White Roses (Fyolai Fanfic)

Oh that boy.

!ANGST 

TYSMTSYM I LOVE U GUYS FOR ENJOYING THIS 

I let go, I let fucking go. A tear trickled down my cheek. 

GRASP, RIP, TEAR 

Someone held onto me , pulling me back up. Grasping my finger as the sleeve of my shirt was ripped from the grip. It was that boy. The one with black, shoulder length hair.  His eyes were filled with tears, glistening like unshed stars, and his face was a portrait of raw determination.

He refused to let go, his grip unyielding as he fought to pull me back onto solid ground. The sleeve of my shirt was ripped from his grip, sacrificed in the struggle to save me. His fingers were like iron, his strength surprising for someone of his stature. In that heart-wrenching moment, he became my lifeline, a symbol of hope that I had almost lost sight of.

'just give up' I screamed, he was so determined, I didn't want to bother anyone's life anymore.

He didn't speak, his actions spoke louder than any words could. His tear-filled eyes were a mirror to the emotions that swirled within me – a mix of astonishment, gratitude, and a flicker of something I couldn't quite define. As I was hauled back onto the bridge, my body felt weak and unsteady, my legs trembling beneath me.

We stood there, side by side, breathing heavily as the rain continued to fall around us. The city lights cast a hazy glow, illuminating the contours of his face. I couldn't tear my gaze away from him, this boy who had emerged from the shadows to save me from myself. He was a stranger, yet in that moment, he felt like so much more.

He ushered me to come closer to him, opening his arms, wide inviting for a hug. It was cold, pouring rain. 

I crawled closer towards him, he lead me into a warm embrace. Grasping his whole body around me, making sure every part of me was warm. He pushed his jacket off of himself, in determination to make me warm. He leant the jacket on me along with his whole body. The world seemed hushed for just these minutes. 

What could I say to him, what was I supposed to say? 'I'm sorry' I pushed my trembling voice that errored over me. In attempt to speak it felt ushered and mumbled. 

"Don't," he whispered softly, his finger still against my lips. His voice was a soothing melody, a balm to my wounded spirit. He pushed his jacket further onto me, a gesture that spoke volumes – a silent promise that he was here for me, that he would shield me from the storm, both literal and metaphorical.  Even though I didn't know him I sensed comfort, he was a beauty among people. He had a spotlight that nobody truly knew about.  As the rain continued to pour, washing away the traces of tears and despair, I found myself drawn to his eyes once more. In their depths, I saw a reflection of my own pain, a shared understanding that transcended words.

In that moment, standing on the edge of the abyss, I realized that I wasn't as alone as I had once believed. There was someone who had reached out to me, who had refused to let me slip through the cracks of my own darkness. And as we stood there, two fractured souls brought together by a single act of compassion, I knew that this encounter was destined to change the course of both our lives.