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[bluteatavern]

Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Chapter 2: Waking up

TRIGGER WARNING

Contains thoughts and actions concerning depression and suicide

The first thing I noticed was that I wasn't in my room.

For as long as I can remember, there has always been a small hole in the sheets I'm used to sleep on. When I wake up, in the morning or in the middle of the night, it's always the first thing I feel, and it's been like that for 10 years. I've never fixed it or replaced the sheets for another one. It's comforting, waking up and knowing where you are just by touch.

I run my hands over the bed I'm lying on, but all I feel is some smoother fabric, a little thicker than the blanket wrapped around me.

I open my eyes slowly. The light of a gray day comes through a window, but other than that, not even the lamp on the nightstand next to the bed is on. There is another bed a little further away from mine, and next to it are those devices the doctors put saline to insert them in the patient's veins.

It's the only clue of where I am. But how did I get to a hospital?

A little bird flies across the sky outside. I prop up on one elbow to pull myself up.

I remember.

I wasn't alone in that building. There was a boy...with wings. He dived after me. He must have been the one who brought me here as well.

Maybe at some other time, if I were someone else, I would have cried of happiness for surviving, because someone was there at that time. But I don't feel like crying, getting angry, or doing anything but collapsing on the bed again.

"I thought you were going to take longer to wake up. Dang it, I lost a bet"

I almost break my neck as I turn towards the voice.

A brown-skinned, blue-haired child with a dog plushie in their hands is sitting in a blue armchair by the door, looking at me curiously.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Sho" He says while moving the plushie's soft little arms, but never taking his eyes off me.

He's too young.

"Are you alone here?" I ask, turning my full body towards him.

"I'm waiting for my brother. He went home to get the car, otherwise he would have to carry me all the way back to our house"

Right. So it really is a hospital, and not other kind of facility.

"Are you hurt?" I ask. He nods and lifts the hem of his pants a little, revealing a bandage around his ankle. "Did they bring you here too? Like, to rest?"

He shakes his head and starts speaking more quietly.

"No. I'm hiding, but don't tell them! They wanted to give me some green goo to eat, but my cousin said you turn into a zombie if you eat it" He says, as if he just told me the biggest conspiracy in the world "And you? Why are you here?"

The question hangs in the air for a while before I answer.

"I fell..." I say almost in a whisper.

"Smell?" He tilts his head, brow furrowed.

"...yeah, I smell...like..." I look down at his plushie "...dog food"

"Dog food? But why?!" His eyes grow bigger.

"I fell...into a pot, and now I can't take the smell out of my skin. So they put me here"

He seemed to buy the whole story on the spot. He even smiled a few times, not caring that he didn't got a realistic answer. Finding something like this funny should be considered a privilege.

"Seriously though, why are you here?"

I feel a rock falling on top of my head. I can't even fool a child that's less than 8. Though he does have the dog-like ears and a tail hanging from the chair, so this story of the smell dog food certainly hasn't convinced him from the start.

And these questions won't be this easy to answer later. I know someone will make them soon, because if that boy told them how he found me, I'm going to have to stay here longer than I want to.

The door finally opens, and Sho limps towards my bed, trying in vain to hide, but he trips and crawls the rest of the way, with his tail being the last thing the person who just entered surely saw. The woman is holding a tray in her and smiling at the scene, looking at me as if we share a secret.

"Pretty smart hiding in here, but you'll have to be quicker next time, boy" She shrugs her shoulders.

Sho grunts in frustration and walks out of his hiding place pouting.

"I heard your brother has already arrived. You can go back and talk to the nurse on the desk outside" she says.

"Yes!" He starts to run towards the door as best as he can, but stops midway and takes a good look at the tray the woman is holding. He runs back to the side of the bed and presses the mattress to lift himself up until his mouth is at the same level as my ear.

"See? That's the goo over there. Don't eat it or you'll turn into a zombie!" And with that he limps across the room, leaving the door open.

"And be careful with that foot or the nurses will have to bandage it all over again" The woman closes the door and turns to me again, grinning.

"I can assure you, this does not turns you into a brain-eater" She chuckles, but I simply smile back.

She's not dressed like a doctor or a nurse. She's wearing a knee-length gray coat with a blue shirt under it, and heels that fill the room with clop-clop-clop sounds as she walks towards me, placing the trail on my lap. There are some crackers and the 'green goo', that is actually just an ordinary jelly. I make no move to reach for them. It feels like my stomach started dropping again.

"So, how are you feeling?" She sits at the edge of the bed.

"I'm fine" I say with no intention of putting more emotion in my voice than necessary.

She watches me for a few more minutes. There's a card on her blouse...

Dr. Okamoto

"What's your name?" She finally asks.

"Bessho"

"How old are you, Bessho?"

"Nineteen"

"Well Bessho, are you sure you're not feeling any pain, or maybe nauseous?"

"Nothing at all"

"Alright" She clasps her hands "First of all, I need you to know that we have examined you, and physicaly you seem fine, but if you feel any sort of pain or headache, you can talk to any of the nurses. But overall, I believe you're going to be fine on this aspect."

I nod.

"Okay. Second. You entered with a wallet and your phone. I know you just woke up, but do you remember having them with you before?" I nod again "So, we didn't want to do it in the beginning, but we had to check your wallet to see if you had the number of anyone we could contact. Since we didn't find it, and your phone is out of battery, do you mind telling me if you know someone we can call to come here?"

There used to be an answer at the tip of my tongue. But now...

"I have no one..." I say while looking at my hands.

"Are you sure? It doesn't have to be a family member. A friend is also an option"

It hits me as soon as she says the word "friend". He used to call Shouko that, even though she's my boss.

She taps the number I give on her phone and sends it to someone.

"Alright. The secretary will call her and tell her where you are and that you are safe. And that's the third thing I need you to be aware of. You are safe here, and you can trust me, okay?"

I don't raise my eyes, but I feel hers on me, trying to be gentle but making the atmosphere heavier as the silence goes on.

"So..." she clasp her hands again "...do you remember the reason you had to come to the hospital, Bessho?"

I need to save myself. I need to cooperate here.

"All I remember is that I was walking down a street, and then I think I fainted..."

"Fainted?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Yes. And then I woke up here"

"Why do you think you fainted?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe I just...I haven't eaten much yesterday, maybe it was that"

"Has it happened before?" She tilts her head forward.

I nod, biting my lower lip while I fight the urge to throw up, and I think my reaction is already telling all I want to hide.

She has seen this act before. You could tell by the way her mouth and her eyes formed the face people make when they want to be gentle with someone. And she does it so effortlessly.

"Do you know who brought you here?"

When I don't answer, she continues.

"His name is Hawks. He's one of the newest heroes in Fukuoka. Have you heard about him?"

I shake my head. I haven't turned the TV on lately.

"You must be asking yourself why am I telling you this..." actually I'm not "it's because it's important to know who brings you here. It's an act of kindness that not a lot of people find the time to give these days, when there's so much rush. People tend to forget things like this still happen with all the hope the heroes give. Not that it is a bad thing, but our reality is still full of people that need help and can not be just dragged to a safe place and left there. I know I can't predict when things like this happen, but we can prevent them by helping each other. This is what I'm trying to do here..."

I know where this is going.

Everything around me seems to grow slower, even my blood isn't circulating at normal speed in my veins anymore. Everything's taking longer to happen.

When was the last time I had a psychologist talking to me?

I only notice she's still talking when the sound of her voice emerges from somewhere and reaches my ears. I have to stop looking people in the eyes for too long. Shouko already said it's clear when I'm listening or not, no matter for how long I'm staring.

"...does as well. What I'm trying to say is that even in our moments of despair, when everything seems too confusing, there's always a reason for the problem, and a reason to search for the solution..." She places a hand on her chest "That's why I want to help you. If you wish to, we can start and search for it. And you won't feel alone on the way"

Every word sounds the same at this point, no matter who speaks them. It's a waste of time in the end.

"I'm really thankful for everything you did while I was passed out...but I think there has been a mistake. I wasn't planning on doing anything...maybe the hero got confused and that's why he said what he think he saw...but it wasn't anything serious"

She presses her lips together.

"Then what were you doing on the top of that building last night?"

