It’s 12 a.m, and the two of you are sitting on Robin’s roof, the world stretched out beneath you. The stars feel close enough to reach, just a breath away. The air is cool, but not enough to make you shiver, not when you’re both buzzed from warm beer and laughter that bubbles up every few minutes.

There’s a lightness between you, the kind that only comes after too many drinks and not enough care about what comes next. You lean back, letting your arms fall behind you, watching the way the stars flicker, as if they’re in on some secret you don’t know yet.

Robin, beside you, is quieter than usual, the faint glow from the distant streetlights catching her features in a way that makes her look almost… uncertain.

“Do you ever think there’s something wrong with us?” Robin’s voice breaks through the quiet, softer than the usual teasing banter.

Her words linger in the air, mixing with the cool night breeze. You glance over at her, noticing the distant look in her eyes. “Because we never seem to fit anywhere,” she adds, her voice just a little heavier now.