Keep your eyes on me.

He opened his eyes, he heard a voice. He was in a hospital. A muggle hospital. Why was he in a muggle hospital? He opened his eyes wide and looked around. He was in a room, alone, and he was wearing a hospital gown. He groaned in disgust and removed his covers, proceeding to get out of bed. He wasn't connected to anything and he saw his clothes folded on a chair in the corner. His wand. Where was his wand? He looked around the room in a panic for it but he couldn't find it. He groaned and closed his eyes. He and his wand had an attachment, a very eerie one. He imagined his wand laying on the top of his clothes on the chair. He opened his eyes and there it was, he smiled and gave a sigh of relief then got dressed.

Just as Matt was about to leave a nurse walked into the room. "Hey, whoa there buddy." he said. "What are you doing out of bed. [i]How[i] are you out of bed?" he asked confused. Matt was confused, "What are you talking about?" he asked him. The nurse looked at him, then a look of assurance graced his face. "Oh right, head injury of course." he said to himself. "You fell mate. Four stories, we figured you were dead." he walked over to the clipboard. Matt took the opportunity to confund the man with a simple spell. "Sorry." he said quietly as he left the room. He took a quick look at a sign outside his room, "St Bartholomew's" he muttered to himself.

He needed some fresh air. He had no idea what happened or who had done it. All he remembered was dueling someone. He groaned as his head throbbed in pain and he nearly collapsed. He began to make his way to the roof.

To his core, Nemo had plunged a butcher's knife. In an evidently futile attempt at suicide, he had spilled from his stomach all that would leave him before his consciousness was lost. An abundance of blood had enveloped his deteriorating body, which had been strewn across the unforgiving kitchen floor. And as a result, it was to the overwhelming scent of copper that he awoke to discover the thick stitches that had been sewn across his midsection, pulling taught the welt that had once been an open wound. And it was as bitter and hopeless tears slipped across his face that he plucked at the strings behind which his life had been sealed.

Not until the tormented sound had echoed against the walls of his hospital room did it occur to Nemo that he had begun to scream. And the shouted words which followed were unmistakable: "Why won't you let me die?!"

-

He had slipped from his bed between the administrations of his prescribed sedatives. Thus, with a drug-hazy mind he'd pulled over his head his bloodied t-shirt, which had obtained a large hole during the previous evening's events, and he'd stumbled into his denims and combat boots before making his escape.

It had been a mistake on his part to assume that he would not be found before the knife had fulfilled its duties, Nemo had noted as he'd pulled himself up the stairwell. "It has to be permanent. Something they can't fix," he'd decided as he'd pushed himself past the door to stand beneath the moonlight atop the hospital's highest level; the rooftop.

And it was with outstretched arms that he stood with his back turned towards the sky's edge, his burden-heavy subconscious sobbing for the relief that a single step further would provide. His head fell against his back on its own accord, and with the sight of the demise that awaited him several stories below he was greeted. At this, a worn smile flitted across his face to reveal to the stars above the sorrow and exhaustion that he had become.

With his final sigh, he expelled his essence from his lungs and he leaned against the welcoming air.

Matt's head had stopped hurting and he had finally reached the door that lead to the roof. He had just wanted to escape it and take a break. Reality had been such a thorn in his side, things needed to get better. As he reached to open the door to the roof his wand heated up. He could feel it in his pocket, it was warning him about something. He put it in the back of his brain and opened the door to the starry London sky;

and the figure of someone standing on the ledge of the roof.

A million different things passed through Matt's brain as he saw the figure. Who it could be, how he could stop it, what he should say. Whether he should say something or not, whether it was too late. Or he'd only encourage it anymore. He pulled out his wand nonetheless, prepared to do SOMETHING. If there was anything helpful he could do he wanted to do it. It took him a few moments to adjust his eyes to the darkness and he recognized that figure. His eyes widened in terror and his mouth went dry, "Nemo." he said quietly. Why was Mo on the roof of some random hospi-he had to stop him.

"NEMO!" he yelled out at him.

He couldn't let Nemo jump off a building. He WOULDN'T. He and Nemo had way too much fun together to let that happen. And Matt didn't know it yet but he actually cared about Nemo as a friend. But he didn't have friends, they were always in danger. Jack was an excellent example of that. But he had made exceptions. But he had to stop him, he didn't know how. He couldn't think straight, he didn't think about using magic to stop him. The thought didn't even cross his mind. He just thought about how horrible it would be if he actually jumped. And he had wondered if this had been a long time problem.

