Last night, the wind was cold, but the railing was colder.

Jake's fingers curled around the rusted metal, the rough texture digging into his palms as he stared down at the river below. The water was dark, reflecting the distant glow of the city lights in rippling, distorted patterns. Everything felt so far away, unreachable. The laughter of strangers, the hum of traffic, the soft glow of life continuing on without him.

He had spent years perfecting his smile, mastering the art of deflection. Nobody ever questioned the way his laughter always came a little too easily, or why he was always the one making sure everyone else was okay. Because that's who he was, Jake, the sunshine, the happy one. The golden retriever who never got tired, who never got sad, who was always there to brighten someone's day.

No one ever stopped to wonder what would happen if he ran out of light. And he had, a long time ago.

He exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle deeper into his bones. The pressure in his chest was unbearable, like something inside him was caving in, collapsing under the weight of everything he refused to say out loud.

Maybe this was the answer. Maybe this was the only way to stop feeling so-

Suddenly he felt a hand, warm fingers, gripping his wrist.

Before he could process what was happening, he was being pulled back, away from the edge, into the overwhelming warmth of another body. Strong arms wrapped around him, firm but shaking, like they were holding onto him for dear life.

Jake didn't resist. His body sagged, exhaustion overtaking him, his mind struggling to catch up. His thoughts felt sluggish, disconnected, like he was floating somewhere outside of himself. The voice, frantic, pleading, barely registered. He knew that voice, but his mind couldn't focus on the words.

He let himself be led away, his steps unsteady, his world shrinking down to the feeling of warmth against his frozen skin. Then, everything blurred.

A blanket. A cup of something warm pressed into his hands. The hum of a voice, gentle, worried, grounding, the familiar voice of his boyfriend.

But he had nothing to say. He was here. He was alive. And yet, nothing had changed.

---

The Morning After

The first thing Jake noticed when he woke up was the silence. His room was still, untouched, like the world itself had momentarily frozen. The soft glow of morning seeped through the curtains, casting long shadows across the ceiling. The quiet felt thick, pressing against his ears like cotton, muting everything.

For a few blissful seconds, he felt nothing. Then, slowly, the memories of last night trickled in. The bridge. The wind. The feeling of being pulled back.

Jake inhaled deeply and exhaled just as slowly, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He waited for something, panic, regret, even relief. But nothing came. Just the same emptiness he had grown used to, the same quiet weight in his chest.

He sat up, his muscles ached from tension, his body heavy with exhaustion that sleep hadn't been able to fix. A dull headache throbbed at the back of his skull, but he ignored it. He ran a hand through his hair, fixing the mess of curls, before glancing toward the door. The apartment was still quiet. No one was here yet.

Good.

Standing, he stretched, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the remnants of last night. His reflection in the mirror caught his eye, tired, a little pale, but otherwise normal. His hoodie from yesterday was still crumpled on the chair beside his bed. Without hesitation, he grabbed a fresh one, pulling it over his head before heading toward the bathroom.

Because last night didn't matter. Because today was just another day. And he still had a role to play.

But just as he was heading to the bathroom he spotted the door opening, a figure walking through the door. It was the very same person who saved him yesterday, his boyfriend. Jake smiled softly, pretending as if nothing even happened, though from the expression on his boyfriend's face, he could tell that he still remembered all the events.

"Don't frown like that." He said softly, his words gentle and kind just like what they had always been, hiding the dark depressing secret underneath his mask. "What's on your mind? Do you want some food?" He asked shamelessly, as if he didn't just attempt to jump off a bridge yesterday.