Curate, connect, and discover
Dash held the raised roof tightly as he looked down, legs ready to push off towards a free fall. He closed his eyes and took a few breaths before moving forward.
Just as he was about to let go, a voice called behind him, “You know, most suicide survivors say they regret trying the moment they let go.” This caused Dash to catch himself before he lost grip. The voice was familiar enough for him to turn around and face his unwanted observer.
A set of blue eyes stared back at him as Dash spoke a bit shakily, “W-what?”
“Mind if I join you?” The closer his observer got closer, the quicker Dash realized who he was talking to. He knows it is. He's a few inches taller than he was in there senior year at about 5'9”, a bit more toned, and white hair growing on the back of his head, but it was obvious.
Dash just huffed at Danny and turned away, to which he interpreted as a yes. There was a brief moment of silence between them when Danny swung his legs over, the silence only breaking when Dash sighed, “I injured my back and got cut from the team.”
“Bone or muscle injury?” Danny asked.
Dash glared at Danny, wondering why he cared, but all he was greeted with was caring blue eyes. Dash looked away as he continued, “It doesn’t matter. It’s not too serious at the moment, and it doesn’t bother me too much, but from what the doc was saying. If I continue playing, I-” Dash stopped and tightened the wall around his fingers.
Danny was patient however, moving a bit closer and waiting calmly and quietly for Dash to continue.
After a bit, Dash swallowed and continued, “If I continue playing, it may cause permanent and serious damage.”
“And so you were cut from the team?” Danny asked curiously, “You could have been a coach’s assistant or something.”
“Yes, well,” Dash huffed, “I thought of that too. Apparently, seniority overrules talent here. Who knew.”
Danny huffed and stifled a laugh. Dash huffed too. He didn’t mean to make it funny, but it did seem a bit ridiculous in retrospect. He is only in his second year, and most of his team, -former team-, were just as or more talented than he was.
After another brief moment of silence, this one a bit calmer than the last, Danny asked, “So… what now?”
“I…” Dash looked down the building wall to the concrete below. It seemed a lot further down now than it was when he first arrived on top of the building. “I don’t know. My scholarship is all but over, a-and I can’t play football again.” Dash held back a sob. His voice broke as he said, “You were right the last time we saw each other. I…I did peak in high school, I just didn’t realize it.” Dash closed his eyes, sighed, and turned to look at Danny. He began to apologize, “I’m sorry I bullied you in high school. I never realized how much you were going through, with your parents, with…everything. It must have…I’m sorry.”
Danny’s calm eyes turned to concern, then to regret. This time, he turned away. “We all say and do things we regret.” Dash watched as he rubbed the palm of his left hand and practically glared at it. With a sigh, Danny continued, “I know how you feel, though. Your purpose…going away and not seeing a reason for living.”
“The ghosts stopped attacking,” Dash stated the obvious. “Why…?” Dash looked at Danny in confusion, “why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t know,” Danny said honestly, “Maybe I needed a rant. Maybe it was because you’re sitting on a rooftop about ready to jump over being cut from the team. It’s all to say, you aren't alone, and there is more to you than just football.”
Dash shrugged nervously, “I mean, is life so much better?”
“Probably not,” Danny said with a shrug, “but where's the fun in being dead?”
Dash grumbled and rolled his eyes.