The Danube spread below my feet, watched over by the moon while it thrummed away—a haunting, almost mournful sound that pulsed rhythmically like a heartbeat in that desolate place.

"I always come here when I need to clear my mind," Rafael said, overlooking the landscape. "Com'ere," he called from where he sat on the edge of the window frame, patting the empty place next to him.

Dazed, my legs moved on their own, bringing me to him, and I sat down.

"I can see why," I mused.

The view from this place felt surreal in its silent solemnity as if we had entered a long-lost picture from a few decades ago.

"My sister found this spot."

The sudden confession caught me off guard.

Already nineteen, Rafael was older than most people in our year. But when his chest rose and fell to let out a sigh, his eyes opened, and I could see how tired he truly was—too tired for someone his age. Like he had taken over Atlas' role and had to carry on holding the world on his shoulders, never allowed to have a break. Though the serene scenery unfolded before him, his mind seemed to wander far beyond it.

The Rafael Hamza I was seeing was far removed from all the stories surrounding his name. Instead, beside me, I saw a young man overlooking the horizon with a lost, almost pained gaze and the glow of pale moonlight sharpening the lines of his face. This Rafael looked more like a tormented fallen angel than an alleged dangerous delinquent.

"She was a competitive swimmer." 

Even with eyes weighed down by memories, a soft smile crept onto his lips as Rafael spoke of his sister. 

"You'd think she would be sick of water after all the training, but she loves swimming so much she'd go for it whenever possible. She was in one of her usual escapades when she found this place."

Elated to hear about his life and to know the real him, not who the rumors made him to be, I found myself leaning closer. It was instinctual, the way my body moved when my head rested on his shoulder.

"She said time seemed to stop moving when she climbed up here."

"She's right."

He chuckled.

"I was too restless and young when she first brought me here. But as I grew, I came to agree with her too."

His hand was rough and cold, completely covering mine when he found it.

"I never brought anybody else here," he turned to face me. "Until now, that is."

Looking at him then, with the September wind ruffling his hair and the moon reflecting in his eyes, Rafael became more of a mystery to me than ever.

"Thank you." I cleaned my throat. "You know, for not killing me and showing me this place."

The corners of his lips twitched upwards.

"Twice in one night. I call that progress."

I playfully punched his shoulder, relishing the soft, low chuckle that followed. He turned to face me, our eyes locking as the distance between us diminished. He caught my chin between his index and thumb.

"You're welcome."

Our lips were mere inches apart, and as he spoke, our warm breaths intertwined, creating an almost magical moment. But then, his phone buzzed, shattering the enchantment around us. His brow furrowed, and for a brief instant, Rafael seemed lost, as if he were struggling to hold on to something slipping through his fingers.

He ignored it the first time, but after buzzing two more times, I rushed to detach myself from him. Excusing himself, Rafael turned to get his phone out, and I couldn't help but pout. I already knew his lips felt as soft as they looked when he kissed my neck, but—what am I even thinking? Making out with him just because he helped me calm down and opened up a little? Good grief, Raisa! Was my period coming for real?

After looking at the screen, Hamza stood up abruptly. Glancing between his phone and me several times, he ran a hand through his hair. His jaw tightened, the muscles flickering beneath stubbled skin as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. His expression became unreadable, like a veil had been drawn over it.

"Time to go." His voice showered me with ice.

"Huh?"

"Stuff came up." No longer looking at me, Hamza extended his hand. "Come, I'll take you home."

[Press play before continuing~]

https://youtu.be/pxr95cV_ILo

With no music, the car felt smaller and more cramped with each passing minute, and the tension in the air was practically choking me. Rafael hadn't said a single thing since we got in, and I was stewing in frustration. I wasn't good at staying quiet when things got under my skin, and this? The silence between us was suffocating, thick, and tense, the kind that made me want to scream just to break it. My fingers dug into my leg to keep my temper in check.

It wasn't just the silence, though. It was him—the way he was acting, to be exact. The moment he checked his phone, his demeanor changed. Gone was the man who talked about his sister with so much love that it spilled from his eyes onto every word. On the driver's seat sat solemn a stoic soldier.

I couldn't even tell if I was more frustrated by the fact that I didn't know what he was thinking or the fact that I couldn't stop thinking about it. Rafael Hamza was—attractive as hell, sure—but so damn infuriating.

