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She’s so tired. It’s been a long day, it’s been a long week. It’s been a long year. The wind is cold tonight, the clouds are gone, and the stars dance so prettily with the moon. Mom always did say to look for the stars when she missed her. So, here she stands. On a roof, looking up at the night sky. It’s quiet up here, just the sound of the wind and a few stray cars passing by.
It took some effort to get up here, on the roof. And it’s not even her final destination. At least she gets to go a different way down this time.
No, her last stop is the old half-torn down hospital. Abandoned years ago, after some fire. It doesn’t matter, she doesn’t really care about that. She can’t remember why they never finished tearing down the building, money issues? Maybe the city just didn’t care enough to take down the rest of it. Honestly, not something she’s really thought hard about.
Taking a big breath, she looks up at the full moon. She wishes her mom was here, oh what she wouldn’t give to be wrapped in her mother’s arms again.
She loves her Uncle, don’t get her wrong. He has hugs that make her feel safe, secure. But mom…
She’d never tell him this, he’d get this sad look on his face, even if he’d try and hide it. She’d just feel bad. He’s already stressed, working himself to the bone. And with starting that new job, on top of his other one? And then whatever he’s been doing this past year, that's been keeping him extra busy?
Absolutely not.
It would just add more unnecessary stress to his load, and she doesn’t want that. Not when he has to be so strong for so many others already.
It has be tonight, she planned for it. Made sure to spend the daylight hours with her Uncle, even if it ended on a bit more of a sour note. Many of their conversations have been doing that lately. Since this past year, he started being weirdly busy. She felt brushed off, thrown more to the side. So, she started provoking him more. Anything for even a glimpse or glance from him directed at her.
Doesn’t matter now though, she thinks, as she looks away from the sky and onto the other buildings. She’s got things to do, and like hell she’ll be stopped before she even gets there.
She breathes, in then out. She takes a running start, and jumps to the next building just before the edge.
She leaps through the air, wind blowing harshly through her hair, it’s exciting, it’s thrilling. It’s freeing. Landing on the next roof, she meets the rough gravel a little sooner than calculated, it hurts slightly when she lands but she folds her legs and prepares to roll forward. It all happens in quick succession.
It definitely felt cooler than how it probably looked. She bet she looked extremely stupid just now, but whipping her head up and looking around, seeing that no one has magically appeared, she giggles.
She gets back up, rolling her shoulders as she does and prepares to jump for the fire escape on the building over. It looks just as rusty as any of the others do, maybe even slightly more. But it’s the only way to the top of the building, without going inside, of course. So, she makes her move, just hoping that it’ll hold up.
And if it turns out that it doesn’t hold? Well, no harm no foul, the job will be done either way. Just a little less dramatic, still just as glamorous though.
She leaps, descending fast. Her arms reach out at the last second. The sharp clang of metal meeting flesh and shoes ring out. Quickly grabbing around the ladder, feeling gravity fake proper hold on her as she comes to an abrupt stop. Breathing a little heavy, an airy laugh escapes her as she starts to climb. It’s a little bit of a way to the top, the building is tall and the others around it not as much. In fact, the building she leapt from was the tallest and the closest to this one she could get.
And it really did have to be this one, none of the others would truly do.
Nevermind it all, she thinks, as she pulls herself up onto the ledge. The concrete is old and weathered from, well, the weather and time. As she awkwardly shuffles forward onto the roof on her knees, she looks around on the roof. Old vents that used to supply air circulation to the building have been left, looking worse for wear. The roof access door stands on the other side, definitely locked. Not that she’d know, but the ground floor doors were , and she did spot cameras down there, they might not work but they also might. She didn’t want to get seen and reported, at least not before it’s over.
