The wind blew harshly over the high-rise, catching the flaps of Hansel's open shirt and working steadily to force it off his shoulders. The black tee he wore underneath stuck to his stomach with sweat, just like how his hair clung to his scalp beneath the black cap. His worn shoes toed the lip of the roof, sixteen stories above the ground, and his hands trembled feverishly at his sides.

From where he stood, he could see a good distance in every direction. The streets were laid out below him like the paths of a circuit board, stretching and bending between blocks of empty, sunburnt buildings. There was no one on the streets, and every building closest to him were abandoned, having been vacated by their residents during the initial shadow outbreak. He had chosen a deserted part of the city on purpose. He didn't want to be watched in his final moments.

There weren't any shadows on the streets either; at least not as far as he could see. Griffin must have followed through his promise for a ceasefire. Now there was only one thing left to be done.

Hansel clasped his hands together, crushing his fingers in an attempt to stop them from shaking so much. He frowned behind his mask.

He didn't think he was scared; not really. Death did not scare him. So why couldn't his hands be still? Why was his heart beating so frantically? Why was he hesitating; standing on the edge but not taking that one decisive step forward?

He had cut his wrist without a second thought, but why was this hard?

In the end, why was it that he could not make himself jump?

Needing a distraction Hansel dug out his phone from his pocket. Was there something he should do now? Should he perhaps send a text to his parents? But what would he write? That this was goodbye? That he was sorry? But now that he thought about it, he no longer had anything he wanted to tell his parents.

He turned on internet connectivity in his phone. Quickly, his message box started pinging with notifications of incoming messages. Most of them came from unknown ids; strangers he knew nothing about. Hansel needn't read them all to get the gist of what they were saying. Everyone wanted him to die.

Where are you? Some asked.

Where do you live?

If murder was allowed, I would kill you already. I want to live, and conveniently, I heard you were an asshole.

Hansel closed his eyes. This was square one. This was déjà vu. This was returning to the beginning of a cycle.

The last time this had happened he had acted like a coward. He had run away. But this time he would not. This time he would take responsibility.

This was his last chance to redeem himself.

He will not hide anymore. He will do the hard thing. He will set things right.

His wrist went weak. The phone slipped out of his hand. It dropped towards the street like a stone. It hit the ground in mere seconds, then splintered like a hunk of slate. Hansel could barely hear the sound of it breaking over the pounding in his ears.

That fast. His breathing hiked. His death was going to be that fast.

It should have relieved him, how quickly death might claim him, instead Hansel found himself succumbing to paralysis. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

Don't think.

Don't think about it. Just do it. Just jump.

His entire arms were quavering now. His pulse was lightning in his veins. His knees wobbled. His teeth drew blood from his lips. His vision blanked.

Save me, he thought desperately. Then he stepped into air.

It should have been the end, but out of nowhere, he felt a sudden pull at his shirt from behind, dragging him away from the edge. His legs tripped backwards, but someone steadied him before he could fall. Surprised, Hansel started to turn his head.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Julian asked angrily, throwing Hansel down on the roof.

Confusion clouded Hansel's mind. What was Julian doing here? Shouldn't he have gone back to his house already?

"You," said Julian, pointing a finger at Hansel admonishingly. "You were going to jump, weren't you?"

Hansel's limbs were still shaking with nerves. He didn't try to get back to his feet lest he fall again and embarrass himself. From where he sat, he looked up at Julian, who was in turn boring him with his piercing eyes. Hansel let his puzzlement show. He asked hoarsely. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I had a feeling you were going to do something stupid," Julian said flatly.

"You followed me."

Julian's lips curled. "Of course, I did. Or do you perhaps think this was a coincidence?"

Julian had kept his voice calm when he spoke, but Hansel could not miss the underlying rage and apprehension. Had he done something to offend him again? Hansel shifted guiltily. He must have a knack for getting on Julian's bad side all the time.

Slowly, Hansel climbed back to his feet. His legs had returned to normal and he could walk again without falling over. Unthinking, he found himself wandering back towards the edge, as if there was something waiting for him there. This time Julian grabbed him above his elbow to make him stop. "What are you doing?"