He moved forward more towards Nemo. "Mo, get down from there." he said more softly. His head was throbbing slightly but not enough for Matt to pay much attention to it. His friend was on a ledge, that was the only thing that mattered.

“Nemo!”

Through the dense, drug-induced film that coated his mind, it had occurred to Nemo that his name had been called. “Mom?” He dizzily asked as his head lolled forward. An inquiry that was followed shortly by a bout of demented chuckles, which erupted from Nemo with ferocity and shook from his eyes a new collection of tears. He appeared on the verge of insanity as he lifted his arms to coil them around his head in a self-protective gesture.

And with a like abruptness to that with which the fit had begun, Nemo’s laughter ceased. “I am not Nemo!” He screamed with the melting of his shoulders in defeated sadness. “I’m not… I’m not…” He sobbed to the sky the lie he no longer believed. A tremor rippled within him as he corrected himself, reciting those words which he had been made to memorize during childhood; those words which would forever creep across his dreams, made nightmares, and shake him from his sleep. “I stole your sight. I took it and it doesn’t belong to me. I’m sorry.”

His right foot slid backward and upon the ledge’s end he flatted it, forfeiting his balance. “But now they stole it from me!” he wept, retrieving from his diaphragm the weight of hopelessness that had settled there. “And I can’t live without it. I can’t -“

"Mo, get down from there."

Nemo halted, petrified on the spot by the mention of his alias. A friend. A friend had found him. Thus, with drowning eyes Nemo lowered his gaze to meet Matt's familiar form. “Sparky…” He addressed his companion with a furrowed brow; an expression of desperation. “Don’t,” He added, “Please. Please, let me die.”

Everything had slipped Matt's mind at the present moment. So when Nemo began to speak, he had no idea what he was talking about. Matt was, to be honest, kind of afraid. His friend was about to jump off of a freakin' building and he was acting crazy. He wondered if Nemo was on something that was causing him to do this. Either way there was a snowballs chance he was going to let hem fall of of this no name hospital. Matt could feel himself beginning to sweat. He didn't know what to do.

He had never gotten this out of Nemo. Whenever they were together they always had laughs and got drunk together. Well Nemo got drunk, Matt watched and took him home after a few drinks. The thought brought him a sense of relief at the moment but then it disappeared. He realized that if Nemo took this leap Matt would probably be left with another empty hole. He couldn't handle many more empty holes before he really started to feel it. There were too many from is family and friends, and one that was there that he could feel but wasn't quite sure why it was there. Then he was brought back to reality with a crash when he heard his nickname.

"Sparky..."

Matt had practically made it to the edge with Nemo. But at least he was aware of his presence. How could he just let him jump? "I'm not going to let you jump you idiot." he said. He caught a sight of the tears on Nemo's shirt and he frowned. "Mo, come down from there." he said. He realized it now, this was an ongoing problem. He had enough psychological knowledge to realize that now. He felt distant towards his friend though. He had known him for ages and never seen it. His frowned deepened and he took a seat on the ledge next to Nemo.

"Please don't, Mo..." he said.

Medication had forever been Nemo’s ally, a truth which was reinstated by the stumbling step backwards that the pool of sedatives and pain killers within him had produced. Nemo’s arms darted outward at his sides in an instinctual act of self preservation and he steadied himself with a sharp inhalation of the humid air. Because his body had forever been the enemy; ever prepared with a counter to medication.

“Watch me,” Nemo breathed as he was struck by the all-consuming desire to defy his title. “Watch me,” He repeated with more confidence whilst he resituated himself atop his balance beam. “Please? I can’t… I’m not Nemo. Please. I can’t be Nemo.” The electrifying pain of the injury that he'd carved into his stomach bit through him, reminding him of his previous failure as though in warning against his request of Matt. And he spared him a tearful stare, “’No one’," he whispered to the man at his side, “That’s what it means - ‘Nemo’.” Another tortured sob escaped him, “Please.”

Matt could feel his chest getting heavy and his head was pounding. He thought about shoving Nemo off TOWARDS the roof but that wouldn't help either of them. He'd just curse Matt and actually manage a jump afterwards. He didn't know what to do and it was killing him. If he let his friend take this jump he'd feel responsible for it the rest of his life. He was barely making any sense as he talked so maybe this was only drug induced. He got back up as Nemo began to speak again. It dawned on him that they rarely ever talked about their personal lives. He rarely shared any information about his personal life anyway. Hell, most people judged him at his name. But now was not the time to worry about names and personalities. Mo was about to jump!

