‘What if I just…didn’t exist?’

The question wasn’t rational; it wasn’t even a question anymore. It was a whisper. His mind, fogged and fatigued, stopped arguing with him, stopped reminding him of reasons to step back. It just…forced him forward.

One step.

The train’s headlights illuminated the tracks, the ground, and his figure inching closer.

Two steps.

The train was close enough now that the ground beneath his feet felt alive. Yet, as it all surrounded him- Ash felt…nothing.

No panic. No fear. No instinct to run or step back. Just emptiness.

He should care. He knew that. He should feel the rush of adrenaline, the urge to fight or flee, the instinct that said live. But there was nothing. No fire, no spark, no hope.

He felt dead inside.

His body moved forward again, feet dragging as if his legs belonged to someone else. The closer he got to the edge of the tracks, the louder the train’s approach became, but it didn’t register.

What was there to fear? He’d been through worse- hadn’t he? The voices in his head were louder than the train horn, the shouts of desperation, the screams of his family.

Maybe this was what it meant to truly give up. Not to fight, not to resist, but to feel so, so tired that even thinking would eat you from the inside.

Three steps.

The horn blared, loud and sharp. He couldn’t hear it.

He couldn’t hear anything.

Another step.

He kept on moving, his mind seemed to be numb, his eyes empty.

He stepped onto the track. The track seemed to move under the heavy weight of the train, and he didn’t even feel the throbbing in his leg and the pounding in his head.

He just felt…hollow.

And then, one final thought whispered through his mind: “I wonder what it feels like to..”

The word came slowly, like a chill creeping over him. ‘...Die.’

It didn’t make sense. He didn’t even know why it came up. But once it was there, it felt like it fit.

.

.

Die.

.

.

The idea of it felt real in a way that was terrifying.

The world felt so far away. He was standing still, but his body felt like it was drifting. His breath caught, and his chest tightened, but the thought remained.

Die.

He didn’t know why it felt right, but it did. And that was worse. He didn’t want it to feel right, but he didn’t know how to stop it. It was like his mind couldn’t think of anything else. Like everything, every single piece of his being, had just given up trying.

And then...

‘No.’

It came out of nowhere. A scream, but not from his mouth. It came from the very inside of him. His mind suddenly screamed, ‘No, not this, not like this,’ but it was all in his head. And it hurt. Not like physical pain, but worse.

He tried to move. He tried to force himself to move, to fight it, but nothing responded. His legs were like stone, his arms frozen, stuck in place. His mind screamed for him to act, but his body wouldn’t listen.

‘It’s too late.’

It was short, but before he could follow it, the train's roar came close, too close. The vibration shook his entire body now. The heat of it, the sheer force- it was all too much.

‘I never wanted…’

Until a force struck him from the side.

Suddenly, he was no longer standing. His body hit the ground hard, pain flaring in his side as he was shoved away from the tracks. The world spun for a moment, the scream of the train deafening.

His chest heaved, lungs desperate for air he didn’t realize he’d been holding back.

He blinked, dazed, and realized someone was gripping him tightly, holding him against the ground. His vision focused just enough to make out a face, but his ears were still ringing, and his mind struggled to process what had just happened.

The train was gone, but he was still here.

‘I-I’m…alive.’

Ash looked up at him, someone who shouldn’t be here. ‘What is…he doing here?’ should’ve been the thought he should have at that moment, but instead he closed his eyes, and let out a shaky breath.

‘What…w-was I thinking? I know I’m a fool, but…Taking my own life? I…W-why did I do that?’

He felt regret, and guilt.

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What if he wasn’t saved?

What if the train crushed him whole, his bones, his flesh, his heart?

What if he had…died?

‘What was I thinking? What the hell was I doing?’

He imagined it- the train’s crushing weight, the sound of bones snapping, of blood pooling where he once stood. ‘God…what would have happened to Noah? What about Mom? Dad?’ The realization hit him hard.

But something had urged him to try.

Something pushed him forward and to just give up. Just give up being the hero, give up being the one who Noah looks up to.

He knew he was wrong. He knew he was gonna die. But the thought didn’t make any sense.

He should’ve been scared, right? But instead, he felt his body appreciating him for what he was gonna do. He was going to sacrifice himself.

His body felt like it had a mind of its own. He felt as if the entire cells in his body were on overdrive, telling him to just…try to do it.

‘I should’ve stopped, dammit!’

He knew how tough he might’ve looked. But…the truth was he didn’t want to die. He never did. He wanted all of this to be over. He wanted every bit of mess that was happening with him to just…stop, disappear.

He didn’t choose to step forward, not really. It was like something inside him had taken over. His body- his stupid, traitorous body- had pushed him toward the edge, daring him to give in. ‘Why did I listen to it?’

He clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging into his palms as if punishing himself for his weakness.

But then someone who had saved him- punched him squarely across the face.

The impact of the punch snapped Ash’s head to the side, his vision blurring for a second. Pain bloomed across his cheek, sharp and stinging, but it wasn’t the pain that shook him.

It was the voice.

“What the hell were you doing?! Are you insane?!”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucas was walking back with Blake to the hideout.

Blake and his lackeys had arranged a little party, or that’s what he said anyway. They asked Lucas to come by too, but it was only a few minutes later that Lucas denied.

