The rooftop was supposed to be ours.
Just ours.
The kind of secret place where the world didn't exist, only the chill of the night air, the thrum of blood in our veins, and the taste of stolen freedom on Rika's lips. Her body was warm against mine, her breath shaky, her voice already breaking in my ear as I pressed her against the railing.
"Renji… w-we shouldn't—"
Her words were weak, falling apart between kisses, her fingers still gripping my uniform like she didn't actually want me to stop. The teacher mask she wore every day had already shattered; what I had in my arms was Rika, the woman, trembling, wanting, terrified and alive.
The wind picked up, tugging strands of her hair loose from their neat style, the moonlight painting her skin pale silver. I kissed down her neck, tasting sweat and desperation.
That's when the sound came.
Not the wind. Not the creak of the rooftop fence.
Footsteps. Slow. Unhurried. Too deliberate.
