I stared down at the scene unfolding beneath me. A tall, charcoal-haired boy shrunk down, cowering from them. And I couldn't let it happen. Not to this stranger, so desperate and innocent and pure. He looked up, his eyes filled with crystal droplets, threatening to spill over and drown him at any second.
It was his eyes that decided me. Celestial blue and clear as the summer sky, light and laughter forced away by fear and terror. A terror that only increased when he spotted the strange, brunette-haired boy dangling precariously from the 19th floor of a sky tower.
And just like that, I vanished.
Something about him drew me here; this I knew for sure. His presence brought me to him, like a moth to a flickering candle flame.
Somehow, I knew that his inner fire was waning.
Somehow, I knew that I had to help.
I was thrust sideways by the blow, far more unbearable than any I had yet faced. My skull ached and throbbed, grey waves blurring my vision. I may as well let go, I thought, preparing to shut my eyes to the torment of life.
That was when I saw someone, a small spec in my impaired vision. My glasses had been crushed under the heavy boot of one of them, and he was so high up, precariously balanced. The height, however, was the problem - especially when the figure appeared to be hanging from a ledge, roughly 19 floors up; near to where I lived. I squinted, my head pounding. The shock revived me slightly - I had to help him!
How, though? Stupid, I thought, as my own issues overcame me, and the final blow of the day left me sprawled unconscious on the muddy cement. The last thing I saw as the peaceful fog invaded my mind were a pair of eyes, deep pools of brown that were full of concern.
I appeared next to him as he slumped onto the ground, tributaries of berry-red flowing from multiple lacerations on his pale body. One of his eyelids was bruising, clouds of menacing darkness spreading outwards. His left arm was bent at a funny angle, pushing against his shirt sleeve.
I could feel tears swamping my vision; I blinked to hold them back. I had to help him, this man with eyes as blue as the sky and hair as dark as night. I dug around for his phone to call 999 with, as I didn't have one of my own - I didn't own anything, not anymore.
Sitting with him while I waited for the ambulance, I grasped his limp fingers in mine. He was beautiful.
I awoke to bright lights, blinking heavily as they tried to blind me. Futilely, I attempted to raise my hand to sweep my dark hair from my forehead, but my arm was connected to a drip. My eyebrows furrowed slightly as I looked up, feeling the weight of my left arm. My gaze was met by that of a stranger.
Confusion flooded my mind. He smiled slightly, a small dimple raising in his cheek. It was infectious; as his brown eyes sparkled down at me, I felt the corners of my mouth tugging upwards.
"Where am I?" I queried, instantly feeling at ease with this man nearby. His smile drooped a little.
"You were beaten up - you nearly died, Phil. I called the ambulance, and you're now in hospital." He tried to reassure me by rubbing my right arm gently, soothingly.
"How do you know my name? Who are you?" My voice should have raised in panic, but it didn't. I was too drowsy. A slight chuckle made me look back at him.
"That's..." he paused, thinking. "That's quite a long story, perhaps for another day?" He raised his eyebrows, asking. I nodded - I definitely wanted to see him again. I wasn't too sure why. "But, in short, I'm Dan. I used to live near here, and I was visiting the area. Nostalgia." His smile appeared again, refreshed. "I know you're Phil, because I had to use your phone to call the ambulance - I don't have one. I didn't really know how to use it, and I saw some messages addressed to you. I didn't read them - I just saw the first couple of lines." He looked slightly repentant, glancing at me as if expecting to be told to leave.
I grinned at him, wanting to tell him that it was fine - he saved my life! - and that I didn't mind, but being too tired and overwhelmed to respond. My tongue poked out of the corner of my mouth, and I couldn't cover it. I sighed in frustration, and let the darkness reclaim me.
I stared unseeingly at Phil. A small smile still lit his face, even in sleep. I knew I should leave, but I wanted to be here, with him. I intertwined my fingers with his, a tiny smile painting itself upon my lips as I noticed his grin broaden.
A nurse bustled in, and I dropped his hand, remembering that I was supposed to tell somebody if he stirred. Guilt washed over me, and I told her that he'd been awake, but had fallen asleep once more within minutes. She smiled, reassured me that he'd be fine, and left, leaving me with nothing but my thoughts once more.
Phil awoke again a few hours later, and I handed him the packet of Maltesers I'd retrieved from the vending machine down the hall. His whole face lit up, and he took them gratefully. "Thanks," he mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate. I grinned - it was easy to be around him, even in such a gloomy place.
I hated hospitals. They only reminded me of my past, of things I wished to forget.
"Is my arm broken?" Phil asked, glaring at the cast on his left arm. I laughed at his expression - it was like that of a kitten that didn't quite understand why it wasn't allowed a treat. I sobered up once Phil turned, his beseeching eyes melting with mine. Instinctively, I reached to take hold of his hand, but let it droop back down to my side when I realised he'd never been conscious when I'd done that in the past.
"Yes," I murmured apologetically, shocked when he tried to reach for my hand. The IV restricted him, only allowing him enough room to shove Maltesers hungrily into his mouth. Clumsilly, I took hold of his fingers and rubbed circles on his palm, balancing the remainder of the packet on my knee.
"Do you want one?" Phil wondered, eyeing the chocolate.
"No, thanks," I smiled, proferring them back towards him. He slipped his hand from my grasp to take a handful, popping one into his mouth thoughtfully.
"You said earlier that who you are is a long story. I've got time," he said.
"It can wait." I got up, suddenly frustrated. I didn't want to talk about it, not yet. His expression turned from inquisitive to confused to anxious.
"I'm sorry, Dan- wait! Please don't leave," his voice trailed off as I stormed outside into the carpark, away from the thoughts that Phil brought to the surface of my conciousness.