When I was little, the first time I got my white dress dirty was when I decided to cover myself in mud. I rubbed the grass with my small hands and because it was raining, the mud was more of a liquid. I grabbed the ground and pulled out the grass, throwing the pieces all over me. After the grass came the mud. It went all on my face, and being the child that I was, I decided to rub it on my arms and legs too. My skin felt tight afterward, and I remember moaning at my mum. This was when I was six. I moaned until she acknowledged the dirt and shouted. It was only 2 months after, the dirt finally wore off and I could wear the dress again with pride.

Ever since then, I haven't dared to get my dress dirty. It seems ridiculous, I know – it's the fact of disappointing her again, even though she's not here with me. Not even on this earth, sharing the same air with me. She's been watching over me and maybe now she's decided to stop watching, because I am one accident away from plunging to my death.

Death always felt so far away, like I wouldn't be able to sense it until I became old. But now I'm here, it's ever so close. Not close enough that I could reach it and grab a hold of it for a while, but close enough to see how I could end. It's a depressing thought but I can't help but think it. Is this how my mother felt when she plunged to hers?

I can just remember her catching the wind in her hair and breathing in deeply before jumping. As terrified as I was, I watched her face embracing the last few moments. Her smile was wide and her eyes were closed. I knew she was going to give up. You could see it on her face in the last days. Her eyeliner was smudged around her eyes and, her skin was cracked and pale. She wasn't known for being that person, she was one of the most caring women in my life and I only had two. The other left me – I guess she wasn't that caring.
Her last days consisted of washing the dishes and staring blankly out of the window for minutes on end. It seemed like she was compelled somehow by something outside, that didn't move. Her eyes never flickered, they stayed fixated on something not in my reach. No conversation was made or interrupted by her either. She only spoke if she wished to, and that was the odd occasion and so was how she hardly exchanged any emotion to me or my brother. It looked like her thoughts sucked all of the life out of her. Her last days were quite morbid. Only once did a smile appear on her face, but it was undoubtedly fake. The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly and she didn't show her teeth, which is made her smile false. Evidently, she was staring at nothing, thinking of a life other than this. A part of me wanted to bring her back to reality but of course I couldn't change her mind – she was in too deep.

