Chapter Text
"Hey."
There was no reply.
"Hey."
You looked up from your computer screen, head aching with dry eyes. The beginnings of a scowl pulled at your lips but you tried to hide it. Tried to appear friendlier than you'd ever consider necessary for the man before you.
Well.
You didn't try that hard.
It was late, you were tired, and this guy was a dick . You felt yourself scowl.
The guy—Daniel—didn't mind.
"I have to leave early,"
You knew where this was going.
"My wife needs me back home. Issue with the kids, you know?"
No. You didn't fucking know—
"But Kyle needs some paperwork done by tomorrow morning. I hate to ask you this, kid—"
"—I'm not a—"
"—but could you stay back and handle it for me?"
You bit the inside of your cheek. Hard. Because if you didn't, you might end up doing something you'd regret like telling your coworker he can suck your dick.
You glanced at the clock in the corner of your computer screen, sighing at what you saw. It was late and you didn't want to do this. You wouldn't even be paid overtime.
"Listen, I sort of got my own thing—"
"—I'll fuckin' owe you one, alright? I'll owe you big time. You're the man."
Daniel was walking away and you scrambled out of your swivel chair to attempt to catch him. You were all but three steps away from your desk while he was across the room and headed toward the elevator.
"I already sent you the files! You're a lifesaver, man!"
By the time you caught up the elevator doors were closing in your face.
It took a second for it to register and you stood there, staring at the closed doors with your hands balled into fists.
You were so fucking sick of this job.
You were sick.
The anger drained out of you, slowly, despite you trying to hold onto it. It was like there was a leak somewhere within you, a puncture that made it impossible to hold onto anything.
Your shoulders slumped and you were still staring at the closed elevator doors.
Something settled over you, an emotion you've been feeling rather often as of late but were too scared to name.
But it cloaked you regardless of your denial of it.
You turned away from the elevator doors, passed all the empty cubicles until you got to yours, and sat at your desk. The screen of your computer had gone dark in your time away. Unfortunately, that meant you could see your reflection on the screen.
Could see the bags under your eyes, the mess that was your hair, how your cheeks sunk in— in a way you haven't paid attention to until now. The reflection of your eyes is what had you averting your gaze. How dull they'd gotten, how dead they looked, was too much for you to stare into for too long.
You tried not to think about it.
Tried not to think about what that meant for you.
You wiggled your mouse to get the computer to light up again and reentered your password.
Daniel — fuck him— sent you an email with the files he'd been talking about.
There were three in total but they were long as shit and barely filled out.
Just looking at them was enough to exhaust you further. Enough to have you leaning back in your chair while digging the heels of your hands into your eyes.
Maybe if you pressed hard enough they'd pop and you'd go blind, at least then you wouldn't have to come back to this place.
The sudden sound of a knock against your desk had you sitting up straight and dropping your hands. You looked up and saw a woman, another one of your coworkers called Valerie. The difference between her and Daniel was that she was bearable to be around.
She said your name with a tired sort of smile. You attempted to return it but by the way her smile faltered slightly...it fell short.
"You staying back?"
"Yeah. Daniel left early, wanted me to finish what he started."
Valerie frowned, glossed lips pulling into something sort of like a pout.
"You shouldn't let him pass his work off to you like that. It's not right."
You sighed but it was supposed to be a laugh.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. If he's bothering you, you could go to HR and speak to someone—"
"I'm alright. Seriously. It's fine," you noticed the purse hanging from the crook of Valerie's elbow. "You leaving?"
Valerie followed your gaze down to her bag before looking up at you again. She looked guilty.
"Oh, yeah, I am but if you need help I can stay behind. I won't mind."
You were already shaking your head before she finished her sentence.
"Nah, I got it. It isn't a lot—" Liar. "—I can handle it. Go home, Isn't it your anniversary or something?"
Valerie lit up. You felt bad for wishing this interaction would end.
"You remembered! Yeah, it's me and Aaliyah's anniversary tonight. I can be a little late, though, she'd understand."
You smiled and tried real hard to make it look genuine this time too.
"Go home, Valerie."
She held up her hands like she was conceding.
"Fine, but I won't give up so easily next time."
You sucked your teeth, "Hopefully there won't be a next time."
Valerie laughed and you wondered if it was out of pity.
"Yeah, maybe Daniel will learn to do his own damn work. But hey, I'll see you on Monday, right? Bright and early?"
You weren't really sure why dread pooled in your gut at her words.
"Absolutely."
Valerie grinned and patted your desk twice as some sort of goodbye. "I'll catch you later then."
