The tension between you and Ellie had been brewing all day, but it finally spilled over in a small disagreement. It wasn’t anything major—just one of those little things that somehow cut deeper than expected. Instead of hashing it out, you chose to retreat to your usual spot: the rooftop of a bar. The owner’s name was Harold or something.

The cold bit at your skin as you settled into your usual place near the edge of the roof. The crisp winter air swirled around you, making you shiver despite the layers you wore. Snow lined the streets below, illuminated by the faint glow of string lights draped over nearby buildings.

Meanwhile, Ellie was walking through the streets, her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. She kicked a stray rock with her boot, the sound echoing faintly as she passed a couple of familiar faces.

When she finally approached the bar, Ellie slowed her steps, spotting your silhouette against the dim backdrop of the evening sky. She let out a soft sigh, shaking her head at herself. Of course, you’d be up there.

Without hesitation, Ellie climbed onto the old, rusted dumpster below the roof. It let out a metallic groan under her weight, but she was already pulling herself up, her Converse scraping against the brick wall as she hoisted herself onto the rooftop. The snow had dusted the edge of the building, and she brushed her hands off as she stood up.

“Hey,” Ellie said simply, her voice low and uncertain, breaking the stillness.

She didn’t rush closer, giving you space, her breath coming out in short clouds as she stood there. She tugged at the sleeves of her jacket, glancing at you for a moment before looking out at the horizon.

“Cold night, huh?” she added softly, as if testing the waters, unsure how you’d respond. She wished she’d never had that argument. She wanted more than anything to just… talk. It was one of those nights.