I recommend reading Vertigo before this for context relevant to some elements in this story. This is a mini-series, not really a sequel, but a flicker to show that not everything ends with death. When a pebble is thrown into a pond, it sinks. But the ripples echo to all who hear, and the water's surface quivers. Like Vertigo, there will be five chapters.

Pity and sorrow are wasted upon the dead. Sympathize with the living, and pity those who have been left behind upon a world that will show them no mercy. Pitied are those who have seen the face of death and still live to endure life's trials.

University of Altera

When they last talked to each other, she looked like she had been crying. But her eyes were dry as she looked defiantly into his eyes, saying,

"We should break up."

That was it. No accusations, emotional blackmail, no giving second chances. He said nothing as he stared back, expressionless. He had been rejected before. This was only one breakup amongst many in his history. This was nothing.

But that didn't mean the questions didn't come. What could he have done better? Was it really worth ending it like this? Did he even deserve it? Why couldn't he have done better? Why couldn't she?

"Did you…hear me?" Her voice stuttered on the last syllable.

He grunted a yes.

"Okay. Good. I'm sorry it…ended like this. Do…do you…have anything you want to say?"

He didn't respond.

"All right…bye." A click and his monitor went blank as she turned her webcam off. For a few minutes he started at the black screen with an unchanged expression. Crumpled in a ball across the room was an old newspaper with the photograph of a redhead with the headline barely legible: University—Suicide—Something something—

That kid, what was his name? Elsword? Raven never talked much to him; it was the squirt that pestered him with his incessant chatter, the constant flow of questions. If all of them were cast as movie characters Raven guessed that the redhead would be the one that served as comic relief. The kid was harmless—although he was slightly jealous of how Renata doted on him, but screw that now—and now he was dead. On purpose.

Maybe that was why they broke up. Because she loved that kid so damn much and she wanted to join him in his grave.

Even to him that excuse sounded pathetic. No, he could never accuse her of infidelity, not when she was a freaking angel to every cat and dog that crossed her path. Maybe if that little shit didn't go kill himself it wouldn't be so doom and gloom.

School papers. Bills. Government forms. Letter from the university warning him of academic probation. More bills. Tax forms. His acceptance letter. Snail mail from his ex. It reeked of her perfume: Lilies of the Valley. He cursed himself for remembering.

Fuck this, fuck that, screw it all! With a swipe of his arm, the stash of papers was catapulted into the wastebasket. Some sheets missed the bin entirely, flopping feebly to the ground like wasted dreams and other pointless trash.

Tossed onto his bed was his phone, still. He let out a harsh chuckle; almost all of his exes had bombarded him with text messages after the breakup, the messages ranging from angry rants to outright desperation to death threats. Not this one, though. She was a tough one, always had been. Or maybe she was still sobbing over the kid's body. Not that he cared.

He thought—or maybe hoped—that she would lose her shit when she found out. Girls were melodramatic, after all. Renata wasn't a rock-face like Evangeline, either. She must have been visibly upset when she realized that he and Serine were on/off. He regretted sleeping with her the morning after, and in retrospect, if he had just 'fessed up right after it happened maybe it wouldn't have gone so bad. Instead he chose to try and hide it like a coward. Naturally it blew up in his face.

Oh, she confronted him about it, a while back. She was still in Sander, doing her charity work and all, but she used her webcam to ask him. No beating around the bush or hysterical denial. She knew. When he realized, he swore to find the squealer and rip him(or her) a new one.

"How'd you know?"

"Does it matter?"

Thinking back upon it now, it probably didn't, not anymore.

Conversation was unrestrained emotion. He confirmed the truth, said it was only a fling. His defensive excuses for his betrayal varied from a drinking party gone wrong to a what-did-you-expect-I-have-needs bluster. She said some harsh words too, and when both sides finally burnt out, there was a graveyard of pain and exhaustion between them.

It was shit. He felt like shit, and he was pretty sure she did, too.

Serine was feisty. He wasn't sure what his relationship to her was, probably a cross between on/off rebound and friends-with-benefits. Getting drunk and sleeping with her was a regrettable decision, yes, but it wasn't going to go anywhere. Of course he couldn't really forgive her for sleeping with his former best friend Alexius and a whole bunch of other crap that hurt his head, but Serine was okay when she wasn't being a total bitch.

Which was to say, not often…

Renata was…she was just Renata. She looked like the classic good girl, helping orphans and getting 3-something GPA and all that jazz. But not only did she have her own flair, she was nice. Not in the self-righteous, politely condescending I'm-better-than-you-bitch way. She was genuinely nice, the kind of nice that would make Serine puke her guts out.

She had even reached out to him and his friends, offering them cookies left over from a charity bake sale. That was how they had first met. The cookies were good, too.

