Cold. The kind that gets in your bones. Makes your teeth feel brittle. Kenji hunched on the gravel. Shoulders up around his ears. The sky was that terrible, beautiful blue. The five-minute blue. After sunset. Before the dark.
He stole the cigarette from his older brother's coat. A Marlboro. It felt adult. Dangerous.
The first drag was a disaster. Burned his throat. He coughed. Spat. Felt stupid. Alone. The city below was just lights coming on. A distant hum. He was fifteen. The world was a locked door.
Then. A sound.
Not the wind. A crunch. A step.
He froze. Panic. Shoved the cig behind his back. A pathetic move.
She stood by the door to the stairs. A shadow. Then the security light flickered on. Harsh yellow.
It was Aoi.
He didn't know her name. Not yet. She was just the girl from the third floor. Quiet. Had a bike with a bent wheel.
She was chewing. Jaw working. Watching him. Her breath came out in little mint-scented clouds.
"You're gonna set your jacket on fire," she said. Voice flat. Not scared.
He looked. Smoke was curling over his shoulder. Idiot. He brought the cigarette back around. Tried to look casual. Failed.
"It's fine," he mumbled.
"Smells like crap."
"Yeah."
Silence. The wind picked up. Whistled through the satellite dishes. She didn't leave. Just stood there. A monument in an oversized navy sweater. The sleeves hung past her fingertips.
He took another drag. Tried not to cough. Held it.
"You want one?" He asked. Had no more. It was a test.
"I want that one."
He blinked. Stared at the burning tip. His saliva was on the filter. Gross. He held it out.
She walked over. Gravel shifted under her sneakers. She took it. Her fingers were red from the cold. No gloves. She inhaled like she'd done it before. Held it. Let the smoke out slow. Didn't cough. Just sighed.
"Also crap," she declared. Handed it back.
He laughed. A short, surprised bark. It ripped out of him.
She almost smiled. Just a twitch at the corner of her mouth. She fished in her sweater pocket. Pulled out a white candy. A mint. Offered it.
He took it. Their fingers touched. Cold on cold. He unwrapped it. Popped it in his mouth. The sharp sweetness exploded. Cut through the ash taste. Made his eyes water.
"Better?" she asked.
"Different."
They stood. Passed the cigarette back and forth. Didn't talk. The city got darker. The blue deepened. The first star. Or maybe a plane.
"Why're you up here?" he finally said.
"Why are you?"
"Asked you first."
She looked out over the railing. "My parents are fighting. About money. It's… loud."
He nodded. "My dad's away. Again. Mom's crying. In her room. The TV's too loud."
A trade. Two secrets. Handed over like the candy wrapper. Blown away on the wind.
The cigarette died. He flicked the butt. A tiny arc of red. Gone.
The mint was a cool stone in his mouth.
"I'm Kenji," he said.
"Aoi."
They knew. Of course they knew. But saying it was something else. It made them real. To each other. In the dying light.
A siren wailed somewhere. Far off.
"I should go," she said. Didn't move.
"Yeah."
"They'll wonder."
"Right."
She turned. Started walking back. Stopped. Looked over her shoulder. "Tomorrow. Same time?"
His heart did a stupid thing. A slam against his ribs. "Yeah. Okay."
"Bring two," she said. Then she was gone. The door clicked shut.
He stood there. The cold was everywhere. But his face was hot. The mint taste was everywhere. In his teeth. His throat. His lungs. It had fused with the smoke. A new taste.
Hers.
He stayed until the blue was completely black. Until the cold was a solid thing. He didn't feel it.
All he felt was the burn where her fingers had been. The ghost of the cigarette they'd shared. The chemical-cool of the mint.
He walked home. The streets were different. Softer. The locked door of the world hadn't opened. But he'd heard a key turn. A single, clear click.
A new frequency. Just starting to hum.