Still Breathing

This is what you might call a 'one shot'. Inspired by a true story, told to me in passing.

I stared down at the rushing black of a river beneath me. The street behind me was yelling with car horns and tire spins, muting the crashing and thrashing of the monster beneath me. Swallowing lives everyday, most people probably hated it. I didn't. It wasn't the end. It was the way out. The escape. My fingers gripped around the red metal bar, the only thing between me and escape. I tightened my grip, ironically because I didn't want to fall.

You see, falling would make it an accident. It wasn't meant to be an accident.

Carefully, I lifted one leg up, then the other, balancing myself on the thin bar. I looked out across the black and to the edges of the city. The sun was long gone, but the collective light of the city gave the illusion of day. Everyone loves light, only a fool would say they didn't. It's wonderful. But when you're looking into the never ending black of the night sky, and all the stars are hidden, overshadowed by the city, it's easy to hate the light. 

I looked back down, and I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I could breath. I inhaled deeply, letting the thick, smoggy air curl in my lungs. I held my breath, counted to three, then exhaled. My breath came out in a puff of crystallized air, circling and twirling around itself. I let out another heavy breath. I would miss that. I took one more breath, and lowered my self down onto the very edge. It was a tiny ledge, no more than two inches wide. I tightened my grip around the bar, the rusty metal cutting into my skin. I closed my eyes.

Three.

Two.

My eyelids flickered open. I turned to my right, where the sounds of clambering metal echoed through the darkness. I strained my eyes, trying to make out the source of the sounds. A figure came into focus. A boy. Maybe a man. He was tall and thin, and I could just make out the outline of a lazy haircut. 

He looked out to the mute waves, watching his breath. He looked over at me, and I looked at him. His eyes appeared black like the waters beneath us, darker than even the sky. We held similar positions, fingers gripped around the metal bar, feet balancing just before escape. He didn't smile, he didn't frown. He didn't anything. His face was expressionless. We both knew what the other was doing. We didn't pretend we didn't. 

"Why?" I asked. He turned back, watching the water tumble over itself. 

"Because no one cares." He said. 

"I do." I said. I had never met this boy in my life. I could barely even see what he looked like; he was little more than a silhouette. Barely a shadow. But there was a sincerity in my words that I could hardly recognise. Little as I cared for anything, I cared for him. 

I didn't want him to fall- by accident, or not. 

I fixed my grip, then heaved myself to sit on the sliver of a bar. I held my hand out. He looked at it for a moment, then gently took it in his own and pulled himself up. We climbed over together. 

I sat down and leaned against the bars. I felt myself breathing. My heart beating. 

"We're breathing." he said. I nodded. I looked up to the sky, the lightless sky. 

"There's a star," I said, sounding out of breath though I was, really, no where close. "There's a f*****g star." A single, silver star shone, just above the bridge, and I could feel myself smiling despite myself, the curl of a grin feeling foreign on my lips.

"One star." he said. 

I turned to look at him, getting my first real look of him. His hair was a dark chestnut, and his eyes weren't black but a deep blue. Or a green. I think they were having trouble deciding what colour they wanted to be. 

"Feel my heart," he said, placing my hand on his chest. "It's beating. My heart is beating." 

"It is," I confirmed. 

And then we sat there. We sat there on the bridge, hearts beating, lungs breathing, and body's living.