souls up, spirits down // sapphire + milo

The first night you found yourself on the roof, you'd contemplated stepping off the side, an act of rebellion so defiant it'd surely send shockwaves through each and every lifeline you'd spent eighteen years cultivating.

The second night, you'd wondered if you'd been the first to come up with the idea, and had decided to test your hypothesis. One step off the building and unfortunate zap back onto the rooftop later, you figured that, if you had been the first person to think of that in eighty three years, then you'd be truly astounded.

The third night, you'd decided that ruminating on top of the world was entirely too uncomfortable without something to sit upon other than, well, roof, so you'd gone back down to the room, grabbed a plushy little couch from the living room, and had dragged it into the elevator and up to your new hideaway. For the first thirty minutes, you'd been worried that Jacquelyn would find you and throw a fit for ruining such pristine furniture - before you realized that even though the couch was probably worth more than you'd ever made in your life before, it was just one piece of furniture out of over a dozen in that room alone, let alone the entire fucking building.

The fourth night, you find someone sitting in your spot.

A boy, to be precise, one that Mackenzie had pointed out as being from the reigning champion's home. And for a moment, you stare, debating whether it'd be worth the effort to kick him out, to find his own spot on the roof-

-and then you decide that it's been a long day, and you're probably going to die soon, so what's a bit of coexistence to end the night on?

So you walk around a pair of gangly legs, regard the boyish features that, okay, aren't terrible looking, before crashing down on the seat cushion next to him.

And for a moment, it's just that. Just two wayward souls regarding the night before them, the twinkling lights so unlike the forests and fields they'd been plucked from.

But then curiosity takes the reins, or perhaps you just don't desire quiet on a night like this. "So what's your reason, pretty boy?" you ask, not breaking your gaze from a particularly shiny building far off in the distance. "Can't sleep, need to think, or planning on tossing yourself off the edge in dramatic fashion?" And despite yourself, one side of your mouth curves upward, amusement crowning itself queen. "Spoiler alert, they've planned for the last one, so I'd recommend against it unless you enjoy being tossed around like a rag doll."