Now there wasn't only anger on Julian's face. He seemed to be frightened of something. Hansel swivelled his head this way and that to see if perhaps there was a shadow creeping up on them, if that was the reason Julian's expression had changed. But the streets and the skies remained empty. There was no one around except for the two of them.

Julian gave his arm a light shake. "Have you really gone mad? What's gotten into you?"

"I'm sorry," said Hansel, dipping his head so that his cap would hide his face. His heart beat frantically inside his chest. Why was Julian angry? Why had he come to find him?

"Why are you apologising?" Julian's voice rose in pitch. His grip tightened painfully.

"Because you are angry at me," said Hansel. "And I don't know what I did wrong."

Julian made a small choking sound. "How can you be like this?" he asked, distress mingling with ire. "Even after all these years how can you be so clueless about things?"

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising!"

Hansel flinched. He tried to pull his arm out of Julian's grasp, but Julian would not budge. "Let me go."

"If I do that you are going to jump over the side of this building."

"Isn't that what you want?" Hansel asked weakly.

"Is that what it looks like to you?"

Hansel thought about it. Julian hated him, he was sure of it. Even though he had apologised in the hospital he had still told Hansel to bear the price of his own sins. There was no reason for him to not want Hansel dead; after all, Hansel was the reason the girl he liked killed herself. Hansel was perplexed. He lowered his head even more. "Do you, uh, want to tell me something before I die?"

"Yes, I do," Julian snapped, grabbing Hansel's cap off his head and thereby startling him into meeting his gaze. "I want to tell you, you are the dumbest, densest, most frustrating person I have ever met in my life."

"I'm sorry," said Hansel automatically, then remembered Julian had told him to stop apologising. "Oh. I'm, uh—"

"Just shut your mouth," Julian said in exasperation.

"Let me go," Hansel said again, trying to squirm his way out of Julian's hold. "Why are you stopping me?"

"Because, surprise, Hansel, I don't want you to die."

Hansel looked up suddenly. He studied Julian's eyes to see if he was lying, but Julian liked honesty. He had never been one to lie.

But why...why would Julian not want him to die?

"I have to do this," said Hansel.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do," Hansel insisted. "If I don't do this everyone else will die. I can't let that happen. I have enough blood on my hands already."

"And if I let you die now, I will have your blood on my hands."

"Then you shouldn't have followed me," said Hansel pained. "You should have let me go my way."

Julian opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. "Look here. You seem to be labouring under the belief that if you killed yourself everyone else would get to live. But what guarantee do you have for this? How do you know the TV guy would keep his promise? Do you know anything about him? Do you truly believe your death would solve this city's problem? In my opinion that guy on TV was just fibbing. Have you ever seen a shadow that looks and talks like a human? He's probably some random spoilt kid who's looking for attention."

Ah, so Julian didn't know about Griffin. He didn't know Griffin could really kill everyone in the city with one command. That not only was he a shadow that he also possessed half the power of the king of the Night.

"But what if he wasn't lying?" asked Hansel. "Would you rather everyone in the city died just so I might live?"

Julian pursed his lips.

"See," said Hansel. "It's best if I die. You know it."

"You have three more days." Julian tried a different approach. "You don't need to do this now."

"What good will it do to wait?"

"The more time you get the more chances you have at making an actual plan. What if there was a safer way to solve this problem?"

"What if I just wanted to die?"

Julian blanched, but he kept his gaze on Hansel steady. "I don't think you want to die. You want to live."

Hansel was about to ask him how he had figured that, how he could speak those words with such conviction when Hansel himself was not sure. Why would he think Hansel wanted to live when Hansel did not think that about himself. In the end, Hansel only said sullenly, "it doesn't matter."

"It does matter," said Julian emphatically. He looked around as if he were searching for an inspiration. He frowned. "Where's your brother?"

That caught Hansel off guard. "Who?"

"Don't play dumb with me now," said Julian annoyed. "Where is Felix? Isn't he usually super possessive of you? I can't believe he let you out of his sight."

"I don't know," said Hansel truthfully. "He left last night and did not come back."

"Okay," said Julian, as if collecting his thoughts. He still had Hansel's arm in one hand, and Hansel's cap in the other. "Okay."

He strode towards the roof access, towing Hansel along with him as if he were a ragdoll. Hansel made one last attempt to tug himself free, but Julian hissed in his direction. "Keep doing that and you will pull open all my wounds again."

