Drawing Closer: A Love Beyond Time [DISCONTINUED]

Chapter 1

Y/N's POV:

The wind whipped at my face, carrying with it the stench of antiseptic and the distant hum of the city.

I clung to the cold, unforgiving metal railing of the rooftop, my heart a drum in my chest, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the chaos inside me.

One year. It was a sentence, a lifetime, an eternity, all rolled into one. One year to live.

My gaze drifted towards the sprawling cityscape below, a jumbled mess of buildings and streets drowning in the fading light of dusk.

It was a beautiful view, a panoramic masterpiece bathed in the hues of a dying day, but I couldn't feel anything but a hollow emptiness that gnawed at my soul.

My phone, clutched in my shaking hand, displayed a picture of a vibrant sunset, the same one I’d taken earlier. The caption, "Is there an easy way to die?" stared back at me, a stark reminder of the darkness that had consumed me.

A single comment below it, "A tall building, I guess," felt like the final nail in the coffin of my already shattered hope.

The words echoed in my mind, the cold, brutal truth seeping into my being. The railing felt like a lifeline, yet a cruel reminder of the escape I craved.

Taking a shaky breath, I leaned forward, my heart pounding in my ears, a frantic symphony of fear and desperation.

Suddenly, a sharp crack, like a twig snapping, jolted me back to reality. My head whipped around, searching for the source of the sound.

A young girl, perched on a bench, was picking up a pencil that had fallen from her hand. She wore a loose, white dress and had a tangle of dark hair that fell over her shoulders. She didn't look up, her focus entirely on the drawing in front of her.

The sight of her, so absorbed in her art, was a stark contrast to the turmoil that raged within. A strange, unexpected wave of curiosity washed over me.

I took a step closer, my feet dragging on the rough concrete. As I stood beside her, I glanced at her drawing. It was a simple sketch, yet it held a captivating charm.

"Such lovely colors," I murmured, my voice barely a whisper.

The girl finally looked up, her eyes a deep, soulful brown. Her gaze met mine for a brief moment before she returned to her drawing.

"Oh, I mean... those are Faber-Castell pencils, right?" I stammered, attempting to salvage the awkward silence. "They're nice. I wanted some too, but they're expensive. I've heard some artists used them."

"Van Gogh," she said, her voice soft, barely audible above the wind.

"What?" I questioned, confused.

"Van Gogh used them too," she repeated, her eyes still focused on the drawing.

I chuckled, a little nervously, feeling a strange sense of relief that the conversation had been steered away from my own despair. "Right…" I said, trying to regain my composure.

"What are you drawing?" I asked, edging a little closer, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Heaven," she replied, her voice as serene as the still air around us.

"Heaven?" I repeated, stunned by her answer.

"I'm headed there soon," she said, her voice unwavering, her gaze fixed on the drawing, her hand stilling. "And you, what brings you here?"

"What?" I asked, my mind racing, trying to comprehend her words.

"Were you going to jump off from the railing?" she asked, her voice a quiet whisper.