So the boy...that asshole really said it.

"I just...thought I needed to go up there for a second"

"Why?"

"I...I used to talk to my uncle about what the view from there would be like...and...it felt like yesterday was a good day to find out" This is actually true.

She looks down on her hands, I can only imagine what she's making up from what I just said.

I never understood this part. Why do they always ask what I think I was doing as if the answer isn't clear enough already? It's not like I was doing it for the sensation it gives me, I'm not that into adrenaline. And posing as someone who does haven't done much for me until now.

"I'm sorry Bessho, but we can't let you go until we talk to the person we are calling, and until we know you are completely okay to leave. This might take a while"

Of course I can't leave. I've been here before, why did I ever think it would be different this time?

"Have you ever done this before?" She asks.

"Done what?"

Is she cutting the conversation short now? She's also giving me those eyes again. I keep trying to avert my gaze, but it always drifts back to her gentle and yet judgmental face.

"No" I finally say, but she doesn't seem to believe me.

"Why did you think you had to do it now? Has something happened to you?"

I turn my head to the window, hoping she will go back to her kind talk or something.

"You don't feel comfortable enough to talk right now"

I shake my head slowly.

"I'm sorry" It doesn't feel like I can control my voice anymore, so as it cracks midsentence, it surprises me less.

"No, don't be" her voice gets even softer as she puts one of her hands over my entwined ones "We'll have more time to talk about it later...and...I'll have to talk to your friend as well"

That makes the blood stop in my veins.

"No!"

She jumps in surprise when I speak loudly.

"I'm sorry...I just... please don't tell her"

She leans her head towards me.

"Bessho, I'm sorry, but you need someone to be aware of what you're going through. Is for the sake of your wellbeing."

"Yes...yes I know but...she doesn't need to worry about it...please, she already has a lot to deal with" She sighs with an empathic look, making it clear that she won't budge "Look, she...my uncle died yesterday. She's already sad about it"

"I'm really sorry to hear that" She falls silent, which gives me some hope. But it quickly fades when she starts speaking again "Listen, it's part of my duty to make sure you stay calm and safe while you're here, but it's not right to do it while hiding the truth from people who play a big part in your recovery. So here's what's going to happen. I'm going to tell your friend..." She raises her hand when I open my mouth to protest "I have to tell her about what happened, but only after we examine you one more time, and after I talk to you some more. And then, I'll talk to both of you, together this time. And in the end, we'll see if you need to stay in observation, or with a specialist, or if you need to go somewhere else to receive the help you need"

My shoulders slump, as if the weight has moved its focus from my head to the rest of my body.

"Do you really need to tell her?" My voice begins to fade.

"Yes, I do"

I slide my hands away from her grasp and keep my eyes on the floor on the other side of the bed with brows furrowed. She takes a deep breath.

"I'll leave you to rest now okay? Eat a little, it will do you good. Your wallet and phone are in this drawer, alright? I'll come back soon" She walks towards the door clop-clop-cloping again, but then she stops and turns to me one last time "Listen, if you collaborate, you'll get to go home sooner. And what's better, you'll start to get better from things that by now you believe are okay. But they are not. You deserve the help we're trying to give you. So please, don't let this chance slip away"

And then she closes the door, leaving me with the green goo for company.

I lean back and feel like there are rocks under me. But isn't it always like this?

What amazes me the most is how anyone is able to always know what's best, to always know what is going to be of me. Always know how it feels. People always understand too much. But if it's that easy to get me, why haven't I figured it out as well? Making them work with assumptions instead of material I can't give is a waste of time.

I look down at the trail and take the one cracker. It's not like I'm hungry, but if I don't do something I might go insane. Also, I have to show them I can be fine on my own. And judging by the flicking light I saw in the corner of the room while she was talking, I'm pretty sure there are cameras hidden in here. Why else would she leave me here unsupervised?

The rest of this day, the day after the funeral, did not go like it should.

Shouko should have gone home, but after she arrived, she just exchanged a few words with that woman with the heels and the nurse and doctor that checked me.

"How are you feeling?" "Did you eat anything?" "Who talked to you?"

She never asked anything beyond that. Later on, Dr. Okamoto talked about why and how I came to the hospital, and explained how we must proceed in this 'situation'. The word did nothing but to get me squirming in my chair and sweating a lot. I could barely look both of them in the eye.

Just one day after losing her boyfriend, and now she has to sleep in the hospital because I...

I open my eyes again, still in that room. It's dark outside. Shouko left to sleep in a chair out there for a bit, whether because she's upset or not, I would never know. That was her language that only he would understand.

I never thought I would miss him this much. The idea of waking up knowing he would be home always comforted me, but it seems that reality is only becoming clear now.

That was the reason they took as my motivation. The information, or better, the lack of it, led them to believe I went to the top of the building because of the grief I felt. It's not uncommon, and loss can make people do things in the heat of the moment without thinking.

And I can't lie, that really does makes sense.

Memories of everything I said to him. Everything I did or gave up on doing with him kept flashing through my brain all the way to the top. I turned his life upside down and forced him to deal with whatever came along with me since we arrived at the city.

I mistreated him. I judged him way too often. I was rude, and selfish, a brat. I could have done better.

Why...why even after everything I did...why did you kept smiling and caring about me?

Why did you kept saying I was beautiful?

You can't judge anything in the dark. You need to find your flashlight to see things for what they really are.

I stare at the blackness of the hospital room. It isn't the first time this happens. I wake up at any given time of the night, and think. I think too much. About my uncle, my job, myself, the building...

To think I couldn't do something that simple almost makes me laugh, but the minor smile on my lips fades completely when it finally hits me.

I couldn't do it because he was there.

Hawks.

The hero that caught me while I was falling because he had wings.

I only saw a silhouette of them, but they seemed so pretty.

Right under the covers, I feel them tickling my back. Atrophied quirks are also not uncommon. Still, I wish they haven't asked about this hunchback that I tried so hard to hide under the nylon coat. But it doesn't help when you don't know what size they'll be the next day.

The Storm starts to get heavy again as they start to softly brush against the back of my thighs.

Tomorrow is the day. Why wouldn't it be?

I squirm a little, and the softness seems to trail further in my leg, making my breath hitch and shake. Why do I have to be awake when it happens? Is it to remind me that they're still there?

As if I would ever forget it.

In case you prefer Ao3

Previous chapter...

[bluteatavern]

The Bittersweet Flight

Warning: contains gore, blood, murder, vomit, mentions of suicide and drugs...yeah, I guess I got everything covered.

This picture was in one of my school books, I wrote this short story with it in mind. Hope you enjoy it ;)

Beth's father, John, was still sitting in his office when she got home. It was already past midnight, but after so many nights watching his daughter sneak out of the house and not giving any explanations by the next day, he gave up trying to stop her from leaving.

He earned all of the house’s chores after his husband, Michael, died in a sudden accident. A fire that spread through their old flat fast enough to leave nothing but his ashes behind, and a poor scared baby who survived by a miracle. The whole thing was never really explained by anyone, though John had a small hunch about it. He knew about his dear one’s condition, but he never expected Michael to actually take his life like that, especially while Beth was still inside their home.

None of these facts ever left John’s head, and his job had been consuming more of his time with each passing day since things at the office he worked at were not going smoothly. With so many worries and doubts about the past and the future, he had his reasons for sparing his mind from a rebellious daughter’s behavior, which was starting to irritate him a bit.

As for Beth, she knew about her father's situation. She did care about the fact she never got to meet her other father, Michael, except through photographs, and there were not many left. As for his job, its consequences began to be shown at home, with cheaper products on the shelves, and some second-hand furniture replacing those that were being sold. But she didn’t mind about it.

She had her own concerns, as any being who starts to understand how living works. Her sophomore year of school was terrible, filled with fake friendships that carved knife after knife on her back. But the tears in the hidden corners of the school were very real, and her passion for dreamy boy Bryan Wood, that sucker, that was real too. Her actions in their relationship, the kisses she gave, the words she declared, they were as real as the ground beneath her feet, but who ever said so were his?