No, she couldn’t let that happen just because she made a silly mistake. Tonight, it has to be tonight. On this building. Of all the days, of all the buildings. She’s ready, she made her peace with it a while ago. Tonight, the moon is high. The sky is unnaturally bright, not a cloud in sight. The clear sky lets stars shine. The building that’s been long since abandoned and left to rot, feels embracing. It's a cold and rough surface under her knees as she shuffles further onto the roof, it feels good. Grounding. She twists to turn around, landing a little roughly on her ass. She leans back, her arms bending at the elbows as she leans back on them to look into the sky.
It's a beautiful night, she thinks. She might even have been able to tell if there were any constellations, but really, she’s got no clue how to spot them in the sky. Instead, she just takes in the sight, the faint twinkle of the stars. They look so easy to reach out to and grab, to grab them and pull oneself away from here. To be far, far away from here…
She doesn’t do it, doesn’t reach up. Even if she does think about it, even if she does want to.
The wind is cold, even if the days are becoming longer and the temperatures warmer. It moves her already messy hair. The elastic she’d used was weak, and had started to loosen its hold when she first jumped onto a dumpster, and then onto another fire escape.
Tears begin to well up in her eyes, it feels as if the fight is leaving her body. As if it knows, if it can feel that it’s almost over.
She lets herself fall onto her back, hitting the ground with the rest of her body, her upper half hitting the cold concrete. She holds her head a little forwards to avoid a hard kiss between the back of her head and the concrete beneath her. She lets her head fall softly, her hair splayed out beneath her. She closes her eyes, the beautiful sky feeling overwhelming.
She lets her arms relax, a ways out from her body and bended slightly, the palms of her hands facing the sky. She’s spread out like a star.
Her closed eyes do nothing to stop the oncoming tears making their way out, and down the sides of her face. She sniffles, a laugh bubbles up from her throat. This time she knows, she looks fucking crazy.
Laying on the roof atop of an abandoned building, the lights from the moon making her tears glitter in the dark as she laughs. She wants to scream, she doesn’t, fearing someone would hear it and report it. She doesn’t scream, but her laughs do start sounding suspiciously like sobs.
She brings her arms up to cover her face, her nose in her elbow. Her body trembles, as she bends her knees as she sits back up. Now being able to hide her face in her knees, her arms wrap around her legs, hands in her hair. She’s attempting to soothe herself, trying to copy the way others had soothed her before. A large hand moving through her hair, but her hand isn’t as big as his.
It doesn’t feel the same, but she does quiet down.
Why? Why am I crying? I planned this. Hells, I accepted that it was going to end like this , She bitterly thinks. On her own terms. Not being a pawn in anyone’s games, even if she likes them, she won’t play their stupid pawn .
She giggles wetly, thinking of the time a friend of her Uncle had tried to teach her chess. She was, what, eight? Seven? She was taller than him, certainly. It feels so long ago, but she can still remember how he didn’t once get annoyed. Remained patient with her. Either he didn’t show his annoyance, or he genuinely enjoyed trying to teach her chess. She didn’t really get it, her mind was focused on everything that was going on around them. But every time her mind started to pull away from their game, he brought her back. He was a kind and incredibly smart man, if a little strict. Probably still is, but she hasn’t seen him in years.
She’s trying to distract herself, she knows it. It’s working, and she knows it. Her tears simply dry on her face, no longer falling. She thinks he’d be disappointed that she did this, turned out like this.
She can live with that, he’ll just be one of the few she’ll disappoint with this.
Others? They wouldn’t care less, they’d say it’s about time. They’d say things that are much more cruel, but she can’t, won’t focus on it right now. No, right now? She needs to get her ass in gear and stand up.
She groans as she stands, her left foot hurts. She’d bet the loose coins in her bag that it's because of one of the jumps she did earlier. She shrugs thinking about it, rolling her ankle around a little. It’s annoying, sure, and could be bad if she kept using and standing on it. Lucky for her, she doesn’t plan to be standing on it much longer. Sighing, she runs a hand through her hair, a weak attempt to both soothe herself and make it behave. The cold wind unrelenting, her air moving with it in the wind, her clothes move with it. It feels colder on the roofs, maybe only wearing a school uniform wasn’t a smart idea.
