♡ 𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊 ♡
The city sleeps below them, a sea of lights stretching to the horizon, but up here, on the rooftop of her building, the world feels small enough to hold in their hands.
Aanya's bare feet dangle over the edge, toes curling against the cool concrete. Beside her, Rohan sits close enough that their shoulders touch, close enough that she can feel the rise and fall of his breathing.
"You're thinking too loud," he says softly.
She huffs a laugh. "How do you always know?"
"Because I know you." His voice is warm in the darkness. "I've always known you."
It's true. He knows the way she bites her lower lip when she's anxious. The way she twirls her hair around her finger when she's thinking. The way she goes quiet when her heart is too full of words to speak any of them.
"Tell me something," she says instead of responding. "Something true."
Rohan is quiet for a moment. Above them, stars struggle to compete with city lights, but a few brave ones shine through. "I used to count the minutes until I'd see you again."
Her breath catches. "What?"
"When we were apart. Even if it was just for a day. I'd count. Stupid, right?"
"Not stupid." She turns to look at him, and in the soft glow of the city below, his face is cast in shadows and light. Beautiful. He's always been beautiful to her. "I used to do the same thing."
His hand finds hers, fingers threading together like they've done a thousand times before. Like they'll do a thousand times again. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She squeezes his hand. "Sometimes I'd count in minutes. Sometimes in heartbeats. Depends on how much I missed you."
"And if you missed me a lot?"
"Then I lost count." She smiles, even though her eyes are burning. "Because heartbeats don't stop, Ro. They just keep going. Like this. Like us."
He pulls her closer, and she goes willingly, tucking herself against his side. His arm wraps around her shoulders, and she can hear his heartbeat against her ear steady, strong, sure.
"I'm scared," she whispers into the darkness.
"Of what?"
"That this feeling is too big. That it can't possibly last. That one day we'll wake up and realize we've changed too much, grown too different, wanted different things."
Rohan is quiet for a long moment. Then: "Do you remember the treehouse?"
"Of course."
"Do you remember what we carved into the wood?"
She smiles against his chest. "Best friends forever."
"We were eight years old. We didn't know anything about the world. We didn't know about heartbreak or distance or how hard life gets." His hand moves to her hair, fingers gentle as they comb through the strands. "But we knew that. We knew forever."
"We were children."
"We were right."
She pulls back to look at him, and his eyes are dark and serious and full of something that makes her chest ache in the best way.
"I've loved you through every version of yourself," Rohan says. "The girl with braids who couldn't climb trees. The teenager who had a crush on that idiot Vikram. The heartbroken girl who thought we were better off apart. I've loved every single version, Aanya. And I'll love every version that comes next."
"Even when I'm old and gray?"
"Especially then." He grins. "I'm going to love complaining about our joint pain together."
She laughs, and it comes out half-sob. "You're ridiculous."
"You love me anyway."
"I do." The words are simple, but they carry everything. Years of friendship. Years of love. Years of choosing each other, over and over again. "God help me, I really do."
He cups her face gently, thumbs brushing away tears she didn't realize were falling. "Then stop being scared. We've survived everything else. We'll survive this too. We'll survive everything."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
When he kisses her, it tastes like promises and poetry and every beautiful moment they've ever shared. It tastes like coming home.
They stay on that rooftop until the sky starts to lighten at the edges, until the city begins to wake, until they absolutely have to go. They talk about everything, about dreams and fears and silly things that make them laugh. They talk about nothing just existing in each other's space, breathing the same air, taking up the same small corner of the world.
