You're Not Alone

You sit on the top of a rooftop, swinging your feet below the city. You had wanted to get away from it all and slipped away onto a random rooftop, watching the lights and hearing the hustle and bustle of Hell’s Kitchen from high above. Even at nighttime people had places to go and things to do and you were sitting on this stupid rooftop being miserable.

You were unsure of how long you had sat there, sniffling and crying quietly, as you heard footsteps behind you. “Hey," a deep voice said. You wipe your tears on the sleeves of your overly baggy hoodie.
“Are you okay?” The voice asked again. You decide to tell the truth. Maybe it’ll get the man to go away faster. Not that you want that but you don't want him to leave. You think that Daredevil is kind of neat.

“Not really.” You shrug; sniffing. You finally decide to look behind you and you see Daredevil. You briefly wonder if you did anything to warrant getting beat up but ultimately shrug and go back to looking at the city lights below.

“Can I sit?” The Devil man walks closer to you and gestures to the rooftop.

“Sure. Not my rooftop. Do whatever you want.” You respond dryly.

That must be enough of an answer because he sits by you on the ledge in a move you can only describe as cat-like. “What’s your name?” He asks.

“Are you talking legally or…”

“Whatever one you go by works.” Daredevil shrugs.

“Y/N then” you mutter. You still enjoy the thrill that that name has when it leaves your mouth and how it sounds. To you, it fits you way better than your deadname ever did.

“Nice to meet you Y/N.” Daredevil smiles at you, swinging his feet off the ledge too. “I’m Daredevil”

“Why are you up here; Y/N? Do you want to get down and talk somewhere else?” You know the man is trying to get information from you but you don’t really feel like sharing your heart out to a man you don’t know.

“Not really. And I don’t want to get down like you’d want me to.” You snort. You’d had always been passively suicidal and depressed as long as you remember- you don’t remember ever really being happy. And Gender dysphoria on top of that was a bitch. You hated everything about yourself and felt guilty that you were taking up the Devil man’s time with your stupid petty problems when he probably has so much other crap to deal with.

“Okay. We can keep sitting here.” The other man offers.

“Don’t you have something better to do?? Like y’know criminals to fight and stuff?” You ask, feeling guilty. He probably had tons of other things that he had to deal with than you.

“Not right now. This is where I need to be.“ He responds.

You don’t respond. You have a feeling he’s just going to stay firm that this is where he needs to be but that will make you feel even more guilty so you stay silent.

After a pause he states. “I want to help you; Y/N”

“Sometimes there’s people like me you can’t help. People who are destined for a life of despair and pain” The words slip out of your mouth dryly. You don’t feel like you deserve to be helped and you’d rather be left alone but you don’t want to be left alone.

“What’s that supposed to mean; Y/N?” he questions, trying to get more information out of you.

“Nothing; just ignore me.” You whisper.

“Y/N? Talk to me, kiddo.”

“I just feel so ugh all the time” you shrug. “I’m so tired.”

“Is that how you’ve been feeling?” Daredevil asks.

You nod.

“Keep talking to me.” He seems genuinely concerned about you so you start to talk a bit.

“Nothing fits. I’m just a bunch of spare parts of a body that doesn’t even feel like it belongs to me. Everyone calls me ma’am or woman and sees me as a short-haired girl. Not as a real man. I’ll never be a real guy. Taking showers and changing clothes and looking at my reflection are all way harder and more draining than they should be.” You pause, wiping your tears on your hoodie again. “I’m sorry. I know you have better things to do than watch someone cry over something stupid.”

Sighing, you add. “Why don’t I fit in? Why couldn’t I have been born a boy?”

“You’re not alone, okay? You matter. There are plenty of people, hotlines, and resources you can reach out to if you’d like to. It might help make you feel less alone.”

“I’m sorry.” You apologize

“I’m sorry” You apologize again.

“Stop.” He cuts you off. “Don’t be sorry.”

You guys sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, taking in Hell's kitchen below you as both of your feet dangle below.

“Hey, Daredevil?”

“Huh?”

“I don’t feel like I deserve to be helped.” You state, honestly before yawning.

You hear the other man sigh “I think you deserve to be helped.” he pauses “And maybe you’ll look back at this conversation one day and realize that you did deserve a lot more than you thought you did.” He offers his hand “Now shall you go back to your place and get some sleep? I’ll make sure you get back safe.”

You smile “Thank you, Daredevil.”

The other man continues “Do you want to continue to talk or are you ready to go now? Will you be safe?”

“Yeah,” You yawn again. “I’m a bit tired if that’s okay.”

“Of course” The Devil smiles at you and grabs something from a pocket in his suit.

“And if you need any legal advice; I have lawyer friends who can help you out who’s worked with name changes and gender markers but they can help with lots more.” he passes you a business card for Nelson Murdock And Page with braille on it, and you guide your finger across the bumps smiling.

“Thanks.” You whisper.

“Of course.” He smiles. “I also happen to know they are in need of a secretary. You should reach out.” He adds.

As you walk away, you can’t hear it but the Devil whispers “You’ll be okay kid.” once you’re away from earshot.