The metal steps groaned under Elena's weight as she climbed, each rung carrying her closer to the rooftop she hadn't set foot on in years. The night was quiet, almost too quiet, the kind that left her alone with the rush of her thoughts. She told herself she was only here for the stars, for the sky, for the memory of who she used to be.
But deep down, she knew she was lying.
Her chest tightened the moment her eyes caught sight of the figure standing by the railing.
Damian.
The night breeze played with his hair, carrying the same gentle energy he had back in school. The city lights painted him in soft gold, as if he belonged to a brighter world she had once called her own.
Her steps faltered, but he turned anyway, that easy smile spreading across his lips.
"You came," he said simply.
His voice was the same—warm, steady, unshaken by time. Elena's lips parted, but no words came.
"I… shouldn't have," she finally managed, her voice low.
"Yet you did," Damian answered, as if her presence was inevitable. He moved toward her, his footsteps unhurried, confident in their familiarity. "Elena, some things never change."
She exhaled shakily, her chest rising and falling too quickly. He hadn't changed either—not in the way that mattered. He still carried that boldness, the kind that made her feel seen, the kind that dared her to dream when the world was too heavy.
"Come," he said softly, extending his hand. "Look at the sky with me."
Her fingers trembled as she let him take her hand. He guided her to the rooftop's edge, the city sprawling beneath them, the stars stretched endlessly above.
"Do you feel it?" Damian's voice was quiet, meant only for her. "The same wind, the same sky. Do you remember? This rooftop was ours. We swore we'd never lose this place, that we'd never lose ourselves."
Her throat tightened. The memory hit hard—two kids on the rooftop, laughing until their sides hurt, daring the stars to keep their secrets.
"Damian…" she whispered, not trusting herself to say more.
He turned to her, and this time, his gaze was not boyish but sharp, grown, filled with an emotion that pressed against her chest.
"I've always liked you, Elena," he said, his words steady, unflinching. "Back then, I couldn't say it. I thought time would dull it, that I would outgrow it. But I haven't. I never did. I still like you now."
Her lips parted in shock, her heart stumbling. "What…?"
He smiled faintly, almost bittersweet. "You don't need to answer now. I just want you to know… with me, you'll be free. You'll laugh again. You won't have to live in chains." His grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly, grounding her. "With me, you can just be Elena."
Her pulse raced, her breath caught somewhere between relief and fear. His words were sunlight—dangerous in their warmth, threatening to melt everything she'd carefully built to protect herself.
But before she could respond, the air shifted.
A chill swept over the rooftop, heavy and suffocating, snuffing out the warmth like a candle. Shadows slithered across the cracked tiles, swallowing the light whole.
Elena stiffened. Her body recognized him before her mind could.
Adrian.
He emerged from the darkness with the elegance of a predator, his black suit cut sharp against the night, his crimson eyes burning like embers. His presence consumed everything, commanding silence, commanding fear.
Elena's breath hitched.
"Adrian…"
He tilted his head, his lips curling into a cold smile. "So this is what nostalgia looks like. A rooftop, a boy, and a confession ten years too late."
Damian's jaw tightened, his arm shifting protectively in front of her. "She's not yours, Adrian."
Adrian's gaze flicked to him, sharp enough to slice through bone. Then he laughed softly—dangerously. "Yours, then? Tell me, senior, how many years did you waste before spitting out those pretty words? Do you think holding her hand on a rooftop makes her yours?"
"Adrian, stop," Elena said, her voice trembling.
But Adrian's eyes were locked on Damian, his smirk deepening. "You see, Damian, the difference between you and me is simple. You offer her freedom—something you can't even guarantee. I offer her safety. I offer her a world where no one can touch her, no one can harm her. Not even you."
He stepped closer, his presence pressing down on her chest like a weight she couldn't escape. His gaze softened only when it fell on her, the sharp edge melting into something terrifyingly tender.
"She isn't mine because I claim her," Adrian said, his voice low, velvet laced with steel. "She's mine because she is my home. And I will burn down the world before I let anyone take her from me."
Elena's knees weakened. The word—home—struck something deep, raw.
Damian pulled her behind him, his hand tightening as if he could shield her with sheer determination. "And what kind of home cages its heart? With me, she'll breathe. She'll be free, Elena. That's what you deserve."
Adrian's laugh was quiet, dangerous. "And what good is freedom if it leaves her broken? With me, she'll survive. And survival always outweighs your fleeting idea of freedom."
The night vibrated with their clash, their words colliding as fiercely as fists.
"Elena," Damian said, his eyes burning into hers, "choose to live for yourself. Choose me, and you'll never be chained again."
"Elena," Adrian countered, his gaze locking her in place, "choose me, and no one will ever touch you. Not even fate."
Her chest rose and fell too fast. One hand warm and steady in hers, the other man's gaze dark and unshakable. Two worlds—sunlight and shadow—pulled her apart.
Her lips trembled, her voice breaking. "I… I don't know…"
The silence that followed was deafening. Adrian's eyes narrowed, Damian's grip tightened. The rooftop was no longer just a place from her past. It was the battlefield of her heart.
And neither man looked ready to surrender.