(theme: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ESXA4l7djc])

There’s a tiled-floor roof up high in the sky. To the side of a roof exit door rests a pair of loafers.

A little girl steps leisurely across the coarse, tiled ground, with only socks covering her dainty feet against the unpleasant feeling of the rough, imperfect groundwork. She dressed modestly; an unremarkable, checker-printed red sweater and a knee-length skirt; the little girl seemed to dress quite casually for such a place she found herself in. Her demeanor was mysterious, yet, past those droopy, slanted eyes, an oddly confident attitude guided her movements. A girl with such an eccentric attitude, she was. However, she was uncertain as to her footing. This was where she had to go to, wasn’t it?

Right across her view, standing over a familiar, rail-doted balcony, someone else was present. She had her answer there.

She saw an older boy, not so different than her, but dressed on par with where he found himself in. A light-blue patient gown draped over his thin, slender figure, and bandages ran across his dark hair in a way, it appeared, as if he had suffered a head injury. Staring into the endless array of clouds that rested just below the railing on the balcony, he was alarmingly unfazed towards where he stood. The little girl instinctively noticed the creeping danger related to that. But, it was easy to overpower such impulses in her head with the factual. At this point, nothing, even God’s hard coding, could change their minds, right? Though, she congratulated the boy for being so daunt. Compared to her, he’s ready all the way through. Or, perhaps, half-way. It’s weird. It seems the boy has been standing there for a while. What could be the reason? Does he still hold back, after everything? After all he seemed to have gone through, something still tugs at the back of his mind, trying to preserve him just to bring him back to his suffering? Why should he attempt remaining in that tortuous state, she thought, as if it was even worth it?

Steadily, she paced over to the boy’s side through the corner of his vision, her socks muffling her airy footsteps. The boy, with his single remaining eye, glanced sideways to view in the little girl in surprise, as she took advantage of his lack of peripheral vision to emerge besides him and take his right hand into a gentle, infantile hold. She saw more of him from that angle, besides his lack of an eye – namely, the tired expression that ran across his shabby face: the teary aspect of it, how hollow his gaze looked...

Then, she faced forward, towards the vast, cloudy expanse below them.

“It’s a long way down, isn’t it?~”, she commented.

She had a familiar, albeit quieter, softened voice done in an effort to soothe him. The boy stared in shock at her behavior, feeling the warm, comforting grasp of her tiny hand over his cold, sore one, sensing the softness of her touch against his pitiful state, bringing back in sensations that, after a long, treacherous night, had been forgotten for the better.

The gentle comfort of her little hand, slightly caressing his in such a way as if he deserved it, squeezing his own hand softly in a gesture of consolation, as if he had come a long way and it was finally time to rest… the boy was horrified of such endearment, after everything he had shown himself to be, after everything he had done. After he divided everyone, just to have the sudden gall to come back as scars finaly healed. After he put on a facade to approach his mournful friends, who thought higher of him than he deserved. After he brought pain and misery to everyone he had been close to, and to whom decided to foolishly atone for it all, without considering the true consequences of his actions. After he murdered his own sister in a rage, and ended up ruining the lives of his friends and family because of it. Impossible. That hand she held warranted no consolation at all. She should stop. She must stop... she has to stop.

He couldn’t understand why he was being treated like this, even if the little girl knew nothing. He definitely knew he didn't deserve the affection. He knew himself he was a slacker, an irresponsible shut-in, a liar, a murderer, a sociopath... at that point, the feelings he had for his friends might as well have been fake. All of that made him feel like dying, of ridding himself off for the good of others so as to spare them from the pain of his own existance. He doesn't deserve to live anymore. He just wants to get this over with, so why the sympathy? The ones who truly deserve sympathy are Kel, Hero and Aubrey, who had been lied to for 4 years straight because he couldn't tell them the truth, which, in the end, made everyone suffer so much more than they deserved to. He deserves nothing but scorn. So, why has she not let go of his hand yet?... Her soft voice, her flowing, braided long hair, her calming appearance, all feelings he felt ashamed of witnessing at that state, the kinds of feelings that made it look like everything would be okay after a long picnic day, while resting comfortably on a lap, sleeping peacefully… the kinds of feelings that reminded him of…

... her…

... Mari…

... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry… Mari… Please forgive me...

What was already a poor attempt to hold it all in finally gave way to the tears. Slowly at first, with a whimper, and then, a sob, frustratingly clenching his fist under the little girl’s touch. A cry that wailed louder the longer it went, showing the anguish garnered inside of him with each tear that flowed from his eye, illustrating the suffering the boy had endured for so long while growing up with no one else to look up to. He cried like a child. The same child who claimed his sister’s life.

The little girl understood him. And that's why she cared for him like that. He needed to go through this, only then would he finally be at rest. Despite not having the head start, she knew they were too far in to turn back. At least, he won’t be alone during it… neither will her.

She huddled closer, sliding her short arms over his waist, leaning over slightly with a head tilt as an embrace found the broken boy. He couldn’t properly react to it, as the overflow of emotion was so great he had brought an arm over his eyes to block in the tears as they kept falling. This was too much to bear for him. But it was okay for her. They were almost there, after all. All he had to do was just let go.

“It’s okay. Everything will be over soon.” She told him, as he nuzzled her head against him, trying to console him in this final moment under her hug.

He couldn't stop crying, but at the same time he curled in pain, he felt an odd sense of relief. There he was, facing his ultimate fear while having someone by his side, who understood how he felt, who wanted to give him one last feeling of comfort before he passed. The girl felt the same underneath her collected exterior - she was so glad she wouldn't feel as much like a roach anymore, and, tearfully, awaited for the chance to keep on dreaming, forever. Both of them, out of chance, crossed paths in the final pages of their life. Yet, their encounter brought solace to each other, and, for at least once, things did feel like they were going to be okay.

In their embrace, their feet slowly tilted forward. They faced the clouds as they disappeared under the balcony.