"Evan! What the hell are you doing?!"
The voice was a sharp, loud thing that pierced the silence, slicing through the gray haze in my head. It was filled with genuine panic, and it had my name in it.
The sound, so jarring and unexpected, made me turn my head, slow and unbothered, a cigarette still dangling from my lips.
I saw her.
A girl—beautiful, even in that plain working suit. Her hair, tied back in a neat bun, was a little messy, a few strands having escaped to frame a face that was completely frozen in terror. Maybe she'd been working overtime, or maybe she was just passing by on her way to a late-night coffee run. Either way, she wasn't supposed to be here. Not now. Not when I was finally alone.
Her expression was a portrait of pure shock, the kind you see in movies right before the monster appears. Her eyes were wide, taking in the scene—me, the railing, the long drop to the city below.
Her mouth was slightly open, like she hadn't expected to speak but couldn't stop herself once the words started.
Right. The cause of her panic was obvious.
Me.
I couldn't blame her. Anyone would freak out seeing some guy casually sitting on a rooftop railing, feet dangling over the edge like it's just another bench in the park. It was a hell of a sight, I had to admit. A perfectly polished, terrifying tableau.
"Hey, Ruby. What's up?" I said, my voice calm, flat. Unbothered. I took a slow drag from the cigarette, the ember glowing orange against the cold night air.
She's one of the new hires at the office—full name Rubina, but everyone just calls her Ruby. Easier that way. She's always friendly, always smiling. The type of person who still sees the world in color.
I'd never talked to her for more than five minutes at a time. It felt deeply ironic that our first real conversation would be on a rooftop ledge.
"What do you mean 'what's up'?" Ruby snapped, her voice trembling, though she was trying to sound firm. "Evan—get down from there! Right now!"
She took a tentative step toward me, her hands open and palms facing forward, as if she were trying to calm a frightened animal. I just shrugged.
"Relax. It's not like I'm gonna jump or something," I said, a faint wisp of smoke curling from my mouth. "If I wanted to, I'd already be down there. Probably snoring on that damn pillow truck again until the driver woke me up." I pointed a lazy finger toward the truck parked directly beneath the building. It hadn't been there a minute ago, a fact that felt both infuriating and profoundly unsurprising. But somehow… it always shows up.
The words felt like a cruel joke, a secret only I was in on. I could see the confusion in her eyes. She probably thought I was insane, spouting nonsense about pillow trucks. The real joke was that I wasn't.
"What the hell are you even saying right now?" Ruby demanded, her voice catching on a sob she was trying to swallow. "Look—Evan, please. Just get off the railing first, okay? Then we'll talk. I'll listen to whatever you have to say. Alright?"
She spoke like she was talking to a kid. Soft. Careful. Her voice was laced with a desperate sweetness, like she might break if she said the wrong thing. She was walking on eggshells, and the floor was me.
Fuck. Am I really in that category now? The suicidal fuck-up people talk to like they're a bomb about to go off? The walking disaster that needs to be handled with care?
I'd always thought of my pain as a private, silent thing, a hidden sickness. But now, seeing the terror in her eyes, I realized it was obvious. It was leaking out, visible to everyone.
What a fucking joke.
"I'm not going anywhere, Ruby," I said. My voice came out colder than I expected—detached, hollow. The kind of cold that settles in your bones when you've been sitting in silence too long. The wind whipped past my ears, carrying the distant wail of a siren from the street below. The city lights, a tapestry of glittering gray, stretched out before me, indifferent to our conversation.
"I've come to enjoy my time up here. Alone. Once I'm done, I'll head back down. Back to work tomorrow. Same as always."
I didn't look at her. I didn't need to. I could already picture the look on her face.
"There's no way I'm buying that," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Please, Evan… just come back. Get down from there. We can talk, alright? Just—just come back."
Hah. So fucking annoying.
That's the thing with people—they never really listen. They don't care to understand. They just see you teetering on the edge and suddenly, they want to feel like they've done a good deed. Like saving the suicidal coworker earns them a gold star.
Yeah, look at me. I helped someone. I'm a good person. Pat me on the fucking back.
Ruby? She's in that category, too. She means well, sure. But she doesn't get it. Not really. Not a damn clue.
"Listen, Evan, I'm not judging you," she said as she slowly moved closer. "I just… I don't want you to be alone right now. Whatever it is, you shouldn't have to carry it all by yourself. Just let me sit with you. That's all."
Tch. Fucking annoying.
I hate dealing with people like this. They never back off. It's like they can't breathe until they play the hero in someone else's story.
And by the look on her face, she wasn't going to leave unless I gave her what she wanted.
Well, guess I've got no choice.
"Okay, I'm getting down. Happy?" I muttered, my voice thick with irritation. The words were a cheap promise, a surrender to get her to back off.
"Y-Yes! Yes, please, just come down!" she said, visibly relieved. The tension in her shoulders seemed to melt away, and a small, shaky smile touched her lips.
But just then, a sudden, vicious gust of wind ripped across the roof, throwing off my balance. My foot, already a little numb from the cold, slipped.
"Aaaah—!"
A scream—hers, not mine—ripped through the air. Ruby covered her face with both hands, squeezing her eyes shut as if the mere act of seeing would make it worse.
