Two months go by after that incident with the young man at the bridge and Jaebeom doesn't think much about it nor remembers the boy, although at time the handsome face crosses his thoughts ephemerally, but that's as much as there's to it.

Jaebeom's mother doesn't improve, but she doesn't get worse which is something and makes him grateful. Every day he reminds himself she's hanging in there, and he can push forward another day, as hard as that might be. He doesn't spend all his time in the hospital anymore, not because the nagging of everyone had any effect, but because what his best friend Jackson told him one day:

"Would you mother be proud of you if you were here all day?"

No, she wouldn't and Jaebeom knew it, once classes started again in September, he started attending and spending the rest of his day at the hospital with his mother, telling her what happened in his day and the contents they were covering, even his assignments. More often, though, Jaebeom reads to his mother any of the books he's currently interested in. Some are fiction, some are essays; it doesn't really matter, it's like they are reading it together and that's all that counts.

Jaebeom's father is as absent as he was at the beginning. His biggest involvement was to settle with the truck driver, making Jaebeom furious because he wanted a trial, he needed that justice. That satisfaction was taken from him before he could even properly think about it or get his hands on it. The case was closed, fixed, and Jaebeom's mother was still in coma.

Jaebeom is starting to really resent his father for his absence and lack of support. He's only twenty-four, he shouldn't be dealing with this much pressure or responsibility, being the only one taking care of his mother. The burden should be shared, but his father has washed his hands and Jaebeom is completely alone.

Today, his mother's doctor comes to check on her in one of his rounds and the doctor's expression is so blank when she checks the file and his mother's condition. She checks for any sort of reflexes and Jaebeom has seen the routine so many times he even performs it sometimes. Pressing his nail on her thumb, checking her pupils for dilatation, but nothing. Every day, there's nothing. Jaebeom feels his chest tightening with apprehension when he sees the doctor almost imperceptibly shaking her head, sighing as if she's given up already.

"There's still no physical response and her brain activity doesn't show any change, she just keeps stable," says the doctor with a sigh, hands in her coat pockets as she meets Jaebeom's eyes. "It's been almost nine weeks and she has not improved in the slightest. You should start considering accepting the possibility she might not wake up. As time passes by, the chances become slimmer and slimmer."

Jaebeom clenches his fists so tight at his sides he feels his nails burying in the flesh of his palms because he knows, all of that he knows, but he doesn't need to be reminded that his mother is practically brain dead and they are just forcing her to stay 'alive' with machines, and that she most likely won't wake up. Jaebeom really doesn't need that. He needs people telling him to stay strong and that it's great his mother hasn't gotten worse despite time, that she's stable and hanging on.

Just a bit of hope and support, that's all he needs for crying out loud.

"I know it's hard, but that's the truth. All that's left is waiting and praying for a miracle, if you're a believer."

Jaebeom isn't, but he's praying, with all his heart, he's praying for his mother.

"I'll see you around, Jaebeom-ssi."

The doctor leaves, once again, Jaebeom not uttering a single word, swallowing all of his complaints and worries, all his hurt. He doesn't feel understood or supported by the doctor, but he respects her because all in all, she saved his mother from dying in the OR, even if she ended in a coma.

Feeling drained and tired, robbed of hopes and comfort, Jaebeom decides to step out for a while for some fresh air. This time he doesn't want to go too far and looks for another place. Oddly, he remembers the young man from the river and how he claimed to just love heights. He remembers how the view from the high bridge helped him to calm down and gave him back some of the warmth he needed, even in the bitting cold of that night.

Jaebeom has never been a fan of heights, he isn't scared of them either, but he respects them and stays at a safe distance most of the time. Today, he goes to the highest floor of the hospital and then takes the stairs that lead him to the rooftop. He knows it's an empty and open place where the helicopters land when they bring urgent patients, but most of the time it's empty as it doesn't offer much.

At the top of the thirteen storey building, the wind is cold and strong, so Jaebum pulls his hoodie up, protecting himself just a little bit. His hands he shoves them inside the front pocket and he just steps out, taking a deep breath. It feels different at that height, like there's too much and it comes all at once in his lungs. It's invigorating somehow.

From the rooftop Jaebeom sees so many other buildings, higher or lower, in all shapes and colours, reflecting so many different things and becoming unique entities that marvel his eyes. He's suddenly struck with the need to capture it somehow, the view of all those buildings reaching out to the sky, rising high and higher to touch the clouds that at that time of the evening are of a pinkish orange caramel that is slowly being painted with purple, brushing the colour here and there in a mixture that's both magical and brilliant.

Sunsets are wonderful.

Without his own camera, Jaebeom only has his mobile phone. Maybe he's a romantic or an odd ball, but he prefers his film camera over any digital one, loving that old vintage effect that comes so naturally. He loves that one chance to capture the picture perfect without knowing how it turned until much later.

Maybe he's truly odd.

He aims, holding his mobile phone, trying to find the exact frame that marvels him them most, so he spins slowly on his heels looking for it, but then to the frame comes something completely different from buildings or birds flying through the vast sky.

A person.

One young man standing on the edge of the building, legs pressed against the inner side of the rail, the wind blowing his short black hair in every direction and coming inside his jacket, making it flutter like a cape as he opens his arms welcoming it, calling for more and more winds.

For a second Jaebeom sees that other man as an alien creature, outside of his realm, calling for the wind like one calls for one's pet, smiling at the affectionate caresses and obedience. The young man looks like someone in control of the wind, a magical creature and Jaebeom doesn't even realise how he just snaps the picture of the boy standing on the edge, against the sunset, framed by all the different buildings and billboard sigs, all that city life that lives only in the heights of Seoul.

It's truly breathtaking... until Jaebeom finally realises what's happening and he panics.

