romeo and cinderella

DISCLAIMER: Yggdra Union © Sting. This story is mine.

(inevitable flooding of one's soul – I still hate the bitter things)

It could so easily have played out very differently.

Gulcasa was on the way back from the fancy dinner ball—he always felt a little awkward and out of place at them, but at least he'd been able to speak to a few people his own age in between the business associates and officials. He'd had quite a nice talk with a friendly blond girl over the punch, and received her assurance that she attended many such occasions—a quiet acknowledgement that if he wanted to be friends or perhaps something more, they would be able to meet and talk again when the next show of wealth began.

The dinner ball had been an outdoor affair on the grounds of some millionaire's estates, given a fairytale theme. It had had ambiance, but it had lasted far too long—according to the clock on Gulcasa's dashboard, it was eleven forty-seven at night, and he still had about forty minutes' worth of driving to do in a stuffy tuxedo that hadn't been out of storage for a month and wasn't in the least comfortable. The braid he'd forced his hair into to tame it was starting to hurt his scalp, too. Of course, since he was driving, all Gulcasa could really do about it was pull the tie off; he'd have to endure this until he got home.

Because of the late hour, Gulcasa kept his car on the highway until the turn that led to the suspension bridge. It made him nervous on dark nights because the nights were cold and the road a little slippery; he really did need to get home soon tonight, though, and this way was faster. The roads were empty, so he could afford to drive more slowly, too.

He must have been about two thirds of the way across the bridge by then—he just happened to be glancing to the right in time to see the figure standing on the waist-high wall that protected pedestrians from the sheer drop.

At first Gulcasa's eyes passed over that figure as though it were normal. Then, once he'd almost passed by, he whipped back around for another look and slammed his foot on the brakes.

Once he'd thrown the car into park, Gulcasa fumbled with the seat belt and struggled awkwardly out the door, not even bothering to shut it. He ran full tilt towards whoever was standing on the edge, hardly noticing when the wind tore his hair free of the braid and tossed it behind him.

The figure was a young—woman, probably?—who seemed rather shorter than Gulcasa, with pale skin and short blond hair. She was clad in a sleeveless off-white party dress with black ruffles at the hem, waistline, and shoulders, with a matching black ribbon arranged like a flower at the left side of her head. However, the garment was tugged askew and looked grass-stained in places, and there were clearly heavy bruises along her arms and legs. She was not wearing shoes, but a pair of strappy sandals were cast off on the sidewalk behind and below her.

Seeing that put nervous knots in Gulcasa's stomach, and he slowed his pace as he realized that he really didn't know what the hell he should do about this. Aside from the fact that he couldn't stand and do nothing—this person clearly intended to jump, and if the fall didn't kill her, she'd drown in that dress. He couldn't let that happen—he might not know why she wanted to kill herself, but—

"Stay away from me."

The words of warning were harsh, twisted with tears, and spoken in an unmistakably deep voice. So it's a he, some part of Gulcasa's brain registered, but he didn't have time to be worrying about this suicide jumper's gender right now. He continued forward in ever slower steps, holding out one hand as though asking this stranger to take it.

"Come on, come down here. You don't have to do this."

Gulcasa's answer was a short laugh.

"It's all right. You can get down safely, and we can call someone to help you get home."

"I'm never going back there," the jumper spat, turning to glare at Gulcasa. The gesture revealed that his face was badly bruised, covered in red and purple marks and smudges of clotted blood. Gulcasa shivered slightly—what was this? Abuse? An assault? A simple runaway who'd gotten hurt somehow?

"Then at least let me take you to the hospital," Gulcasa reasoned slowly. "Those injuries need to get looked at. Did someone do this to you? Shouldn't you try to talk to the police, instead of doing this?"

"Shut up. Go away. It's not as if you care."

"If I didn't care I wouldn't have stopped."

"No one else did, for hours. And there were plenty of people who passed by."

"I stopped," Gulcasa asserted. "And—you don't really want to jump."

