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A cool wind cut right to the bone. He wanted to put on the warmest things he owned, but right now, as dawn was just barely breaking, Nagito hadn't put on anything warmer than a hoodie. He sat on the rooftop now, legs dangling, and gazed into the distance. The sun tinted his gray hair with shades of pink, making him squint.
No matter how cold it was here, fear made him curl up tighter. He wanted to jump. Yes. He'd been thinking about this for a long time. Ending his worthless life seemed the simplest thing. There was no point left; his parents were dead, and at school, he was the strange kid.
Was there any point in living on? He wasn't normal because of his panic attacks, the blade scars on his arms, and the diagnosed dementia that would leave him helpless in the future. He was repulsive, from the tips of his sterile-white, brittle hair down to his very toes. He didn't want to love himself. He shouldn't live; he only got in people's way with his luck. His parents had already experienced his luck with their deaths; they had died because of him.
There was no sense in continuing, and even if there were, his strength had already left him. And so now, sitting on the edge of the nine-story building, he looked at the beautiful sky. A strange feeling, when you realize you could die soon. Anxiety and fear of the unknown, but at the same time a strange calm, that soon everything would be different... So strange, but he was strange himself, so why be surprised.
The sky was especially beautiful today. Dark and yet alluring in its boundlessness. The sun stubbornly lit up the tops of the buildings but did little to help him get warm. Maybe all this seemed this way only because of fear, and he was trying to stall for time; maybe it was simply and truly mesmerizing. He wanted to stay here a little longer, and Nagito didn't fight this desire; he wanted to look at this sky one last time.
The understanding that he soon wouldn't be able to see this sky anymore was even upsetting. He was weak as usual, couldn't jump right away... They say that before death, loved ones are asked for a last wish, but he never had any loved ones. So no one would grant his wish except himself. Nagito wanted to let at least someone know that he wouldn't be here today. But who?
What kind of person would want to talk to him? Who would even grieve his death in any way, if even he himself didn't?... A helpline? The people there would answer because it was their job.
He'd be disturbing people again with his presence; even his death was a disturbance. But the desire to call was stronger, even though it filled him with anxiety, making his hands shake and his body break out in goosebumps. He wanted people to simply know that soon he wouldn't be here. He never did write a suicide note, and now he regretted it. But it would have ended up in the trash anyway.
Taking one more look at the sun, Nagito picked up his old phone, which lay beside him. The cracked screen ruined its very appearance. Was it like its owner? His fingers wouldn't obey well in the frost. After a long time, having dialed those coveted digits, he stopped. He was scared again...
Quickly pressing the call button, he pressed the icy screen to his ear. Monotonous dial tones sounded, making him pick at his cuticles with anticipation. Maybe they just wouldn't answer? Would they even want to talk to him?
Abruptly, the tones stopped and a calm voice came from the receiver. "Hello, Hajime Hinata from the support line. May I have your name?"
Should he give his full name? Or not? God, he was taking up people's time again. Couldn't he just jump and leave everyone alone? Maybe now his luck would play a cruel trick on him; he was used to its antics, to that weight of guilt and...
"Hello, are you on the line?" The voice from the phone interrupted his thoughts, forcing him to answer. With a nervous and quiet voice he began. "Nagito... Nagito Komaeda." Because of the wind, it was hard to make out the worker's words.
"Hello, Nagito, can you tell me where you are right now?" He'd probably guessed from the wind that he definitely wasn't at home now. Although it wasn't like he really had a home to begin with.
Trying to find the words, Nagito started speaking. "I'm on the roof of an apartment building... I'm going to jump. I called to let someone know. A stupid reason, right?" Maybe now he would just hang up, not listen to his useless words.
Silence on the line lasted another couple of seconds before Hajime replied. "Can you describe everything that's around you?" Why? What was the point of him describing the view before him? Either he wanted to find out his location and send someone to get him off the roof, or he didn't understand.
Despite his own reasoning, Komaeda decided to continue this conversation anyway, even though it was already pointless, he would die. In a trembling voice he began. "I'm on the roof of a nine-story building..." After a small pause he continued. "It's cold here and a strong wind is blowing." Should he say something more? He'd already taken up a lot of time, why even more?
Outside it was just as empty, all sensible people were asleep. And he wasn't asleep. The silence didn't last long; Nagito started speaking again. "The sun is already rising, it doesn't help much with the cold. But it's bright, it hurts the eyes." By the end, his voice was already trembling. Maybe he really should have put on something else? Something warmer?... No, he didn't have anything warmer. Only this thin green hoodie, on which there wasn't a single spot that wasn't worn, provided any warmth at all.
"Nagito... do you want to sleep right now?" Hajime's voice wasn't as calm. A strange question for such a moment; what did he want to do?
Sleep. To lose himself in Morpheus's embrace would be like a fairy tale, without anxiety and pain. But the nightmares from his dreams still hadn't left. He probably shouldn't leave Hajime without an answer; after all, he'd already taken up so much of his time.
"I don't know... I want to sleep, but I can't. Almost every night I have nightmares. I can't sleep after them." His hands were already shaking not only from the cold but also from exhaustion. Even just a couple of words had worn him out. He'd always been a weak child, often sick, and P.E. classes had always been something impossible. Apparently, it only got worse with age.
Hajime's voice sounded sharply in the silence, forcing him to pay attention. "Nagito, can you share what you dream about? You don't have to talk if it causes you a lot of pain."
At these words, Nagito was surprised. He hadn't thought Hajime would be interested in anything at all. And the last sentence surprised him even more. Did he care about someone like him? Although that was his job.
Biting his lips until they bled, he thought. Should he tell everything? All of it, hidden from people's eyes for so long, all that had gone unnoticed. It was scary. He'd long dreamed of talking to someone about this, but there was no one, and he never learned how to trust.
But Hajime was in another city, knew neither his appearance nor where he was right now. Was it even worth sharing this?... He had called for this, wanted to cry to someone. Nagito wasn't stupid; he was just trying to hide from himself the fact that he was so weak. He couldn't leave without sharing with someone, couldn't just do it like a strong person and not take up time. He needed to say something.
In a quiet voice, he began. "I was eight when my parents died during a plane trip. We were going on vacation, but that's just how it turned out." Salty tears welled up in his eyes; the last thing he needed was to start crying. "After that, it all started. I began having nightmares. I was left alone... That's probably pathetic to listen to, right?" By the end, Komaeda had switched to a strained whisper.
Tears streamed from his eyes down his cheeks. His nose was stuffed up, making him sniffle. At the same time, he felt a little lighter. Now someone knew about his life. Knew it was hard for him. And from that thought, he wanted to cry even more, but the pressure in his chest wasn't as heavy as before.
A voice came from the phone again, no longer as steady. "Nagito, thank you for sharing that. I'm sorry that happened to you... And really, don't end your life. If it's hard for you, call here and just talk. It will make you feel better."
At these warm words, Nagito only sobbed harder. The sniffles were definitely audible to Hajime, but he didn't care. "T-thank you, Hajime... I'll call."
Hinata didn't hear these words. The phone died. How inopportune, but at least it wasn't at the beginning of their conversation.
When the tears had already dried on his cheeks, and his soul felt calmer. The sun had risen into the sky and was shining its warm rays on him. People were waking up, already leaving their buildings. They had no idea that one person had been sitting here for a couple of hours, looking at the sky, now bright, with clouds, and so alluring.
It was hard to tear himself away from it, but Komaeda stepped back from the edge. Going down the stairs, he thought about all of it. That conversation, the sky, and the feelings. An unfamiliar lightness was taking root in him.
Today, Nagito did not jump off the roof.