You muttered some kind of response because she was off moments later.
You hadn't actually noticed at first but you were the last person remaining on this floor. You rose from your seat just enough to take in the emptiness.
The place looked like the fucking backrooms.
Maybe that's why you're always here in your nightmares.
You sat back down and rolled your neck before starting back up again.
You didn't think about the ache in your back and shoulders or the itch you felt that screamed I don't want to be here.
You aren't a child anymore. Sometimes you'd have to do things you don't like and be in places you don't want to be in.
That's life.
You worked for the next couple of hours.
At some point, one of the janitors walked in and began cleaning. You didn't look up, even as you felt her eyes on you. If anyone else looked at you with pity you might lose your mind.
Might do something crazy like beg God to put you down.
The janitor left at some point. You didn't notice when. You did, however, notice when the lights shut off. The light from your computer screen was the only reason you could still see.
You didn't really know why but you felt helpless, sitting alone in the dark while doing someone else's job. You felt...pathetic. You hadn't realized how much something was eating at you until it ate the last bit of your resolve.
Fucking Gotham.
You blamed the city for ruining you.
You blamed fate for bringing you here.
You didn't realize you had zoned out until your computer went black again.
Now, you really were surrounded by nothing but darkness.
You didn't do anything about it, you didn't know that you wanted to. You sat there and stared, just like you did at the elevators.
You...
You had to get the fuck out of here.
You packed up your belongings in the bookbag you always carried with you to work. Phone, wallet, keys, cigarettes, and lighter— the essentials— were all accounted for.
You walked to the elevator and pressed the down button. The doors slid open and you gazed into the cabin. You didn't move. You stayed not moving until the doors slid closed.
You pushed the button again. The doors slid open. You looked into the cabin.
This time, you were already walking away by the time the doors closed again.
You didn't know what was wrong with you.
You couldn't decide.
The door that led to the stairs wasn't locked yet and swung open just fine.
You were on the seventh floor of the building. There were a lot of stairs that you'd have to walk down. You weren't sure why you didn't mind it today.
You weren't sure of a lot of things today.
You began your descent, flight after flight. The sounds of your footsteps bounced off the walls, echoing and echoing and echoing back to you. You felt your mind begin to slip again, felt yourself drift.
You were walking outside when you blinked yourself back into reality.
You didn't immediately know where you were, looking around like a lost tourist. It took a moment for you to recognize where you were. When you did, you wondered how long you were out of it.
You were a block away from your apartment building. It was a forty-five-minute bus ride to get here from your office.
That dread you felt pool in you earlier doubled in volume. You could feel it spread.
How could you not remember the bus ride?
You exhaled a breath and it was shaky and shallow, like you were frightened.
And you were.
You continued down the block to your building and scanned your key card at the door to let yourself in.
The man sitting at the front desk smiled at you like he always did. He was nice.
You...weren't. So you didn't smile back. You looked away from him like you had never seen him in the first place and continued to walk passed.
You did, however, spare him a glance as you walked up to the elevators.
He was still looking at you.
He was still smiling.
You nodded your acknowledgment before looking away.
You pushed the up button for the elevator and waited.
And waited and waited.
Someone behind you cleared their throat.
You looked behind you towards the front desk guy. He looked bemused.
"Sorry, the elevators are down at the moment."
You blinked, slowly, like you hadn't registered that you were being spoken to.
"Huh?"
Front Desk Guy pointed to a sign taped to the front of the doors.
"The elevators. They're out of commission."
You looked at the sign, reading over the words.
Oh.
"Oh."
Somehow you hadn't noticed the sign.
The Front Desk Guy chuckled.
"You'll have to take the stairs, they won't be working again until tomorrow afternoon."
"Fantastic," you muttered. This was fantastic because you lived on the eighth fucking floor.
"Ha, yeah, take it easy."
Your only reply was an odd noise that was somewhere between a hum and a grunt.
You would take the stairs again today.
Step by step, floor by floor, you walked up the stairs of the fourteen-story building.
Your legs ached and your lungs burned like a fire was lit within them but you kept walking.
Even when you started to slow down and your rapid breaths turned into exhausted hyperventilating, you kept on.
The stairs felt fucking endless with all your climbing. When you reached the next landing and dared to check which floor you were on you wanted to stop right there. You were on the sixth floor. You took a deep breath and continued on with a determination you didn't know you had.
You weren't even sure if it could've been called that.
Could you be determined if you lacked motivation?
Could you be alive if you lacked drive?
Jesus.