That gave Hansel pause. He did not want to hurt Julian.

They went down the stairs, shoes shuffling, scuffing dust off the floor. For someone who was only recently out of the hospital Julian kept a fast pace, causing Hansel to fight to not stumble into him by accident. They came out onto the street in no time, but Julian kept going, walking for a long time until they got to a part of the city that wasn't deserted.

A few people walked by the sides of the streets in a hurry, most of them headed for shops that sold essential goods. They must be stocking up. Some vehicles rumbled past them. Julian hailed down a bus, then turned towards Hansel and replaced his cap on his head before he dragged him on board after him. He pulled the cap down so low that the shade obscured what little part of Hansel's face was visible above his mask.

Only when they had sat down in a seat did Julian let go of Hansel. But Julian had him locked against the window-side seat anyway. There was no way Hansel could make a run for it unless he got through Julian first.

Neither of them uttered a word during the entire journey. Hansel had the side of his head leaning against the glass of the window, watching the cityscape shift before him with anxious eyes. Julian had his own face turned the other way, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge Hansel's presence beside him. They sat like that until the bus stopped near Hansel's street, then Julian pulled Hansel up once more and they both got off.

They started walking, Julian pulling Hansel after him as if he were a kid who did not want to be dragged away from a toy store. Julian was taller than Hansel, and Hansel watched the back of his head as he tottered after him, wondering about what Julian might be thinking. He could not believe Julian had dragged him away from his death, that he was touching his arm and not showing any disgust. Did Julian not hate him anymore? That couldn't be true. Julian did not say he had stopped hating Hansel, he only said he didn't want him to die. What if Hansel asked him about it? If he asked would Julian answer? Would Julian even want to talk to him?

In the end, Hansel kept all these thoughts to himself, never voicing even a single question.

Briskly, Julian walked Hansel to his house, refusing to take even the smallest break on their way. Hansel wondered how Julian knew where he lived, but he was too scared to ask. Julian tried the latch the moment they reached Hansel's doorstep, but the door was locked from within. Promptly, he proceeded to bang on the door, the thud of his fist as loud as drums on doomsday.

The door fell open on the ninth knock. Hansel took a step forward, only to catch a flurry of silver before he found a knife at his throat. Surprise made him jerk to a halt. He peered down at the sharp metal, his gaze going to the white hand that held it aloft. Then he kept inching his eyes upwards, guiding it along the arm that was attached to the hand, to the body that was attached to the arm, until, at last, they stopped upon Felix's blistering face.

"Oh, it's you," Felix breathed in relief, seeing Hansel at his doorstep. His face relaxed momentarily, only to get wound up again when his eyes skipped sideways and saw Julian standing beside Hansel. He had begun to lower his knife, but the very next second his arm had come up again, his knife going for Julian's neck as fluidly as a swooping osprey. With his free hand he grabbed for Hansel's collar, his fingers wrinkling the top of his shirt. He pulled Hansel inside and pushed him behind him protectively. Then he set his eyes on Julian in a hot glower. "What did you do to Hansel? Where did you take him? Did you kidnap him? Did you try to threaten him? Reveal your schemes before I slit your throat."

"I kept him from hurling himself off a building," said Julian huskily, no more pleased to see Felix than Felix was to see him. He backed away from the glinting knife. "You are welcome."

Felix whirled aghast, pinning Hansel with a look of unadultered censure. "You did what?"

Sheepishly, Hansel averted his gaze, suddenly finding the sight of the doormat at his feet very appealing.

"Well, he's your problem now," said Julian unsupportively. He had managed to put a distance of one yard between him and the knife frozen in air. "You deal with him. I'm getting out of here."

Felix did not wait for Julian to turn around before he threw the door shut on him. He wrenched the lock into place and tossed the knife aside, unbothered about where it landed. His eyes were severe when he faced Hansel fully. He crossed his arms above his chest and spoke with unfiltered sternness. "Care to explain?"