This was enough provocation for the jumper to turn halfway around, glowering at Gulcasa through tear-filled, bloodshot eyes. Despite the bruising that forced the jumper's left eye partway closed, Gulcasa could tell that he had heterochromia—it was green, while his right eye was blue. He cut a pitiful figure, covered in bruises and blood even as he bristled like an angry cat.

"Don't tell me what I want to do and what I don't—"

"I'm not telling you—it just seems kind of obvious," Gulcasa reasoned calmly. "You were here for hours, you said. If you wanted to jump, you already would have." In other words, he'd been waiting to see if anyone would care enough to try to stop him. Gulcasa felt cold at the thought of what might have happened if he hadn't noticed.

The would-be jumper flushed and wrapped thin arms around himself, turning away. "…I just…"

Gulcasa held out his hand insistently. "Come on, let me help you here. Even at this time of night, we could get the police out here if you need them, and the hospitals are still open. Those look like they hurt."

"If you try to call them I will jump. They're never any help."

Never, Gulcasa registered grimly, does this mean he's tried to go to them about… whatever this is before?

"Is there anyone I can call for you?" Gulcasa asked after a short pause.

"I don't have anyone."

"You came from somewhere."

"I'm not going back there." The jumper curled closer into himself, tucking his chin to his chest so that his hair fell into his face, half-obscuring his bruises. A gust picked up the skirts of his dress and ruffled Gulcasa's hair; shoving it out of his face, Gulcasa was able to see that the cuts and bruises went up to, and probably past, the young man's knees.

These injuries were way too extensive to have been caused by some kind of accident, unless he'd gotten hit by a car. Someone had beaten him pretty badly, probably earlier today. Gulcasa wondered why—perhaps it was about the dress, although there were enough people like that around here that hate crimes were few and far between. Or maybe there was some other reason.

"Should I—call social services?" Gulcasa asked in a low voice.

This elicited a laugh, of all things. "At my age? They wouldn't bother."

…All right, this was starting to make Gulcasa feel sick. He wasn't surprised that this guy felt so cornered, but—"Just give me your hand and come down here, and we'll think of something," he said quietly.

The jumper stared at him through his bangs and his bruises. "Why should I trust you?" he deadpanned.

Gulcasa scowled, annoyed. "If I'd wanted something like that, I could've gotten it where I just came from. There more than were enough silly drunk young women and men around for an orgy, if I'd wanted one. And as it happens, my taste runs towards people who aren't so black and blue you can barely see their eyes."

There wasn't any reply to that.

"Come on, just get down off of there," Gulcasa cajoled. "We can talk about your options once I'm sure your legs won't give out or something and make you fall. Please. I don't want to see you throw your life away."

Gulcasa felt something cold and wet hit his forehead, and looked up. Although he could still see the moon, there was a thin veil of cloud drifting over the sky, and the faint pattering told him it was starting to rain.

"Come on," he repeated again, still holding out his hand. "You'll freeze in that thing. I don't want you getting pneumonia, either."

The would-be jumper turned to face Gulcasa fully, now looking forlorn instead of confrontational—and hesitantly, he lifted his hand as if to reach out.

"It's going to be all right," Gulcasa said firmly.

The rain was falling steadily now, and the fabric of Gulcasa's tuxedo jacket was starting to feel heavier on his shoulders. His hair definitely was, too. If they stood here for too much longer they'd get soaked, but the young man facing him seemed frozen in place.

Gulcasa waited.

At last, that pale hand reached forward, lightly touching Gulcasa's just as its owner wobbled where he stood. His heart giving a heavy lurch, Gulcasa grasped the hand tightly and pulled, yanking the blond towards him so that he fell against Gulcasa's chest with a soft gasp. He'd startled him, but—better that than letting him fall the other way.

"Are you all right? I didn't pull too hard, did I?"

There wasn't any answer; the would-have-been jumper just stayed slumped against him, perhaps trying to regain his sense of balance. Gulcasa eased him carefully back, and then shrugged out of his tuxedo coat, placing it around those thin shoulders. Whatever it was made out of, that dress seemed worryingly thin, and he really would get pneumonia if he stood out here getting drenched for too long.