Now wasn't the time to get philosophical.
You reached the seventh floor. The door that led to the seventh-floor hallway swung open, almost hitting you in the process.
You stumbled back a step, eyes flickering to the woman who had stepped into the stairwell. You locked eyes. You must've had something on your face because the woman stared at you for longer than should've been necessary.
She shifted her stance, propping the door open with her shoulder so she could use both hands to dig in her purse.
You waited, of course, because...because you're polite or something and curious .
Eventually, the woman extended a cigarette your way. There was something written on it that you couldn't make out just yet.
"You look like you could use it. No Offense."
You blinked, slowly, took the cigarette, and pocketed it.
"None taken."
The woman nodded once. She was still looking at you in a way you couldn't decide if you liked or not. Like she was seeing something in you that a stranger wasn't supposed to.
"See you around."
The woman started her descent down the stairs and the heavy door she had been holding open slammed shut. You watched her go for a moment, making eye contact one last time before she disappeared further down the stairs.
You turned away and started to climb the stairs again.
Finally, you made it to the eighth floor. Your floor. You stared at the door with a large eight painted in the middle. You thought that maybe if you stared for long enough you could will your hand to turn the knob. Will your legs to walk inside. Will any part of you to just go home and sleep.
That's all you ever wanted these days anyway, wasn't it? Sleep?
You've been deprived of so much recently would you deprive yourself of this too?
You bit into your bottom lip, hard, like you were punishing yourself. And maybe you were but you couldn't figure out what for.
Or maybe you did but you didn't want to admit anything, not even in the privacy of your own mind.
Undeniably, however, you felt some kind of urge stir within you. One that called for you to climb and climb until you couldn't anymore.
Your hand tightened around the door handle.
You couldn't recall ever putting it there.
It tightened a bit more before releasing it all together. Your hand fell to your side. A haggard sort of breath escaped you.
You took a step back, then another, then another until the back of your foot hit the next stair.
By the time you got to the tenth floor, you started to feel sick. Not because of your apparent lack of stamina but because of that sense of foreboding that only seemed to weigh you down more with each step you took.
You held onto the railing at your side, leaning your weight onto it and, sadly, you think it might be the most stable you've been in a while.
God, that's so depressing.
By the thirteenth floor, your legs were shaking. With exhaustion, maybe, but fear was also a viable option, wasn't it?
Your heart was beating so quickly in your chest you could feel its pulse in the tips of your trembling fingers.
You started to wonder if coming up here was even worth it. What would you get out of this anyway?
You spared a glance behind you and it was like the stairs beneath you morphed into some sort of abyss. No space for changed minds or backtracking.
By the fourteenth floor, you tried to convince yourself that you've accepted what you planned to do up on the roof.
Walking up the last set of stairs to the door that led to the roof felt almost surreal. You couldn't tell if you were purposefully walking this slow or if it was time that had slowed around you. Either way, it was at a snail's pace that you opened the door that led you back outside.
There was nothing dramatic about the roof of the twelve-story building. Nothing about it screamed "This is the end" and you felt silly for expecting more. Like some sort of farewell party to commemorate your half-baked decision to take your death into your own hands.
Even if you still subconsciously denied that you were here to do that.
It was pathetic and a little depressing to think that after nearly thirty years of living you were still the coward you had been fourteen years ago.
Well, you know what they say about old dogs and new tricks.
Stepping onto the roof, you let the door close behind you, dropping your back next to it, too. You wouldn't really need it.
You had forgotten how cold it was today, somehow. The air was cold enough on its own but the wind that accompanied it made your eyes start to water and your tie flap against your chest.
If you ignored the discomfort it was almost enjoyable, having the wind in your hair. Something in you, something starved, compared it to someone running gentle fingers through your hair.
So you stood there for a moment and closed your eyes because at that moment it felt like you weren't alone and...
And it felt so good to be touched.
To pretend to be touched.
To imagine it.
Imagine someone being so gentle with you, being tender with you because even you deserved that?
What a thought.
You opened his eyes because the wind had stopped blowing and you remembered that there was no tender hand lacing any fingers through your hair. And because you remembered that you were the only one up on this roof at almost nine o'clock at night.
You continued forward and your steps felt heavy. Like something— like everything was weighing you down with every step you took. Like you were Atlas with something heavy on your shoulders.
But you made it to your destination, to the edge of the roof, and there was no railing to stop you from falling. You had thought that maybe there'd be more of a challenge to this. That the world would try harder to keep you.
