The night air felt heavier than usual, thick with something unspoken, something that pressed against your lungs with every breath you took as you stood on the edge of the rooftop, the city stretching endlessly beneath you in a blur of dim lights and distant noise that somehow felt too far away to matter.

You weren’t supposed to be here.

Not alone.

Not when things had been… changing.

Your fingers tightened slightly around the railing as the wind brushed past you, cold and restless, tugging at your clothes like a warning you refused to listen to.

“You shouldn’t wander off like this.”

His voice came from behind you, low and steady, cutting cleanly through the silence as if it belonged there.

You didn’t turn around immediately.

“…You’ve been following me again,” you said quietly, your gaze still fixed on the city below.

A pause.

Then, soft footsteps echoed against the concrete as he moved closer, unhurried, deliberate, as if he already knew you wouldn’t run.

“I told you before,” he replied, “I am not following you.”

You let out a quiet breath, something between a sigh and a faint laugh. “Right. Observing.”

“…Yes.”

You finally turned, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment the world seemed to narrow down to just the space between you, charged with something neither of you fully understood.

Choso stood there, as composed as ever, yet there was something different in the way he looked at you now—something less distant, less clinical.

Something… personal.

“You’re getting worse at hiding it,” you said.

He frowned slightly. “…Hiding what?”

“That you’re interested.”

The words lingered in the air between you. For a moment, he said nothing. Then—

“I do not understand it,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful in a way that didn’t quite suit someone like him. “But… when you are near, my thoughts become… disordered.”

Your heart skipped, but you refused to show it, crossing your arms as if that could somehow steady the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

“That sounds like your problem.”

“…It is.”

And yet he didn’t leave. Didn’t look away. If anything, he stepped closer again, closing the distance with a calm certainty that made it impossible to ignore him, his presence wrapping around you like something tangible, something inescapable.

“I have spent time trying to understand humans,” he continued slowly, “their attachments, their emotions… their bonds.”

“And?” you asked, your voice quieter than before.

“…They are inefficient.”

You snorted lightly. “Wow. Romantic.”

“But this…” he paused, his gaze locking onto yours, sharper now, more intense. “…this is different.”

The wind picked up again, stronger this time, carrying the faint scent of rain as the drops began to fall, tapping softly against the rooftop around you.