Miku Hatsune stood on the rail of the rusted iron bridge, staring out over the canal. The chilly November wind whipped her wavy teal locks around her head. Slowly, she sucked in a breath, closing her eyes softly, the furious wind making her tear up as it blew past. Then, she dropped her brown leather book-bag, the one with a wallet sized placket where she kept the picture of herself and Len. The bag also contained Len's pencil, which she had stolen from him, and his notebook. He'd always loved to write songs, one of which were for her.

Enclosed in the cherry red moleskine notebook, by the page where the song was written in Len's messy and beautiful script, was the tealette's suicide note.

The bag hit the ground with a thud. Miku's heart dropped with it. Her eyes snapped open, gusts of cold atmosphere making her long, black eyelashes flutter softly. She planted her feet. The bridge creaked loudly underneath, as if warning of a storm to come.

In just a second, she could remove her left hand from where it was safely grasping the overhead bar of the bridge, and it would all be over. Len's song would be for a girl who was to be remembered, and only remembered. It hurt her to think about him, his state after she let go of the bar. Would he cry? Would he remember her? Would he be haunted day after day by his memories, and would they catch up with him, those memories? Would he regret? That was silly. He'd done nothing wrong at all. Nothing wrong. She was just selfish. She was selfish for taking this option, selfish for envisioning this outcome. It was what she hoped he would do. Cry and remember. She was a selfish girl.

Miku felt her fingers slipping slowly from the bar she was holding onto just barely. She wanted to fall slowly. Would it hurt, to be taken by death, enclosed into the arms of Hell's embrace? Her fingertips were the only thing bracing her now. The only thing bracing her and the churning, icy depths below.

"And just what," said a voice, anger disguising worry, worry disguising fear. "Do you think you're doing?"

Miku gasped. Her body tensed, and her fingers fell away. For a second, she felt herself falling...

He caught her right hand just before her feet had left the railing and pulled her down into him.

"Len?" She spoke in barely a whisper as he held her into him, completely shaken as he buried his face into her windswept hair. It seemed his shoulders were vibrating slightly.

"Miku Micheala Hatsune," he said. "What were you thinking?"

"Not much," she breathed in reply, a catch hanging in her throat.

"Well then, why?" He nearly shouted this last statement, the wind whipping his ponytail around so violently that it threatened to break free of its elastic and cascading onto his neck.

"I don't know," She felt tears well up and spill over in her eyes, down her pale cheeks, feeling the ripples of sadness that shook Len's bones and stopped his heart for a bit. "How did you find me?"

"I stayed after school to study, and as I was packing up to go home, I noticed my

missing notebook." He replied. "You're so goddamn predictable, I knew you'd taken it. Plus, thins bridge is on the direct path to your house, in the middle of a city. I wasn't not going to find you."

She never replied to this statement, but shivered into him, the chill getting to her all of the sudden.

"You've got to tell me," he said to her softly. "When you feel like this. When you feel like you want to fall off a goddamn bridge. I know about you, Miku, you don't have to keep things from me, okay?"

She nodded slowly, inhaling the scent of his blue plaid shirt and brown jacket, with the yellow scarf around his neck. She noticed that she still held her right hand, and was rubbing soothing circles onto the tops.

In a small voice, he added, "I want to save you. I honestly feel like I can save you. But you have to let me." She nodded again, looking up at him with big, shiny teal eyes. Her lips were partly open.

Len bent over and kissed her upper lip briefly, nuzzling her nose. "I'm bringing you home now," he told her.

"Thank you," she replied. "For everything."

He smiled and took her hand yet again, picks up her bag, and lead her into the whirling wind.

Yay for me for getting another angsty oneshot out. But same rules reply, don't ask me to continue it. This is a bit more toned down than Butterflies, Silence, and Scars. That one was deep. But I'd like to think it still has meaning even then.

I've had this written in my notebook for ages. It's just proof I'm not dead.

Michiko out~