Well, it’s not like she thought hard about her clothing when she left. If anything, she was trying to ignore her clothing when she left. This new uniform feels both exciting and constricting at the same time. If she fails, she’ll have to face tomorrow with a dirty uniform. She’ll have to face having gotten into the same school her Uncle went to, his alma mater. Luckily , she thinks, not the same department as him . She just got into the General Education Department, one of the four courses the school offers. She doesn’t want to face tomorrow. That’s another point for one of the many reason of why it has to be tonight.
She breathes out, she can see her breath fog up briefly in front of her face. She looks to the right, towards the closest edge of the roof to her. Mind firm on the matter, she walks towards the edge. She stops just before the step that lines the entire edge of the roof. Without breaking eye contact with the horizon, she pulls off her shoes. Using one foot to hold the heel of the other shoe down as she frees one foot.
Her left foot hurts as she drags it out her shoe, a small look of discomfort paints her face. She finally looks away from the dark horizon, looking down, moving into a crouch as she does. She aligns the shoes, and from her blazer, she pulls out a note. She places it under one of the shoes.
Rising back up, she breathes in, taking a step onto the ledge.
She just knows her socks won’t be white after this. Well, not like any of her clothing will be clean after this. She hopes that won’t annoy her Uncle, she’d like to say it won’t but for some reason she can’t see one clear reaction from him in her head. She widens her stance as she unbuttons her blazer, then she spreads her arms out, letting the wind blow through her as she stands.
She looks back up, eyeing the full moon one last time. She smiles, it doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s a sad smile, it’s there to comfort no one. Not even herself.
“Happy Birthday to me,”
She whispers the simple words, as if words any louder would pinpoint her location to others. Small shudders run down her spine. It’s cold. Her shoulders shake, the wind feels like it’s coming on harder. Like it's edging her onwards, to just do it. To just get it over with already.
“I love you mom.” She stares at the moon, the reflecting light hurting her eyes.
She stands like that for a long time, eyes watering, as she looks up at the sky. She opens her mouth, then hesitates. It’s not like anyone could hear her here, it’s as if saying it out loud will make it real. She wishes things happened differently, that she never had to feel this burden she carries. That she could be blind in how her life would’ve always ended up as a pawn, she just hopes that, at least, she’d be the pawn on the good side. But what is the good side in a world that’s grey and people color blind? Eye for an eye, or something.
She’s hesitating, she knows it. But she can’t help it, it’s easier to just stop and do nothing, than to think about the actions she’s done to get here. The ones she should’ve done, to not get here. And the one’s she’ll never do, because she knows, she’ll always end up here. It’s her role, her role in her own game. Determined to be her own pawn.
The wind is letting down slightly, her hair a little less around her face now. Her clothes simply move with the wind slowly, no longer flying with the wind as if trying to escape her. She takes a tiny step forward with her left foot, her toes hanging over the emptiness below.
A small scuff of a shoe is heard behind her, she whips her head around to look behind her.
A dark silhouette, a towering figure in the darkness. Grey appendages swirl around the figure's head, floating around it. It’s honestly a terrifying thing to look at, to turn back and see. It’s standing near the broken ventilation units, looking like it’s about to pounce at her. She can see movements, like it’s breathing. It’s breathing hard and fast, like it’s out of breath.
Like it can breathe. Like it’s real.
It may actually be a person, for the longer she stares, the more details she can make out. A face, hidden behind the floating grey strips around their head. She can faintly make out eyes. Dark eyes, amidst it all, a faint glow of gold. Their hair, also dark like the rest of them, getting swept into their face, her own hair into hers.
It feels like time slows down. The wind powers on, getting stronger. It catches along her hair, her blazer. She feels her balance be off, as the wind strikes. Her hair’s now getting blown away from her face, as she’s half turned around to look. She doesn’t fall, even as the wind tempts her. She feels mesmerised as she stares at this unknown.