That young man isn't there to call for the wind and have it dancing around him in a magical way. Oh no, that person must be there for what people stand on the brim of anything, his arms spread not for a hug from the wind but welcoming death.

Shit, what do I do? He thinks, because if he suddenly screams, he might startle him and cause him to die. Then it would be an accident, not suicide.

Jaebeom really doesn't need that in his life right now.

Am I drawn to suicidal people or what? He wonders at the same time, impressed it's his second time coming across someone about to jump or just standing in a very dangerous place.

Sighing, he shoves his phone in his pocket and carefully approaches the young man, making sure not to make any sound that could startle him yet being as quick as possible. Once he's behind the young man, Jaebeom just reaches out, one hand grabbing the jacket that flutters like a cape, the other hand grabs his stripped shirt that comes down to his thighs, perfect for a firm grip.

Jaebeom pulls, firmly, quickly.

The young boy falls back with a scream and Jaebeom releases the clothes just to open his arms and receive the body. The impact knocks the air out of his lungs and makes him almost lose his balance. But his feet are firmly on the ground and he's got the young boy.

"Not this again!" The young boy groans, wriggling in Jaebeom's arms.

Jaebeom releases the other man who immediately steps away, spinning around just to glare at his saviour with so much rage. But Jaebeom is so surprised when he sees the boy's face and recognises the same handsome face from the bridge two months ago.

"You again?" Both ask in unison, Jaebeom shocked while the young boy just looks annoyed.

"What's your problem." The other retorts, breaking the eye contact just to roll his eyes. "Do you have as a hobby pulling people from their happy place?"

"Are you telling me you weren't trying to jump, again?"

"Of course I wasn't," the boy replies, fists on his hips in such a condescending pose. "I was just enjoying the view and contemplating the option to jump, but then considering my luck I most likely would survive and end up paraplegic or something."

Jaebeom blinks, slightly confused because was he thinking of jumping or not?

"No one survives a thirteen storey jump. You wouldn't end up paraplegic, your brain would paint the streets," Jaebum points out but the boy raises his eyebrows and gives him a look that makes him doubt even his name.

"You never know what might suddenly show up or cross my path while falling. There are plenty of other more successful and faster ways to kill myself, if I wanted to do it today, which I don't." The boy folds his arms over his chest and Jaebeom just can't believe it, he just can't believe there's such a person in front of him.

"I'm confused," Jaebeom mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Are you or are you not suicidal? You speak about it as if it was a possibility at some point."

There's a spark of amusement in the eyes of the other boys that only confuses him further.

"The doctors say I have suicide tendencies, so I guess you can say I'm mildly suicidal, but I prefer the term 'deeply fascinated by death.'" The young man's smile is wide and gleeful, his eyes crinkling as they shape like crescent moons. Adorable, but also highly confusing.

"Why are you even at the hospital? Did you ran away from the psychiatric ward?" Jaebeom asks, not controlling his rudeness because he's just deeply confused with the person in front of him.

"Not this time," answers the young man. "I got properly discharged a long time ago because there's no depression or anything particularly wrong. Noona says I'm just odd." Jaebeom watches him shrug as if it were nothing, his tone so light and casual as if he wasn't talking about his mental health and his 'fascination' with death.

"Your sister is right," Jaebeom declares because the person in front of him isn't normal. "And you should stop hanging from rails or standing at the edge of a high building because, you know, it scares other people!"

"Why though?" The young man retorts, his smile not so innocent but more cunning now, there's a glint in his eyes that makes Jaebum feel a shiver down his spine. "Why would you care what a stranger does?"

"You think because I don't know the person I would just let them kill themselves?!" Jaebeom snaps angrily, offended that man is speaking about life and death as if it was nothing. "Life is precious for everyone."

"Some people don't think the same. Some people really want to die, and by stopping them you're not saving them, you're sentencing them to keep suffering. Aren't you a cruel person for doing that? Deeming their decision wrong because you think differently?" Jaebeom is speechless, never had anyone refuted one of his arguments, making him doubt himself with just one look. "They bravely make their decision, you shouldn't take that right from them."

Jaebeom has to actually shake his head to clear his mind a bit because the more he looks at the young man in his eyes, the more confused he feels.

"I guess that means if I ever see you about to jump again I shouldn't stop you," Jaebeom mutters, deciding not to argue with someone who is suicidal and thinks of it as something worth defending. It won't take him anywhere.

"Precisely," the man smiles delighted with Jaebeom for giving up this fight. "And you should try to stop acting like a knight in shiny armour. No one needs one on this day and age."

"Whatever," Jaebeom rolls his eyes, tired with the exchange and ready to go back to his mother. He's also getting some painkiller for the headache he feels brewing.

Jaebeom turns around, more tired than he felt before, and walks away from the young man and the precipice bellow that would kill anyone, screw what the other man says.

"Yah, knight in shiny armour," calls the crazy man and Jaebeom stops against his better judgment. "What's your name?"

He turns to look at the other man over his shoulder, confused as to why that information is relevant when he's not even trying to save him ever again.

Yet still, he replies. "Im Jaebeom."

The young man smiles again, eyes in crescents and whiskers by the corners.

"I'm Park Jinyoung," the other says but Jaebeom only stares blankly.

"I didn't ask," he states although his mind is already associating the handsome face with the name, trying it over and over again.

Park Jinyoung's smile grows wider and he waves at Jaebeom happily, like sending him off. He just shakes his head and turns around again, this time determined he won't stop no matter what Jinyoung says.

He succeeds, only because Jinyoung doesn't say anything else.

∞

To whoever is reading, thank you. I won't get discouraged because there are no comments and continue posting this. 

Bel, xx