He exhales a plume of smoke. “And yet you’re still up here.”
“Yeah,” I nod.
“So, guess we understand each other, huh?” he says gently.
My mouth twists. “Yup. Guess so.”
He takes a last drag of his smoke, then drops it to the ground and stamps it out. His darkened face raises to mine.
“You want to do this together?” He shrugs. “Can you imagine how fucking dumb the tabloids will look, making up crazy stories about us? Forget jumping together for company, they’ll say it was some sort of twisted romantic thing.”
A twinge ripples through me as I find myself nodding, smiling grimly.
“Yeah,” I mumble. “Yeah, let’s go together.”
I drop the cigarette to the roof to stamp it out and then remember I don’t have shoes on, so I just leave it.
“Well, time's a-wasting,” he grunts, turning toward the edge.
“Wait,” I blurt, a lump forming in my throat. “I…I don’t know your name.”
“Does it matter?”
I frown, shaking my head. “I guess not.”
We go to the edge, twenty feet apart.
I look down. It’s alongway down.
What happens if I change my mind?
Then I clench my teeth tightly and think of Lark.
I’m doing this.
I’m so…tired. Of the demons. The guilt. The gnaw of addiction.
Of feeling like I’m insane,all the fucking time.
He steps up onto the ledge.
So do I.
I look at him, and smile a little when he glances at me, both our faces still shadowed.
Me and my anonymous partner-in-suicide.
He’s not wrong. When they find us, they’ll probably go crazy trying to figure out how we know each other. If we were in love, and this was some insane Romeo and Juliet thing. Idiot podcasters will yap about us. Politicians will weigh in, as politicians always do.
I smile to myself.
Maybe this’ll actually make things better for someone else. Maybe some good will come out of this, like more attention to mental health, or?—
“You wanna count back from three?”
I nod.
I’m strangely calm.
