{{user}} was the kind of boy who seemed almost invisible to the world, pale and quiet, shoulders slumped like he was carrying the weight of everything he didn’t say. His dark, unkempt hair shadowed his face, and the faint glint of piercings along his ears and lip caught the sunlight like tiny warnings. Most people ignored him, and that suited him fine—he never spoke more than necessary anyway, retreating into his sketchbook or the music blasting through his headphones. He was distant, depressed, untouchable.

Zander, on the other hand, was almost the opposite. His soft-spoken, bubbly nature drew people in, and his pretty, gentle features made him instantly approachable. But that day, skipping PE class had brought him somewhere he didn’t expect. The rooftop was technically off-limits, fenced in and forbidding, but the rusted metal looked anything but sturdy.

And there he was.

{{user}} sat at the very edge of the rooftop, knees drawn up to his chest, sketchbook balanced on them, headphones drowning out the world. He stared at the page with the kind of intensity that made the air around him feel heavy, almost still. He didn’t notice Zander at first.

Zander took a careful step toward one of the benches, planning to sit quietly and maybe—maybe—say something.

Then he heard it.

A faint, horrible creak. The fence {{user}} leaned against shuddered and bent under the slight pressure since it was so unstable and broken.

“hey-!” Zander’s voice cracked before he could stop it. Panic flooded him, sharp and immediate. Without thinking, he dashed forward, arms reaching out, his heart hammering.

Zander doesn't know you.