The Infinite Nothing

II : to laugh about life and death equally

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It seemed odd to Ivan that Tristan wrote an address down on paper – why did they carry their phones everywhere? – but his handwriting was neat and pretty to look at, so Ivan didn't complain.

He did however get second thoughts as he walked to said building just as the sun was starting to set. Was he really about to meet a stranger on a rooftop? This could go all sorts of wrong. Side characters always were the first to die. Or the ones to start a redemption arc – Ivan found it hard to imagine his best friend Ryder going into battle for him, but hey, stranger things had happened.

Ivan stopped as his phone buzzed in his hand, indicating his arrival. His gaze wandered to the top of the building, wondering if he could just go inside without worries. People seemed to live here. If Ivan lived in a building like this, he wouldn't appreciate strangers climbing on his roof.

Then again Ivan was only a stranger to those he didn't care about, because the one he intended to meet was already grinning down at him.

"I saw you hesitating," Tristan called down, and Ivan pulled a face.

"I'm still coming up."

"The stairs are outside."

"What?"

"The stairs are outside."

Ivan blinked up at him, uncomfortably squinting his eyes as the last rays of sunshine blinded him before the sun finally abandoned the little part of the world he knew – temporarily and predictably, just like Tristan liked it.

He also liked the confusion on Ivan's face as he searched for the stairs, and the content satisfaction settling on his features once he started to climb them. He acted as if finding a way to the roof was the greatest victory to achieve. Tristan liked the apparent simplicity of Ivan's life.

"Only four floors, and you're already out of breath?" Tristan mocked. He was leaning comfortably against the half walls that kept him from falling off the flat roof. Ivan ignored him as his gaze wandered over the few garden chairs and stomped out cigarette ends on the ground, taking in the sad yet peaceful atmosphere on the roof.

The street's bustle seemed to be further away than it actually was as Ivan plummeted on one of the chairs. "I am a little out of shape," he admitted, at last meeting Tristan's gaze. "My friend Ryder always tells me to work out with him."

"Maybe you should take his advice."

"Did you smoke all these?" Ivan asked, eyeing the cigarettes on the ground.

"Probably," Tristan admitted and sat down on a chair opposite of the shorter boy. "I'd say I should be praised for supporting the nicotine market so much, but then again, I don't really make a difference."

"I wouldn't say so. These are a lot of cigarettes."

"Because I have a lot of time." Tristan leant back in his chair and studied Ivan. "So do you, it seems."

Ivan shrugged. "I'd call it boredom. I don't often get invited to places like these, by people like you."

"You saw the opportunity and took it." Tristan grinned. "Too bad you won't make it out of here to tell anyone."

Ivan's tanned skin managed to turn pale as his eyes widened in fright. For a split second his mother appeared in his mind, laughing at him for being so blatantly stupid as to meet a complete stranger in an abandoned place like this. Would Tristan serve cupcakes at his funeral? Would he joke about it with his sister Dorothy? Would he then lure her back here to continue the cycle?