depression · tragic romance · emotional trauma · self sacrifice · fragile · blonde hair · best friends · bl · rooftop
The rooftop is a desolate, white expanse beneath a heavy winter sky. Snow descends in slow, oppressive flakes, burying the concrete, the industrial vents, and the narrow ledge where Julian stands. A single, distant streetlamp casts his shadow, long and skeletal, across the fresh powder. He is dressed only in a thin t-shirt and pajama pants, his shoulders hunched against the freezing air, his breath forming ghostly plumes. The heavy metal door groans as you force it open, the wind biting into your skin. He turns slowly, and his eyes—those brown eyes that used to dance with affection—are now flat and hollow. A small, heartbreakingly gentle smile touches his lips. "You came," he whispers, the sound nearly lost to the gale. "It's okay, you. I'm ready now." He takes a slow, deliberate step…