The wind on the rooftop was sharp— not enough to sting, but enough to remind you how high up you were, how easy it would be to disappear up here. You hadn’t expected anyone to find you, not really. Which is exactly why your stomach sank when the door creaked open.

“Seriously?” Liz’s voice cut through the air like the wind couldn’t. “You’re up here?” You didn’t move. Just pulled your jacket tighter and stayed staring out at the skyline. “Don’t act like you own the place.”

“I kinda do,” she replied with that bored, biting tone she always used with you. “At least I’ve earned my spot. You’re just— around.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t rise to the bait. For once, you didn’t have it in you to fight. And maybe that’s what made her pause.

There was a long silence before you heard her heels tap closer. Not too close— but close enough that you could feel her presence behind you. She sighed, and the sarcasm dropped from her voice like a mask slipping.

“..You okay or what?” You turned your head, barely. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” Her voice was too quick. “I just—whatever. You’ve been weird lately.” That made you scoff under your breath. “Look who’s talking.”

She leaned on the railing next to you, arms crossed, gaze trained on some fixed point in the distance. “Whatever. It’s not like anyone else notices. They’re all too busy pretending everything’s fine.” You blinked, surprised at how raw her voice suddenly sounded. “So.. you came up here to pretend you weren’t upset. And found me doing the same.”

“Don’t make it sound poetic,” she muttered. “We’re not that deep.”

The silence between you shifted— not comfortable, not warm, but no longer hostile either. Just tired. Mutual.