"You are 'Mo, one of my friends. One of the few people I enjoy being around." he said loudly. "If you take this jump I am going to be really cross!" he told him. Then he remembered, he was a wizard. Which mean he had a wand. Which means if Nemo jumped he'd save his ass, then hex it into oblivion. "Please, I can help, Mo!" he pleaded. He wanted to help Nemo, he wanted to get to the bottom of the reasoning behind it. He wanted to stop Nemo from doing anything like this ever again. He cared more than he knew he did, he just-well he didn't know it yet.

The ‘Need’ had built slowly and with his introduction to each new friend he’d acquired. He had become acquainted with the sensation of comfort that having such beings in his presence had granted him. At ease, he had felt during evenings spent amongst his companions; Sparky, McDonald, and Aladdin. He had grown familiar with the utterance of his many aliases in replacement of his true title, spoken from the mouths of those whom he’d nicknamed in turn. And it was from this acceptance that he had expereinced that the Need was born. Let me be Mo. Just for a moment. Let me prove her wrong.

He longed, then, with his every cell to become someone whom his friend would forever remember. To be sent of to his death. To die 'Mo' or 'Mortimer' or 'Poe'. To extinguish at last the memory of his childhood.

Nemo swept his hand slowly through the sky to reach for Matt’s hand. And at the man’s promise to be ‘cross’ with Nemo should he leap to the concrete, he heaved a sorrow-sloppy chuckle. He had succumbed to the Need, despite the protests of the portion of himself that his brief loneliness had yet to infect. Thus, he stole Matt’s hand and grasped it loosely with bloodied fingers and lent him an agonized smile.

“Yes. I need your help,” He breathed dangerously. “Watch me. Help me kill ‘Nemo’.”

Matt was increasingly becoming uneasy with this entire situation. He was not good at handling this kind of pressure. He could never let himself be happy again if Nemo took that gigantic leap. He didn't even know what as causing this. It suddenly dawned on him that he didn't know Nemo as well as he wanted to. He slumped and closed his eyes, sighing as he did so. He had considered Nemo to be a friend but it turns out it wasn't like that. Nemo was someone Matt could use to escape the clutches of reality. But apparently reality followed everyone, including Nemo. He could barely take it any longer. Reality had to go and fack everything up for him. He was angry, but he could hear Nemo speaking again.

He looked up and saw one of the most terrifying things. Nemo was smiling, and he felt his had being gripped. At this point Matt could barely fathom what was going on around him. His heart was beating and he was sweating. But as he looked into Nemo's eyes he felt fear shoot into him. "Mo, please, please don't!" he pleaded. For God's sake, he felt his wand heat up in his pocket. It was going to burn a hole in his pants it was so hot. He jerked his leg at the feeling of the heat. He looked back at Nemo. He then proceeded to stand up on the ledge next to Nemo so he was at full height. He was taller than Nemo by a few inches so he looked down on him. But he didn't look down at him in anger, but in fear and sadness.

He closed his eyes and sighed. "If you go I go with you." he said.

It had been his intention to let go; to release his hold on Matt’s arm before stepping from the rooftop of St. Bartholomew's hospital. For it had not dawned on Nemo, the possibility of putting such a spin on what had become an ordinary and routine occurrence in his life. He had not yet been struck with the realization that a mutual suicide may prove the solution to all of his previous difficulties, before Matt had taken his place at his side and had risen to the challenge.

"If you go I go with you."

And much in the nature that Nemo had found himself incapable of denying himself all other poisons to which he had been introduced, he possessed no power over his longing to coil his practiced fingers ever tighter around Matt’s dick.

Nemo’s smile had yet to be extinguished. But it was a ghastly sight, entirely unlike those grins which frequented his lips on most occasions, often sparking to life a spectacular joy within his eyes, which had been rendered dull and glossy that evening by his inward trials. He cracked said smile, and through it he spoke as he wound his fingers with those of his friend, “On the count of three,” he offered.

“One -”

“Three!” And from the ledge he fell with his arms outstretched, as though laying atop the clouds to sleep forevermore with his companion to his right.