"You can jump if you want," Christian's deep tone expresses that he obviously doesn't care if I fall.
I exhale and roll my eyes. I knew his nice side would soon fade. "It's nice to know you care." I say with complete confidence that he's not behind me, ready to push me off.
I sit here with my legs dangling over the ledge of London Bridge.
"Well... Put it this way. I won't be jumping down there if you do. I'll probably walk." A breath. "Slowly." And he exhales, letting the crisp air – that bites at my skin – conceal his breath in a little cloud.
"And again," The wind forces my hair on my face and I grip onto the back of the bridge wall. I look aside to reassure myself he's still there and I see him jolt forward. "I thought you don't care." The corner of my mouth turns up into a smirk.
"I didn't say I don't." I can feel his eyes on the back of my head as I turn my head to face the ruins of buildings and the journey of a boat. Seems like someone is on patrol duty, if not they are trying to survive with the remaining sources of water and fish.
I hear his footsteps come closer to me and in the corner of my eyes, I see his hands graze the wall of London Bridge. "Do you mind if I sit here?" I look beside me and shake my head carefully, feeling cautious with my movement. He jumps with the help of his arm muscle to push him up. His legs swing over one after the other and he shuffles along so his hip is touching mine.
To bare the temptation of pushing him aside, I bite my lip and chew. My hands start to sweat more as time passes by. I don't know why they start to sweat. Maybe it's the fact that he makes me nervous when we are close to each other? I can't help but wonder if he feels like same...
"It doesn't look that bad from here." He announces with his deep voice. I look at him for a while, gazing at the skin of his cheek and investigating the stumble that is starting to grow on his cheeks and chin. "I mean, now that I think about it, it looks better than it did before patrol officers and street cleaners started to come out. Look at it." My eyes dart to the buildings in front of us as soon as he looks at me. "There's hardly any trash anywhere. The streets are still the same but there's less mess. It makes the buildings look like they are healing." I scan the buildings to my right and he's right. They are healing, but they can never build themselves back up to how they were. Like me.
"I never knew you thought about it." I turn my head so it's facing him, but my eyes are down and squinting. "I don't even think about it."
"I've been thinking about a lot of things, Naya. And sometimes," I feel his posture stiffen and his arm fidget under his jacket. I stare at his sleeve until he stops, which only takes him a few seconds. "Those things are-" he lowers his head and I look up at him, "-never in my reach."
"And somehow, I know how you feel." I lift my hand as slow as a feather would rise on a floor fan, and place it on top of his. "It's okay, you know..."
"All of it? Not being able to reach someone who you have admired for a while because they aren't interested? Not being able to reach a safe place to land because it's too far? I'm sure those parts aren't okay." He hangs his head low.
"When did Christian get this depressed?" I furrow my eyebrows and grip his hand, feeling his fingers straighten under my grasp.
He glances at our hands and exhales a breath. "Since I started to think about this all, sitting here. It doesn't take much." He smiles vaguely and looks at me with his head still low. "Thank you though."
"For what?"
"Putting your hand on mine."
"I don't understand?" I say as a question.
"You should." He chuckles under his breath and lifts his head to look at the buildings in the distance. "You see, a lot things can calm someone down - especially water if you tip it over them - but nothing has never, and I mean this, ever calmed me down like you just did." And he smiles. Wide. Like he's proud of something, or relieved.
"How?"
"Let's just say you give a very nice touch." His spare hand props on top of our hands and tightens its grip.
I can't help but smile. I've made him content. "Well, you're welcome." I turn to face him, and I have the impulse to place my head in the crack of his neck. He turns his head to face me too - still smiling.
We both sit there smiling at each other, and I scan his eyes. All I see in them are melting hearts, as if to say he's ready to graze my cheek with his thumb and kiss me slowly. It won't happen but that's how it feels. Sitting here and smiling at someone who I thought would be a threat to my future is now smiling back at me... And that thought doesn't once cross my mind and battle my current opinions of him. Maybe this is where I want to be right now - here, smiling at him and staring into his eyes. And once again, that one thought does not cross an inch of my mind.
I laugh and rub my jaw. "I'm smiling too much. I think my jaw will drop off if I continue to." I purse my lips but the urge of smiling is too strong for me to stay like that. "And you can stop smiling too, because it's tempting me to smile more." I giggle and still look in his eyes as he breathes out and gradually stops smiling.
"You know what?" He adds.
"What?" I still stare blankly into his eyes.
"I just-" He inches in, "-need to do," closer and closer, "something." And touches my lower lip with one finger. I tense up - my back, my neck, my legs and my arms. I don't move my head, just my eyes to focus on his finger. He lightly moves it to the top of my jawline and trails to my chin. I gulp and I think he hears because the corner of his mouth turns up. "I'm not gonna hurt you." And that's when I look into his eyes again.
"You don't mean that, do you?"
He moves his hand to the other side of my waist. "I'm not letting you fall. That's for definite." His finger is still on my chin until his thumb grazes my lower lip.
"Christian..." The corners of my mouth now turn up and it's my turn to inch closer to him. "What are you doing?"
Our noses are nearly touching and his hand has dropped from my lip to be settled on the curve of my waist.
"Naya."
"Mhmm?"
"Can I... Umm...?"
I inch closer so the points of our noses are touching. The thought of his soft lips upon mine and our gap finally being filled, makes my heart content. I need this, I need it to consume me so I don't feel anything anymore except for this. This is the one thing I can use to help me escape from reality and be ready to live life the way I wanted to in the first place. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, thinking of all the things that this can be, and I realise it can't.
"No..." And I open them and breathe out. I stare him in the eye and see his feelings through his pupils. They're true, but are mine? I wonder if he can see through me like I can see through him.
He moves his head back and looks down, taking his hand off my waist. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know. I just-" I shift away from him and climb off the wall, one leg first and then the other "-don't know." I start to walk away, fidgeting my fingers and overthinking what I just did. It's all just a blur. I can remember it but not how I want to.
I overthink.
One step, one thought.
The first - I should have done something, put my hand on his cheek or put my forehead on his to get a feeling of how warm a person he is. It would have been easier to do that than go with my own instincts to decide what to do.
The second - I didn't want to say no, and I shouldn't have said no. But the thoughts of how it would end right there completely blanks my head. I would have never known how he would have felt if we kissed. To know how he would have felt, is completely and utterly out of my hands. It's his choice to tell me his truth. And my choice to tell him mine.
The third - no matter if he wouldn't have told me the truth, I would have kissed him again if I liked. No matter the consequences I would have still done it.
The fourth - what am I doing?
"Christian?" I close my eyes again, not looking back but still calling him. No answer. "Christian, please don't take that the wrong way, please answer me." I roll my eyes with disbelief of my actions, that I did such a wrong thing without explaining myself. If only he would answer and everything would be okay with his permission.
Again. No answer.
I turn around, my head down still and I see his boots. "I don't care anymore..." He breathes out slowly, grabs my waist gently and pulls me closer. I furrow my eyebrows and look up at him. The longing in eyes. The longing in what he is doing. I can see him clearly now. With all the thoughts running along together in the head, I was zoned out and didn't even hear his footsteps or movement.
"Okay..." That's all I say. It's okay if he doesn't care. I don't care if he doesn't care. I'll find a way to show it on my face, but until then, I am useless.
I find myself smiling afterwards, and he exchanges the same expression.
His hand is still on my waist. His fingers don't twitch but they do grip onto me more as if he's afraid of letting me go. Maybe I can melt into him like he did with me that night. I may be a fool sometimes but I'm sure he wasn't faking any of it.
His eyes skirt mine as I scan his face before looking down to his firm grip. "But can we take this slow?" And once I've said it, he slowly releases his tight grasp and leaves his hand on my curve.
He nods his head and leads my body towards his. One last time, I breathe in and out. Once in. I can feel the fresh air inside my lungs that I now share with him again. I feel a bubble about to burst - my bubble. I am comfortable here, standing, facing him and not saying anything at all. Maybe this is where I want to be.
I feel so disconnected from him - no part of my body is resting on his - but as soon as I can wrap my arms around his torso, I slide my hands up to shoulder blades and hold onto them. I dig my head deep into his collarbone,
and
I
cry...