Hello world~! *waves* *is shot* *dies*
Sorry, I know there are other things you really wish I would update at the moment.... but this thing has been floating around in my strange mind for too long! And the sad fact remains that there is simply not enough SuFin in the world! Something had to be done about it!
Chapters shouldn't dip below 2000 words each except for this first one, so don't let the prologue get you too nervous. :D I know most of you prefer nice long chapters but it just didn't fit for this kind of fic. Plus, this way, I can get them out a lot faster! (I actually wrote all of this in one day... usually I only write at a pace of a bout 1000 words a day. and that's pushing it)
Anyway, hope you like it.
This was probably very stupid, Tino mused as he took another gulp of the vodka by his side, gazing down at the dark, frigid waters swirling many feet below. One drunken lean in the wrong direction could send him spiraling down off the side of the county-line bridge to his death. Not that it would matter much.
"Doesn't matter." He slurred, tottering precariously on his perch and stealing yet another sip. He'd been here for what seemed like hours, even though he'd really only left the bar and his so called friends a little while ago. The depression wouldn't leave him alone—had somehow managed to find a hold even on his slipping, alcohol laden mind."Who cares!" He shouted at the darkness, accidentally flinging his bottle away as he did so. Tino sighed. "Clumsy," he chided himself as he watched it spin through the air, smaller and smaller before it was swallowed by the water below. He was always so clumsy.
After the pretty blue glass bottle he'd been nursing for the past hour was long out of sight, Tino closed his eyes and lay down awkwardly on the stone railing, his feet dangling over the river. He didn't worry about slipping as he stared into the inky depths and imagined falling into them. After all, that was why he'd come out here in the first place. He'd been thinking about it for a while, actually. What would happen if he just jumped right now—just left…everything. Would it really… would it really matter? To anyone?
Tino let out a sound caught half-way between a snort and a sob. He knew the answer to that question. He had no purpose, no family, no goals, no love. All he had was the dream of someone—a thought of what might have been if he'd only been a little stronger, a little smarter. Poor friendless, clumsy Tino. He laughed at himself, cried for himself above the frigid waters late into the morning and wondered when it had all gone so wrong.