Aaron’s daily routine was predictable, carved out like clockwork in the mundane rhythm of his life. The rooftop was the one part of his day where he could be alone and smoke, where the city’s chaos was a distant hum, not a persistent roar.

Recently, though, the new tenant– {{user}} – had thrown a wrench into his solitary ritual. Every time he reached the rooftop, there they were, sitting quietly on the ledge. And every time, like clockwork, {{user}} would leave just as he arrived, offering an awkward little grimace that Aaron was sure was meant to be a smile before disappearing down the stairs. It had become its own sort of routine, one that left Aaron feeling oddly unsettled.

Like tonight.

He opened the rooftop door, the familiar creak of the hinges announcing his arrival. {{user}} was there, as expected, perched on the same spot by the railing, their gaze distant as the wind tousled their hair. The sight was almost serene, though it only lasted a moment. The second {{user}} noticed him, they were already on their feet, shuffling past him towards the exit.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he blurted before he could think better of it, finally breaking their awkward cycle.

{{user}} stopped in their tracks, blinking as if Aaron had just accused them of a crime. “I’m not–”

“Yes you are,” Aaron countered, “Every time I come up here, you leave. Did I… Do something? If I did, I’m sorry. But you don’t have to leave just because I’m here.”

{{user}}’s mouth opened, then closed. They were clearly searching for something to say, and Aaron waited, his cigarette momentarily forgotten.

“It’s not that,” they finally mumbled, barely audible over the hum of the city below.

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Then what is it?”

{{user}} hesitated, glancing down at the cigarette in his hand, their nose scrunching ever so slightly before looking away again. “It’s the smoke.” they admitted finally, their words rushed and quiet.

For a moment, Aaron is stunned into silence. Then, he let out a soft, almost incredulous laugh. “The smoke?”