She was nice in the way that she sincerely accepted everyone, but was never domineering or poking around in other people's business. She just reached out, and understood, like she did with him, the kid, rock-face, etc. She wasn't naïve in understanding the harsher parts of the world, either. Except that Elsword kid fucked things up, big time.

How did it feel to be in a relationship with her? He couldn't say. It just felt, and that itself was a surprise. He felt it as he felt warm sunshine or dewy grass on his skin. Gentle.

Clambering outside, he sat on the front steps, taking out a small lighter. No one to tell him he shouldn't smoke anymore. Fuck the environment and his lungs.

Aaaaaand he realized that he had no cigarettes; she had taken them away to prevent future cravings. And like a dumbass, he had allowed her to. Muttering obscenities under his breath, he trudged towards the nearest convenience store.

It had been days, weeks, whatever. He was in the single market now! Every girl that crushed on him he could easily charm them to bed. Well, not always the bed; sometimes against the wall, back of a car, or on a table. He wasn't picky. There were plenty of people who'd gladly have a tumble with him. His prosthetic arm seldom hindered his chances; some chicks saw it as a major turn-on.

The bell jingled as the door to B4-1 Convenience Mart flung open. The cashier, evidently a part-time student employee, looked at him, back at his book, at him again, nodded, and re-lapsed into the book.

Hey, the clerk…even before he glanced at the name tag, he knew. "Eve's ex…?"

The kid looked back up and did a double-take. It was truly a small world; he refused to acknowledge that title, however, as he glared and pointed to his name tag: Kim.

The older boy shrugged, he didn't really care. "Alterasia Brand cigarettes, two packs."

"Premium or Goldcrest?"

The fuck were those? "The normal kind."

"Both have been out for a while, sir."

"Then the premium will do, Kim." He answered with equal sarcasm.

Sighing, he took down two small boxes. "5, 137 ED."

Holy shit! "When did it get so expensive?"

"Government Law, Act XXVII. Enacted last December."

Last December? When did he hear of such a law last December? Last December was when…when that kid, that redhead, died. Drug overdose. Or was it by hanging? Either way it was suicide, which was pointless. It was that stupid kid that Renata kinda adopted as her younger brother. And now he was thinking of her again. Damn it.

He grunted, tossing a 20, 000 ED bill over the counter. He answered Kim's obvious irritation with a smirk. Go on, count the exact change…

"Have a nice day." Kim said after the transaction like an ancient voicemail repeated too many times. The bells jingled as the door slammed shut.

Snap! Snap! It took a couple of tries, but eventually a flame erupted from the lighter, and soon he was puffing away, contributing his share to air pollution. Yeah, that's right; suck it up, lungs.

He could almost hear Renata's voice, gentle but firm, as she nagged him to not ruin his health, listing all the reasons why smoking was toxic to him and everyone around him…

His lips curled into a sneer as he deliberately inhaled the carcinogenic air around him, as if to spite a Renata who was no longer his. She probably wouldn't give two shits about him now, anyway.

Walking along the street, he somehow ended up in the midnight club. He hadn't been here since ages.

Shaggy hair, white streak, golden eyes, cross chain, sick fashion, and a cigarette in his mouth to top it all off. He was back where he once was. All of a sudden, girls were fawning over him, guys were glaring at him, bouncers eyed him suspiciously, and there was a martini in his hand. A good start, he supposed. Bright neon lights, pounding music that made his eardrums pulse, bodies rubbing and clinging together on the dance floor…

Elsword once asked him if the elder liked clubbing. That time he said "not anymore", but that was when he was still with her, of course. Stupid kid always asked him irrelevant questions, but after she left, he didn't have much time to waste with him and the other guys as much…but that didn't mean he hated them. Maybe if…if he had talked to them more…

A final prick of the conscience reminded him that this was not the paradise he wanted to believe. He did not feel the elation of an addict re-lapsing into ecstasy or any revelation of truth. The only truth was that she was gone.

And she mattered.

The last protests of his mind were quelled as he gave in to the music, the lights, and the people. A seductive smile, a kiss, and he was now part of the cult of hedonistic youth which would last till never.

There was a time, a long time ago, when he saw Renata as a mere replacement for Serine. The resembled each other on a superficial level, with the same golden hair, fair skin, light-coloured eyes. She was hurt when he had told her that, but she understood. So why was it that now, seeing Serine grinding against him in a low-cut dress and fuchsia lipstick, the only thought that came to mind was how Renata would never wear that in public?

It didn't matter.

"We should break up."

She didn't matter.

I know Vertigo is one of my shorter, passive stories but at the behest of a friend and thoughts of my own, I believed that these chapters would work as some kind of epilogue or closure.