Beth did not have great expectations for her next and last year of high school. She felt so stressed that it became a routine for her to go out of the house in the dead of night, and head to the same alley, where in exchange for some money from her allowance, she would get her those precious "sweets" that could numb her mind and stun her problems, causing them to look smaller. It was supposed to be just once, but after the first taste of what peace felt like in a lifetime, she couldn’t find the strength to stop anymore.

Who cared if she became thinner within weeks? Who cared if one of her teeth fell off last Tuesday? Who the fuck cared if her smile had cracks around her mouth? Not her, nor her friends, nor Bryan, and certainly not her father, the one who was always too busy looking at that stupid computer screen.

As you may have noticed, none of them talked openly about lack of money or any other of their headaches, and therefore, this incomprehension resulted in more and more frequent arguments at home. No matter how big Beth's problems were, they would always seem inferior to her father’s, and vice versa.

Both knew what they wanted the most. They wanted things to change. A transformation in their lives, whatever it would turn out to be, coming from one of them, or from an external action. At least on this matter, both could fully agree.

Beth walked past her father's office, which still had its light on, flickering once in a while. She didn’t even announce her return, as she walked straight into the bathroom as fast as her brain could allow her.

After undressing and discarding her clothes in one of the bathroom’s corners, she went into the shower box to let the water wash away any impurities that might have entered the house with her. With each new trance, a new mark would appear on her body later. Bites, bruises, signs that made her wonder where they had come from, and the most obvious answer have always made her sick.

After finishing her quick bath, she reached for the towel hanging outside the shower box and began to dry herself off. She wrapped the towel around her chest, which a new purple painful mark was closer to, and took her phone from the sink to check how much battery it still had left. There were no messages on the lock screen, of course. She could barely remember the last time it had any.

She was prepared to open the door and quickly go to her room where she could finally go to sleep.

That was when something caught her eye.

Right in the corner of the bathroom where she threw her clothes, part of her thin soaked blue blouse had begun to move up and down repeatedly, at a desperate pace. A shiver went down Beth’s spine, though it didn’t seem she had anything to be worried about yet.

The movements didn't stop, but it was moving now. A volume stirred under the fabric, and it was almost reaching the end of the waistband of the blouse. Beth watched its path closely, speculating what it could possibly be. Her doubt was resolved when a brown moth finally emerged from under her blouse.

Disgust invaded her head at the thought of coming home with a moth touching her skin. Of course, it was not a harmful creature, but in her defense, the feeling of small and furry paws grazing her body was quite uncomfortable. The small insect stood still on the floor, but when Beth motioned to grab one of her snickers while she was standing, brownish wings flapped, and the creature rose off the ground, flying nonstraight towards Beth.

Startled by the sudden action, the girl got out of the moth's path and ran into the box again with her cell phone still in her hands, closing the glass door behind her. She thought the insect would disorient itself in the bathroom light, and soon be on the floor again, but instead, the moth flew straight into the shower stall, pressing its body against the glass.

Beth studied the appearance of the insect. The body was covered in yellowish hair, the paws thick enough to be replaced by fuzzy keys, and the wings brown as dry leaves. But something was different, something she hadn’t noticed before was now being shown. There were two white ellipses on the moth’s larger wings, which now seen up close, resembled eyes with black iris.

The fear and repulsion were greater than her desire to leave the safety of the box, so Beth took another route. Figuring her father should still be in the office, she turned on her cell phone and texted him.

Dad, there’s a moth outside the bathroom box. Can you please come and kill it?

00:28

Dad seriously, it’s freaking me out

00:30

Dad, c’mon I know you are with your phone

00:31

Dad

00:31

Dad!

00:32

The answer came not so long after the last message.

Daddy flew. Come join me

                                 -Moth

00:33

Just as she was about to write that it wasn't funny, the screen went dark. Her phone had gone out of battery.

Having no other options, Beth began to call out or John:

“Dad...Dad! Come help me! There’s a moth in the bathroom! Dad, c’mon, you know I don’t like insects…I’m freaking out!...DAD!”

Nothing.

A few minutes had passed since she last shouted, and all Beth could do was to stare at the moth, who was still glued to the bathroom box’s glass, like it had died there. The situation was infuriating. If her father wanted to teach her a lesson, and this turned out to be a good way to do it, it’d be such a low blow.

She came closer to the glass and slapped it, but the moth didn’t even flinch.

Her next words were quieter than before, rage on every syllable.

“Disgusting son of a bi-“

This time, a sound came from the door. The doorknob turned once to the left, once to the right, and stopped. Beth watched silently, and then suddenly, there was a loud click as the doorknob turned all the way to the right, and the door opened in a thin opening.

Strangely, this time, the moth left the glass of the shower box and clumsily passed through the door that was left ajar, leaving a trail of yellowish dust on its path.

Beth hesitated for a long time before leaving the box. What she knew was: an insect had emerged from her clothes, though she didn’t feel anything while walking home; someone opened the door, and it was not her father, because she knew he would knock first. And she was pretty sure she had locked it before getting undressed too.

She was too disturbed to want to put on her clothes considering the size of the insect that just came out of them, so she wrapped herself in the towel, with her curly short hair still dripping water, and left the bathroom, not bothering to turn off the light.

The hallway’s light was usually white and boring, but the first thing Beth noticed was that now it was orange, and a little brownish, like the Centennial Light Bulb she had to read an article about for a school project, but the glow was just as strong as before, letting it illuminate and paint the walls with its colors.

The hesitation on each step was so strong now that not even Beth was recognizing herself. All she had to do was go to the office, but now that simple task seemed to be tiled with red-hot coals.

Still, she went.

She had almost reached the end of the hall when she started to hear another sound. It was not an isolated sound, it seemed that a set of papers were being shaken together to build an out-of-step symphony, subtle and constant, with the world’s smallest drums setting the pace. A small creature, a moth, came around the hallway and attached itself to the wall. Beth couldn't help but notice the resemblance this moth bore to the one that had frightened her back in the bathroom.

A few more steps and she finally arrived at her destination...but instead of seeing her father sitting in his office chair, all she saw was an empty chair, and an orange light on the ceiling, which also was once white.

She turned her head slightly when she felt something touching her shoulder. It was another, smaller, butterfly. She quickly used her hand to brush it away. That was when she finally saw the living room, which was opposite the office. Its light bulb was white still.

John was there, not sitting on the couch, but lying face down on the floor, with a dozen moths walking over his body.

“DAD!”

Beth ran towards her father's body, scaring off some moths that immediately flew away. When she turned him over, she saw his face covered in moth fur, with scratches on his cheeks, forehead, and nose. His eyes were upturned in their sockets. The sudden movement caused his mouth to open, since his body's reflexes could not contain it anymore. Under the skin of his throat, a mass began to move upward, like it happened with Beth’s blouse. It went up, and up, and up, until two blood-soaked butterflies crawled out of his mouth, and then dropped to the ground, their wings now too heavy to fly.

Horror washed over Beth’s expression as she released her father's body with a cry. Not even the impact was able to pull a response from the man. Life had already left his flesh long before his daughter had sent the first text.

When the truth finally caught up with Beth, she placed a hand over her mouth, and a painful scream echoed from her throat as she dropped to her knees on the floor. Hot tears flooded her vision, and her hiccups filled the house. The situation could not be processed any differently.

One of the moths that was startled by her arrival started to climb up to the back of her neck. When the girl felt its little paws, she clapped both hands on her back, trying to get rid of the damn tiny creature.

“I think she likes you...”

Even the girl’s tears stopped falling. She had never heard that voice before.

She moved her head very slowly in the direction the voice was coming from, which would be from an armchair across the room beside a lamp on a small table.

Someone was sitting on it. A man, with his head resting on his hand. He wore a knee-length coat, pointy black shoes, and white gloves on his hands. He wore a brownish top hat, and a blond messy braid ran down his left shoulder. His face was covered by a brown scarf with white stripes. His eyes were barely visible behind it.

“Who... who are you?” It was almost impossible to hear Beth's question.

“Who am I?” He lifted his head “No one...for many...but for you and your father, I am what you have been waiting for”

“W-What…What did you do to my father?!” She got up trembling, and the moth that was tangled up in her hair flew to join her sisters in the air “You bastard, it was you! Motherfucker!”