They take a step forward, never once looking away from her.
She blinks, and it feels like they’re closer. They’re still arm lengths away from her, but it suddenly feels too close. Like the more she can see more of them, the more it humanises them. Humanising Him .
“Kid,” The figure speaks, his voice calm, steady amidst the strong wind. The grey around him, around his head, looks like fabric close up. It’s not floating so high anymore, now just being affected by the wind like the rest of him. Both his hands are up at his neck, touching the grey fabric. She can’t see his fingers.
“Can you take a step back for me?” His voice speaks, clear and even over the howling wind.
No.
No, this can’t be happening. She waited too long. It has to be today, this can’t wait- Shit. Fuck. No, no no no!
The wind picks up, it pulls her hair back and away from her face. It feels like the wind is trying to push her off the edge, trying to rip off her blazer, her skirt blowing wildly up and down. She’s happy she wore shorts, at least. It’s cold, she hadn’t meant to be here for so long. Her body tenses, her shoulders rise, she gets ready to take the last step over the edge.
The wind picks up, it throws more of his hair into his face, he’s determined to not lose sight of her. It feels like the wind is trying to push him closer to her, to get her away from the edge. He feels the cold air seep in through his jumpsuit, blowing off his frame. She tenses, and his eyes widen, his stance readies, his arms tense, he takes fast steps.
She has to do this.
She doesn’t want to-
She needs to-
She’s going to miss her chance!
It has to be now!
Jump.
For a moment, she feels free. No worries about tomorrow, no worries about being a disappointment. Nothing. She holds her breath, lungs devoid of air. She feels like she’s floating, falling slowly. Invincible.
For just a moment, she feels free.
Grey colours her vision, clouds her. Surrounds her. Around her torso, her arms. It pulls her backwards. It pulls her against the wind. Back, back, back! Back onto the roof, she feels the worn concrete against her heels, as she’s pulled backwards. It’s a light sting, but it doesn't feel real. Right now, she doesn’t feel real.
The arms around shoulders feel real, the chest on her back feels real. The man’s breathing behind her feels real.
The wind slows, not as aggressive as before now. She feels concrete under her calves, fabric that is not her skirt under her thighs. She can feel the body heat of another, of the man. His chest, moving up and down against her back. At his breathing, she remembers to breathe. She takes a stuttering breath, it sounds wrong and wet. But she breathes, and she doesn’t stop.
Her eyes get blurry, she blinks, it doesn’t help. Something cold touches her cheeks, followed by more. Tears. She’s crying, sobbing. She feels the arms tighten around her, a hug. She’s sitting here, crying on the roof at midnight. Crying while held by a stranger, being comforted by the stranger. She hears soft words whisper, as a head rests next to hers.
She sobs, she knows she’s being loud. But the wind wails louder, carrying away her cries into silence. Hands gently rub circles into her arms, a voice whispers comforting words lost to the wind and her cries.
She feels like a child. She just wants to be the child she’s supposed to be. She wants her mom, she wants her Uncle before all this recent stress. Hell, she wants the man that taught her chess! But she can’t, she doesn’t get that. She has a stranger, a man who just pulled her away from the edge of the roof. Someone who just stopped her so she couldn’t fucking k-
“It’s okay, follow my breathing. You’re okay.” His voice is a comforting rumble behind her, deep and serious. Yet so gentle and careful.
She feels the fabric loosen around her torso; her arms now free to move again. She feels hands, tough and hard from years of work, gently lift her hands. Her hands touch her shirt, her fingertips touching her collarbone. His hands are gentle on top of hers. She can feel her chest going up and down fast, probably too fast.
“-out, in and out.”
She hears exaggerated breathing, feeling it slightly too. She matches it, slowly.
It takes some time, but her breathing does even out. Her crying has quieted too, her tears cooling on her face. Her nose feels stuffy, but she can still breathe out her mouth. One hand lifts away from hers, finding its way into her hair. Slowly brushing through, being mindful of tangles.