The doormat was a work of art. Hansel simply couldn't pluck his eyes off of it.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" asked Felix, grabbing Hansel by his shoulders suddenly. Even though he did not look very strong his fingers had a crushing force behind them. They dug into Hansel's bones painfully, clamping down ruthlessly until Hansel thought they were going to sunder his clavicle. "Do you know how scared I was when I returned home and found you gone?" Felix was nearly yelling, his arms shaking so bad that Hansel felt vibrations of it in his shoulders.

"I kept calling and calling your phone, but I couldn't reach you." Felix's face had gotten so pale even his lips seemed grey. "What was I supposed to think? Where was I supposed to look for you? And to think that you really tried to kill yourself again behind my back...I feel so hurt." He looked angrier than Hansel had ever seen him. "Didn't I tell you I'd deal with this problem myself?" His voice hitched. "So why did you have to go and do that? Don't you believe me at all? What would have happened if that boy wasn't there to stop you?"

Felix's grip was hurting Hansel's shoulders, but he would not tell him that. He looked at Felix, heart full of foolish, desperate hope. "Can you really do it? Can you save them all?"

Creases cut through Felix's face. "I can save them."

A dull ache stole through Hansel. He looked at Felix and thought how different he was from what he was like the first time they had met. He had changed so much, both mentally and emotionally. He had turned from the kind of person who lied to hurt to the kind of person who lied to ease the pain.

Hansel studied this new version of Felix and felt the ache inside him heighten. It wasn't just Felix's attitude that had changed, his appearance seemed to have undergone a transformation as well.

Gone were his healthy vigour and his bright, glittering eyes; his effortless smiles and his charming haughtiness. His penchant for mischief seemed to have disappeared with his prowess for intimidation. He looked weaker, gaunter, limbs as feeble as wheat stalks and skin the sickly shade of congealing milk. He looked like he wasn't wholly there, or he wasn't wholly him, as if he had lost the very essence of who he was. He looked battered and battle-worn, as if he couldn't save himself, much less an entire city.

"You said you wouldn't lie to me," said Hansel softly. Harsh truths were less painful than false hope. "Can you promise me you can keep everyone alive without me needing to die?"

Felix looked at him and swallowed. His lashes shivered above his grey-rimmed eyes. "Why do you have to always ask me such difficult questions?"

So that was a no.

Hansel trudged towards the couch, feeling strangely depressed. He sat down heavily and pulled his legs up onto the lumpy cushions. He hugged himself tight, as if keeping himself from falling apart, while Felix watched him across the room with eyes bursting with anguish. They were both equally lost, equally devastated; tormented by the fact there was nothing either could do to help the other.

Two days. Hansel's fingernails buried themselves into his skin. He would allow himself to live two more days before he put an end to things—put an end to himself.

He clutched at his hair, nearly pulling them out of their roots.

Two more precious days. That was all he got now.

^^^

Time moved with intolerable slowness. Neither of them had anything particular to engage themselves with. While Hansel stayed on the couch, thinking gloomy thoughts and staring off into space, Felix took to pacing up and down the living room in quiet agitation.

This continued for an entire hour, until a new set of knocks sounded on the front door, riveting both their attentions. Hansel lifted his chin from the crossed arms layering his bent knees. Felix stopped mid-pace, coming alert abruptly. He cast his eyes around like a net, searching urgently. "Where did I put that knife?"

"Why do you need a knife?" intoned Hansel, putting his feet down from the couch. He wondered who was at the door.

"What if whoever out there harbours malicious intentions?" asked Felix, sounding all serious. "What if it's a kidnapper, or a serial killer?"

"It would be impossible to kidnap you," said Hansel reasonably. "And I doubt you could die."

"It's not about me," muttered Felix, going down on his knees to peek under the couch. He almost flattened himself against the floor. "Where did that knife go?"

While Felix was still searching, Hansel got up from the couch and strode towards the front door mechanically. He only hesitated for a second before he slid back the lock and pulled the door open. He did not know who he had expected to see on the other side; he had prepared for it to be anyone, even a kidnapper or a serial killer, but it still gave him a genuine spike of surprise when the door swung open and he saw Mrs. Delano standing outside, holding a little brown box in her hand.

Felix shot to his feet when he heard the door opening, banging the top of his head against the underside of the teapoy during the process. He winced, rubbing his head brusquely with one hand while the other grabbed for the TV remote. He hefted the remote, wielding it in lieu of a weapon. "Who is it? Who's at the door?"

