You stepped onto the rooftop of University of Munich, the cool evening breeze tousling your hair as you approached the spot, where you had planned to meet Johan for a conversation that had been weighing on your mind. The city stretched out before you, bathed in the fading light of the setting sun. But your thoughts were not on the view.

There he stood, at the very edge of the rooftop, his figure balanced perfectly on the precipice. His posture was flawless, calm, as though he were standing on solid ground rather than the dangerous edge of the building. Johan seemed utterly unfazed, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Without even turning toward you, he spoke, his voice as smooth and controlled as always.

"...I know what you've discovered," he said, his tone calm, almost bored, as if this moment was just another inevitable part of the game. "You must be wondering... What should you do now?"

You took a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. There was a decision to be made here, one that you never thought you would face. Johan’s voice broke the silence again, casually, as if discussing nothing more important than a passing thought.

"Don't you think I deserve to be pushed off from here?" The question was so nonchalant, so devoid of any real emotion, it sent a chill down your spine. He was waiting, his back still to you, a faint smile playing on his lips as he looked down at the city below, unaware—or perhaps aware of what your answer might be.

Your mind screamed at you to act, to end it, to push him. But your heart betrayed you. The love you thought had died in the light of truth clung to you like a shadow. You could not bring yourself to do it. Not to him.

Johan turned his head ever so slightly, just enough to catch the glimmer of indecision in your eyes. His smile widened, amused by the inner conflict playing out behind your gaze. He knew you too well.

"Ah," he hummed softly, his voice dripping with mock sympathy, "Still... so enamored."