“That’s it, keep breathing.”
She blinks, a few stray tears fall. She moves her hands away from her chest, searching for the concrete beneath them. She moves forward, to sit more up by herself. The hands pull away, and she can’t help but feel a slight ping of disappointment.
She moves forward, turning slightly so she can look at him through her sore feeling eyes. So she now sits without the support of his hands, crossing her legs. She does note, the grey fabric is still wrapped around her torso loosely. It twists with her.
“Do you want to talk about it?” The man speaks, his voice gentle. His hands rest on his thighs in clear view. The grey fabric (bandages?) lay under his hands, it runs up his body and around his neck. Like a weird scarf. She looks at him, really looks at him. Dressed in black clothing, a utility belt around his waist, yellow goggles around his neck. Long black hair, ruffled and messy, occasionally the wind sweeps some into his face. His eyes are black, staring straight at her. He has the stubble of a man that needs to shave soon or commit to the beard.
He looks tired.
She shakes her head, looking down, it feels rude to stare. What an odd thing she worries about, the man seeing her as rude, after he just pulled her back from the ledge.
“That’s okay, you don’t have to talk about that.” His voice was comforting, sounding so understanding. She felt like she didn't deserve this man’s kindness. She didn’t.
One of his hands reached forward, palm facing up. “What’s your name?” His hand seems so inviting, she reaches her own hand over, resting her hand in his open palm. She answers him, the wind howls, carrying away her words.
“That’s a nice name. I’m Eraserhead, a hero.” He says, his thumb making small movements into her hand.
“… I guessed.” She says, a weak attempt at humour. Her voice sounds pathetic to her ears, but she sees a gentle smile hit the corners of Eraserhead’s mouth. His name sounds familiar, like she had recently heard it. Had her Uncle mentioned him? The news? Articles?
“Did you now? Who I am, or the fact that I’m a hero?” He asks, his tone soft.
Her mouth feels like it’s coated with oil, tongue heavy with lead. “That you were a hero.” She answers. She’s trying to think back, back to why the name sounds so familiar. Why does it ring a bell in her head?
There’s silence as the wind picks up, Eraserhead pushes back some of his hair with his hand. His other hand never stopping the small ministrations of his thumb on her hand, massaging small circles into her hand. It’s grounding. She feels some of her hair cling to her face, slightly wet from hitting her mouth. She pushes it behind her ear with her free hand.
“What year are you in?” Eraserhead asks, breaking the silence.
She looks at him with a confused face, what does he mean, what year? Is he in on some time travel bullshit?
“Your uniform, UA. What year of the General Education department are you in?” He clarifies, gesturing to her with his free hand.
Oh, right. She’d actually managed to forget she was wearing her new uniform. Shit, does this mean she got it dirty? She looks down at herself. She can’t actually see if she’s gotten it dirty or not, the only light they have is the full moon shining down on the roof. And the streetlights below, but they don’t really shine up here.
“First.”
Eraserhead’s face changes slightly. She’s never been good with facial expressions, but she can’t guess he has a positive reaction to that. She can understand that, she probably wouldn’t have one either. His face goes back to before, a calm neutral. His slight smile is gone, replaced with a deeper sense of worry.
“Your first day’s tomorrow then, wouldn’t you rather be home and resting?”
“… How do-“ Then it hits her, where she knows his name from. The bell in her head is ringing, from side to side, fast . He’s a goddamn teacher there, something her Uncle mentioned in passing. Oh gods, oh fuck. Eraserhead , one of the UA heroics teachers he mentioned. Of course he was going to notice the uniform instantly, especially if he sees it almost every single day .
“I- yeah, probably.” She says instead, hoping it didn’t sound super suspicious to cut herself off like that.
