CHAPTER SIX – Rooftop Strangers
Aurielle
My head was full of words I wasn't supposed to hear.
"Aleron… isn't stable."
"She's not ready to bear it."
"Bonded to the priest—"
I didn't wait to hear the rest.
My lungs weren't working properly by the time I reached the stairs. I needed space. Air. A place where the walls weren't listening and the weight of everyone's expectations wasn't caving in around my ribs.
So I did what any mentally stable girl on the verge of combusting would do:
I climbed all the way to the roof.
The wind hit me hard—sharp, cold, biting through my jacket like it had something to prove. But the moment I stepped out, it was like the sky itself exhaled with me.
And then I saw him.
Someone was already up there, sitting on the ledge like he had a death wish and a playlist called Brooding Volume 3.
He was tall. Built. Wrapped in black like he'd been born in shadow. One leg dangled over the edge, the other bent up with his arm lazily draped across it. He didn't move when I walked out. Didn't even glance at me.
I froze for a second, unsure if I should retreat and let him vibe in peace.
Then he looked up.
And holy hell.
Jawline: dangerous.
Eyes: dark, quiet storms.
Face: sculpted like someone owed the universe a favor.
And that mouth? Arrogant by design. He was the kind of guy girls either fell in love with or fell into ruin for. Probably both.
Still, he didn't look familiar.
Definitely not from my classes.
I cleared my throat. "Is this your brooding spot? Or do you share?"
His eyes narrowed slightly. "You're not supposed to be here."
"Neither are you."
A pause.
Then he smirked. Just barely. "Guess we're both bad at following rules."
I walked over, dropped my bag, and sat on the opposite end of the ledge, keeping at least five feet of 'don't-murder-me' space between us.
He watched me like I was a puzzle he didn't care to solve.
> "You always come up here to stare into the void?" I asked.
> "Sometimes the void's quieter than people."
> "Wow. Deep. Did you get that off a cursed coffee mug?"
He snorted once. Almost a laugh. Almost.
Silence stretched. The wind picked up. The cold bit at my skin, but I stayed still.
"Rough day?" he asked, voice lower now.
"Just found out I might be mentally bonded to a possibly feral priest or someone else is bonded and somehow I'm involved god what am I say?" I sigh Tugging a stand of hair behind my ear." Well fuck it.... I don't understand the details yet," I replied sweetly. "You?"
He stepped down.He leaned back on his palms. "Punched a hole in a locker."
I blinked. "Was the locker asking for it?"
His mouth twitched. "It looked at me wrong."
"Oh, charming. You're definitely on my wedding list now."
He glanced sideways. "Do you always talk this much?"
"Do you always scowl this much?"
"I don't scowl."
"You're literally doing it right now."
Another beat of silence.
Then—
> "You're loud," he said, but not cruelly.
> " Well you're a walking anger issue," I replied. "We all have our things."
That earned me a real laugh. Quiet, sharp. And something in me relaxed just a little.
It hit me then—not attraction. Not yet. But recognition.
We were both… misfit pieces in this perfect little academy puzzle.
And somehow, in that moment, I didn't feel as alone.
He stared out at the horizon, jaw clenched, eyes unreadable.
"I don't like people touching my stuff," he said suddenly.
Silence.
"Cool," I said finally. "I wasn't planning to borrow your hoodie."
"No," he muttered, "I mean… if you're gonna be around. Don't get in my way."
I tilted my head. "Is that your way of saying 'nice to meet you'?"
His eyes met mine.
> "No. It's my way of saying don't screw with me."
I stood up slowly, brushing dust off my skirt. "Got it. Stay out of your way, don't touch your stuff, and ignore the fact you sit on rooftops like a Disney villain on break."
He didn't respond. Just leaned back against the stone and closed his eyes.
Silence.
"Didn't think anyone else came up here," I said, just to break the silence.
He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't think anyone else needed to."
"I needed to not scream in public," I say my eyes travelling to the distance. "This place seemed safe for that."
"Guess we're both running from something."
I looked back at him, arms crossed. "Or toward it."
A small huff escaped him—might've been a laugh, might've been a scoff again I can't tell.
He didn't say anything else, just went back to staring at the skyline like it owed him an apology.
I sat down, tucking my knees to my chest, stealing glances at him while pretending I wasn't.
There was something… familiar about his energy. Unstable in the way forest fires were unstable. But his face? Still drawing blanks.
And then I remembered something Luna said earlier while listing her "Forbidden Crush Watchlist":
"Big. Brooding. Eyes like betrayal and cigarettes. Expelled from his last school for slamming a guy's head into a locker. Cassian. Dangerous but sexy."
I squinted. The brooding? Check.
Eyes? Yep. Definitely betrayal.
Connection to Lockers ? Check.
He must be from a powerful family,
But the face? Didn't look familiar.
Of course he doesn't, he's new, and it's not like I attend every social gathering, the etiquette and grace was not for me.
I sighed and leaned my head back, staring up at the bruised sky.
"Is this your personal trauma zone?" I asked after a minute.
He turned his head slightly toward me. "What?"
"You know," I waved vaguely, "your go-to rooftop for processing violence and childhood issues."
He smirked, just a little. "You always this nosy?"
"Just saying, but you always this dramatic?"
His eyes glinted. "Only when girls barge into my silence with questions and assumptions."
"Well, congratulations. You've just met your first interruption of the day."
Another pause. Wind whistled past us.
Then he said, "You're not as annoying as you try to be"
"Thanks," I said dryly. "You're almost tolerable too."
I stood up, brushing invisible dust from my pants.
He watched me, more curious now than guarded.
I started to walk off when he spoke again.
"Hey."
I paused.
He stood, not aggressively—just… there. A little closer now. His expression unreadable.
"You got a name?" he asked.
I raised a brow. "Why? Planning to write poetry about me?"
"No," he said simply. "Just like to know who shares my rooftop."
There was something weirdly honest in that. Not flirty. Not fake. Just… straightforward.
"Aurielle," I said.
He nodded once. "Cassian."
My stomach dipped. So Luna was right.
Cassian.
It fit him too well.
I didn't say anything else—just turned and walked away, pulse a little too loud in my ears.
But the whole way down the stairs, his name stayed in my head like a rhythm I couldn't shake.
Cassian.
As I turned to leave, he spoke one last time.
> "You're not what I expected."
> I paused. "Neither are you."
And for the first time that day, I didn't feel like running anymore.