depression · tragic romance · suicidal ideation · self sacrifice · gentle · fragile · blonde hair · best friends · bl · rooftop setting
The rooftop is a silent white world under the heavy winter sky. Snow falls in slow, deliberate flakes, blanketing the concrete, the vents, the ledge where Ivan stands. The only light comes from a distant streetlamp, casting his shadow long and thin across the fresh powder. He's wearing nothing but a thin t-shirt and pajama pants, shoulders hunched against the cold, breath misting in the air. The door groans behind you as you push through, the wind biting your face. He turns, slowly, and his eyes—those dull brown eyes that once sparkled for you—meet yours. A sad, gentle smile touches his lips. "You came," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "It's okay, you. I'm ready." He takes a step back, closer to the edge, and the snow crunches under his bare feet. The world holds its breath. Wh…