She sees Eraserhead lift a brow, but he doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t really want to explain why she changed her sentence. Why she’s here, why she’s up here . Why he stopped her from…
She frowns slightly, biting the inside of her lip. Guess it can’t be tonight then. All this, for nothing. She feels kind of foolish now, a little stupid. It all feels a little too… Dramatic now. Eraserhead probably wants to ask questions, ask why, do whatever the correct legal procedure is for this. All she wants to do is go home . She just wants to sleep. She wants a hug.
“Do you want to?” Eraserhead asks, breaking her out of her thoughts. “Do you feel safe at home?”
“… Yeah.” She says while nodding. She does feel safe at home, she might fight with her Uncle a lot, disagree with his choices and opinions, but he always gives the most secure feeling just by being around. And he gives some really good hugs.
His hand tightens around hers, a faint smile on his face. A look of relief. He points his head backwards, towards the rooftop access door. A door, which is now open . Guess that answers how he got up here. “Come on kid, it’s late. Let’s get down from here?”
He may have formed it like a question, but the slightest tightening of his hand, shows he’s very much not asking her. He straightens up, leaning back on his heels. He pulls on her hand slightly, encouraging her to stand. She leans forward on her knees, as he stands up. She gets one foot under her, as he helps pull her up.
Her legs feel shaky as she finds her footing. The grey bandages fall down her form, landing on the old concrete of the roof around her feet. He gives her a once over where she now stands before him, still holding his hand. His other hand does a movement she doesn’t catch, and then suddenly, bandages are around his neck. Maybe it is a scarf then… What a weird support item, she thinks.
He tugs her hand, getting her attention again. He gestures to the door again, she nods.
Together they walk to the door, he pushes it wider when they come near.
She hesitates. She turns to look over the roof, at the broken ventilation systems left to rot. At the old and weathered concrete that was once new and pretty. She feels his thumb a circle into her hand, waiting for her to take the next step.
She takes the steps into a small stairwell. It smells wet and musty, she can hear water dripping from somewhere. She pauses again, making Eraserhead look at her with an unreadable look. She looks down, at her sock covered feet. They’re dirty, she vaguely realizes. And damp.
Her shoes, they’re still at the edge. She looks back up at him, and he seems to have realized too.
“… Stay right there, okay?” He asks, voice turning serious. She nods at him, and he looks her in the eyes. He must be satisfied with whatever he sees, because he nods back at her and lets go of her hand. Her hand quickly turns cold where he’d been warming it, she almost mourns the loss.
Eraserhead then walks back out onto the roof, and in a few quick strides reaches the edge. Crouching down and picking up her shoes by the heels, he pauses, then he also grabs the note she put under her shoes before it flies away in the wind.
It feels like she blinks, and he’s already back. Shit, he’s so fast-
He holds out her shoes, she takes them with a quiet thank you. Now that she’s more aware of her body, her feet actually feel really cold. She’s also becoming much more aware of how much her left foot hurts . She supports herself with her hand on the wall, as she pulls her shoes back on. She just pulls the laces tight, then shoves them down next to her foot. She repeats this on her other foot as well.
She can’t help the wince on her face as she stands on both her feet. She shuffles, putting more weight on her right foot than her left. Eraserhead, of course, notices.
“Did you hurt your foot?” He asks, concerned.
“I think I just sprained it when I landed wrong earlier, I just need to rest it.”
Eraserhead looks unimpressed, “ When you landed wrong ,” he parrots back with a hint of something in his tone. “Can you walk down the stairs?”
She shifts her feet from side to side. Whenever her left foot carries most of her weight, it hurts. She cringes slightly when her left foot supports her. “Yeah, as long as I’m careful.” He takes a long look at her; at the way she makes sure not to put too much weight down.
Then he sighs, holding out his arm. “Come on kid, no point in making it worse.”
She hesitates. Realistically, she knows she should just swallow her pride and the awkwardness she feels, because hell, this man just pulled her away from the ledge. There isn't any pride left to swallow. But- that’s easier said than done. She looks at his arm, the way he’s casually inviting her to lean on him. She feels a little strange about this entire thing, but she doesn’t feel uncomfortable. For some reason, even just the knowledge that her Uncle found him important enough to mention –even if just in passing– then…
“Look kid, I get it. Not a fan of relying on others; but you can either limp your way down, or you can get home quicker.” Eraserhead says, breaking the momentary silence.
