In The Pages Of You

Chapter 3

You'll often hear people say that dreams come true, but they rarely tell you how. I used to ask myself: How can I make my dreams come true with a broken soul and a lost mind? Now, as I stand here gazing into my reflection, I know the answer.

To fulfill your dreams, you must let go of pain, bury your fear, forget your wounds, and fight to become someone new. That's the key. I'm just relieved that I've finally found it.

The world stretches beneath me as I lean on the balcony, the cool night air filling my lungs. I'm free. The sky belongs to me, endless and wide, calling me to soar far and high until I reach my horizon. My thoughts drift back to a time when I felt small, helpless. The person I was back then feels like a stranger—lost, pitiful. But now? Now I am someone I used to only dream of becoming. All my achievements seem insignificant compared to the strength I've gained after shedding my old self. This is the new me. I'll never go back.

I revel in the silence, reflecting on the long, jagged road I've walked to reach this moment. The journey was brutal, but I survived. A sense of calm settles over me, but soon it's interrupted by a gnawing feeling—like a shadow creeping in the edges of my mind. Something is wrong. I tighten my grip on the railing just as a drop of water falls onto my hand. Is it raining?

More droplets follow, but the sky is clear, stars winking down from the vast expanse. Tears. They're my tears.

My breath catches as realization hits me. An adrenaline surge pushes me into motion. I don't think. I just run. My apartment door swings open behind me, forgotten as I sprint down the corridor, panic coursing through me like wildfire. I take the stairs, skipping the elevator in my frantic rush, barely feeling the pain as my ankle twists on the steps. Don't let it be too late.

Bursting onto the rooftop, I scan the scene with desperate eyes, and there he is—a lone figure perched dangerously on the railing, poised on the edge of oblivion. His silhouette is draped in sorrow so deep it makes my chest ache. It's as if he's become one with the darkness around him. He's going to jump!!

Without a second thought, I charge toward him. In a blur of motion, I reach for his hand, yanking him back before he can fall. My eyes slam shut, bracing for the inevitable impact as we crash to the ground. The landing should have hurt, but instead, it feels... strangely soft. I blink, disoriented, and see that he managed to twist in midair, breaking the fall with his own body.

He groans beneath me, and I push myself up, meeting his gaze for the first time. His eyes, hooded and dark with emotion, draw me in like a whirlpool, as if there's an ocean of sorrow behind them, endless and deep. His face is hauntingly beautiful, his features etched with grief so raw it feels palpable. His gaze holds mine, sharp and intense, sending a shiver down my spine.

I force myself to snap out of it. Get it together. Now's not the time to be distracted.

Scrambling to my feet, I brush off my clothes, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I clear my throat and mutter an awkward apology. But as I replay what almost happened, my heart races again, this time in anger.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" The words explode out of me before I can stop them. "Are you out of your mind? Do you even understand what you almost did? If I'd been a second too late... Do you think this is some kind of joke? What about your family? Have you even thought about them?!"

My voice trembles as I unload on him, but then I see his face. His expression, already steeped in pain, darkens at the mention of his family. I went too far. Regret washes over me, leaving me cold.

"I'm... I'm sorry," I mumble, my voice softening. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that." Silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. For a long moment, I wonder if he's going to say anything at all.

Then, he speaks. "Why are you crying?"

The question catches me off guard. My hand instinctively reaches up to touch my damp cheeks. I hadn't even realized I was crying. Quickly, I swipe at my tears, trying to pull myself together. I'm supposed to be helping him, not the other way around.

"Forget about me," I say, my voice shaky. "You're the one standing on a rooftop railing. There are better ways to deal with this... whatever it is you're going through."

A small, humorless chuckle escapes his lips, but it's full of bitterness. "Better ways," he echoes, as if the idea itself is absurd.

I sit down beside him on the cold concrete. "Sometimes talking helps. I'm just a stranger, so I won't judge you. You can tell me anything."

He's quiet for a long time, tension coiling between us like a tight spring. Finally, he sighs, as though the weight of his sorrow is too much to carry any longer. "I won't tell you everything," he murmurs. "You don't need to know... because you should stay far away from my shadows. From my demons."

His words strike me. He's thoughtful, even now, trying to protect me from his pain. But some part of me wants to fight those demons with him, to stand by his side in the darkness.

"It's freezing up here," I say softly. "Come on, let's get inside."

He hesitates but eventually nods, standing slowly. I notice the way he favors one leg—he must have hurt himself when we fell. Without thinking, I reach out and steady him, offering my shoulder for support. For a moment, he looks at me like he's not sure what to make of it, but he accepts the gesture. Together, we head toward the door, leaving the cold rooftop behind.

As we step back into the warmth of my apartment, a quiet settles between us, thick with unspoken words. He glances around, taking in the cozy space—sparse but filled with small signs of life. The soft hum of the heater, the faint scent of lavender from the diffuser on the shelf. It's a sharp contrast to the rooftop, where the vastness of the night seemed to swallow everything.

He collapses onto the couch with a sigh, wincing slightly as he shifts his weight. I grab an ice pack from the freezer and hand it to him, watching as he presses it to his ankle.

"So... what now?" I ask, sitting across from him. "You just gonna keep everything bottled up forever?"

He gives me a long look, his eyes shadowed with doubt. "Maybe."

"Well, that's a terrible idea."

He huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. "You're relentless."

"I prefer 'persistent,'" I reply, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. But the levity fades quickly, replaced by a solemnness that hangs heavy in the room. "Look, I don't know what you're going through, but I've been in dark places too. It's hard, but you don't have to face it alone."

His gaze softens for the first time since we met. "Why are you doing this?" he asks, almost like he doesn't believe anyone would care.

"Because no one should feel like they have to jump off a rooftop to escape their pain." The words come out softly, but they carry the weight of my own past.

He's silent for a while, his fingers tracing the edge of the ice pack. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper. "It's been a long time since anyone's cared."