He blinked his eyes a few times when he saw Mrs. Delano at the door. "Oh, It's Mrs. Delano with the 3 kids. What is she doing here?"

That was what Hansel wanted to know as well.

"Can I come in?" Mrs. Delano asked timidly. Hansel moved aside to let her in.

Mrs. Delano wore plain clothes, all of them in drab shades, although her wavy, chestnut hair was tied back loosely with a bold, red ribbon. She had a homely face, he noticed, seeing her for the first time in full sunlight. Her eyes were watery blue, earnest and unassuming, her smile was disarming and her countenance gentle. She had a warm, benevolent way of looking at things, as if she wished to build a home for anything that crossed her path and shower it with unlimited love.

Hansel left the door open and turned to her. "Why did you come?"

Mrs. Delano extended the box in her hands towards Hansel. "I made you some cookies."

Hansel received the box of cookies from her with some bemusement. "Thank you."

"Don't take that box," warned Felix from the side. "It could be poisoned."

"Felix!" scolded Hansel.

Felix scowled and looked away. "I'm only stating facts."

"It's not poisoned," said Mrs. Delano meekly, looking awkwardly between the boys.

"Don't mind what my brother says," Hansel told her reassuringly. "He's always like that. He doesn't mean it."

"It's fine," said Mrs. Delano, looking up at him with a smile. "I know he's being like that because he's looking out for you. You have a good brother, Hansel."

Hansel's throat bobbed. His eyes slid off her face. "So why are you really here? Are your daughters alright? Is there something I can do to help you?"

"You can still ask that," said Mrs. Delano in sad amazement. "Even after what happened last night. You are worrying about others, when it should be you." Her hands were feather-light when she placed them on his shoulders. She made him look her in the eyes. "Hansel, are you alright? I came because I was worried about you."

Felix had told him the same thing earlier that day, his hands on Hansel's shoulders just like Mrs. Delano's were now, only holding him tighter. He had said he was worried too.

Normally, Hansel would have lied. He would have brushed off her concern and averred that he was fine. But this time he couldn't do it. Maybe it had something to do with her soothing voice, or the gentle affection in her eyes, or the fact that she was here, that she had thought about him and worried for him and wanted to see if he was doing fine, that Hansel found himself lowering his guards just enough, letting her have a glimpse inside, letting her see him.

"I'm not alright," he said, his voice cracking with raw honesty. "I'm so sad and anxious and miserable right now. I know what I have to do, but I'm so scared. I feel like my heart is being crushed."

Mrs. Delano gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze, encouraging him to keep going.

And so, he kept venting, miraculously, words leaving his mouth so easily, without needing to content with the barriers that had always held them back before. "Everyone hates me. Everyone wants me dead. And honestly, I wish I were dead too. I don't know. But I believe I deserve to die anyway. I'm a horrible person. It's better if I die. If I die people better than me can keep living. Isn't that what the world wants? Less people like me and more people that are good. But—but I'm still so sad, I'm—I don't know what to do. What do I do? They all hate me."

Mrs. Delano's grip tightened spasmodically. She placed her fingers softly against Hansel's lips. "Stop. Stop talking like that. You are not a horrible person. And not everyone hates you. I don't hate you. Your brother doesn't hate you. And those people you helped before, they don't hate you either. You might not have seen it because you wouldn't have wanted to go online. But there are a lot of people leaving comments and stories about how you had come to their aid at night when nobody else would. They believe that that shadow boy on TV wants you dead because he thinks you are a threat. They don't want you dead because you are a bad person, Hansel. If someone were to ask me, I would tell them you are the kindest and bravest boy I have ever met. And you absolutely, absolutely do not deserve to die."

Somehow it only made him feel worse, listening to her talk so nicely about him. He wanted to cry, but he also wanted to slap himself. He felt like an imposter, like someone who was stealing the kindness and care that was owed to another. "It's not like that," said Hansel, his voice anguished. "You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?"

"You don't know the whole story."

Mrs. Delano took her hand away from his face. "Then tell me the whole story. I will listen."

Panic coursed through Hansel. He glanced at her, nerves fraying.

Will he be able to tell her the truth? Will he be able to bear it when the look in her eyes changed? When the compassion on her face altered to disgust and disapproval?