"Hey," I called out. No response.
"HEY!" I raised my voice this time, sharper.
Her hands slowly parted, and her eyes blinked open—only to find me standing on the ledge just beneath, balanced like it was nothing.
"What's with that reaction? I'm still here," I said flatly, my voice dark and unimpressed.
"I thought… I thought you were gone…"
Her voice trembled, cracked—barely holding itself together. Tears were already spilling down her cheeks, each one falling like it carried a weight I never asked to bear. The relief in her face was a terrifying thing to witness. It was too much. The thought of being someone's anchor, someone's reason to cry with joy, was more unbearable than the ledge itself.
Oh my fucking god.
Not even five minutes of conversation, and I already wanted to claw my ears out.
First, she ruined my quiet time, and now she was ruining my mood with this melodramatic crying.
"Okay, Ruby, calm down. I'm still here, alright? I'm coming back."
She nodded—barely. The sobbing slowed, but the tears still clung to her lashes, and her eyes locked on me like she was afraid I might vanish if she blinked. Her grip on reality, on me, was so fragile it almost made me laugh.
With a sigh that felt like it belonged in a black-and-white movie, I leaned forward, grabbed the cold metal railing, and began hoisting myself back over.
The wind bit at my face. The railing felt gritty and slick beneath my palms. Same railing I'd been perched on like some brooding gargoyle philosopher just a moment ago.
I just wanted down. Just wanted to wrap up this rooftop melodrama and maybe find a new ledge—somewhere quieter, higher, preferably without crying girls or emotional entanglements.
But life, as always, had a flair for timing.
SNAP–
And that's when the railing broke.
The sound was a sharp, terrible snap of metal shearing. There wasn't even time to process it. One second I was climbing, the next, I was falling—this time for real.
The world tilted violently, and my body was suddenly unmoored, hurtling toward the glittering, indifferent city lights below.
I caught a glimpse of Ruby's face twisting in horror. The relief she'd felt just moments ago was gone, replaced by a pure, raw terror that made her eyes look impossibly wide. She lunged forward, her hand grabbing for anything she could reach.
Her hand grabbed something—my tie.
That damn tie. Brand new. Hand-stitched. Custom embroidered.
"…That's a brand new tie," I muttered as I dangled mid-air.
"IS THIS REALLY THE TIME TO TALK ABOUT THAT?!" Ruby shrieked, white-knuckled as she clung to the fabric.
And even in the absurdity of the moment—suspended by neckwear, wind slapping my face—I felt it.
The slip.
That sickening, slow-motion realization.
Of course today was the one day I hadn't tightened the knot properly.
"Why the hell did I go with 'casual disheveled' today…" I muttered bitterly, as if irony might slow gravity.
The knot unraveled.
Her grip held.
The tie did not.
There was a beat. A single, stupid heartbeat.
And then—
WHOOSH.
I was falling again.
The sky above me—so damn dazzling I could barely keep my eyes open—blurred like an unfinished painting. And there she was: Ruby, peeking over the broken railing, my brand-new tie clutched tightly in her hand like it meant something.
But this time… something felt different.
I could see it. The color.
Not just the tie, but Ruby too—her flushed cheeks, her wide, terrified eyes. Everything had color. Her face was a vibrant flush of crimson, her lips a soft pink, her eyes a deep, vivid brown. Even the air around me had color, a rich, dark blue, as if the world had finally decided to stop looking gray.
I didn't understand. I'd jumped so many times before. From higher places. From darker thoughts. It never felt like this. The world had always remained a dull, lifeless canvas.
So why now?
Before I could finish that thought, something slammed into my back.
Tud.
A breathtaking impact. Literally—it ripped the air straight from my lungs. My head cracked against the ground, the shockwave rolling through my skull like a struck bell. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears, a singular, sharp sound that drowned out everything else. Then, white. A flash of blank, searing white.
Did my pillow-truck man finally abandon me after seeing me with another chick?
That thought—ridiculous, unwanted—floated through the chaos. Even now, even in freefall and pain, my mind insisted on cracking jokes. And somehow… I found that funny. Even if no one else would.
I could see people panicking—faces frozen in shock. Some turned away, hands over their mouths, unwilling to witness the horror. Others rushed forward, their footsteps muffled behind the sharp, incessant ringing that buzzed through my ears. I couldn't hear them. Not really. Everything felt muted—like I was underwater, drowning in silence. I didn't even feel pain. Or maybe… I was just too numb by now.
All I felt was warmth.
A spreading pool of it beneath my head, seeping out, painting the road in deep, blooming red. My color. The color I had sought on the rabbit, on the road, the color I had seen in death, finally flowing from me. My eyes grew heavy. The weight of everything—of life, of thoughts, of memories I never asked to carry—pressed down on me. In the chaos of screaming and motion, I felt… peace.
A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. I mumbled, almost to myself, "You don't need a hundred ways to die… just one random chick who ruins your day without even knowing." The words barely came out. Just breath and broken syllables.
And then, I let go.
Let the dizziness take me. Let the warmth pull me under.
Until there was only silence.
A dull, pulsing quiet.