It wasn’t planned.

You were just talking—quietly, late at night, on the dorm rooftop where the wind carried the scent of autumn and the city lights blinked like distant stars. Shinjiro had joined you without a word, sitting beside you with his usual silence, the kind that felt more like presence than absence.

You’d said something—soft, honest, maybe too honest.

He’d looked at you. Really looked.

And for once, he didn’t look away.

The space between you felt thinner than air. His hand brushed yours, not by accident. His eyes dropped to your lips, then back up, and you knew.

You leaned in. So did he.

Breath mingling. Hearts racing. The world narrowing to this one fragile, impossible moment.

But just before your lips met—

He pulled back. Fast. Too fast.

You blinked, stunned, the warmth of him still lingering in the space between you.

“I can’t,” he said, voice low and rough.

You reached for him. “Shinjiro—”

He stood, backing away like the rooftop had turned dangerous. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I do.”

He shook his head. “You think you do.”

You stepped forward. “Then tell me why you won’t.”

He looked at you, eyes full of something that hurt to see—longing, fear, guilt, all tangled together.

“Because if I kiss you,” he whispered, “I won’t be able to leave.”

And then he did.

Left you standing there, heart half-broken, lips untouched, under a sky that suddenly felt too wide.