Deleted user
6:53:06
People always say, No, don’t do it. Such a waste, such a shame, think about all you could have done! They make so much fuss that no one ever suspects that it’s so goddamn easy to kill yourself.
The girl- no, the boy- laughs hollowly, peering over the edge of the rooftop. She- he. He’d have to remember that for a later he’d never have.
“Well, normal’s fucked up now,” he says out loud with faux cheerfulness, the gravel leaving small indents in the soft flesh of his hand. He gets up, studying it meticulously. Nic, stop delaying the process, you moron.
What? Does he want fellow students to notice? Why would he, when they were the ones who drove him to the breaking point in the first place?
The boy hears footsteps coming closer, but none of that matters now. He closes his eyes, stepping off of the side of the building into nothingness as the rest of the world falls away. His eyes strain to capture one last image of beauty to take with him.
Right before the wind whistles past his face, he finds a star.
6:51:21
John slips a small switchblade into his pocket, when he sees a girl’s face peeking over the side of the roof. He frowns. “Hey,” he calls. “Isn’t that a restricted section?”
She looks around, perplexed, and John can tell that she can’t hear or see him from the angle he’s at. Her jacket sleeve shifts as she moves backwards, and a drop of blood lands at his feet.
John sucks in a sharp breath, and before he knows it, he starts running up the stairs towards the top floor as fast as he can. He slams open the door (the key’s still in there, he notices dimly) and runs toward the girl as she prepares to step off of the roof.
He fumbles for her arm (no time, no time) and finally manages to grab her shockingly cold hand.
The girl looks up, startled with a hint of annoyance. “Um, I’m trying to commit a suicide here?” she says dryly, but John can hear the thinly disguised pain in her voice. “Just… let me go so I can die already,” She swipes her free hand across her eyes quickly.
John ignores her request, pulling her up. “Who are you?” he asks.
“Nicola,” she says, against her own volition. “Nicola Green,”
She can see his eyes widen in recognition, then he struggles to hide it before she can see. This boy is an open book, feelings on display for all to see. “The… trans girl?” he asks.
“Apparently, I’m a boy,” she says dryly. “I am also a drag queen, a stalker, a pervert trying to get into girl’s skirts- which is totally sexist by the way,”
John can see in her eyes that no matter how messed up it sounds, she slightly possibly probably believes them. “Hey,” he says softly. “I’m John. Do you… want to talk?”
Nicola hesitates, but then nods. As the two walk away, you can see the thin scars lining their wrists.
In saving her, he had saved himself.