“Yeah, okay.” She accepts, it wouldn’t exactly be graceful to fall down some stairs and get hurt right after he stopped her from falling off a building. That’d just be embarrassing. Plus, she does actually want to go home now.
She reaches for his arm, holding onto his forearm as she slightly leans on him “Is this okay?” She asks, not wanting to accidentally overstep.
“Yeah kid, you’re fine. Lean on me more if you need it, I’m a hero, I can take quite a bit.” He says, a reassuring statement followed with a gentle smile. She nods, unsure if she should really lean on him.
She takes the first step, towards the stairs. He matches her steps, as she takes the first step down with her good foot. When she goes to take the next step, she almost slips. He’s quick to grab her arm in a firmer grasp, pulling her back slightly.
“Just one step at a time kid, we aren’t in a hurry.”
“Right, sorry.” How embarrassing.
“No need to apologise, just focus on the stairs.”
Yeah well, easier said than done. At least it feels like that, but she does make note to be more careful; just focusing on the stairs instead of the inevitable outcome of going home .
Ever so slowly, they make the long way down the stairs. Eraserhead took out a small flashlight, and was shining it at the steps below, so they could see the next step. There’s a few spots where Eraserhead points out to be careful, since this building has been abandoned for a long time now.
The steps were tall and narrow, bending slightly under their feet. Once pristine and shiny railings, now rusted and chipped. The sound of dripping water echoed louder, it seemed so far away yet close at the same time. It added to the silence of their descent, disturbed only by their breathing.
The smell of wetness got stronger the further they got down, the musty stale air stunk of neglect. There was also the faint smell of smoke that seemed to permeate in the air.
At some point, the wind picked back up. It seemed to rustle the building, the cold air sweeping through them.
With time, she leaned more heavily onto him as they went. Both for a feeling of safety and reliance, but also because of the smell. The smell of smoke brought with it a bad feeling, the feeling of despair, a feeling of inadequateness.
“Watch your step, we’re almost at the bottom.”
Eraserhead guided her down, ever so carefully. Each one of their slow steps echoed in the small stairwell. He'd occasionally glance over at her, expression soft and careful.
They finally reached the bottom floor, the slight echo of their footsteps quieted. The smell seemed less oppressive down here, even if still there. She desperately wanted a shower, it felt like all of tonight's feelings clung to her skin.
Eraserhead led her to a broken piece of concrete to sit on, as he observed the door to the outside. It looked like it had been kicked open, the handle looked broken. He sighed, then eyed the room. It was dark, a bit of light shined in from the outside through cracks in the door. He looked around with his flashlight, then dropped his shoulders, seemingly satisfied with what he found. Or more with what he didn't find.
"There's a small clinic pretty close to here, you alright with walking there?" He asked, walking back over to her, leaning against the wall. He eyed her left foot, how she kept it off the ground as she sat.
“The one with the red rug in the lobby?”
He nodded, “That’s the one, unless there’s another clinic near here with a stark bright red rug in the middle of their lobby?” he asked, tone a hint of teasing.
She cracked a small smile, a small air of laughter escaped her as she looked away. “Doubt it, I don’t think many would be brave enough to have it.”
“No, not many would be.”
She looked up at him, a thoughtful but cautious expression on her face. He met it calmly, a knowing look in his eyes. She didn’t reply, just tilted her head down slightly, staring at the floor. Her hair fell into her face, she pushed it back.
A silence went over them, not uncomfortable, just the silence of the night. The wind slightly howled outside and through the building, the echoing drip of water from somewhere in the building. The musty smell didn’t seem as overwhelming as she rested, even if the smell of smoke still felt like too much.
