Ever After

A Twist Of Fate

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This chapter is in Jack's perspective.

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It took me less than a second to collapse into his arms, to sob on his shoulder, to cling to him as if he were my last second living and breathing. I couldn't think of anything else to do or say - I couldn't think in general - and it didn't help that his eyes were watering down his cheeks and onto his adorable t-shirt, one that read Shadow Of The Colossus on its chest, the chest that I pressed mine against.

I couldn't believe that it wasn't him who'd jumped, that he wasn't the one the news reporters were talking about like bad gossip. I couldn't believe that he wasn't gone, that he hadn't disappeared off of the face of the earth (or, rather, splattered right against it). I couldn't believe that he was here, that he was in my arms, that he was still living and breathing, his heart still pumping against mine as if nothing at all had changed. It just went to show how much we took for granted, how little we thought of how easy it was for us to ignore the fact that our loved ones could disappear, that they could evaporate and never be heard from again.

I, at first, didn't know what to do with myself. I never did when he was around - whenever I saw him, I just wanted to hold him, hug him, and squeeze him for as long as possible, and I was doing just that, doing whatever my body decided seeing as my brain was too ecstatic to regain control.

I didn't know what I was doing, to be honest. I could feel tears streaming down my cheeks and onto his shoulder, my arms clinging to his back (and nowhere near ready to release), my heart racing faster than I could keep up with it. It was the first time I'd been the one to catch him off-guard, to shock him in a sudden wave of passion and love, the first time I made the first move, need not mention how close we were in proximity to our fathers.

Just like I had when he first kissed me, his body tensed up, muscles in utter dismay in response to the shock that'd just pulsed through his veins, but, within a millisecond, he'd become accustomed to it, soon melting into my arms just as I always had to his, resting his head on my empty shoulder, doing the same as I did to him by rubbing his hands up and down my back.

We stood there for a while, not willing to ever let go, and I was fine with it. I didn't mind that my father saw, and I kind of loved that his father saw, too - but, eventually, we had to settle down and readjust our eyes to the scene and what was going on around us.

Once I'd cried out each and every tear I'd been keeping bottled up for this special occasion (although a suicide was the last thing I expected), I let my head slowly slide free of his shoulder, moving my arms from their protective grip on his back to a gentle caress of his shoulder. He, too, clung onto mine, offering a sad smile for my confused soul, one that was indecisive as to whether I was happy or not with the current scenario.

"I... I thought it was you," I gasped, eyes still watering slightly.

He nodded, biting on his lower lip. "I thought it was you."

I let out a small chuckle, one that started wholeheartedly but ended with a depressing tone. There was still one thing bothering me, one thing left in the back of my mind: who was it, then?

I asked Mark this question, and his small smile evaporated immediately, his face suddenly cold and solemn all at once, eyes still passionately aglow. He kept his hand on my shoulder as he pivoted my hunched-over body to walk closer to the edge (which we'd strayed from amidst our excitement), revealing to me the dead body so many feet below, the police officers now out of the way in order for me to get a better view, one that I immediately regretted.

As soon as I'd seen the body, I let out a strange noise, one that sounded like a gasp, cry, and whimper all on its own - it was one that Mark took acknowledgement of, letting me bury my face into his chest again, for, somehow, I'd managed to find the tears once more.