!Trigger warning!: Contains a lot of mentions and showcases of self-hatred and suicide. DO NOT read this if you think it will put you in a bad headspace.

The highest balcony at the DWMA was almost always empty. Every other balcony of the academy has such beautiful views of the warm, sparkling city below, but from this balcony, you can only see the endless, lonely stretches of sand with a stray cactus here and there. There was something else special about the highest balcony. It was exactly 88 feet away from the closest ground, which is just the perfect number. Not only is it perfectly symmetrical and has my favorite number twice, but it's also a height that is basically guaranteed to kill anybody who jumps off of it. Even a Grim Reaper. Nowhere else in Death City has such a perfect set of circumstances.

I'm walking there now to selfishly dirty it with my imperfections, but I don't plan to stay on the balcony long.

I used to like to tell myself that everything would be better after Medusa is defeated, or Arachnophobia, or Asura, or anything like that, but no. If anything, the peace made me feel worse. Nothing was ever there to distract me from the constant, torturous ideas that everything was just slightly off. These days it seems like all I do is obsessively fall into my compulsions, which I don't want to do, yet always end up doing them regardless. Guess that's why they call it a disorder.

That word is so disgusting. Order is everything I strive for and believe in, yet my stupid brain attaches a negative suffix to it. I've done my research. There's no magical way to change me. Only three options act as cures: medication (which my Reaper body rejects), Therapy (which my mind rejects), and death. Believe me, I don't actively want to die, but I have to do something to change my life, and ending it really is the only option.

I open the door, plan in mind. I'll take off my shoes, put them by the door, step onto the thin railing, and finally lean off of it, falling as symmetrically as possible. The shoes, as per Japanese tradition, would prove that it wasn't a murder, so all of my goodbyes should be easily found once the deed is done. It'll be perfect.

It was going to be, but before I got a chance to start step one, I saw a familiar person struggling to pull the rest of her scrawny body onto the ledge. The black and white outfit she always wears was exactly the same, with one exception. Her shoes are off, placed sloppily beside her, which was a crude version of what I intended to do. Crona's going to jump.

It isn't surprising. Crona doesn't really talk to anybody besides Maka, but even as little as I see her I can tell she has some issues not too dissimilar from mine, perhaps worse than mine too if metal problems could be measured. What actually is surprising is what I end up saying.

"Please don't jump."

My words made Crona scream and jerk away from the ledge in fear.

I honestly don't know why I said that. I didn't care either way; it was her choice. I'd be a hypocrite if I thought anything else. My tone of voice sounded desperate, but that wasn't how I felt at all. Astonished at the coincidence of meeting her here, and slightly vexed at the fact that my perfect death was being postponed was much more accurate.

Crona turns around to look at me, absolutely horrified by the looks of it. "K-Kid…" she mumbles. She starts fiddling with the silver rings on her middle fingers. "W-what are you doing h-here?"

"I should be asking you the same thing."

She shyly looks down to the shoes beside her, then back at me. Tears fill up her eyes. "Please don't tell Maka. I-I-I never wanted to do this, I promise! I just can't deal with life anymore!" Crona falls to her knees, her arms wrapping around herself in a hug. "I can't control what I do, I've never been able to… Ragnarok pushes and pulls me around and I can't do anything about it! I-I know he's tiny, and I could stop him if I try, b-but I do try. It doesn't work. I feel like I'm losing my mind."

"I just thought…" Crona continues, "that if I keep living like this… maybe I'll do something I'll regret whether I want to or not. I don't know h-how deal with that. I was going to jump because… I guess I wanted to control one thing once and for all. It was stupid. Please don't tell Maka. I don't really want to die, I-I just don't know what to do!"

I stare at Crona. There was something kind of, for lack of a better word, pathetic sounding about what she just said. The lack of control was obviously not constant, if her being able to jump in the first place was a choice, and it's not permanent either. She simply needs to get stronger so Ragnarok can't push her around anymore. Such an eternal solution for an ephemeral problem seems so extreme. She still had a lot to live for.

"I won't tell anybody," I assure. "If you really don't want to die, then why don't you do the things your soul is drawn to? It'll get your mind off of things until you're feeling better about everything."

"Th-things my soul is drawn to?"

