twenty

The bass thumped through the rooftop like a second heartbeat. Neon lights looped lazily overhead, casting pink and violet streaks across the evening fog. 

The rooftop party was already packed, students pressed shoulder to shoulder, clutching cheap drinks, shouting over each other, laughter echoing off the concrete.

Y/N stood near the edge, her cup untouched in her hand, the cold from it numbing her fingers. She wasn't quite in the mood, but Jisoo had dragged her here anyway, promising it would help her "shake off the post-flu gloom."

"You can't rot in your room forever," Jisoo had said. "You're not a cryptid."

Now, Jisoo was somewhere on the other side of the crowd, flirting with a graphic design major who couldn't stop adjusting his round glasses. Y/N watched them for a moment, then turned back to the skyline.

The city glittered below, distant, hazy, indifferent.

"Didn't think I'd see you here," came a voice, quiet but close.

Y/N stiffened before turning.

Seong-je stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, hood down. The neon lights caught in his hair, streaking it rose and blue like watercolor. His eyes, always too dark and too open, held that same unreadable quiet that used to undo her.

"I almost didn't come," she admitted.

"You look better," he said. "Health-wise."

She nodded, avoiding his gaze. "Still tired."

An awkward pause settled between them.

He leaned his elbows on the railing beside her, a careful distance apart.

"Jisoo guilted you into it?" he asked.

Y/N almost smiled. "Obviously."

Another beat of silence.

Below them, someone popped open a can too aggressively. The hiss echoed through the air. Somewhere behind them, someone was singing off-key to a Weeknd song.

Y/N took a small sip from her cup. Her throat still burned faintly, but the cold air helped.

"Didn't think parties were your thing anymore," she said after a moment.

"They're not," Seong-je replied. "But I figured if you were here..."

"You came for me?" she asked, half-teasing, half-tired.

He shrugged one shoulder, not denying it.

She glanced over at him. His profile was sharp against the skyline, lashes dark against his cheekbones, lips pressed in that faintly frowning line he wore when he was thinking too much.

This was dangerous. Standing this close to him. Remembering the way it used to feel.

She looked away again. "You shouldn't."

"I know," he said quietly.

The music shifted, something slower threading through the air now. A synthy cover of an old pop song. The crowd began to sway lazily, the chaos mellowing into low-lit rhythm.

Y/N exhaled. The cold wind lifted strands of her hair, brushing them across her cheek.

"You cold?" Seong-je asked.

"No."

But she was. A little.

He didn't offer his hoodie. He didn't move closer. But his presence beside her burned warm anyway, steady, infuriating, familiar.

He had always been like that. Heat you didn't want but couldn't help leaning into.

Behind them, someone tripped over a crate and cursed loudly. The sound startled a laugh out of her. Soft. Almost real.

Seong-je smiled faintly at the sound.

"You used to laugh more," he said.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. "I was younger then."

"You were happier."

Her smile faded. She didn't answer.

He didn't press her. Just looked out at the city with that same haunted stillness.

A couple nearby whispered drunkenly, then stumbled down the stairs together, giggling into each other's necks. Someone else lit a cigarette, the scent curling sharply into the air.

"Why'd you come, really?" she asked finally.

"I told you," he said. "You were here."

"That's not a reason."

He looked at her, and for a second, the shield cracked.

"Because I wanted to see you."

Her breath caught.

"Even when I shouldn't," he added, softer.

Y/N looked away fast. "Don't do that."

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are," she said, sharper now. "You're doing the thing where you sound like you mean it, and it's not fair."

Seong-je looked down. His hand curled around the edge of the railing.

"I'm not trying to make it fair," he said. "Nothing between us ever was."

That silenced her.

The music shifted again, a girl's voice crooning into the night sky. The rooftop glowed violet now, like a bruise.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked quietly.

Y/N hesitated.

Her head said yes.

Her heart...

"No," she said. "Just... don't say things you don't mean."

"I haven't lied to you once tonight."

She believed that. And maybe that's what made it worse.

"I should go back to Jisoo," she murmured.

He nodded. "Yeah."

But neither of them moved.

For one long, suspended moment, she let herself look at him. Really look. And what she saw wasn't just the boy who'd left. It was the boy who'd stayed up all night at her bedside. The one who knew her favorite soup. The one who remembered how she used to laugh.

Maybe that's what scared her more.

"I'll see you around," she said.

He didn't say goodbye.

She didn't look back.

But all the way down the stairs, she felt the weight of his eyes on her. Heavy, warm, and far too close to the part of her that still remembered how it felt to be his.