_Setting: A quiet rooftop in the city, late at night. The sky is clear, the air is cool, and the hum of distant traffic fills the silence between them. A string of old fairy lights flickers above, casting a soft glow. They sit on the edge, legs dangling over, shoulders barely touching._

EMERY: (exhales, looking out at the skyline) You ever wonder how different things would be if we weren’t… us?

JULES: (glances over, hesitates) What do you mean?

EMERY: I don’t know. If we had met under different circumstances. If things weren’t so— (gestures vaguely between them) —complicated.

JULES: (quietly) Things are only complicated because we make them that way.

EMERY: (chuckles, shaking head) Right. Because it’d be so simple otherwise.

JULES: Maybe it would. Maybe we’re just afraid of what happens if we stop pretending.

(Silence. Emery swallows, fingers gripping the ledge. Jules shifts slightly, turning toward him.)

EMERY: We don’t talk about it. Ever.

JULES: Because if we do, everything changes.

EMERY: Maybe change isn’t bad.

JULES: Or maybe it ruins everything.

(Another beat of silence. The tension is thick, almost suffocating. Jules looks down at her hands, Emery looks at her. He watches her for a second too long, like he always does. She feels it—she always does.)

JULES: (softly) If you’re waiting for me to say it first, I won’t.

EMERY: Why not?

JULES: Because I don’t know what happens after.

EMERY: (leans in just slightly, voice lower) And if I say it first?

(Jules finally looks up. Their faces are inches apart. The air between them crackles, electric, dangerous.)

JULES: Then we’re really in trouble.

(A moment. A heartbeat. Maybe two. His gaze flickers to her lips. Hers does the same. But then, she exhales sharply and turns away, breaking whatever spell was holding them there. Emery swallows hard, looking away too. The moment passes. Just like all the others.)

EMERY: (laughs softly, but it sounds hollow) Guess we’ll keep pretending then.

JULES: (nods, staring at the city lights) Yeah. Guess we will

Neither of them move. Neither of them leave. And that’s the worst part—because they both know this isn’t over. It never really was.

JULES: (still staring at the skyline, voice quieter now) What if we weren’t pretending?

EMERY: (tilts his head, surprised) What?

JULES: If we just… stopped. Stopped ignoring it. Stopped acting like we don’t know exactly what this is.

(Silence. Emery’s grip on the ledge tightens. Jules doesn’t look at him, doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe too hard—like if she does, this fragile thing between them might shatter completely.)

EMERY: (low, hesitant) What are you saying, Jules?

JULES: (finally looks at him, her expression unreadable) I don’t know. I just—

(Her voice catches. She shakes her head, frustrated, as if she hates that she’s even letting these words slip out. Emery watches her, waiting, heart hammering against his ribs.)

EMERY: (softly) Yeah. You do.

(Jules exhales sharply, turning away again, like she can’t look at him when she says it. And maybe she can’t.)

JULES: It’s exhausting. Carrying this thing between us like it doesn’t exist. Like it hasn’t been here for— (pauses, swallows) forever.

EMERY: (staring at her now, his voice barely above a whisper) Then why don’t we just—

JULES: (quickly, cutting him off) Because I don’t know how to be with you without ruining everything.

(The words hit hard, sharper than she meant them to. Emery flinches slightly, but she doesn’t take them back. She can’t. Because they’re true. And they both know it.)

EMERY: (quiet, raw) And you think pretending isn’t ruining us too?

(Jules sucks in a breath. He’s never said it so plainly before. Neither of them have. The weight of it settles between them, heavy and unspoken.)

JULES: (barely above a whisper) I don’t know.

(For a long moment, neither of them speak. The city moves on below them, the air thick with everything they won’t say. Then—slowly, hesitantly—Emery moves. His hand shifts, fingers brushing against hers. It’s barely a touch. Just a whisper of skin against skin. But Jules feels it everywhere.)

JULES: (eyes closing for a second, voice breaking) Don’t.

(He stills, but he doesn’t pull away. He could. He should. But he doesn’t.)

EMERY: Tell me to stop, Jules.

JULES: (exhales) I just did.

EMERY: (shakes his head, his voice quiet, steady) No. You told me don’t. Not stop. Those aren’t the same thing.

(Jules finally turns, meeting his gaze. His eyes—God, those eyes—hold something wrecked, something desperate. Something that matches the way she feels inside. And for a second, just one second, she thinks maybe she could do it. Maybe she could close the distance, let this thing between them finally break open, let it consume them whole.)

(But then—she pulls back. She stands, arms wrapping around herself like she’s trying to hold herself together. Emery watches her, expression unreadable, but there’s something flickering there. Something like heartbreak. Something like this was the last time I try.)

JULES: (softly, looking anywhere but at him) I can’t.

EMERY: (quietly) Won’t.

JULES: (corrects, firmer now) Can’t.

(Another silence. Longer this time. The moment is gone. Slipped through their fingers like it always does. Emery exhales, running a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening like he’s trying to swallow something painful.)

EMERY: (nods once, voice flat) Okay.

(And that’s it. Just okay. Like this doesn’t wreck him. Like he isn’t breaking apart inside. Jules feels something in her chest twist so tightly it hurts, but she doesn’t take it back. She never does.)

(Emery stands. He doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t fight. Just shoves his hands into his pockets and walks toward the rooftop door. And Jules—Jules watches him go, knowing this time, she might have just let him slip away for good.)

JULES: (barely above a whisper, when he’s already gone) I’m sorry.

(But there’s no one left to hear it.)