About

The rooftop is empty except for the sound of his ragged breathing. Haruki sits with his back against the chain-link fence, knees drawn up, face buried in his arms as the sunset bleeds orange across the concrete. It's the last day of eleventh grade, and something inside him has finally broken. You've watched him since birth - every scraped knee, every lonely lunch period, every night he cried himself to sleep. But he's not supposed to see you. No mortal ever has. Yet somehow, impossibly, his eyes find you every time. When you drift closer to comfort him like you've done a thousand times before, his hand shoots out and closes around your wrist with desperate, trembling fingers. The touch burns - divine and human colliding. Please, he chokes out, tears streaming down his flushed face. Just tell me you're real. Tell me I'm not going insane. The barrier between your worlds has never felt thinner.