You reached into your pocket and removed the cigarette that the woman in the stairwell had given you along with your lighter. Now you could see what she had scrawled on it.
'I Know You'
You reread it and then reread it again.
You weren't sure what it was supposed to mean.
I Know You.
Yeah, sure.
If your mother was around she would've told you that it was a nasty habit to smoke. And you would've told her that you'd quit soon and you'd be lying through your teeth.
You placed a cigarette between your lips and lit the butt, standing on the edge of the roof, looking out at the city that had single-handedly swallowed you whole.
You inhaled the smoke and the chemicals and the cancer while looking up to the sky. It had been so long since you'd seen the stars, real ones not drawn on a bummed cig, and even now all you could see was smog and dark clouds.
And that fucking—
It was so upsetting.
It wasn't your job that slowly sucked the joy out of you that had been what led you here, or the way you were slowly losing touch with everyone you knew, or how numb you were beginning to feel about everything that had broken you.
It was the fact that the one time you wanted to look up and see something, you couldn't. You kept your head tilted back and your gaze skyward and you couldn't see anything.
And that feeling in your chest doubled again, tripled, and more and you felt so... disappointed because you couldn't do something as simple as see the night sky.
You had never asked for much.
And the one thing you did ask for while you were at your lowest, the most you asked for in ages, you were denied.
God, you were tired of being denied the bare minimum. Of being denied simple pleasures.
You deserved those too, didn't you?
You thought he did.
You blew the smoke out of your lungs, jetting it out towards the sky, adding more smoke and pollution to it.
It wasn't like you or anyone else could see it, anyway.
You took another step forward and your toes hung over the edge of the roof and looked down on what was below you. It wasn't pretty to look at.
Another shady alleyway in a sea of shady alleyways.
You, a man so special, dying in a place countless faceless people had died in before. You'd be another ghost among many.
But you begged God to not curse you to wander the earth in death. You weren't an altruist by any means but you didn't deserve hell.
But if you're Catholic school days taught you anything about mortal sins and whatnot...you supposed you knew what awaited you.
It would only take one more step and a shortfall to reach your final destination. You thought that maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
Could hell really be that bad when you've been living in similar conditions for this long?
If you were really, really lucky it would just fade to black and it would be done.
It could be done.
But the world was a cruel place and just as you were about to take that last step a hand grabbed you by the elbow and pulled you backwards.
The sudden contact made you gasp. You barely registered your cigarette falling from between your lips as your back hit someone's chest.
"Sorry... Sorry! I tried to call out to you but you didn't seem to—"
And just like that you were no longer on the verge of jumping off a roof. This sort of numbness clouded your mind enough that you couldn't fully comprehend what you had almost done. In a daze, you had absentmindedly started putting distance between yourself and the person who had (saved?) stopped you.
Then, in a smooth motion the stranger had switched your positions, placing themselves closest to the edge of the roof and you closer to the door.
"—hear me."
"What—"
"It's dangerous to stand that close to a ledge."
You looked the stranger up and down, noting the black and blue spandex and matching mask. Even with your mind a mess you could still connect the dots of who you were speaking to.
You must be the luckiest man alive to be saved by the one and only—
"Which one are you? Batman?" Your voice came out quiet and detached as your hands began to shake again, the reality of what you had almost done dawning on him.
There was no more denying what you were doing up on this roof. No denying that someone— a vigilante— had stopped you at the last minute. You didn't know if you should feel thankful or angry. You didn't know which one was more appropriate. Didn't know what to feel but there was this underlying feeling of embarrassment at having someone step in.
"What? Do I look — I'm Nightwing. Do you want to tell me what brought you up here tonight?"
Concerned blue eyes met your tired ones. You felt that it was too much to keep up eye contact with someone whose eyes were filled with so much concern. You looked away.
"Not really," you muttered, your voice just about as weak as he felt. "I..." A pause, you licked your lips. "I just came up here to think."
Nightwing didn't believe you, that much you could tell, and it was pretty much a given because you didn't even believe your own obvious lie. You knew what you came up here to do even if you couldn't admit it until now. And now the vigilante did too.
"Ok," Nightwing said, slowly. "Do you mind if I stay up here with you? The weather's nice tonight."
"Do what you want."
So you stood there in silence and you had no idea how to fill it. He didn't know if he had it in him to try.
You ended up walking over to the wall near the door leading back into the building and leaning against it.
You lit another cigarette from the pack in your bag and ignored Nightwing when he said it wasn't good for you.
Eventually, Nightwing spoke again.
"So, are you some kind of businessman?"
