rooftop lovers

happy pills

It was the unusually solemn sing of birds and the blinding blare of sunlight that peaked through the curtains that caused Skeppy to stir awake.

He had sat up in his bed, head lowered, eyes shut, regaining energy. With a sigh, he combs through his hair with his fingers.

Today was really the day.

He had planned this day ever since his first outburst. He knew he couldn't do it - he knew he couldn't stall it. He knew keeping him here in such a petulant place such as Earth would only lead him to his breaking point; and from there, he'd go insane.

His brain was tearing, but morning suicide never suited his style. He had already envisioned it months prior. Standing at the ledge of the bridge, staring off at the half-set sun and then letting it all go. Letting his lungs suffocate under the weight of the water - not bothering to try floating up. Maybe going as far as keeping stones in his pocket to ensure no escape.

His dog, Rocco, laid before his feet, looking up at him with doe eyes. He starts to claw at the boy's socks playfully, leaving the ravenette amused.

With a sigh, Skeppy bends, thoroughly petting the canine. Moments like these were ones he'd miss. It really was the small things that mattered.

"C'mon," he smiles, bringing himself to his feet, swiftly moving toward his bathroom.

He lets the labrador circle around him as he brushes his teeth and splashes water on his face. Drying his face against a towel, he feels the light friction of the dog's white fur brush against his bare ankle.

He keeps his face buried in the newly damp towel. He thinks.

He thinks about his parents' reactions. His sister's reaction. His friends' reaction.

Then again, he's too lost in his own self, there is no guilt. His heart feels hollow. He knows he's supposed to care, to feel doubt and culpability, he wants to, but he can't.

Only until uncut claws start pawing at his skin does he realize he's losing consciousness. Huffing in the towel, he lifts his head up and stares at the wall. He really didn't want to move.

Reentering his bedroom, he forces his closet open and grabs the nearest sweater, throwing it on and rushing to his drawers to pick out a pair of pants. He doesn't bother to check in the mirror for any flaws in his hair or if he had thoroughly washed his face or not.

Skeppy begins to contemplate as his eyes dart around the room from his backpack to his door to his bed to his window. Lost in his thoughts once more, he thinks back to the night prior. Spiraling out of control on the bathroom floor, his blurred vision and the swelling in his chest.

When things got hard, there was only one thing that you can rely on to make you happy.

It wasn't family. It wasn't friends. Hell, it wasn't even the internet.

It was those pills. Skeppy had variants of them over the years; each given with the promise of receiving happiness to those who took enough of them. But last night was different as he took them.

I'm not happy. He had thought, an arm laid on the rim of the toilet bowl, the other sagged down on the floor, containment of the finished pills loosely held. Not happy enough. I need more pills. As usual, they lose the effect - the adrenaline. It wasn't good enough.

Skeppy's bleary eyes blinked back at the source of water just barely beneath him. The water rippled as he spat down into it. He smiled. He liked when his actions had effect - even as little as such.

That night when he returned to bed, he felt so drained. So tired. Yet his mind refused to rest. So full of nothing.

He was sweating up a storm. Time passed like a train, before he knew it, it was reaching 4. He thought every last thought out. It was inevitable. So far in life, he was sure to eventually falter. He didn't like feeling that waking up was a chore. Just as breathing and eating was.

Idly standing, Rocco begins to freak, barking Skeppy into reality. With a smile, he grabs his backpack and slings it over his shoulder - off to breathe his final breaths at home before saying goodbye to the old place forever.

———

Skeppy skips breakfast - it'd be better to spend his last day on the Earth the way he wants; meaning the usual comfortable rumble of his empty stomach.

He doesn't wait outside until his sister is out nor does he wake up his dad to take him. He walks to school. it's a choice of off impulse but the thought of letting his mind buzz freely and he strolls freely puts him at ease.

Before he knows it, he's before the concrete staring down at his feet. His high school isn't local so if he really wanted, he could catch the bus now. But what's the harm in missing an advisory? Further punishment wouldn't even be received considering the goal of today.

It being a fall day, the fog made it's presence apparent as Skeppy looked up as he reached a road. He stares up, high in the distance. The chill of the breeze contrasts nicely with the warmth of his cheeks. He doesn't feel like moving. The road is clear but he doesn't feel like crossing.

Suddenly, from behind him he hears ragged breaths and heavy footsteps approaching. He turns, facing to see a young brunette boy. He looks familiar - someone from school. Skeppy had surely seen him around campus. The boy stops by his side, catching his breaths only looking up to check if it's safe to cross.

Skeppy's staring hard at the boy. He's confused, studying who he was. The boy takes his time; he's bent over, hands resting on stood knees, catching breaths through his mouth. Suddenly, he turns, looking back at Skeppy. Skeppy's first instinct is to look away quickly, going back to cross the road.

"Huh?" he hears faintly from behind him. "Wait up!"

He pauses for a second, turning his head back to see the boy coming toward him.

"We go to the same school, right? What are you doing coming to school so late? We might as well walk together."

Skeppy swallows.

"I could ask you the same thing," he says. Thinking hard about it, Skeppy realizes he hasn't checked the time at all today

The boy wipes his forehead with his arm. He pants out a sigh. "I know!" he whines. "It's all because of that stupid brain of mine. I totally forgot to set my alarm yesterday," then, he laughs. It's cheery and full, so familiar yet distant. "My dad practically dragged me out of bed!"

Skeppy looks back in front of him, putting one foot in front of the other. "We should get going now."

Though it's practically silent, he hears the acknowledgement from the brunette. As they walk, he studies the boy beside him. He's carrying himself proudly. His hair is slightly overgrown, but he looks well-groomed. His outfit seems to have no thought behind it but it's simple and it's nice. A light black sweater over khaki pants.

The boy turns and smiles. He must have caught Skeppy staring. He extends his hand slightly, "I don't think we've properly met. I'm the Badboyhalo!" he beams proudly. "But you can call me Bad. Or Badboy."

By now, they're outside the school gates. They pause to take a second to take each other in. Skeppy is hesitant to take the other boy's hand. But he eventually folds.

"Skeppy."

"Well Skeppy, I'll see you around."

Bad waves goodbye and walks toward the school building. Skeppy stays behind, leaving the newfound feeling to settle.

It's unusual. He feels regret. Now, his palms were warm and sweaty. So was his forehead. Why? The cold air should be balancing him. But that interaction - one that should be irrelevant- made his world shift. The reason was unknown, yet it lingered with him.

For once, he cared. This boy he knew little about; he cared about.

He stares down at his palm. What would this boy think when they never saw each other again? After today, he'll ask around, only to find out Skeppy killed himself. Or maybe he'll hear gossip around the school and wonder if there was anything he could have been able to do to save him.

Skeppy felt nauseous again. This time, he didn't have any pills to make him feel better.