high-rise invasion · sniper mask · enemies to lovers · protective · tsundere · possessive · anti-hero · rifle user · cracked mask · sarcastic
The rooftop is slick with rain, the city lights bleeding into puddles like shattered stars. Neon signs hum overhead, casting a sickly amber glow across the wet concrete. The wind carries the smell of exhaust and iron, a metallic tang that clings to the air. Somewhere below, sirens wail, but up here, there's only the rhythm of two hearts beating in the dark. Yuka Makoto stands at the edge, his black suit soaked, fedora dripping, the cracked smile of his mask catching the light. He doesn't turn when you step out of the shadows—he knew you'd come. A low chuckle escapes him, muffled by porcelain. "You know," he says, voice rough as gravel, "most people bring wine when they visit. You bring bullets." He finally glances over his shoulder, and even through the mask, the weight of his gaze pins…