The audacity of using such tone against a stranger in her house spoke louder than the fear of a possible murderer standing right in front of her.

“Oh, my child…” He continued sweetly “...but it was not me who brought this fate upon your father. I am as guilty for your father not be breathing any more as I am for the end of spring...Your father just followed the course he craved”

“This is ridiculous! My father had never wanted to die” She had reasons to believe it “You killed him you sick fuck!”

Beth ran towards the man with her hands down her front. Her fingers were thirsty for that intruder's throat.

But before she could reach him, the man rose abruptly, and from inside his coat, hundreds of brown moths came out and began to fly through every corner of the living room.

The terrible symphony that had been heard from the hallway was now repeated, louder and more terrible. The last lamp in the house had now taken on a golden glow, and it drew the poor creatures into its treacherous light, which then fell to the ground. They all had the same chestnut wings, but something odd seemed to be happening to each of them. If Beth followed the path of one, she would see the ellipses on the wings, but soon enough it would fade away, just to be seen in another different butterfly.

Beth immediately backed away and watched in terror the result of the trick she had just witnessed. Goosebumps ran through her body as more and more moths flew and landed on the walls and furniture, leaving dust trails. None of them landed on her.

“Beautiful, aren't they?” The man reached for a cane that rested beside the armchair he was sitting on “They have been playing their part for all these years”

A little moth landed gracefully on a hand he stretched out, and she started walking over the palm, then his arm, his shoulder, until it finally hid in the safety of her tamer's scarf.

            Beth cling harder to the towel as she began to question if she wasn't dreaming. Soon she would wake up from this hallucination in an alley or at a hospital, and her father would lecture her for acting so recklessly, and then he would take her home, and she would promise not to go out at night, not buy any more drugs, and she would never start fights with him again. She would do anything to get out of this nightmare.

“Nightmare… it's a nightmare… it's a nightmare… it's a nightmare” She repeated over and over as she backed away. Without realizing where she was going, she ended up tripping over the leg of her father's corpse and falling to the ground.

The man walked slowly towards her.

“If this is a nightmare to you, then it must be the most enchanting nightmare a human can get the pleasure of having”

“You are a monster” She whispered before speaking louder through hiccups “...a monster!” Somehow, that comment seemed to deeply upset the man.

"Don't refer to me that way" He said, stopping on his tracks and putting both hands onto the ball on top of the cane.

“So...who...w-what are you?” She asked in a shaky voice.

“I am a messenger” He gestured as if saying a basic fact “I believe you could call me a ‘delivery man’. I advertise, and I carry what the miserable and the disaffected, and every single people desire the most...change. This is what I deliver to the homes of the afflicted, this is what I proclaim to those with good eyesight. And it is what I came to deliver to you and your father tonight” He gestured to the body covered with dust.

“W-What? How could this be what you came to give us?! You killed my father you maniac!”

Again, the man flinched, but did not lose his temper as he proceeded:

“Don’t you realize? This was the change he wanted so much...a change that actually might have started long, longer than you can imagine.”

Beth's lips trembled as the tears began to trickle down her cheeks once again. She looked down at her father's swooning body, who had his face turned towards her, butterflies patting their wings lightly and settling into his mouth and ears.

 It was at this point that all the anguish and disgust surged through her throat, and she turned her head to the ground before she vomited. There was no more anger, it wouldn't make sense to feel it now, for all that was left were her tears, and now there was also the taste of bile in her mouth and an acidic and disgusting liquid on the floor, where more butterflies were bathing.

Beth fought the urge to throw up again at the sight.

“I don't blame you. Changes can be hard to digest” The man continued, playing with his blonde braid as he laughed at his own joke.

The girl lifted her pitying gaze to the scarfed figure that covered the yellow light behind him, darkening his silhouette.

“What change... what change did he want?” She knew the end of the dream would come with her death, so it would be a good thing to  sort things out before.

Crouching beside her, the moth tamer whispered:

“One that would stop all the others. Just think about it…John Coulton left his home at the age of 16 after he assumed to his parents and grandfather he was catching feelings for one of his fellow boy friends. Five years later, there were more changes. By far, he was someone who gave my precious friends a hard work. But after the 4th of may, 17 years ago, he made a wish…he begged for something…” He tapped a finger against one temple “…though it was unconsciously”.

May, the 4th. The date of the fire. Michael’s suicide day.

“John Coulton got seriously tired of changes. Things seemed to be going according to plan, and then suddenly, they were not. Out of track situations began to distaste him so much, that if he couldn’t speak up what he wanted, his mind did…” The man stood up and stretched out his arms “…and the right ones heard it”

Beth no longer knew if she was breathing. Deep down she understood how melancholic her father was, but she never thought he would have this kind of desire. She didn't want to accept this, or any of what was happening here. Clinging to the hope that she was still dreaming, she tried, to get to her feet, but almost immediately fell back to her knees on the dusty floor, crushing one of the moths.

“Oh you poor thing…” The man took her by the elbows and lifted her off the ground, crouching down only to pick up the remains of the crushed moth “…nothing seems to make sense to you yet, so let me explain one last time”

Letting go of Beth's elbow, the man gently placed the butterfly in his hand on the arm of the sofa, where others came to rest in a kind of vigil for their dead sister.

“It's very simple actually” He began, tapping the tip of his cane on the floor, making a sound against it. “To climb every one of the steps of life requires much more than willpower. Life itself is not made of just that. No. It mainly requires change, and the courage to face it” His face turns to the lamp on the ceiling with the same fascination of an insect “…to abhor the concept of transformation is to abhor the growth of a person. To deny this is to deny its essence. Denying change is the same as denying life. That's why when someone wants the changes to stop, it's the same as wanting to stop living.”

"My dad didn't want this..." Beth replied, doing her best to make herself audible while wondering if it would be possible to wake up with a pinch on the arm, or if running out the door would be more efficient "...he was just... .tired” The girl took two awkward steps towards the door, still keeping her body facing the man who was still staring at the light.

“A tiredness that would last longer than the world could afford. This stagnation is an offense to us. And yet we were merciful, we came to grant John's wish.” Turning his head halfway to Beth's side, he calmly completed his sentence, “…just as we have come to grant yours.”

Beth froze in place.

"So…you are going to kill me too, right?" Reality was finally starting to hit Beth like a hammer hits an anvil. A constant movement that alternated between an ascent of ignorance and a descent of realization.

“We are not murderers Beth” The man approached, his cane tapping in time with his steps “We are the natural order of things. We are what reaches every being that breathes and alters the course of the air. We are what made many lock their doors because they thought we couldn't get in." Merely inches from where Beth was, he stopped, and all the moths suddenly ceased their trajectories, landing in every corner of the room except on the man and the girl.

An agonizing silence settled in the atmosphere of the house with the absence of the sound of butterflies flying.

The girl couldn’t feel the man’s breath through the scarf, but she could see his eyes. Completely white eyes, except for the black iris.

“We are the ignored, but always remembered. We are the union of all the will that each being has to achieve peace. We are undeviating and eternal...” The man slowly rose one of his white-gloved hands ”…we are the ultimate change”

The moths each lifted their wings, as if in an attack position. It was hostile in a charming way.

“It's time to fly, Beth” And just like that, the man snapped his fingers.

All the moths took flight in perfect harmony, forming a single circle around Beth, who was not trembling so much anymore. On the contrary, she found herself mesmerized by the swirl of wings around her. A longing began to form in her core as Beth let the towel fall from her body. She wanted to join them and dance this winged dance that seemed to be filled with peace. Looking up, the yellow bulb that was noticeable in the eye of that tornado seemed more beautiful and radiant than the sun.

Beth didn't care about anything but the soft sound of the moths and that holy light. She didn't care when the little paws of the moths brushed her bare skin, for now, she saw herself floating in the air, in the middle of that paradise. She didn't care when the bugs entered her ears and her mouth, opened in admiration. She could feel the butterflies crawling through her larynx, fighting the flow of blood in her arteries to reach her heart, and their wings beating in her stomach, but nothing else seemed to be as worthy of attention as that sensation of walking towards the light, leaving all her troubles and her wounds behind.

At some point, Beth realized what was about to happen, but she didn't try to do anything to stop the process. It would all be over soon, and she would feel no pain.