A small water bottle entered her field of view, making her look up again. Connected to the bottle was Eraserhead’s hand, he silently offered her the bottle by shaking it lightly towards her. She takes it, a small thank you from her lips. She can feel his eyes on her, waiting for her to drink. Should she maybe think twice about accepting water from a technical stranger? Yes. Is she going to? No.
She brings the bottle closer to her, unscrewing it with her other hand. At first, she takes a small sip. But as the water hits her throat, she can suddenly feel how dry it is. It feels like the water washes away the oil that coated her mouth, easing away the lead surrounding her tongue. It’s refreshing, it’s nice.
“Your parents know where you are?”
She brings the bottle away from her mouth, taking a deep breath of air. “Guardian, and… No, no he doesn’t.”
Eraserhead sighs, before gently placing his hand on her shoulder. It feels comforting, his warm hand on her cold shoulder. Actually, all of her is cold. But still, the touch is nice. She can also guess his opinion on having, presumably, snuck out.
“What did you mean earlier, when you said you landed wrong?”
She screws the lid back onto the bottle, rolling the bottle slightly around in-between her hands. “I think I just didn’t brace correctly, when I jumped from one roof to the other…”
He sighs, a deep sound coming deep from within him. “Another time, maybe don’t go jumping around on roofs in the middle of the night.” He sounds like such a teacher, saying that. As if he often says things like that. Hey, maybe he does, who’s to know?
“… I didn’t know how else to get up here, the door down here was locked.”
“For good reason.”
Silence. She doesn’t know what to say back to that, she knows there’s a reason the door was locked. Doesn’t mean it’s not true, she wanted to get to the roof, and the only other way up was jumping the other roofs around it and climbing the fire escape.
“Kid-“
“My mom died here.” Oh gods, why did she say that. Who just says that? This entire night hasn’t gone how she planned it! Shit, what was she thinking- She wasn’t! That’s the whole problem, where’s her thinking skills, her self-preservation, her-
“I’m… sorry?” He sounded so genuinely perplexed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just… spring that on you.” She rests her hands, stopping the movements of her rolling the water bottle around. She just holds it tightly, resting it on her lap.
A silence falls over them again. The air feels awkward, at least to her it does. Maybe it isn’t, maybe the silence is all fine and dandy. Or maybe it's tense, bad and just overall terrible!
She’s the first to break the odd silence after that. “I don’t think I’ll need the clinic, it doesn’t feel broken. Just a sprain, and… I just want to go home, if I’m honest.” Her voice is quiet, tired but clear as she speaks. “I’ll put some ice on it and rest it when I get home, I just…”
Her voice trails off. She feels like she needs to ask for permission to go home, which is an odd feeling to have in this scenario. Nonetheless, she waits for his answer. She also doesn’t exactly want him to walk her home, not when the chance of him seeing her Uncle in this context are way too high.
Eraserhead sighs, “I’m walking you part of the way, at least. It’s late, you’re hurt and I don’t want to take any chances.” his voice turns stern, like a scolding teacher. “Straight home, got it? No other ideas or impulses .”
“Sir, yes sir.” She answers with a half-hearted salute. For her efforts, she gets a small flick to the forehead followed by a scoff. “Watch it, kid.”
"Let's get going then," Eraserhead said, his voice steady as he held out his hand for her to take. He motioned to the door that was cracked open, with the broken handle. She took his hand, standing up. She straightened her back as she stood next to him, drawing in a shaky breath as she leaned up against him again once more.
And without another word, they slowly began to walk out into the cold night air.
---
Unbeknownst to either of them, their interaction had been monitored. A bright monitor sits in a dark room, illuminating a sinister looking man. The man held a wide grin, his teeth showing. His head reflects the light from the screen, brightening up the room. His elbows rest on the table as he leans forward, steepling his fingers together below his chin.
“How interesting. Maybe he’s more fallible than I thought. And Eraserhead? An odd development, considering he doesn’t usually patrol around here… Oh how fun this year will be.”