One minute, he dragged me to his so-called favorite place, opening up and acting almost sweet, as if he knew everything that would make me feel better. The next, he was cold. Distant. Completely unreadable. Acting like I was a mere spec of dust, not a person sitting right next to him, heart still pounding, mind still spinning from everything that had just gone down. Like he wasn't the one who dragged me into it all.

Rafael Hamza pulled me into his reckless, wild ride like it was nothing, and the second I thought there might be something more behind his smirk, he shut down. Nothing made sense anymore. Did he regret opening up to me about his sister? I was pretty much a stranger. Still, for a second, I thought... I don't know what I thought. That maybe there was something more to him than just this cold, brooding exterior, and he actually gave a damn?

I shifted in my seat, narrowing my eyes at him with growing impatience. Fuck it.

"You always this much of an asshole, or is this a special kind of cold shoulder just for me?" The words came out harsher than intended, and my voice edged with frustration, but I couldn't stop myself.

Hamza didn't answer; he just flicked his eyes toward me briefly, like I was some thousand-piece puzzle he couldn't be bothered with. He wasn't ignoring me—he was choosing not to respond. And that only pissed me off more.

"Asshole," I muttered, more to myself than to him, but loud enough that I knew he could hear it. Heat rose in my chest, that fiery part of me itching for a fight, for some reaction. Anything.

I got nothing of the sort.

Hamza pulled up to my street, stopping the car with a smoothness that didn't match the mess of emotions swirling inside me. Before I could even reach for the door, he was out, coming around to open it for me as if that was supposed to make everything better.

I should've gotten out right then, let it go, and walked away, but my mouth has always been faster than my feet.

"You always this hot and cold, or is it just me you're fucking with?" I pressed, the words sharp blades aimed at him.

That finally got a reaction. His lips curled into a faint smirk, though his jaw was still tight.

"Fucking with you?" he repeated, his voice low, almost like he was tasting the words. Like he couldn't believe me.

His lips quirked just enough to piss me off, but his voice, when Hamza spoke again, was smooth, low, and infuriatingly calm. "Thought we're not fucking."

"I know what you're trying to pull. But It won't work, Hamza."

"Pretty sure you didn't mind it back at the party, love," he said softly, his voice laced with that mischief he wore so well.

"Stop it! I'm serious."

"Me too."

I groaned.

"You know what I mean!

"Maybe I just like keeping you on your toes." Then, a moment later, "...or maybe you think too much."

"Are you for real?" My pulse spiked, and I sprang to my feet and got out of the car.

The cool night air slapped me in the face as I faced him, my heart still pounding from the mess of emotions twisting inside me.

"You took me to—" I paused, biting back the words. That place, we finally had a proper conversation, only for you to go all silent monk on me. Just what the hell is your deal?"

Hamza tilted his head. His steady and intense gaze held mine. It was as if he could see right through my frustration, through everything I was feeling, and still chose to stand before me, tall and utterly unimpressed. 

"You dragged me into your dumb race and nearly got us caught by the cops!" I shot back, my voice rising.

"Could've left you panicking in the middle of it," he said, too calm for my liking. "But I didn't. Did I?"

The way he said it like I should be grateful for him making sure I'm not arrested because of his stupid race, made my frustration boil over.

"I didn't ask for any of it!" I shot back, stabbing his chest with my index.

The ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips.

"You didn't ask for it. But you didn't stop me either."

He was right, damn him. I knew Hamza was trouble the second I met him, but my impulsive ass went to him on its own. I knew all the rumors and still got in his car. I let him pull me into it. And for some reason, that made me even angrier.

"If you hated it, you wouldn't have gotten in the car with me, baby," He said, his tone lazy, but there was a sharp edge underneath it.

Grabbing my wrist, he pulled me to him, and our bodies collided as they met. Hamza leaned in before I could get the words out.

"The second I turned that corner, you knew exactly what you were getting into."

The air between us crackled with tension. His eyes darkened, and his smirk faded, leaving something deeper in its place. My breath caught in my throat before I could think of anything smart to say. He was too close.

"Go inside," Hamza said over my lips, his voice low, with a slight edge, then stepped away, the smirk back on his lips.

"You can't just—!"

"Good night, Raisa," he tossed over his shoulder as he got back in the car, leaving me alone in the cold, completely shaken, wishing he wouldn't have taken all that newfound warmth with him.