It was a delicious bittersweet thought.

The last moths left Beth's body, wings soaked in blood. The girl's eyes were rolled up in their sockets, and her mouth was open in a small slit from where the six-legged ballerinas were coming out, just like the human ones do after their performances. In pain in every part of their bodies and probably with some broken parts, but satisfied with the show they had delivered.

The Moth Man had sat waiting for the show to end, and now some of his loyal dancers were crawling to meet him. He picked one up by the wings and whispered softly to it:

“Excellent work as always, my darlings”

The man finally got up and went to the other rooms in the house, looking for the main power switch. When he found it, all the lights in the house were turned off, except for the one in the living room, which still glowed a faint yellowish hue.

That meant that his duty was done for the night. There was only one thing left to be done.

The Moth Man stood between the two bodies and proclaimed in the voice of a priest to his loyal believers:

“And thus the final change was made

The day sets with morbid grace

 The night welcomes you in her embrace

The blood and the flesh are left at ease

The soul makes its way to conquer peace

And while the smell of what rots silences your despair

A bittersweet song is left in the air”

[bluteatavern]

"Just so you know, I'm doing my best here"

"That's the problem, dear. I want you to do your worst"

[bluteatavern]

Cry me a river

Chapter 1: Another fish in the sea

A sweet music could be heard on repeat at the bar for longer than 30 minutes now, but no soul moved to change it. Everybody was too absorbed in their own conversations. Their mouths couldn't stop moving, each one at a different speed depending on what liquor had passed through them previously.

Still, on the more isolated corner, there was a customer who hasn't moved their lips since the moment they entered the bar. Or if they had, others couldn't tell because of the black mask that covered their mouth and nose and ran down their neck. They wore a dark blue sweater, and a black wool cap, and beside them, there was a gym bag almost bursting. Not peculiar enough to drive enough attention to that corner, even with the black paint around their eyes.

The world in recent years had put to the test what could be considered ordinary or not. It was not uncommon to observe passersby on the streets who would long ago have been burned or taken away to be dissected the moment they appeared in public. Now they were drinking coffee, talking to people who possessed the appearance that was once considered normal, or just contemplating life in its futility and impermanence. There were even those called heroes, once martyrs, now role models that everyone who possessed a quirk wanted to follow.

Physical appearance had almost seized to be relevant, at least on that part of town where any evil-doer, any thief or schemer would walk unnoticed. Another fish in the sea, another villain, nothing more.

The customer seemed to be in wait for something or someone. That could only explain their head turning from time to time subtly. They haven't raised a finger to ask for a drink once, nor did they answer verbally when the waiter offered them. When the manager finally tried to approach to ask them to leave, since they have been taking space for too long without ordering anything, she turned around midway, panting, heart beating fast. Afraid of something she couldn't name, which came out of nowhere like a wave.

That was for the dissatisfaction of the others there. Another fish in the sea they whispered, but that wasn't enough to keep them from wondering what on earth did that person, someone new around, wanted there.

But the answer would come shortly.

The door opened once more, and seeing who had just walked in, gasps and sighs both of delight and dismay crossed the air.

Giran, a gray haired man wearing a purple coat and a puffy scarf that was probably a fake, knew very well that you couldn't always please everyone around you, especially if you don't pick a side to stand for. He remembered so as he walked across the bar, not like he owned the place, but like he knew the person who did. That was his life. As long as he knew how to play in someone else's game, he would be safe.

"Giran! How's life been treating you?" A man near the counter shouted.

"Oh, you know. Some days better than others"

He waved at some while trying not to look at other tables before approaching the jukebox and letting a coin he took from the bartender fall through the hole. With the click of one of the buttons, a different melody got mixed with the small talk in the place. He snapped his fingers at the beat before turning.

That was when he saw them.

Both stared at each other before Giran walked back to the counter. He and the first man who spoke to him took a table that forced him to look directly to that mask if he were to taunt his head. But he didn't, and the guest in that corner also made no effort to earn a glance.

Giran started up a conversation with the man on the other side of the table, paying no mind to anything else, but always awfully aware of what could be behind him. The customer started to drum their finger on their thighs for a change, while looking steadily at the door.

Time went by, and when only half of the people from earlier remained inside the bar, when even the jukebox seized to play, they went to the bathroom. At the same moment, two men and a woman came in. One of the man, the one who opened the door, was the smallest of the two, and wore a ragged pea coat slightly open on the upper chest area where traces of a tattoo were showing, and the other wore similar clothing, except his coat was fully buttoned up. The woman wore a trench coat equally torn and fingerless gloves, with tattoos running up on the fingertips of both hands like briars.

The manager told her workers to go to the back of the counter, while the other customers glanced around and thought about a way to flee without the three noticing. Giran chewed at his fourth cigarette, trying to ignore the sweat in his face and under his arms. Those three were no strangers to him, nor to anyone at the bar. They have, after a fight, claimed their share of territory on the alleys of the city, taking over what once the other group they defeated thought was theirs. They were rarely seen separated, and also rarely left their spot in the streets. That would explain the uneasy atmosphere that took over the place.

"Alright...where's the little shit?" The smallest man asked, looking around.

His eyes fixated on the gauntlets before seeing the eyes. Eyes covered in ink, like war paint.

"There you are. Gotta get you back for the favor you paid us back there, you bastard" Just as he was reaching up for the collar of his coat, the woman held him back by the shoulder.

"Step away, Nao" She yanks off her gloves to reveal the rest of the tattoos that course along the whole extent of her hands, but specially on her palms, that have each one a circle in the middle, adorned by complicated wavy lines "They're mine"

The manager stepped between the woman and the quiet customer.

"Hey, if you got anything to solve, do it outsi-"

The tattoo on the woman's right hand started shining in bright red, and in a second, she bent her arm back before hurling it ahead.

All the manager could see was a red gap in the middle of the circle on the woman's hand that kept getting bigger and bigger. All her employees could see from the back of the counter was a sharp red dagger flying from the palm of the woman's hand straight to their boss' face. They had a glimpse of her nose being cut in the middle, and the blood that would come out of it in seconds, bathing her face and staining the floor.

Seconds were enough for her to close her eyes. And it was also enough for the painted one to close the distance between where they stood and the woman about to be stabbed in the face.

The clinking of metal against metal ringed, and when the manager took enough courage to open her eyes again, she only had the time to make out the arm with the gauntlet covering the front of her face before being pushed aside by the masked person against the wooden counter, where the dagger, red as a siren, was stuck for a few seconds before vanishing in a red puff of smoke.

"You're thinking of putting up a fight now? Why don't you run like you did before?" The womanin the pea coat let her arm fall to her side.

Instead of answering, the quiet customer raised both arms and flexed their legs in defense position. They had fingerless gauntlets on both arms, with oval shields on top of them, and underneath those there was a sort of shooter with a small harpoon tip coming out from its muzzle.

"Quit staring Aya. Just finish them, c'mon!" Nao seemed more thrilled than his other two partners. One leaned against the wall near the door, the other, ready to stab the masked one until their cold dead body did a contrast with their hot blood pouring out from the wounds she yearned to open.

With a harsh scream, Aya began to wave her arms, her tattoos shining in brightly red and shooting dagger after dagger. The gauntlets blocked them the best way they could, but she could tell, their wielder wasn't that fast.

She started to walk forward, aiming as if her opponent's dance has been seen by her countless times before. Their attempts to attack kept being replaced by the shields blocking the daggers, forcing them to sometimes retreat, but never completely.

Aya threw a dagger at their forehead, and when the shield went up to protect that half of a face being shown, Aya ran and kicked her opponent on the side that was unprotected. They did not grunt, but their eyes shut tightly, the only hint the impact against the counter hurt.

"Where's that cleverness you put up against me back ther-" a glass filled with whiskey from the counter hit her in the face "Shit!" Wasting no time, they cut the air with the sharp edge of the shield horizontally, but Aya dodged it by lowering her head with a groan.

As she did so, her face met with her opponent's knee that was quickly flexed in the air.

Aya stumbled back, trying to contain the blood running from her nose.

"Don't just stand there asshead! Do something!" She shouted to Nao, who brought both hands to his chest, his tattoo glowing just like Aya's. With a swift movement, two bright red swords appeared in his hands once he pulled them away from his body.