"Yeah. I mean hobbies and stuff like that. Things you're good at. I know you like poetry and fighting. You and Maka could go and do something fun together! Doesn't that sound worth living for?"

Silence surrounded us for a moment, but the meister soon adopts a small smile. "Yeah… Okay… Thank you for listening to me…"

"No problem. You would do the same, wouldn't you?" She probably wouldn't. Listening to a depressed person complain would just make Crona's depression worse. I kind of wish she would want to stay for my own gripes with life, but she's putting her shoes back on with intent to leave.

What I really wish is that she didn't interrupt my attempt. I can't jump now, I'd run into that hypocrite problem again. I will not let my final moments be anything less than perfect.

I suppose I have to try again another day then.

Alright, today's the day.

This is it. I've ruined everything. I tried going to Italy with Liz and Patty for an easy mission, but no, I couldn't even do that right.

The leaning tower of Pisa: destroyed.

Every single soul we've been gathering all year: gone.

My destination as I run through the cold halls: the school's tallest balcony.

I failed the last attempt on my life, just like I failed everything, but this time it'll be different. Apparently, I can't even fight kishins without screwing up massively, which is my only talent besides being an absolute freak, so what do I have to live for anymore? Nothing. The least I can do is have one final, perfect act before I become nothing but an aimless soul.

I take my shoes off preemptively and leave them by the door inside. It'd be more noticeable there. Barefoot, I step outside and suddenly become paralyzed.

I can't believe it.

Once again, climbing onto the ledge was none other than Crona Gorgon, shoes also off. Of course they got here before me.

For God sake, how did this happen again? Why does the universe hate me? I can't just have a quick, simple death? Of course I can't.

"We have to stop meeting like this," I mumble.

Like last time, my voice made Crona scream and leap away from the edge. "Kid?" they questioned. "Please don't tell Maka I came back here again. Please."

"I promise I won't tell anybody," I say. I really don't have any intention or reasons to tell anybody about what happens on this balcony.

Crona takes a step toward me, one arm was holding the other asymmetrically, but I don't try to dwell on that much. "I was writing poetry with Maka like you suggested, and it was amazing at first… but then… I-" tears start flowing from their eyes. "I couldn't write anything. Everything I made was awful. I used to be so much better when I was younger! I don't know how to deal with being worse than my young self. Poetry is the only thing I could do right, but now… If I can't write anymore, I thought that… I shouldn't live anymore either…"

That really did sound pathetic. I have a pretty vivid imagination, but it was still hard for me to imagine somebody genuinely wanting to die over something as small as being bad at poetry. The real problem is that Crona keeps beating me up here. Why? Their problems really aren't worth jumping over.

"Who cares if you can't write anymore. You can always find something else to do, or get better at poetry again, or basically anything is better than killing yourself. What about Maka? She would be devastated if you jump, wouldn't she? Even if you don't have something to live for, you have someone to live for so go spend time with her. You don't have to do anything drastic."

Crona wipes the tears from their golden eyes. "Y-yeah… Yeah! You're right. I can't just leave Maka, or any of you. You guys are the best friends I could ever ask for! I won't put them through this pain too."

They stand up straight and smile meekly at me. "Thank you for listening to me again."

"You'd do the same for me…" That was a lie. I know they wouldn't. Nobody would.

Crona walks away, and sighing I do the same. Next time I'll do it right.

That was also a lie.

As time passes, it keeps going on like this. Every single time I go to the balcony, Crona was there seconds away from jumping themself. I always say something to get their attention and they start telling me not to tell Maka about it all and go on with that week's woe, then we go our separate ways with both our minds, bodies, and souls in one piece. It's becoming so repetitive. Both of us are basically just going through the motions now.

In a twisted sort of way, it was kind of like those sitcoms that Liz likes to watch. The more we do it, the more ridiculous it becomes. All we need is an overly upbeat background track to play as we say those catchphrases we always seem to use. There's even an ongoing 'will they, won't they?', although the question for us is closer to 'to be, or not to be?' So far 'to be' has always won, but that really could always change. All those problems Crona has aren't going away. I just distract them, not solve anything. One day I might run out of distractions…

My feet echo off the walls as I sprint up the flights of the DWMA. I can't waste time anymore. I need to get there first! I have to die today, there are no alternatives anymore. I've postponed my death far too much and now I'm really going to lose everything!