But her expression was so open, so welcoming that in the end he told her everything.

From the beginning to the end.

He told her about him and Haley, about what he had done to her. About how awful he was to her just because he wanted to see her cry. About how he was the reason Haley was gone and her mother had nothing left now. He told her about his jealousy and selfishness and arrogance. He told her about his cowardice. About how he had run away because he didn't want to face the consequences. He told her how he hadn't gone out at night to help others out of the goodness of his heart, that he had only done it because he felt so guilty and undeserving of life.

Mrs. Delano had gotten him wrong. He was not a good person after all. He wasn't kind and brave like she thought he was. She must hate him now. He was the worst boy in the world, because he still hadn't killed himself even after he knew this was what he had to do to save everybody else. He truly had no right to live. Even the universe knew that.

By the time he finished his voice had gotten so thick and hoarse. Tears beaded at the corners of his eyes, and he dared not meet Mrs. Delano's eyes.

Mrs. Delano said nothing for a long time. Hansel crumpled to the couch, his legs too weak to help him stand. He did not have the courage to lift his face. He was sure even Mrs. Delano hated him now. He waited for her to scorn him, to turn her back on him and walk out of the door. He waited for her disappointment, her condemnation. But none of it came.

Unexpectedly, what Mrs. Delano did was to go down on her knees before him. Instead of forcing him to look up at her when he didn't want to, she had gotten down so she would be the one looking up. She cupped her hands against the sides of Hansel's face, her touch gentle even now.

"Hansel," she murmured softly. "I heard you. And I still don't hate you."

This made him look at her face again, half in shock, half in disbelief. He met her eyes and saw that her expression had not changed, that her kindness had not left her face. A single drop of tear leaked out from the edge of one eye and slid down the length of his cheek. Mrs. Delano wiped it away with a thumb.

"I understand what you did. I know it was wrong and you could have done better. But these are things that happened in the past. What matters is that you understand what you did wrong and have the heart to amend your mistakes. And you have done that already, Hansel. You have tried to change yourself. In fact, I'd vouch that you are nothing like the boy you were in the past. You are better than him. You don't need to beat yourself anymore for what you had done. I think you have paid enough for all your wrongs."

Tears now spilled out of his eyes in torrents. It was all he could do to keep himself from breaking down and sobbing.

"I know that the people who you should be asking for forgiveness are Haley and her mother. Haley is dead now. And her mother—it must have been heartbreaking for her to lose her only child, and it might be a long time before she can will herself to forgive you. But I'm a mother too. I understand her pain. However, I'm also grateful to you because you saved my own daughter's life. You helped me so many times, risking your life every time. No matter what the reasons behind them were I believe it had to take courage and a good heart to do that. So, I forgive you Hansel. I forgive you on the behalf of Haley's mother. For what it's worth, I forgive everything you did."

Hansel burst out crying. He couldn't hold himself back anymore. Tears kept falling out of his eyes and he did nothing to wipe them away. He cried and cried, laying out his wounds, his insecurities, the brokenness of his heart. Mrs. Delano got up from her knees and pulled him into a hug.

Hansel stopped breathing. In his living memory, this was the first time anyone had hugged him, and even through his tears he felt a frisson go through his chest. Mrs. Delano had a small frame. She was barely taller than him and her built nearly as slender as his, yet her embrace was so big, so warm and so enveloping, that Hansel felt safe in the folds of her arms.

"Shush," she said, when he began sobbing harder. She hugged him tighter, letting him bury his face in her shoulder and cry all he wanted. She rocked him gently, like a mother would a child. "Shush, it's fine. Everything will be fine."

Felix had been standing back against the wall this whole time, keeping his silence. He looked like a lost puppy, watching Hansel cry. And when he couldn't bear this any longer, he dashed forward and threw his arms around both Hansel and Mrs. Delano, then he started bawling too.

Hansel did not know why Felix was crying now, and he did not ask. They just hugged each other, and let each other cry, and Mrs. Delano stayed there to hold them, to be the source of stability they could lean into.

They did not let go of each other until all the tears were spent; until, at last, everything that was pent up inside Hansel was washed away, and he could lift his head again, and finally, finally, look at the world.