"Finally, my turn!" Nao darted, one sword up and the other down.

Another series of sounds of crashing metal. The masked one trying their best to block each of Nao's moves, whose swords kept searching for flesh to cut. Again, like Aya, he seemed to always be one step ahead, always knowing where each unprotected part would be with every defense move, and by the sweat running down his opponent's temple, he could see they were getting tired.

That wasn't untrue. But the masked one was not worried. They had found what they wanted.

Aya came from behind with a dagger in her hands. She passed it around the masked one's neck, ready to slice their throat through the fabric of the mask.

"Come here" She whispered.

"Get them!" Nao shouted.

"Finally..." their third friend sighed to himself by the door.

The masked one raised their arm and shot, aiming for the wall where the door was, for the spot beside the third friend.

A chain, thick enough to fit the shooter, was launched, passing under Nao's raised arm, straight to that spot, but its sharp point didn't hit the wall. It stopped a few inches from it, and when the chain retreated to the muzzle, blood started spilling from apparently thin air. The man leaning against the wall turned to where the blood was coming from. The source of the blood seemed to twitch a little, and as it began to lower, a woman wearing a white dress, now stained, and a white blindfold began to appear, starting from her head to her heals . The man beside her knelt down to hold her.

Aya and Nao stopped moving the moment the chain was shot, both staring at the scene back there. The masked one threw his head back, hitting Aya's face again, who tripped back holding her nose. Her dagger faded in red smoke, and so did one of Nao's sword when it got kicked by the one fighting the two.

He quickly began to attack with the remaining sword.

"Nao, stop playing around!" Aya spoke through gritted teeth.

"What d'you want me to do?! I'm in the dark here now too!"

The quiet one kicked Nao in the stomach and turned to Aya, barely blocking the dagger descending on their face in time. Now up close, without being able to throw them, she took one dagger on each hand while trying to keep the same posture. But now she wasn't as accurate on her attacks as she was before.

"Sana! Get back up dammit!" She shouted to the two by the door.

"She's not waking up!" The man by the door was holding the blindfolded girl in his arms.

Nao, red in the face, brought his free hand to his tattoo and started to pull another sword from his chest when Aya was about to stab the quiet customer in the face. Her dagger ended up on Nao's hand when their opponent jumped to the right.

Nao screamed holding his bloody hand.

Aya froze, watching his face distort into a pained expression. She did not noticed the masked one's arm coming from behind. They hit her with the shield on the back of her neck, making her fall to the floor knocked out. Nao made a fruitless effort to stab them with his good hand, but all it took was a dodge and a swing of their arm for him to join Aya after a punch.

Surely, the eyes from the manager and her workers after the fight was over were far from gentle.

"Out...GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! ALL OF YOU! NOW!" The manager started screaming, grabbing the first thing she laid eyes upon and throwing it at the woman on the floor, who grunted.

Being the only one standing, the quiet costumer passed one foot after the other over Nao's unconscious body and walked to the door, closing it behind them.

Outside, late at night, the mask was pulled down, and its user stopped under a flickering lamp post and lit a cigarette. No one was around to see their face without the mask, but if there was, it wouldn't cause that much of a fuss. Another fish in the sea, nothing more.

There they stayed. Waiting again.

And then, from the corner of the street, the sound of steps started echoing, getting closer and closer. The person under the lampshade dropped the cigarette on the street and stepped on it, making it join the hundreds of others discarded in that filthy concrete.

When the sound of the steps finally reached its peak, and the shadow accompanying them got smaller, Giran appeared, with his hands on his pockets, walking down the sidewalk towards the once again masked person.

"Well, hey there" he started "Not the calmest night we're having, right?"

His greeting was met with nothing but silence. Seeing no other option, he continued.

"We've been bumping into each other for quite some time lately, and I'm starting to think it is not a coincidence. I have a good eye for that. Why don't we walk a little bit? I suppose you are not allowed in Chikao's bar again."

The other one nodded, and both started strolling down the street.

"As for what I wanted, well, I saw a lot of potential in you for the past few days. Such talent should not go hidden from the world in a dead end like this place" Both walked into an alley, with only Giran's voice being heard while the masked person squinted their eyes at him "That being said, I have a business proposal to you...or better...I have a client who has been looking for people to accept this proposal. It's promising enough. If you are interested, I can tell you more. Not that there is that much to unpack actually, bu-"

The masked one stopped dead on their tracks and started to look at Giran and behind them anxiously.

They reached for their pants pocket and pulled out a small notebook with a spent blue cover and a pencil. After quickly scribbling something on one page, they tore it and shoved it on Giran's hands.

And then, they ran all the way back to the corner Giran came from.

Confused, but somewhat unimpressed, Giran walked out of the alley to read the note in the dim light of the nearest lamp post.

《Please don't leave. I'm interested in the proposal.

I forgot my bag at the bar.

Be back soon.》

It took Isamu, the second man of that group, an hour and some help from two other people drinking at the bar to carry his three friends to the alley he thought was good enough to pass the night.

Being the worst of the three, Isamu started to apply some tissue with alcohol in Sana's pierced shoulder. The woman woke up seconds after he started, moaning in pain.

"Try to stay still, I'm almost finished" he was not, but all he wanted at the moment was for her to get better.

While he was at it, he began to wonder about the person responsible for this. They were not that uncommon to look at. C'mon, a mask? What was so impressive about it.

Nothing.

What was impressive was the fact that they knew he was hiding Sana at the bar. When they talked to him and Aya, both didn't say there was a fourth member to the group. That was the Tatoochi Group secret. Their secret. With Sana's quirk, they could know their enemies next steps and never break a sweat while destroying them.

When that person asked them for help and then betrayed the group, it was obvious Aya would want to go after them for a rematch.

But without Sana telling her what to do...

Speaking of her, Aya grunted and started to get up while rubbing the back of her neck. To the sound of his sister, Nao moved in his sleep.

"Lay down Aya-chan. I'll see your head in a minute" Again, it wouldn't take Isamu only that.

Seeing the state his group was in, Isamu couldn't ignore the anger boiling in his chest. They were defeated for the first time since they stared working as a team.

"What happened after that?" Aya's voice was barely recognizable with the pain throbbing on the back of her head. If she raised her fingers, she swore she would see the blood from the concussion.

"They left through the door without looking back" Isamu answered, done cleaning Sana's shoulder.

"Fuck" She covered her eyes with the hand that was not supporting her neck "All that circus, and they didn't even stay for a rematch"

"Like you would be up for it..." Nao whispered, still with his eyes closed.

"Shut up" Aya grunted "After Sana's better, we will find them again. And this time, try to pick a better hiding spot Isamu!"

"I don't think there will be a next time" Isamu said as he rolled a bandage in his hand.

"Have you forgotten who's in charge here I-sa-mu-kun?" Aya said with a stern tone while sitting with legs crossed.

"Before they left, they actually dropped something" Isamu reached inside his pocket and threw a small cylindrical paper wrapper tied by a string.

Aya opened it as Isamu moved behind her to clean her neck.

Inside, there was a total of JPY6.000 and a note.

《I hope this will be enough to cover the damage for now.

If you ever come after me again, I will rip out your tongues and ears.》

"Dammit" Aya threw the note far.

"Told you"

"Well, that might have changed your mind, but not mine. I'm going after them, and when I find them, I will double the price"

"You shouldn't worry about it, Aya-chan"

Isamu and Aya stared at the blindfolded woman on the ground, speaking in a weak tone.

"What do you mean, dear?" Isamu asked, carefully.

"I saw it...they will die soon"

[bluteatavern]

Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

Chapter 1: Feather of a caged bird

The tops of the city's buildings look like bright thorns trying to poke the night sky. I can understand it. Those who find nothing they need on the ground might as well try and search for something else above them. But there are also the ones who had already accepted that we are all meant to fall at some point, from whatever height we have reached. When you acknowledge that, it doesn't really matter if the fall hurts or not.

This is how I feel as I lean over the edge of the building.

