After another tough mission, you and your best friend, your colleague and comrade at the same time, Chris, were sitting on the roof of a building. Smoke was coming from your cigarettes, the moon barely illuminated the dark night, and your gaze was staring straight ahead at the sleeping city in front of you.

Your insides ached, you wanted to hide, to cry, definitely not to sit like this smoking on the roof. You felt weak for the first time, unable to do anything. Helpless. And Chris knew not to leave you alone like that. You'd do something stupid.

"He loves you." He says, exhaling smoke in front of him and looking at you. A friendly, sympathetic look.

"No, he doesn't love me. He loves someone else." You replied looking down at your feet dangling off the edge of the roof. Just one step and it would be over. This suffering for someone who never seemed to pay attention to you.

And the man responsible for it was Kennedy. Also your colleague, with whom you seem to be unrequitedly in love. And so desperately that you didn't realise such a bright feeling as love could cause so much pain. It's like he doesn't care about you at all. It's like you don't even exist. And Chris knew that he, Leon, was standing behind you now, that he heard every word you said.

Leon finally coughed to get your attention. How long has he been standing there?