RotBTFD Random drabbles

dusk [jarida]

Note: not really about suicide, but I guess it does kinda talk about some self destructive behaviour? I'm not sure how to tag this.

Btw it's in lowercase, because I was tired and really just wanted to get this out.

_______

merida was running, bounding up the stairs two, three steps at a time, before she reached the top. jack barely glanced back at her as she flung the door to the rooftop open.

"you shouldn't be up here." she panted.

jack let out a chuckle, corners of his lips quirking up in a small smile. "neither should you." he said. "i'm not going to jump, if that's what you're so worked up about."

"that's not what i'm worried about." merida said (she lied).

jack hummed, indifferent. "then why are you here?"

it's dusk - merida had seen many pictures, but none of them could compare to now - the sun made him look like he was made of gold: he looked glorious, like a golden prince from a story her mother would tell her as a child.

(he looked vulnerable, so close to breaking - a china doll, so, so fragile.)

(so beautiful)

she swallowed. "wanted to enjoy the view."

"close the door and come over here then."

so she did. she sat next to him on the ledge, his legs dangled over the edge, but she pulled hers close to her chest. she turned to him, he was already looking at her. there was a brief moment of peaceful quiet, nothing but the breeze.

"do you ever feel like there's something missing?" jack's voice broke the silence. "like you're just...empty?"

"my life, everything is just part of this huge plan that they sell to everyone: you're born, you go to kindergarten, then its school, then college, get a job, work, work, work until you retire, die in a few years - everything is planned, anyone who doesn't follow the plan is somehow wrong." he took a deep breath, glancing at her.

she couldn't speak, afraid, because she knew exactly what he meant. she knew.

"i don't feel anything. i feel like i'm an outsider just watching myself live my life." he laughed, it sounded crazed. "i hate not feeling happy, i can't feel sad, i don't feel anything, i just feel empty - like i'm a shell."

"being up here just makes me feel something," he kicked his legs, looking down at the busy street below them. "it's not fear - maybe it's the adrenaline, i don't know - but here, it is crazy, but looking down at the ground...you know?"

(yes, she does, she knows that feeling all too well. she feels it, standing in the middle of the road in the night, with thoughts of what if a car were to just come at her without stopping. she feels it, drawing her bow with another arrow, what would it be like to take a (her) life, would she feel anything then? (would she bleed) she feels it now, looking down the edge of a five-story building, at the solid pavement below -)

(it's not the thought of dying. no, they don't plan on dying, not now. not yet. it's the feeling, the feeling of being there, on the very edge, the danger of slipping over the line, that feeling of being alive - the feeling that for a moment, they were in control - real control. that feeling, being hyper aware of your own fragile mortality, knowing that you could - you could, if only you let it - and the thrill, of the power coursing through your veins, that feeling of being powerful, indestructible, if only for a moment-)

(she knows.)

she reaches for him, but the sun sets, and the moment is gone - taking with it the golden boy, leaving the boy with cold blue eyes behind. he's gone, turning away from her, and she can't bring herself to call for him - she draws her (cold) hand to her chest.

he pauses, at the door. he turns, the words he wants - needs - to say at the tip of his tongue, but they die at his lips, and all that comes out is: "see you around, merida."

("i know, you're not the only one." she wants to tell him.) "see you around, jack." she says.

(it's not goodbye, it's not, and merida/jack can't help the relief rushing through her/him.)