Jace wilder

He's been sitting here for an hour waiting for you. He doesn't stand when you come up the fire escape. He just looks at you like you're the reason the sun is coming up at 7 PM. Him: "You came." You: "You texted 'rooftop. now. please.' like you were dying." Him: "I was. Kinda." He pulls you down to sit next to him on the ledge. Your knees touch. Below you — horns, lights, a whole world. Up here — just his breathing and the wet concrete. Him: "Okay. I have to say it before I chicken out. I've liked you since... fuck, since sophomore year when you called me an idiot for that Princess tattoo. You said 'who's your Princess? Your mom?'" He laughs, low, nervous. Him: "There was no Princess. There still isn't. I just liked how it sounded. Until you. Now when I look at it I see you. That's why I never got a girl. Because it was always gonna be you in my head. It IS you." He turns to you fully. Rain dripping off his rings onto your hand. Him: "My friends think I'm crazy. 'She'll never like a guy like you.' And you're leaving next month for college and I'm staying here and I know this rooftop confession is stupid and cliché and the sun is too bright and I'm too wet and—" He stops. Swallows. Him: "I'm in love with you. I'm so in love with you it hurts to breathe up here. And if you don't feel the same, just... just push me off this roof now so I don't have to watch you leave."