Although the would-have-been jumper still said nothing, his small hands clutched at the lapels of the jacket, pulling it closer around him. Gulcasa rested a hand lightly on his shoulder.

"Don't forget your shoes."

"…I don't care about them."

"I don't want you hurting your feet, though. The asphalt's pretty rough over here, and we still don't know where we're taking you."

"No hospital. No police station." He sounded dead; the words were exhausted.

Gulcasa shook his head and went to pick up the discarded pair of sandals, then returned to their owner. The young man was still standing in the same pose, head down, clutching Gulcasa's coat around himself, as if he didn't care that he was getting soaked.

"We should head to the car or we're going to get drowned," Gulcasa stated flatly. The rain was starting to pick up, its patter increasing to a steady rattling sound. "We can talk about where we're going then, come on."

He tugged lightly at the would-be-jumper's shoulder, leading him to the car. Gulcasa's seat wasn't wet, thankfully, but the inside of the door was soaked. He'd have to wipe it down when they got back, or it'd get nasty dust streaks all over it. What a pain.

While his companion stood staring blankly, Gulcasa unlocked the other car doors, and pulled open one of the back ones. "I think I've got towels back there. Wrap up when you get in, and don't forget your seatbelt. That'd be a hell of a thing to get screwed for now."

With only another hesitation as indication that he might not be comfortable with this, the young man clambered awkwardly into the car. Gulcasa shut the door behind him, then took the driver's seat and shut his own door, pushing his wet hair out of his face.

"Is there anywhere you want to go, or anything you want to do?"

There was a soft sneeze and cough from the back seat. Gulcasa looked in the rearview mirror to see his passenger shaking his head.

"Hungry? Thirsty? Need to stop at a bathroom somewhere?"

Another shake of the head, and then another sneeze.

"I guess we just have to get you warmed up. You're going to get a cold at this rate. And… damn, I think we're out of coffee." Gulcasa made a face, then pushed his hair back and chewed the edge of his lip. "…Well, there's a café close to where I live that we could go to. The barista who's got the graveyard shift is an old friend, and she knows me well enough not to freak and call the cops when she sees the state you're in. You like coffee?"

A shrug.

"Well, as long as you don't hate it. We're in for a bit of a ride though. After we get you fed and watered, I guess I'll be taking you to my place. I've got first aid stuff there, so we can patch you up and then get you to bed. …My sisters are sharing the guest room, but I can put you up with me or I'll take the couch or something. You need the mattress more right now."

No response.

"Any problems with the plan?"

"…no."

"That's great, 'cause I can't think of anything else to do with you. I'm Gulcasa, by the way," he added as an afterthought. "If you change your mind about the hospital, let me know."

"I won't."

"If you say so. We'll have to talk about it again tomorrow, once we see how you're doing. That shiner's probably gonna be a pretty sunrise by then—you might not like it." Gulcasa turned the key, but didn't shift into drive; he considered his options and turned the heat on along with the windshield wipers. It didn't bother him too much, but he could see in the rearview mirror that his stray friend was shivering now. And his comfort was most important here. "We've got a ride of about thirty or forty minutes, so if you want to go to sleep you can. If you're still out by the time we get there, I'll just take you to the house. That all right?"

"….I suppose."

"Seriously, if you have a problem with anything, tell me." Gulcasa glanced over his shoulder, then put his hand on the stick shift.

"…Nessiah."

"What?"

"My name." There was a shift of cloth; Gulcasa looked back to see that his passenger was curled up on the seat, cocooned in the wet jacket and two towels, the seatbelt pulled down at an odd angle so that it still wrapped under his body. "It's Nessiah."

Gulcasa considered it, and nodded. "Well, it's certainly been an interesting meeting, Nessiah. I'm gonna do my best to take care of you."

When there wasn't any answer, Gulcasa settled his foot on the pedal and shifted the car into drive.