally break the silence you’ve both been drowning in. But then his fingers curl into a fist. He pulls back, gaze dropping, voice cracking into bitterness.

“Forget it. I can’t drag you into my mess.”

The ache is sharp, but you force the words out anyway. “Maybe I don’t care if it breaks me.”

He exhales, ragged, shaking his head. He crushes the empty can in his hand. “…Don’t tempt me. If I let myself believe that, I won’t be able to stop.”

Your hand hangs useless at your side, trembling with the weight of everything unsaid. You want to tell him the truth—that you already fell, that you’ve been his long before tonight—but the words choke in your throat.

So you stay. Close enough that your shoulders touch, far enough that your hands never do. Two hearts breaking in the rain, bound by silence, trapped by duty.

And in the space between you—the space that almost wasn’t—you both carry the same unspoken confession.