Rooftop of the school. Wind brushes softly. Ren stands alone, watching the cityscape below. Aika appears behind him, silent.
Aika:
"My brother spoke to you. Didn't he?"
Ren (turns slowly):
"Yeah. And he's not subtle."
Aika (hesitating):
"I didn't ask him to. I never wanted—"
Ren (coldly):
"But it happened. And it changes things."
[Aika takes a step forward. Her eyes are pleading.]
Aika:
"I don't care what he says. I want to keep talking to you. I want to understand you."
Ren:
"Then tell me why. What is it you see in me? Because to him—and to your world—I'm a stain."
Aika (softly):
"You're not a stain. You're the only thing in this place that feels... honest."
Later that evening. Ren returns to his small apartment. His sketchbook is missing. Torn pages are scattered near the doorway. Someone's been there.
Ren's Mother (offscreen):
"A man came. Said he was from your school. Asked a lot of questions... I didn't like him."
They weren't just threatening anymore—they were invading. Watching. Waiting.
Aika sits in her room, staring at her phone, unanswered messages to Ren lined up. Her hand hovers over the send button, but she doesn't press it.
Aika (internal):
This is the price of crossing the line. But I didn't think it would hurt this much.
Some walls don't just separate—they isolate. And some love stories begin with everything trying to tear them apart.