What time is it? I last checked it on the bus, but now it feels like is close to midnight. It's not like the idea hit me as soon as I saw the building through the bus window. It was at some point between climbing the wall of old bricks with vines growing here and there, and reaching the terrace after going up the stairs with missing steps. These thoughts always come in the strangest of times, like a sudden glow that doesn't bring a gentle light of hope, only the promise that things will get better this way. It's almost comforting.

It's colder in here than I thought it would be. The wind seems to be getting stronger, pushing me sometimes forward, sometimes backward, as if not even the world knows what to do with me. My air is visible in the dark for a moment, with the faint light coming from Fukuoka city right in front of me. It's not a panic attack, it would be ridiculous to have one now when everything is so calm.

It usually looks like a storm. I can't quite remember when it started, but it wasn't that strong at first. But time passed, and the clouds started to get darker, making it unbearable to do anything with it in my head, distorting every image, every memory, and every word, leaving everything too confusing to understand how I was feeling. It was easier to pretend that nothing was happening and that there was nothing that needed to be felt. I forced myself to believe it as I tried to silence everything in my head that screamed otherwise, looking for reasons to get one foot out of bed. But after a while, I started to realize that there is no reason. And if it ever existed, it has already been blown away by the first gust of wind.

There's no reason to move around while waiting, in vain, for something that even you don't know what it is. Why fight something that will never change? Why keep trying to get your feet out of the mud, waiting for something to return the effort?

When I exhale again, the air comes out raggedly, and a hiccup follows soon after. It doesn't make sense, because I don't feel like crying anymore. I don't feel like feeling anything, not even fear, but I wouldn't call it peace either.

My face must be terrible right now. Still, I run a hand over it, wiping my eyes the best way I can. I've never heard stories of anyone worrying about their physical appearance at times like this. And what's the use? My body might explode against the concrete, or by a miracle, I might survive and suffer excruciating pain until it's finally over. They might never be able to recognize my body, or maybe no one will look for me, thinking I just went away when things got bad. I don't care. I wouldn't be here if it bothered me.

No. What comes next is the real issue, even if I won't be here to see it. But what if I don't think about it now as well? I don't want to step back this time, I'm sure of it.

I've always been selfish. Why not be now?

I look at what appears to be a big black hole below me. No vertigo, no signs of dizziness are felt in my body, and the adrenaline has worn off a few minutes ago.

Looking ahead, the city remains the same. Shining and making all sorts of sounds that an ordinary city makes.

After all these years, I never actually walked those streets, or absorbed more than just the air in the apartment from the inside of a bus, or from the people that came in and out of the shop. When I became aware of that, I tried to do things differently, I tried to ignore the Storm whenever it became too violent. I prayed that it would make things better somehow.

But nothing changed. And I grew tired of being the only one noticing it.

And the city is still there. Oblivious to everything outside its most crowded places. Everyone has more to worry about than people alone on top of roofs of abandoned buildings. It's like the world has forgotten about me in the midst of this entire existence. But it's not like I've given it many reasons to remember me.

I wish the reason I came up here was different though. One where this sight wasn't the last thing I'd see. Maybe that way it would be less sad to see something so...beautiful.

As always, I can destroy anything, any experience, anything good that comes into my life.

This wasn't the change I wanted, but it looks like is the only one I'm worthy of getting. The only one that everyone in the world is sure they will get someday. So why wait any longer? The way out of this is praying my next shot will be easier to leave with.

I approach the edge, and it feels like moving through the mud for the first time in ages.

"...look, I don't know if there is a perfect spot to look at the city, but if I had to make a list, this one would be in fourth or fifth place..."

I stop with one foot on the parapet and the other one hanging in the air.

I know the voice is that of a man, and the words are in Japanese. It's calm, almost lazy, but not that tiring to hear.

"...you can see a bit of the sea, and over there on the right, with the yellow and green billboard, there's this restaurant. And let me tell you, it's really good. Believe me, I've been there twice"

I place both feet together on the ground before turning around halfway. There's a darker shadow in contrast to the night, leaning against the wall of the old water tank near the space where the stairs reach the top of the building.

"And of course, there's the big tower right over there" He points to what I believe is Fukuoka Tower right behind me. He ends the next sentence with a dismissive wave of his hand "...a bit overrated if you ask me, but I think it's worth a third place in my 'Best Views in the World' list, 'Cause why not, right? No one said I couldn't judge places only I can see. That might not be fair but feels good to have a secret that is not actually a secret. It's just a truth that no one has discovered yet. Anyway, you ever visited there?"

It's as if we're not on top of a building, but on the street, talking safely. Did he even realize what I was trying to do? And how long has he been there? I know I didn't see anyone when I arrived. Why else would I have stayed otherwise?

"Sorry...it's just that I...I don't understand Japanese very well" I say, forcing my accent on each 'r' and 'd' of the sentence, fully embracing the stereotype "...would...would you mind leaving for a second? I... I want to be alone"

He leans off the wall and takes one slow step ahead. His figure becomes more distinguished from the rest, and I can see a bit of his hair, and a bag he's carrying in one arm.

"And what are you going to do if I leave?" He responds, in English this time. Oh, of course.

As for what I'm planning to do, is the kind of thing I wouldn't do in front of a stranger. It's not a mystery, especially considering where we are right now. He knows I might not do it as long as he stays, and for that, he's right...he might be.

I turn around and grab a part of the rusty fence, cool to the touch. This seems to awake something in this stranger, as I hear his footsteps coming closer to where I stand slowly. I fight the urge to yell at him to stop while I grip the fence tighter, heating the metal with my palm.

His next words have a different tone, almost unnoticeable. It's still lazy, but...more urgent.

"If you really wanted that, you'd have done it by the sixth floor. Instead, you went up three more. My guess, you don't really want it, but you still haven't figured out a reason to stay either. Or maybe you think the answer lies here"

He finally reaches the parapet and climbs on top of it to stand beside me, turning his body so he can face me directly, though I just keep gazing at the city. He doesn't seem to mind the height either. Maybe he thinks this will be over soon, and that's why he doesn't mind staying.

"And maybe you're right. The reason might be around here somewhere. But you won't get to see it if you jump. This is not your only option"

It's always the same stuff. The same delicate words. I don't need to see his face to know that he, too, has the same expression I've seen every time someone thought they could help me. It was all in vain. The more they tried to pull me out of the mud, the more I seemed to sink, sometimes even bringing some to my own misery. It was a vicious cycle, they come, they try to help, they get a taste of the Storm, and then they finally leave, sometimes after a long time, sometimes because I shove reality in their faces.

I don't want to accept his help because I don't need it anymore. I don't want a new perspective, I just want to be alone right now. But I don't have time for him to realize that.

I put a fist against my forehead and then rub my face, forcing out the frustration that is clear in my voice when I finally speak.

"And who are you to be sure of that hum? What are you trying to be here? A hero?" I place both hands on my own neck and sight while looking up.

"I don't-"

"Quit it, seriously. I don't want to have to listen to it anymore, especially from someone who's just pretending they get it. Look, if you don't want to look like a suspect just because you were at the wrong time and place. So just go!" I stretch one arm towards the stairs, returning his gaze for the first time.

His hair is messy, and it seems like there's something around his neck. He's a bit shorter than me too.

"...I can wait" I finish. My breathing is hitching a bit. How am I supposed to convince him to leave like this?

"I'm sorry, but I'm not leaving until I make sure you're okay"

"I am fine, alright? You can go now."

A few more seconds of silence pass without either of us moving. I can try to jump now, but I don't know if he will try to catch me and end up falling too. Despite being rude to him, I know he just wants to help, and that's why I don't want him to waste our time. It's a lost cause, and as soon as he realizes that...well...the better.

"...you're right about one thing though..." He begins "...I'm a nobody right now. I'm probably not even acting like a real hero too. I'm not someone who knows what you need. But I can help you find out if you let me. So why don't you explain it to me? Maybe it could help clear a few things for both of us. Tell me why you thought this was the answer. What made you come up here, so far from anything? What are you trying to escape from?"

At this point, would he believe if I said I can’t name it? It's there, I can feel it, but It's like trying to light up this building almost falling to pieces with the light of the city that is so far from us. Instead, I bend my knees very slowly until I'm completely sat. I've lost the will to try and chase him away. Clearly, he doesn't want to give up.