Tomorrow is the 16th anniversary of when Father made me, and for Reapers, 16 years of life is all you need before becoming an adult. Everyone says that I should be happy, I'll finally be symmetrical after all, but I can't feel anything but utter, excruciating pain. Only one adult reaper can exist at a time, and I'd die asymmetrically 8,000 times before I live one day without my dad. After all these years, he's the only one who loves me, or even so much as likes me. Nobody says it, but they all hate me; they always have. They look at me and see a stupid, useless, deplorable, asymmetrical freak of a Reaper that, if not for my status and power, they wouldn't so much as tolerate. Just becoming symmetrical won't change any of that, but it would add murderer to the list of abysmal things I do. Either I kill myself or I kill my father, and that's the easiest choice I've ever made in my life. Only one of us even deserved to be born in the first place.

I swing open the door and there he is again. Crona. Just like always.

Of all days, I don't want to deal with him today, I just want to jump, and he won't stop me this time. Either he jumps or leaves, I don't care which one, it won't change the fact that I'll never see him again, or see anything again for that matter.

Like always, I'm going to say something, but it'll be 'hurry up,' or 'do a backflip', or anything along those lines. We've done this so many times now, and he always comes back with new problems. It's so stupid. He should just jump, he deserves it at this point.

My mouth opens and I can't believe what comes out of it. "Please don't jump."

Those words ring through my head. I sounded so melancholic and desperate. I was pleading, but why? I want him to jump. He needs to at this point.

Crona looks back at me with this pitiful expression. His hollow eyes were so dull and lifeless already. The person in front of me was already dead.

"Kid, I can't deal with life anymore," he says. Not a speck of emotion could be heard in his empty voice. "I have nothing. Nobody. Not even Maka anymore. This is the only good thing I could ever do." Crona turns to look back at the floor far, far below him. "I guess today is just not my day… Please tell Maka that I'm sorry."

"Wait, Crona-" I yell, but it's too late. For once, I couldn't stop him.

One step. That's all it took for him to disappear. The last thing I see as Crona falls is his hair. The wind makes it move in such a way that it hides the white stripes, making his hair completely black.

I run to the edge and look off. At the bottom was no blood, no body, and no soul. All I saw at the bottom of the plummet was a target, big and red. The perfect place to land. If I landed right on it, nothing will be damaged, nobody would get hurt, except me of course, but Nothing and Nobody could easily apply in that case too.

Well, I got what I wanted. Nobody is here to get in my way or interfere anymore. It's just me up here, all by myself.

I take off my shoes, put them by the door, and step onto the thin railing. All that was left to do was lean forward and let the wind take me. It'll make me more symmetrical than becoming an adult would. With this one last act, I'll finally be in control, I'll finally do something right, and I'll finally stop being a burden for everybody I know. I'll be free.

The loud creak of the door behind me made me stop. "Kid!?" I recognized that voice without even needing to turn around. It was Crona again. "W-what are you doing?"

I don't answer. They aren't going to stop me, they can't. Alternative choices really don't exist anymore.

Right before I fall, a thin, pale hand wraps around my left wrist. "Hey, don't do it please. Don't listen to the Hell inside your head. I-it's not worth it."

This isn't how it's supposed to go. I'm supposed to jump, not step down. Nobody is supposed to care about me.

Something is so different about Crona now. I can't get mad at them for stopping me anymore. Something about feeling their ringless hand on me while seeing their desperate gray eyes and bright pink hair. They're alive. I'm alive. I don't want either of those to change, I really don't, but what am I supposed to do?

"I understand what you're going through… Do you want to… talk about it?" Crona asks quietly.

They're probably the only person in this city that actually does understand what I'm going through, even if our situations stem from completely different sources. Talking to someone that's not just my reflection seemed so tempting. Telling them my reasons might not be awful.

"Please don't tell Maka…" I mumble, grabbing my shoes.

A/N: Get the help you need before doing anything drastic. Also, this was HEAVILY influenced by the song "my R", specifically the English cover by KurageP. If you've heard the song before, yeah the ending was too sad for me. I tried to make this story more poetic than my usual too, but I'm awful at getting tenses right so a wrong tense being used is probably a mistake, not something deeper. So, any thoughts? I'd love to hear them.