Rooftop Summer | EN- Jake

11

The rhythm of Hanna's days began to change. Where once she had struggled to find to get out of bed, she now woke each morning with a small, flickering sense of anticipation. It wasn't that her pain or fear had disappeared—those emotions were still there, lurking in the corners of her mind, ready to pounce at the slightest sign of weakness. But there was something else now, something that made her darkness a little less overwhelming.

Each night, as the city descended into twilight, Hanna would find herself walking toward the abandoned building, her steps quickening with a mixture of eagerness and anxiety. She had come to rely on her time with Jake, their silent companionship becoming the anchor she hadn't realised she needed.

The rooftop had become their sanctuary, a place where the noise of the world faded into the background and the weight of their unspoken burdens was momentarily lifted. Here, they could be themselves—no masks, no pretence, just two people finding comfort in each other's presence.

One night, as they sat side by side in their usual spots, Hanna noticed something different about Jake. He was quieter than usual, his gaze fixed on the horizon, where the last traces of daylight were slowly fading away. There was a tension in his posture, a quiet restlessness that she hadn't sheen before.

Hanna hesitated, unsure whether to ask what was on his mind. They had built their relationship on a foundation of light conversation and shared silence, and she didn't want to push him. But the urge to connect with him, to offer him the same comfort he had unknowingly given her, was too strong to ignore.

"Are you okay?" She asked softly, her voice barely louder than the whispering breeze.

Jake didn't respond right away. He continued to stare at the horizon, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. Hanna waited, giving him the space he needed, but also letting him know that she was there, that she was willing to listen if he wanted to talk.

After what felt like an eternity, Jake finally spoke, his voice quiet and thoughtful.
"Do you ever feel like... you're just waiting for something? Like there's this big, empty space in your life, and you're just sitting there, waiting for something to fill it?"

Hanna's heart ached at the vulnerability in his words. She knew that feeling all too well—the sense of waiting, of being suspended in a liminal space where nothing seemed real, where the future was uncertain and the past felt like a distant memory. It was a feeling she had been grappling with ever since her diagnosis, a feeling that had become her constant companion.

"Yeah," she replied, her voice equally soft.
"I feel like that a lot. Like I'm just... waiting for something to happen, something that will make everything make sense again. But it never does."

Jake nodded slowly, as if her words had resonated with him. He still didn't look at her, but she could sense that he was processing something, something he had kept buried deep inside. She wanted to reach out, to offer him some kind of comfort, but she wasn't sure how. So she simply waited, letting the silence stretch out between them.

Finally, Jake let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging slightly as if he had been holding onto something too tightly for too long.
"I've been coming to this rooftop for a while now," he said, his voice tinged with weariness.
"It's the only place where I feel like I can breathe, like I can get away from everything that's weighing me down."

Hanna didn't press him for more details, didn't ask what those burdens were. She understood the need to keep some things to yourself, to not lay your soul bare to someone who was still, in many ways, a stranger. But she appreciated that he had shared this much with her, that he had opened up, even if only a little.

"I get that," she said quietly.
"This place... it feels like a different world, doesn't it? Like we can leave everything behind, even if it's just for a little while."

Jake finally turned to look at her, his eyes searching hers.
"Yeah," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper.
"It does."

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the silence between them filled with unspoken understanding. Hanna could see the pain in his eyes, the same pain she felt every day, the same pain that had riven her to this rooftop in search of solace. It was a strange, comforting thing, to see that pain reflected in someone else, to know that she wasn't alone in her struggle.

Jake broke the gaze first, turning his attention back to the city below.
"I've been trying to figure out what comes next," he admitted, his voice low.
"What I'm supposed to do with everything I'm feeling. But it's hard when you don't have any answers, when you're just... drifting."

Hanna nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. She had spent so much time feeling lost, feeling like she was floating in a sea of uncertainty, with no idea where she was headed or what she was supposed to do. It was a terrifying feeling, one that had threatened to consume her more than once.

"I don't think any of us have the answers," she said softly.
"But maybe that's okay. Maybe it's enough to just... keep going, even when we don't know where we're headed."

Jake glanced at her, a faint, barely noticeable smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Maybe," he echoed, his voice carrying a hint of hope.
"Maybe you're right."

They lapsed into the silence again, but this time it was a comfortable silence, one that didn't need to be filled with words. Hanna felt a sense of peace settle over her, a peace that had been elusive for so long. She knew that she still had a long way to go, still had battles to fight, but for the first time in a long while, she felt like she wasn't fighting those battles alone.

The night wore on, the stars twinkling overhead as the city continued its quiet hum below. Hanna leaned back on her hands, letting the cool breeze wash over her, feeling the tension in her chest slowly ease. She had been searching for something— she wasn't sure what— and maybe, just maybe, she had found it in the quiet presence of the boy sitting beside her.

As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, casting the sky in soft hues of pink and orange, Hanna felt a sense of contentment she hadn't experienced in a long time. She knew that this moment wouldst last forever, that they would eventually have to leave this rooftop and return to their separate lives. But for now, it was enough to simply be here, to find comfort in each other's presence.

When the light grew too bright to ignore, Hanna finally stood, her movements slow and reluctant. She glanced down at Jake, who was still sitting on the edge of the rooftop, his gaze fixed on the rising sun. There was something different about him now, a quiet resolve that hadn't been there before, and it filled her with a strange sense of hope.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said softly, not really expecting a response.

Jake turned to look at her, his eyes filled with that same quiet determination.
"Yeah," he replied, his voice steady.
"Tomorrow."

Hanna smiled, a genuine smile that reached her eyes, and turned to walk back to the door that led inside. As she descended the stairs, her heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. She knew that she would continue to return to this rooftop, continue to find solace in Jake's presence. And maybe, just maybe, they both would find a way to heal, one quiet conversation at a time.

As she stepped out into the walking city, the sun casting its warm light over the streets, Hanna felt a renewed sense of purpose. She didn't know what the future held, but she knew one thing for certain—she wasn't alone. And that, for now, was enough.