"The moon looks great today, doesn’t it?" Roy said with the smallest fake smile.

  "You're on the roof again." Omar was still walking toward Roy, holding his left arm.

  "How did you know I'd be here?" Roy asked.

  "The look on your face when you left was the same look you have before I find you on a roof." Omar finally was in front of Roy. "So I figured I'd find you on the roof again."

  Omar walked past Roy and sat at the edge, his legs hanging down.

  "So, will we talk?"

  Roy went and sat beside him.

  "Sure, but don't expect a lot of talking coming from me."

  "Sure," Omar said, looking at the moon.

  "I've known you since childhood. Then you left the country for years and returned just three years ago. In those three years, this is the fourth time I've caught you on a roof near its edge."

  He took a moment of silence and looked directly at Roy, who was looking down.

  "Every time, you tell me a different reason, but I know it was never the real one. So could you tell me why? Even in one word: what are you doing on the roof?"

  Roy took a deep breath.

  "I think you know why."

  Omar sighed.

  "Were there times when I wasn't there?" he said while his right hand moved along his left forearm.

  Roy looked down.

  "Some, but obviously I failed every one." With a small chuckle, he continued, "Even in this, I fail. Until now, not one thing I tried was a success. Not in this, not in my plan of joining the middle class, not in anything."

  Omar focused on every word that was said, even though they were said in a dismissive, nonchalant tone. Roy continued.

  "But there is one thing that I still didn't fail in, and I thought I was far away from that failure, far away from breaking. But turns out I'm closer to it than ever."

  Omar looked down, thinking. Then he decided to do it.

  He lifted his left sleeve slowly, then used a small amount of fire on his forearm. With it, some kind of cover melted, revealing a faint line that crossed the inside of his forearm, pale against the rest of his skin. It looked old enough to be forgotten but not old enough to disappear.

  Roy's eyes widened. His mind couldn't understand what he saw. Omar, his best friend, the one who was always smiling with energy and making others smile. It didn't make sense to him.

  Without saying anything still, just revealing his hand to Roy made Roy begin rethinking everything.

  Omar began talking.

  "You know, there was a time when I had similar ideas that you have, so maybe you can stop keeping it to yourself and share more? It isn't a demand. Feel free to refuse."

  Roy looked down again, thinking, while Omar pulled his sleeve back down with a sad, uncomfortable look on his face. Then Omar asked,

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  "What is the thing you're this afraid to fail at?"

  Roy sighed. Knowing this part of Omar's life was enough for him to start opening.

  "I hate my past lives," he began to talk, and Omar kept focus. "I don't even want to believe we are the same person."

  "But why? Even if you... they have done some bad, there might be an explanation."

  "There isn't. Every one of them is a different kind of monster, but in the end, they all are one."

  "How many ghosts do you have?" Omar asked, concerned that it looked like the problem was bigger than he thought.

  Roy took a moment to answer.

  "More than two."

  "Every day, they try to make me do things that I don't want to do. 'Kill her,' 'burn the building,' 'don't trust him.' They want me to act as if the world is mine, and at the same time, they want it as destroyed as possible."

  He stopped for a moment.

  "I fight them every time. I thought I had the upper hand in that fight, but after I came here, the realization hit me: I never had the upper hand. It always was just a matter of time before they won."

  Tears formed at the corners of his eyes but didn't fall.

  "Even if I say that I realized that when I came here, deep down I knew that from the beginning. And if they win, there are a lot of possible outcomes, but one thing is common in them all: millions, if not billions, of lives lost. One battle. All that needs to happen is me losing one battle, and I'll turn into a monster only good when dead."

  He took a deep breath and looked to the moon.

  "So, naturally, I decided that one life lost is better than millions."

  "I'm no hero ready to sacrifice himself, but the thought that I might be the reason for many lost lives haunted me."

  He looked down at his hand.

  "That is when I discovered my body healed itself. The last thing that was common between me and normal people, the one thing that I used to tell myself that I'm not a monster, was taken from me."

  He put his hand back down.

  "And to make things even worse, I can't control what heals and what not. Some injuries heal completely like they never existed, while others just heal normally."

  "All I wanted was to live a normal life, but it's simply impossible."

  Omar was silent for a moment, then began to talk.

  "Didn't you say that what you want to do is tied to your past lives? Won't that mean that your last life could help you a little?"

  "His definition of normal isn't what anyone would expect."

  "You're looking at normality wrong," Omar said, looking at the moon. "We're in a chaotic world. What was normal 50 years ago wasn't what's normal 20 years ago, and what's normal 20 years ago isn't what's normal today. So who is to judge what is normal for you other than you?"

  "What was normal to me was always being sad and refusing any help. But then I chose that this won't be my normal anymore, and now I am, mostly, happy."

  Omar looked at Roy.

  "From what you said, it looks like you don't even believe that the strongest heroes could stop you fast enough if what you're afraid of happens."

  "You don't need to fight this alone. I promise you that while you are fighting, until you win or after you lose, I will become strong enough to always help you become the best and good version of you."

  Roy looked at Omar, then at the moon. For a moment they stayed in silence. Then Roy scratched his back and talked.

  "'I will help you become the best version of you.' That's some gay shit, man," he said sarcastically.

  "You're the gay one going to the roof alone looking at the moon. You think you're some kind of romance protagonist?" Omar came back.

  "Why not? I have the looks for it." Roy and Omar had a small laugh. Then Roy continued, "How did you come up here? There is no door."

  "I jumped," Omar answered.

  Roy stood up and looked down, but in a different way than usual.

  "Okay, so let's go down."

  "Are you gonna teleport from here or what?" Omar asked.

  "No, something better." Roy grabbed Omar's hand and jumped down with him.

  Roy's jacket moved with the wind, Omar falling on his back behind him.

  Roy let go of Omar's hand right before they landed, and Omar took that second to land on his legs. They landed safely on the ground, forming a cloud of dust around them.

  Roy got the dust off his pants, and the moment he looked forward again, he saw Valeria standing. Her hair was covered in dust, looking at them with unemotional eyes.