Eli's legs had never felt so heavy.
The climb to the rooftop felt like he was dragging the entire school building behind him. His sketchbook slapped against his side with every step, reminding him that all of this somehow started because he picked up a pencil.
He paused at the last stair.
A gust of wind slipped through the cracked rooftop door. It creaked softly, like it had been waiting for him.
Eli swallowed the lump in his throat and pushed it open.
Emma stood near the railing, her back to him. Her brown ponytail swayed with the wind, and a few strands danced across her face. She didn't turn around right away. Maybe she hadn't noticed him. Or maybe she had, and she was just letting the silence stretch.
"I came," Eli said.
Emma turned slowly.
She wasn't wearing her glasses. Without them, her eyes looked sharper, and her expression held something unreadable.
"Good," she said. "I wasn't sure you would."
Eli stepped outside fully and let the door shut behind him. "What did you want to talk about?"
Emma didn't answer right away. She walked toward the bench by the wall, sat down, and tapped the empty space beside her.
Eli hesitated, then sat.
They didn't speak for a while. Down below, students were already heading home, their voices echoing faintly as they left the gate. Someone laughed. A bike bell rang. The world moved forward without them.
"You drew me," Emma said at last.
Eli stiffened.
"You drew me while I was asleep in the library. I saw it yesterday. You left your sketchbook open."
He looked down. "I didn't mean for anyone to see it. It was just a sketch."
Emma's voice lowered. "You made me look peaceful."
"I didn't mean it like that," Eli said quickly. "You looked different when you weren't stressed. It felt honest."
She folded her arms. "I didn't even know I could look like that."
He opened his mouth but didn't know how to reply.
Emma reached into her school bag and pulled out a folded sheet. She handed it to him.
Eli unfolded the paper and recognized the sketch instantly. It was the same one he had drawn in the library. Emma resting her head on her arms, glasses slightly off, a quiet stillness in her expression. The shading was soft and careful. He remembered being proud of it.
"I took it," she said. "After I saw it, I didn't want anyone else to look at it."
Eli looked up in surprise.
"You didn't just draw what I looked like," she continued. "You drew something I didn't think anyone would ever notice. Something I didn't even know about myself."
She stood and walked to the railing. Her fingers tightened around the cold metal.
"I've always been the serious girl. The one who has her grades together. The one who doesn't let anyone in. But you saw something else. And that scares me."
Eli stood slowly.
"I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable," he said.
She looked over her shoulder. "You didn't. You just made it impossible to keep pretending."
The wind tugged at her sleeves.
Eli took a careful step closer. "So what now?"
Emma turned to face him fully.
Then, without warning, she stepped forward and hugged him.
It was quick. Barely a second. But her arms around him felt warm. Real.
When she pulled back, she looked away, cheeks flushed.
"I don't want anything from you," she said. "I just want you to keep drawing. Even if it causes chaos."
Then she walked past him and opened the rooftop door without another word.
Eli stood there, heart pounding, unsure if he was relieved or more confused than ever.
Jay was waiting for him by the lockers the next morning, grinning like a devil.
"You and Emma. Rooftop. After school. I saw everything."
Eli sighed. "Why are you always everywhere?"
"Because I live for drama," Jay said proudly. "So what happened? Did she confess? Cry? Kiss you under the sunset?"
"She hugged me," Eli muttered.
Jay gasped like he had just witnessed a legendary anime moment.
"You've unlocked emotional intimacy. That's at least level four."
Eli shoved his books into his bag. "Please stop narrating my life."
Jay leaned against the locker like a smug side character. "Too late. You're in too deep. This is officially a harem now."
"I'm not trying to start a harem."
"But a harem is trying to start you."
Eli groaned.
Later that day, Eli escaped to the art club room. He needed quiet. The smell of paper and pencils, the scratch of graphite against the page, the way the light came through the window in soft beams—it all helped him feel normal again.
He was halfway through a sketch of the courtyard trees when someone knocked on the door.
Brooke.
She peeked inside and smirked. "Hey, artist. Got a minute?"
Eli nodded, already bracing for something confusing.
Brooke entered the room like it belonged to her. She flipped a chair backward and straddled it, arms crossed over the back.
"I heard about Emma. That whole rooftop heart-to-heart thing."
"Does everyone know?"
"We're teenage girls," Brooke said. "We know everything."
She studied him for a second. "So what's your plan?"
"I don't have a plan."
Brooke smiled. "Good. That makes it more fun."
She stood up and walked toward his desk.
"I'm not gonna act all shy about this. I like you. I liked you before you drew me. But the drawing? That sealed it."
Eli blinked. "I didn't mean for you to see it."
"But I did. And you made me look like I belonged in a movie. Confident. Strong. Cool."
She leaned in, resting her hand on his desk.
"Truth is, I fake that stuff most of the time. But your sketch made me believe it for a second. That's powerful."
He didn't know what to say.
Brooke stepped closer, her voice quieter now. "I'm not telling you to choose anyone right now. But when the time comes, I want to be someone you look at the same way you looked at that page."
Then she kissed him. Not on the lips, but right on the cheek.
Eli froze.
By the time he processed it, she had already grabbed her bag and walked out.
Jay burst into the room moments later, arms raised like a soccer fan.
"I knew it! I knew something was gonna happen in here."
Eli dropped his head onto the desk.
Jay leaned in. "Bro, you've officially reached romantic entanglement stage three."
"This is a disaster," Eli mumbled.
"This is content," Jay replied.
Eli reached for his pencil again, hand shaking slightly. His sketchbook lay open beside him. The page was blank, but somehow it felt like his life was drawing itself without asking him first.