(A/Ns: i originally started writing this for Suicide Prevention Day which was the 10th September, but i fell behind it. so here, it is, a week or so late. and yes, the title is named after the linkin park song.
content warnings: swearing, references to drug abuse/drinking/smoking, strong implications of death/suicide, a suicide attempt. if death/suicide is something that triggers you, i'd highly recommend not reading this fic. it's a sensitive topic for me as well so please don't read it if it's not for you.
maybe i'll post something happy one day. but until that happens, please drop a review!
disclaimer: i do not own pandora hearts/Elliot/Leo)
Heavy
The railings were cold.
His hands, nevertheless, still gripped them, like his narrow, meaningless life depended on it. He shook against them, a shudder running down his spine. A shiver, perhaps. He was too numb to know the difference.
Trembling. Trembling with anticipation.
Wind brushed through his hair, blocking and blurring his already obscured view of the horizon of the city. His perception of the world, even.
The cloud shrouded sky, a dull grey, concealed all sunlight, a bitter afternoon breeze ripping through the air.
He was still numb, though. And heavy, his arms weighing him down like lead.
Tentatively, as he drew in a sharp breath, he leant forward. Not much, but just about enough to glance over the edge of the building.
And he glanced down.
The drop, no less than 40 metres up, seemed less climactic than he'd anticipated. Nonetheless, the sick, nauseating feeling of dread still resided in the pit of his stomach. Like a rock, weighing him down further.
It was this. This. This is what he'd amounted to.
In all 16 years of his life - short, pathetic, pointless life - this was his legacy.
Briefly, his mind flashed back to his home.
"Home."
More like an orphanage, run by a stupid aristocracy only after money and the occasional sympathy sponsor. Some of the residents might miss him, but it wasn't enough of an incentive not to do this.
Snapping out of his trance, he lifted a shaky foot, swinging it over the metal and lowering his frail body beneath the top bar of the rail. With another deep breath, he stood up again, and brought the other foot to the other side of the railing.
And once again, he looked down.
The drop hadn't changed. It was still there, menacing, but comforting.
He didn't realise his grip tightened.
He also didn't realise when a single tear slipped from his eye, trailing down his cheek. The wind quickly dried it, though, and whispered the sweet nothings he wanted to hear.
Things that were incentives to jump.
Yes, jump.
His life was pointless anyway. He had no friends, no parents, no siblings, no family, no one who loved him. And all the books in the world couldn't save him from that. That was just how things were.
This was the easiest way out.
Suicide.
Efficient, easy, and bonus: it would put an end to all the shit in his life.
He wouldn't need to be tormented by bullies. He wouldn't need to be haunted by thoughts of crippling self-hate. He wouldn't need to drown his self-loathing in booze and cigarettes and drugs on a daily basis.
Because he'd be dead.
This was his incentive.
Nothing held him back anymore. His mind was made up.
This is how his life would end.
No, scrap that. This is how he would end his own life.
Forcefully, his loosened his grip on the railings, leaned forward and-
"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
He froze, jolting internally. His reflexes kicked in, and before he could control it, his hands returned to gripping the bar behind him like steel.
Who the hell was this?
"Oi! Are you even listening to me?!" They yelled again, taking a step forward. "I said what are you doing?!"
"I could ask the same thing," he replied caustically, anger boiling inside him that he'd just been stopped-
"That doesn't matter," they said bitterly. "Turn around when I'm speaking to you!"
Reluctantly - oh so reluctantly - he turned around. "I'll ask again. Why are you here?"
"I saw you from my Maths class. My name's Elliot, by the way."
"And I care because?"
"Because I just saved your life, you idiot!"
That got him.
The noirette sneered, locking both hands around the railing but remaining on the other side of it. He felt anger boil up inside him.
Who the hell did this guy think he was?
"Don't make assumptions like that," he snarled. "You have no right to decide that!"
"Step away from the edge."
"What?"
"I refuse to let you end your life right here!"
"That's not your decision to make!"
"Well I'm here now, so it damn-well is!" Elliot yelled, taking a step forward. "So you either step away now, or I'll call the police on you!"
"What the hell?!"
"You heard me!"
His hands were twitching with anger, and he practically itched to punch him.
But despite that, there was a strange fluttering in his chest, and the nervousness in pit of his stomach was exacerbated by this.
Then, without noticing he'd even done it, he lowered himself underneath the bar, and - quivering with every breath - just took one step away from the edge.
He could feel Elliot's gaze burning into the back of his head. But for some reason, it softened. Just slightly, however noticeably as well.
Simultaneously, Elliot advanced forward too.
"Take one more step in my direction and I swear I'll jump!" he threatened, staring at the drop, and for the first time in that entire endeavour, his heart began pounding out of his chest.
And he felt… dread?
"Do you really want to end your life that badly?"
… huh?
"Are you looking for a purpose? Is that it?"
"I…" he stammered, too lost in his own train of thoughts to formulate a coherent response.
"If you promise not to jump, then…" Elliot's words began trailing off, his gaze flitting to the horizon, just past the noirette. "I will give it you. Just give me a chance, dammit!"
It sounded incredibly cringey, and they both knew that.
However…
It didn't take away from the seemingly endless stream of silent tears which had began to unknowingly pour down the other's face.
A strained sob erupted from his throat; it was only then that he realised he was crying in the first place.
"Come here," Elliot whispered, a regretful smile forming across his face as he proceeded to where the other stood. One arm wrapped around his shoulders, he slowly pulled the other into a tight, reassuring hug.
His face fell into Elliot's shoulder, tears seeping into the fabric of his shirt with every inaudible choke or sob or sniff.
He'd never let his guard down like this before, but whatever goddamn emotions he'd felt had ambushed him, leaving his drowning in them, with no other choice but to just… cry.
And so he did.
For half an hour straight, he simply did that, sobbing into Elliot's shoulder with hitched breaths and discreet sniffs.
Elliot just felt that he was broken. Empty, even.
It wasn't until after that period that he ran out of tears, breathing out a deep sigh of so much pent-up frustration.
"Why would you do this for me?" he sobbed, finally lifting his head from Elliot's shoulder and immediately averting his eyes to avoid crossing their gazes. "I… y-you don't even know my name."
"Maybe not," Elliot shrugged, folding arms over his chest and looking off into the distance. "But I just… for some reason, I… couldn't let you die."
The other fell totally speechless.
"What's your name, by the way?" Elliot asked, facing him once again. "I never asked."
A tiny smile began tugging at his lips, a feeling of warmth spreading across his chest.
A sensation he hadn't felt in over five years, if he recalled correctly.
With a sharp, but semi-confident breath, he answered. "Leo. Just… Leo."
Fin.