"Why do you ask?" Now that you've had time to process, only a feeling of emptiness was left behind. The hollowness in your chest reflected in your tone of voice and in your eyes.
And in all the rest of you.
You're alive! your mind supplied. Alive! Alive! Alive!
What a shame.
If the vigilante noticed this change in demeanor, he chose not to say anything about it.
"You're wearing a suit and tie."
You hummed, jetting smoke from his nostrils before speaking.
"I'm a salaryman."
"Where do you work?"
You loosely gestured to the surrounding skyscrapers and buildings before the two of you, "Around."
"Why are you up here so late?"
"Just clocked out and...I didn't want to go home yet."
You had finished your cigarette before Nightwing spoke up again. He had pushed himself off the wall to stand directly in front of you so you'd have to look him in the eye.
"Do you think you'll be back up here?"
The meaning behind his words was clear.
All you offered in return was a noncommittal shrug of his shoulder while avoiding the vigilante's gaze again.
"Maybe. I don't know." Yes.
You weren't scared to admit it now. At least not to yourself.
You knew you would be back; a day, a week, maybe a month later, but you'd be back and you'd stand over the edge. And you'd look down.
It seems your new friend thought the same.
"Then I will be, too."
Now you had pushed yourself off of the wall and he stood almost chest to chest with Nightwing. You looked into his vibrant blue eyes before exhaling a chuckle that was more of a huff of faux amusement.
"Don't waste your time."
Nightwing didn't respond immediately, he only returned your gaze.
He sort of looked at you like the woman in the stairwell had, like he's seeing passed your flesh into the core of you. Or, at least, like he's attempting to.
He smiled at you then. Nothing too broad or arrogant like you'd expect. Nightwing smiled down at you like it was a private thing that he was offering you. It was small and warm and...genuine.
You didn't return it.
"I wouldn't be wasting anything."
Your jaw clenched and you were sure he saw it.
"You don't know me."
Nightwing's smile stretched a fraction more and you noticed that his cheeks dimpled.
"No, but I still know for a fact that I wouldn't be wasting anything at all."
You felt your eyebrows furrow before you shook your head and stepped back against the wall again, putting space between the two of you. Nightwing stayed put and crossed his arms over his chest.
He was still smiling.
"You have a cat?"
Your eyes narrowed immediately.
"How the fuck—"
"You have cat fur on your pant legs. It's white so it's pretty easy to see against the black fabric."
You scowled.
"Could be dog fur."
Nightwing was full-on grinning now. You bit back a sigh.
"You already confirmed that it's cat fur with your reaction. What's the kitty's name?"
"None of your business."
" What?! Come on! You have to tell me!" Eyes you couldn't see pinned you under a pleading gaze. The man's mouth was practically pulled into a pout.
Begrudgingly, you answered, "I call her The Princess."
Nightwing made some kind of excited sound and went on about how cute he bet she was. Or something. You stopped listening, your eyes redirecting to the scene of the city before you. Gotham was bright and alive, even tonight.
Something bitter swirled in your gut.
Nightwing's chatter ceased and you looked back at him again only to see him already looking at you. His grinning was replaced with a thoughtful expression.
"You look tired."
You scoffed but the reaction was a bit delayed on account of you not knowing what to say. "Do I?"
"You do. You should go to bed. You can sleep in tomorrow morning. Sounds like a pretty good deal, right?"
You kicked a pebble, watching as it scuffed the leather of your dress shoe.
"Right."
You tried not to flinch when a gentle hand was placed on your shoulder.
"Sleep well, okay?"
Despite what sounded almost definitely like a goodbye, neither one of you moved.
Nightwing kept on watching you and you watched him, too. Eventually, you understood that he was waiting for you to head back inside.
You were probably on his fucking suicide watch now or something.
Lucky you.
You sighed, looking passed the man in front of you and towards the edge of the roof. Tonight wasn't the night, you supposed.
Well.
What could you do?
You shook your head slightly before moving to pick your bag up from off the ground.
You held the door to the stairwell but paused before you could step inside.
"You really gonna come back?"
You hoped Nightwing did get his hopes up with your questions. You didn't want him going around thinking you'd lean on him of all people. You didn't even know the guy.
You were just curious, anyway. Just wanted to know how far he'd extend this special treatment.
"I will if you do."
You swallowed. You weren't sure why the words felt so heavy.
Now you hoped that you weren't the one to go and get your hopes up.
You tried to play it off, scoffed a little and all. Thought it'd make you look less bothered and frightened and like you had almost stepped off a roof.
"Right."
The door shut behind you.