“I’m tired. I won’t join the party.”, was what he said when Blake and his lackeys asked him the reason for not joining.

Little did they know that Lucas was lying.

The harsh reality was, Lucas never meant any of it to happen. He did, to some extent, but then things got out of control.

Lucas trudged down the alley. His hands were shoved deep into his jacket pockets, his face shadowed by the hood he’d pulled up.

Lucas hadn’t wanted any part of it. Not after…not after Ash.

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening.

What the hell was I thinking?

Blake and his gang had gone too far- farther than even Lucas wanted to. He hadn’t planned for Ash to get hurt like that. A scare, maybe, but not this. Not the blood, not the broken look in Ash’s eyes. And definitely not the way he’d told him to leave.

“I just wanted him to stop,” Lucas muttered under his breath. “That’s all. Just…stop interfering.”

The warehouse loomed ahead. Lucas hesitated for a moment, but then walked in. He didn’t know what he expected to find- maybe Ash still there, furious and battered but willing to listen. Maybe a chance to explain.

Instead, he was greeted by silence.

His gaze fell to the bloodstains near the center of the room. Lucas stopped in his tracks, staring at them. He had watched Blake, forcing Ash’s head down, again and again, until he told him to stop.

He could still see it. Ash on the ground, forced down again and again, Blake sneering above him. The sharp crack of a fist connecting with flesh. The way Ash had struggled, his movements growing weaker with every hit.

Lucas clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.

‘Looks like he went home. Stubborn idiot.’

A part of him asked him to go, meet Ash. But then- the rational part, asked him to do elsewise. Ash would be furious if he saw him again. After all, Lucas had blackmailed him by saying he’d kill Noah.

Still, the bloodstains wouldn’t leave his mind. Ash’s blood.

Lucas sighed heavily, shoving his hands into his pockets, and walking out of the empty warehouse. He walked down the road, his mind reeling. He walked until he felt his legs ready to buckle beneath him. There were train tracks visible ahead, and so he went down the slope and sat. He felt damp grass beneath him, but he didn’t care.

He hated feeling this way.

Weak.

Indecisive.

Powerless.

He thought about all the people who surrounded him every day- the ones who called him their friend, who laughed at his jokes, even the bad ones. But they weren’t friends. Not really. They were…just people who were with him because they were lonely themselves. Noise. But the truth was, he didn’t want friends.

He just wanted to be seen.

Not as the Boss. Not as the funny guy.

But someone who people can trust with their life.

He let out a sharp breath, his head falling back as he stared at the darkening sky. And then his thoughts drifted to Ash.

When Ash first joined their class, he was just another face in the crowd of students. Lucas hadn’t even bothered to learn his name for weeks. Why would he? Ash was quiet, unremarkable, and kept his head down. A random classmate Lucas barely noticed.

Until the day he didn’t.

It was after school. Lucas had been in a rush that day, sprinting over to the main gates of the school. When he heard Blake’s voice. Lucas turned his head, curious but not invested.

There he saw Ash, going to punch Blake in the face.

Blake had worked with him before high school started. Lucas was just thirteen, but he knew how to fight, thanks to his big brother. He only joined a martial arts class as a hobby, he told his big brother. But the truth was different.

He had different plans. He wanted people to stand by his side, so they could help him achieve his goal. And then he met Blake outside a high school. He was with some other students, and they were talking about paying…debt?

Lucas hid, and listened.

Blake told the other students, “He’s going to come for us. Says he is gonna rip us the hell apart. What do we do now?” He muttered.

The other student said, “Why don’t we kill that guy?”

Blake laughed, and then said, “Yeah? And how we gonna do that? Dude’s tough, I can’t beat him.”

Lucas stayed hidden behind the corner, listening to Blake and his group argue. His heart raced, not from fear, but excitement. This was his chance.

He stepped out before he could second-guess himself.

“I can do it,” he said, his voice steady.

The group turned to him, startled. Blake squinted at him, then burst out laughing. “Who the hell are you?” he said, gesturing to Lucas’s thin frame. “What are you, ten? How are you gonna beat a fully grown man?”

Lucas clenched his fists, his face heating. “I’m thirteen and I’m tougher than I look.”

Blake’s grin widened. “Yeah? Prove it.”

Without warning, Blake swung at him. Lucas dodged, and countered with a sharp jab to Blake’s side, then followed it up with a sweep.

The other boys stepped back, their laughter dying.

Blake groaned, pushing himself up with a wince. He looked at Lucas, his expression shifting from amusement to interest. “Alright, kid. You’re not bad. But what do you want? Clearly, no one here is stupid enough to help someone without nothing in return. So, What’s your deal?”

Lucas met his gaze, his voice quiet but firm. “I want manpower. I will help you, and you can help me to kill someone.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances, but Blake just smirked. “Oh yeah? Who?”

Lucas didn’t answer.

Blake laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, let’s say you do. Why don’t you just do it yourself? You’re clearly stronger than me.”

Lucas hesitated, then looked away. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I have a disease,” Lucas admitted. “I can’t do it alone. I need help.”

Blake’s laughter returned, loud and mocking, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “What disease?”

“I have…Asthma.”