Mending

The rooftop was cold, the wind sharp against their skin, but none of them seemed to care. The three of them sat in a loose triangle, snacks scattered between them like tiny offerings to the silence they shared.

Aren's legs were crossed, her hands resting on her knees, eyes trained on the horizon. The usual sharpness in her expression had dulled to something quieter, something too tired to hide. Whatever weight she carried, she wasn't trying to hold it up right now - not in front of them.

Caelis sat with his back against the metal railing, his hoodie pulled over his head, the faint crinkle of a chip bag filling the space between words they weren't ready to say. His ankle bounced, restless energy trapped in a body that didn't know where to put it.

Mirei sat closest to the edge, her fingers curled around a can of warm tea, the metal seeping heat into her hands. Her sleeve slipped back just enough to show the faint indent of red yarn around her fingers, the mark still fresh. She didn't hide it, not here.

No one asked why they were there. No one needed to.

They were just... there.

Three people whose seams had frayed, whose knots had slipped loose, whose threads tangled and broke too many times to count. Three people who had tried, failed, and were still sitting here, quietly sifting through the mess they'd made of themselves.

Aren broke the silence first, her voice softer than usual, but still carrying that edge - the one that always made Mirei sit up a little straighter.

"Do you think," she said, "some things just... aren't meant to go back to the way they were?"

Neither of them answered right away.

Mirei stared down at the court below, her gaze settling on the faint glow of the streetlights reflecting off the pavement. There was a figure there - someone still moving, long after everyone else had gone home.

Gale.

He stood at the edge of the court, one hand holding a basketball, the other tucked into his pocket. He wasn't playing - not really. Just standing there, occasionally bouncing the ball against the ground like he was waiting for something. Or someone.

Mirei's fingers tightened around her can, the metal bending slightly under the pressure.

Maybe Aren was right.

Maybe some things weren't meant to be stitched back together. Maybe some threads were too worn down, too frayed at the edges, to be anything but reminders of what used to be.

But even so - even with the ache sitting heavy in her chest, even with the way Gale had looked past her like she was nothing - Mirei couldn't completely let it go.

Because some part of her still remembered the red yarn necklace, the stupid doodles in the margins of their notebooks, the way it felt to be seen.

She didn't know if that was love, or longing, or just the kind of grief you carry when someone shaped you so deeply you forgot where they ended and you began.

But it was hers. And maybe, that was enough.

Caelis crumpled his chip bag, tossing it into the pile between them. "Let's not do this," he said, voice light but not unkind. "Let's just sit here and eat garbage food until we forget why we're upset."

Aren huffed a quiet laugh, and for a second, it almost felt normal.

Mirei didn't laugh, but she smiled - small and tired, but real.

The wind picked up again, tugging at their hair, their sleeves, the edges of everything they were too afraid to say.

They stayed like that until the sky turned dark, three loose ends trying to weave themselves into something whole.

And below them, on the empty court, Gale stood alone, still waiting for someone who wouldn't come.