The wind was chilling, blowing hard against his face. The lights on the street were dimmed and no one was out in the shadows of the night. He was glad, it would make this all the easier.
The black railing was on the edge of the canyon; it restricted him from just taking the easy step. He used the rungs like a ladder; slowly he stepped up and was extremely careful not to slip.
Up one.
Two.
Three.
He stepped over and then he was on the other side. He spread his arms out on the rail, feeling the small raindrops underneath his fingertips. The water on his shoes was seeping through his socks and making him itch to move his feet.
He knows he can't. He'll slip and fall into the rushing water below. That's not how he wants to do this. "Don't do it," comes a voice from behind his right shoulder. The 16 year old turned, still holding tightly till the railing. A brown leather jacket caught his eye, but he turned back before he saw a face.
"Why shouldn't I?" he shouted back.
"Give me reasons," the boy said.
"Reasons for what?" his voice grew softer.
"For why you're doing this."
"I'm not good enough, smart enough. I'm not enough. No one would notice, no one would care. So, why not?" he laughed bitterly. "Why shouldn't I?"
"Give me reasons why you shouldn't do it."
"There aren't any."
"What about your family?"
"What family?" he spat. "My parents? I'm sure they would care," he said sarcastically.
"Are you sure?" the boy asked as he took a step forward.
"Why do you even care? You don't know me."
"How old are you?"
"I'm 16."
"You have your whole life in front of you. I still have mine."
He shuffled forward feeling the edge beneath the arc of his feet. "I don't have a life." He lets go of the railing, letting it slowly disappear from his hands. He leans forward and he can feel himself beginning to fall.
Finally, he thought and closed his eyes allowing himself to slip and disappear from this world, but he didn't fall. Instead, an arms wrapped around his waist and a hand grabbed his shirt from behind pulling him back over the railing.
"I won't let you do it," the boy says once his feet are on the ground.
"You don't even know me," he said, trying to get out of his grip.
"Then tell me your name."
"Sebastian," he whispered and finally looked at the person who saved him. The boy had curly hair and gorgeous hazel eyes and Sebastian just had to cry.
They ended the night holding each on the pavement while Sebastian crys into his arms.