The cold brush of air against Namjoon's skin sent chills straight up to his spine. He could hear the telltale touch of it against his own ear and he closed his eyes at the sensation. He gripped gently at the railings as though he brings no burden on his shoulders. He smiled gently as the tips of his black locks fly accordingly to the direction of the wind like a follower.

Deep inside, he silently hoped that when he opens his eyes, heaven is there to welcome him like the most beautiful illusion ever perceived.

It feels so free, he feels so free of worries, he feels unconcealed abeit living in this jail we call life.

To him, to experience and actually fly means freedom.

He opened his eyes to slight disappointment. He saw the same arrangement stars as they glimmer ever so beautifully.

How come they are less appreciated by the people below? Have they completely lost their minds with money and women, with fashion accessories that they aren't able to see this beauty lying before him?

Namjoon had always adored the stars. It was normally a child's dream to touch and reach for the stars that twinkle as they run, thinking the moon residing with the stars were chasing after them. Namjoon chuckles to himself. He might be crazy, he thinks. He hopes it's not an illusion as well.

Namjoon takes a deep breath, then he looks down below, seeing the rows of trees planted in front of the hospital institution, cars passing by in fast speed, people walking along the sidewalks, probably on their way home or to the other part of the world he does not know and does not want to know either.

"It seems to me, the sad people find beauty in the smallest of things. How come it works that way?" He murmured to himself, letting his inner philosophical state take over, and he enjoys it so well, thinking about random stuff that came up on his mind, and find answers his with his own, convincing that maybe this is right, his theory about the human mind is right.

That thought alone made Namjoon smile lopsidedly. Whenever he spaces out like this, whenever his worries remain unbothered, it just feels so calming, calming but random. It makes him wonder, use and put his skills to the test. And when he thought of a satisfying answer, he feels proud of himself the tiniest bit.

But then it suddenly seeps in.

Darkness, negative emotions, his own demons taking him over alive, as though he have no rights to be happy even for a second. The moment when sadness just hits you like a damn train for no apparent reason. Is this even normal? Why can't he be just happy, he thinks roughly.

Happiness.

"Happiness. Is that supposed to be something I should achieve? Aren't I happy with the simplest of things?" He hums in thought, trying to revert the looming sadness inside and distract himself at least temporarily.

Namjoon feels happy, being able to gaze at the stars. He feels happy walking at the park, listening to laughter coming from the naughty, happy kids over the playground, the sound of his own footsteps clacking against the hard surface of the ground, and basically the natural beauty, scent, and sound of nature alone makes him happy, even though the heat burns his tanned skin.

But he doesn't feel happiness totally. Would achieving something make him happy? Of course.

"I guess, happiness isn't something to achieve. You can still be happy through the process of achieving something." Satisfied. He's satisfied of his answer at his own prompt. A tiny bit proud, but when he looked down, he knew, sadness still had him.

He's so tired, with everything. The distance of the ground level from the rooftop seemed so attracting in a different way.

"What would life be without Kim Namjoon? What would life be without me?" He asks himself, even though he knows it's unanswerable. Oh god, how he hates himself. Fucking things up, fucking relationships, fucking his life, fucking other people's lives. When will he be contented of destroying everything? When will it stop?

Perhaps this thing he was diagnosed with could help. He can barely remember what the doctor had told him. Just as the other things he tended to forget.

In fury of himself, he hits his forehead with his large hand. "Stupid asshole, I thought you're smart?" He grits his teeth in fury, his eyes squeezed shut as the hate of his self grew deeper. The amount of knives in his heart, stabbed by his own thoughts. It's painful. It's what keeping his heart off-limits of happiness. The knives pierce through the airways of his heart. Of course, how could he feel totally happy if his heart's full of hates, and even stabbed with negative thoughts. There is no way for happiness to freeflow into his heart. He had set himself up in a cage, and he does not know how to get out.

He was never free of himself. The demons just wouldn't let him.

Furiously, he grips hard enough onto the railings as he climbs up, and he sat onto the thick, rusty cylinder. He looks at his own two feet stepping onto the air, the blurry image of the ground had tempted him so bad.

I should've done this a lot sooner instead of letting these thoughts occupy me.

Just before he is about to jump off completely, an image was suddenly injected into his mind. But fuck, it was blurry.

Then it rings a bell. Of course.

Soulmates.

And it was followed by a voice. It was calm, a bit high pitched than Namjoon's voice, but surely it is of a man's, from the tone.

"Are you going to kill yourself?"