The boy's eyes peered through the window, dull light shining in the lifeless green. His fragile hand lay by his side, the cells accustomed to the pipe stuck in his arm that was now an everyday sore.

His forehead lay against the cold window, its callous touch a bitter pain that he was far too familiar with to notice anymore. The gentle drops of water against the glass pacified his nihilistic thoughts, an odd tranquility within him that he didn't quite understand.

The transparent spheres that fell through the sky always lured him into deep thoughts, something he greatly disliked. The boy immediately turned his head towards the left, his limp arm shivering as he gripped his phone.

As the light flickered on the boy sighed, sinking into his bed, closing his strained eyes.

How are you?

That same question would the girl ask every day, despite knowing what the answer would be. If only she would stop wasting the time she had - her little concerns could never affect him.

What's the point?

He typed the letters aimlessly, the debile movement of his fingers hindering his speed.

The phone hit his stomach after he sent the message, sighing back into his position.

As expected, no immediate response came, but his phone did light up after a few moments. The boy wondered why the girl bothered to whatever it was that she did. It appeared to him as if she didn't have enough time, yet she'd somehow manage to send those words.

Those thoughtfully meaningless words.

It may be pointless, but I want to know anyway. It is important to check on your well-being everyday. You never know what might change.

His eyes narrowed at the screen, hesitating before he replied.

There is a bad pain in my heart.

It has been here for 11 years.

As if on cue, an acute sharpness pieced his chest, but the boy ignored it with no reaction.

Has it ever dulled?

The boy smiled at that, and though it was not a bitter one, he chuckled briefly in a harsh and amused tone.

Perhaps. I don't know.

Images of the past rolled through his mind as his fingers hovered over the keypad. Not one pleasant memory could he recall, but at that point he no longer differentiated between bitter and sweet.

Why do you think for my good? You don't even know me.

I just do, I suppose. Besides, having someone to talk to can be nice.

He sat still, moving into a contemplative state. He still didn't understand why the girl did whatever she did. But she was regrettably right.

Don't think for others so much. They will one day fail you.

I think about nobody.

The boy sighed, his head sinking into the thin pillow that reeked of pity. He slowly closed his eyes, a powerful force compelling him to sleep, but his disordered thoughts prevented him from doing so.

He wondered why she'd do this. Talk to others. Was it out of compassion? Was it for some personal gain? Or was it simply meaningless?

He had been alone his entire life, his psyche his sole companion. The fact dejected him when he first realised it, but over the course of time, he found the matter to be belittle. Such mundane subjects held no significance for him.

I hope you will be happy in this meaningless world.

His honest words had always been accompanied with lies, but now he could no more distinguish between the two.

Thank you, and I hope you do too. Though what according to you is meaning?

The boy once again looked out of the window, his cold fingertips barely recognising the glass's touch.

What is it to you?

His gaze barely left the leaden raindrops, his movement leisurely taking its time. The question had never occured to him, and perhaps it was not so trivial.

That exactly. Perception.

Then I suppose I have no perception.

You do. That life has no meaning is yet another perception, but I believe it is one that can help one realise the truth of existence.

Which is the meaning of existence?

No. The truth.

The boy let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head for a reason he didn't know. His entire life had been immersed in a pool of neglected sewage, or so he thought. Perhaps that's how his insides were, but once he cane out of that prison, he'd be able to see... something.

The Truth. Huh. Such a simple thing hasn't occurred to him, at least not directly. It wasn't ordinary for people to think about such philosophies, but thinking and understanding were on different frequencies of the spectrum.

Suddenly, the boy heard the door to the room open gently. An old man walked in with a benign smile, nodding towards the boy.

His nonchalant expression remained as he took the tablet in his hand, looking at it thoughtfully. He turned towards the window for the last time, a foreign emotion entering his mind.

He slowly placed the tablet on his tongue, slowly sipping the cool water as it painfully slipped down his weakened throat. Relief flooded the boy's mind as his head sunk back into the thin support, his eyes closing for eternity as he slipped into a gentle sleep, protecting him from the pain of his end.

Nothing mattered anymore. Whatever had to happen would happen in his next life. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but wonder about his conversation before he lost consciousness.

- - - - -

I don't like this.

The bewildered thought echoed in the girl's mind as she stared at the glaring screen. She hadn't ever had true friends, and she wasn't about to start making human bonds.

Oddly enough, she couldn't deny the little sorrow that weighed on her mind as she stared at the words sent by her supposed friend's friend. It was hard for her to understand the sensation, though; she only knew the boy for a matter of days, one who lived on the other side of Earth. Still, no matter how trivial she believed such emotions to be, she couldn't shun the feeling the message invoked.

Time of death: 2 am.