Winter is not by any means a medium; although, neither is spring, the season during which I came up here last, that time just to look down. There were no police, that time. No bystanders, no falsely concerned yells.
When it is winter, we wish for summer. We welcome spring. But when spring comes, there is more irritating pollen, more rains that catch us at the worst opportunities, more problems that arise. Summer is much too hot, and we find ourselves wishing for winter.
There were no cautious speeches last time made by cautious young policemen. There was only quiet, peace, a perfect atmosphere.I wonder why I didn't jump then. I should have, I know. It would have made things so much easier. A blonde man turns the street corner, stopping in surprise at the sight of the small crowd. I pay little attention to him, feeling fresh flakes of fallen snow flutter against my flesh and most likely settle into my black hair and red-lined coat. The dark material highlights the melting white like a peppered moth sorely affected by pollution.
I let my eyes sweep over the people below yet again, wishing that they'd all leave. I'm tempted to just jump earlier than I want to, to give them what they want, but the blonde man is now speaking to the head police officer, ignoring the megaphone being offered to him. I watch, intrigued. What does he think he's doing? I don't even have a clue as to what his name is and he probably knows nothing about me.
A moment later he runs into the building, disappearing from my sight. It's useless, if he wants to come up on the roof- I'm not going to change my plans for some stranger who's probably only doing this to feel like a saint. A frigid wind whips my hair about slightly, but I barely notice the cold.
It takes the blonde only two minutes to arrive at the rooftop.
I'm expecting him to say something cliché, something obvious like don't jump!, but he merely stands in silence, long white scarf pulled up to keep his mouth warm. That's fine by me.
"What's your favorite season?" I ask him, because truthfully, I'm wondering whether he'll say summer or winter.
He thinks on it for a bit before answering, "I...I don't really know."
"Because?" I press.
"Th-...they're all good," he smiles briefly, sheepishly. I frown and turn away, but he's speaking again, "Um, I don't know why you're up here, but..." Oh, here it comes. "...I think it'd be weird to have people shouting up at me, so...I asked them to stop."
I blink.
"N-Not that I think it's good that you're up here, but if you feel a little better, then...um. But, you really shouldn't jump, because you probably have people that care about you, right? Or at least people who will care about you," the tall male concludes.
"I'm not going to jump," I say, and it's honest because I'm not going to jump yet; I'll wait until he's gone and the police are gone and the street is dark and empty. I'm not here to make myself a spectacle.
"T-Then you should come away from the edge," he challenges gently. I shake my head, a clear refusal. "Why?"
I choose to give him a cryptic answer, one that he can chew on for a while. I'm not in the mood to have my motives for doing things questioned. "You don't have to be standing in the snow in order to feel freezing."
He thinks for a moment. I gaze down at the disgusting humans in the road, gathered as if they're going to see something nice. The stranger clears his throat before speaking, "I-I'm sure that...you're wrong about whatever reason you're up here for."
"Oh? And who do you think will care about me? You? Besides, that's not even the reason. You don't know anything." Impatience causes me to run my mouth, and I turn away in frustration. Can't he just see that I want to be left alone?
"Maybe I could be one of those people," he says softly, "but...you'd never know, would you?"
He's saying strange things and he's still not gone. "They won't think any less of you if you can't stop me, you know. They'll still commend you for even trying."
"W-...what?"
"You can leave now," I state pointedly.
"No!" he bursts out, shocking me into gripping the handrail I'm leaning on. "I-I'm sorry, but I won't let you jump," insists the blonde man, closing his eyes briefly.
"Why?" I nearly snarl. Is he just doing this to atone for some past sin or what? He's making it seem entirely too personal for me.
"Just...just..." he struggles to find words; I can tell he's not very good with them, "you just look so...so lonely."
Lonely.
I do not know that word.
What?
"You could see from all the way down there?" I laugh without humor. This is all so stereotyped. "You thought I was lonely, so you came up here to be the fairytale hero and save me."
"You don't understand." He's getting worked up now. "You looked like...i-it was just you against the world, standing up here."
"It is," I frown. There are pathetic humans and there is me. I have to escape. Maybe I am alone, but by no means am I lonely.
He takes a step closer to my railing. "Th-that's not true, at all."
"I don't expect you to understand. I hatehumans. I hate them, hate them all, so they must hate me too!" I'm chortling again for reasons unknown. I probably appear as a crazy person to this stranger, but it's not as if I care about his opinion-
His hand comes up to rest on my shoulder.
I jump visibly; when had he gotten so close? "Y-you're wrong...I don't think I can convince you, but you're wrong." I open my mouth to protest, but he continues apologetically, "I don't think that's a very good reason to kill yourself, either..."
I've got a million replies to that, but as I form that first syllable my foot slips, and I assume quickly that I'll go tumbling down and down in front of the people, and there will be cameras flashing and gasps-
But the blonde yelps, reaches out to grab my arms, and yanks me back towards his chest.
The adrenaline of my near demise sets my heart pumping, off beat with the heartbeat I can feel coming from the tall male holding me close. "S-see," he says slowly, "you don't really want to die." I realize that I'm clinging to him, a horrifyingly human act. I let go rapidly but also making sure I don't lose my balance. His hands go to my shoulders anyways, steadying me. All the contact is making me nervous.
I don't look at him as I climb over the railing, back towards safety. I won't lie to myself about the terror that bolted through my chest, and maybe I really can't do it and what hope is there for me then?
The other man catches up to my fast gait easily. "...I'm Tsukishima," he tells me after a short pause, as if that makes us any less of strangers.
"Hachimenroppi," I reply and glance at his expression. Tsukishima nods once and opens the door to the stairs for me, following close behind. I still don't know what I'm going to do after this, or even now, but I can't help but notice:
His smile is like a flash of summer in the zero degrees weather around me.
:::::
Original Prompt:
"Tsukishima/Hachimenroppi- any kink.
This pairing owns my soul, it really does. Well, I'd like to see something simple : Roppi being the suicidal guy he is, and about to jump from a roof. But then police notices him and try to negociate in order to save him, but that doesnt seem to work. I want Tsuki to suddenly popping out to make a speech to him !
And then happy ending ? I don't know. Whatever you want~"