"Usually that's why I come here y'know? To try and see things from a different point of view. One that can expand my eyesight. Sometimes I believe I can even see the future for a brief moment"

"Sorry...didn't mean to invade your crystal ball"

"I don't know if I would call it a crystal ball. I prefer the term 'domain'. I like the way it sounds. But that's fine, I forgive your trespassing attempt" He chuckles. I just exhale through my nostrils with a tiny, crooked smile.

Now he must think he's walking on less shaky ground, and I would have thought the same once, but now it's too confusing to differ a genuine reaction from a rehearsed one. This quickly rips the crooked smile from my face.

He sits down lazily.

"Look, one thing that I learned is that this world is a crazy selfish thing. It goes 'round and 'round faster than we'd like, and it expects everyone else to follow its pace without complaining, even if you lose the chance to say what you want or do what you want as a consequence. But there are those times when you just go to a certain spot and everything changes. I've found this spot in here, being above everything without anyone noticing..." He traces an arc in the air with his palm, which appears to be covered by a glove "...like the world stopped the moment you sat foot in this place" He sounds a bit tired in that last sentence "It won't do that for you in real life, but that's why I think you should enjoy a moment like this, when everything seems to be still in place, and you can say whatever you want. No one will hear"

"But...you're still staying...aren't you?"

I didn't mean to sound disappointed this time. It's just the tiredness, the cold, and my face, that I insist on cleaning.

"Yes" It seems like he's disappointed as well. I don't know if it's with me, or himself "But I'm not going to insist you tell me anything you don't want to. I mean, I'm not a psychologist, I'm just a random guy who showed up here in this building at the same time you did. It doesn't have to mean anything you don't want to. Scream, curse, take down this fence until the roof is clear. I believe you shouldn't hide something when you're in a place high like this one"

Once again the wind blows, and his last sentence keeps echoing in my mind. I imagine the words coming out of my mouth and being carried away by the wind, while I hope that everything else goes along, to a place far away from me, and never comes back. I know that won't happen for real, but feels good to think about it. A confession might not redeem me, but maybe it will assure me that this, right here, is the only right thing, as I suspected.

"Or we could go somewhere else. It gets pretty cold here around dawn" He's really doing his best to get me out of here, isn't he? It makes me feel sorry for him somehow.

I pull my knees against my chest.

"Have you ever felt like you've been chasing something, and you can't picture what anymore, but is the only way you learned how to get by, and now it just seems like you're just...well...moving?"

He pauses before responding.

"Moving is not the same as progressing when you don't know where you're heading. In this case, yes. Everyone has felt like this before. But tell me, if leaving like this has brought you nothing, why you keep doing it?"

Because it won't lead to anything but the same place you started if the rest is the same. Living for me is a constant fight against what makes me want to bang my head against a wall and push the urge away as much as I can until it comes down all at once. And then I have to do it all over again. It's tiring, stressful, and never goes away no matter the number of times I look on the bright side. It's stuck inside me, and I can't get it off. Slowly but surely people will notice it, and they'll try to help me. That's the part that hurts the most.

"And what if you're not worthy of this?" I ask.

"Why would you think that?"

"Because no matter how much you try to change things, they just keep turning back to what they were. The problem ends up being way too deep in you to solve. And it hurts. Not only for me but for other people as well. And it's unbearable to watch it without being able to do anything, knowing it's all my fault" My arms are shaking. Saying it out loud is harder than I remember.

"It can't be all your fault, y-"

"Yes it is!" It feels funny. To let things out all of this to you. But that doesn't mean it's good "You think I didn't try to change my mind over and over and over again? Why would I have come here tonight if I wasn't sure of the answer?"

"To think. To think of another solution" He gestures to the darkness below us "That's never the only answer. You can still do the right thing"

This is the right thing. He just doesn't know because he hasn't been around long enough to see the pattern. There is nothing to be done right here anymore. Everything is too broken for that, and it seems like everyone always chooses to ignore it but me.

And he's no different from the others. I should have noticed sooner.

"Let me be straight here..." I turn part of my body to him "I've heard those same words a million times before, and I can tell you that there is no 'do the right thing'. What is right for me hurts someone else. What I do for others hurts me too. In the end that's the only thing I ever do. I mess up absolutely everything"

"I'm sure that's not true. Villains are the ones who mess up everything. And you don't look like one"

"Oh, really? Because I've only lived with one person alone my whole life, and still I managed to make his life hell just by being there...He never got the chance to be truly happy...it was always because of me...me and this weight that was born with me and I can't get rid of..." It's a cruel irony, but he wouldn't notice it. He doesn't know the whole story. I change my tone without noticing, and my voice becomes softer "...it's like...like I can't do anything for anyone for real...like a bird in a cage... that doesn't know what it takes to get out"

He straightens his back and turns his face to look up at me at the sound of those last words, as if he's only hearing them now. I repeat the same words in my head and start to laugh.

"God...I've never said that before. It sounds like a line from a bad dramatic tv show hehe" He stays as quiet as a grave "Oh come on. You're shutting up now? You can laugh too. I know it's stupid"

He clicks his tongue and takes a deep breath.

"I don't think it's stupid..." he starts getting up from the edge"...and if I'm being honest with you, and myself, then you're probably talking to the person who best understands what is like to be a bird in a cage"

He doesn't move to try to touch my arm or comfort me. At this point he'd probably be trying to hug me, telling me pretty things, drawing a future full of empathy and love, but the only way I know he's still here is by his voice, which hasn't changed an octave since he's appeared. Am I hallucinating? Is he an illusion? If so then...

"Oh, but of course you understand..." I chuckle. At such times, people always understand a lot, hallucination or not.

I look up, and realize how far I've always been from reaching the sky, even though it was falling above my head.

"So why don't you tell me what it's like, please?" I walk past him without stepping down to the safe part of the roof and start walking with both arms outstretched across the bare part of the parapet.

"Do you feel trapped in some way? Maybe inside your own head? Does everything around you make you so scared and hopeless that you can barely get out of bed in the morning? Do you deal with what you can, but it never seems to get you anywhere?" My arms drop.

I stopped walking because a part of the steel fence is right in front of me, leaning to the side opposite to the edge. I grab it and turn it slightly to the other side. It wasn't being held by anything on the parapet anymore, so it just goes willingly in the direction I pull it, until it finally breaks free from another part that has been holding it in place for god knows how long. One second there was a rusty and cold fence ahead of me, and now only the remains of one have stayed. The other half fell and fell until it finally crashed against the concrete with a loud thud. It echoes through the building and its parking lot. It feels like it echoes through me too for a second, reminding me that in a few seconds, the next thud will come from my body down there.

"Look, I know what you're trying to do here. But you also said I need to fix things. And that's what I was trying to do..." I feel it coming again, stronger than when I arrived. I just want it to be over. Could the world have a little compassion and let me get it done once and for all? Can this man be that merciful? "...so could you by the heavens just go awa-" I was about to shout at him until he leaves, but...

I turn around and see a new silhouette forming behind the boy's back. It's graceful, and seems to be quite light. It takes me a second to understand where they came from.

Now he has the coat he was wearing dangling from one arm, and his bag propped up in the other. Little pieces that look like they are made of paper are coming out of it, and one by one, they go to his back, attaching to one another like pieces of a puzzle, and forming...

Wings...he has wings...he has...feathers.

"Wanna know something funny about life?" He starts after all the...feathers...quit coming from the bag "Words never mean the same thing to everyone. The meaning depends on the one hearing"

He leaves the edge with a little jump and holds out a hand to help me down. The wings rustle like leaves.

Everything starts to get mixed up. The outline of his body, the lights, the buildings. Everything seems to spin...except the wings.

"Hey kid, are you alright?"

"The wings...you have...wings...you have..."

I feel sick, and my head is throbbing.

He has...feathers...like...

My vision darkens, and I feel a gust of wind rushing through my body out of nowhere until the ground disappears beneath my feet.

"Shit" I hear someone saying, but I don't recall who it could be.

The sound of everything is muffled by the wind, but my heartbeat is clearly hammering in my ears.

And that rustling, so soft...

And so fast...

In case you prefer Ao3...

Chapter 2