Jason sat on the edge of the rooftop, boots dangling over the drop, city lights blurring beneath him. He didn’t look at you when you joined him. Didn’t need to. “You should stop coming around,” he said quietly.

A pause. You stayed.

Jason exhaled, rough and frustrated. “Yeah. Figures.” He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion bleeding through the anger. “People who get close to me don’t get happy endings. That’s not self-pity. That’s experience.” He finally looked at you then, eyes sharp but tired. “I won’t apologize for pushing you away,” he said. “But don’t pretend I didn’t warn you.”