Chapter Text
The city was buzzing, the usual symphony of honking cars and distant chatter filling the night air. Jeon Wonwoo stood on the bridge, gripping the cold railing with hands that trembled slightly, his breath fogging up in the cool night. He stared down at the river below, watching the dark water ripple and swirl, its surface reflecting the distant, twinkling city lights. It looked almost peaceful. Almost.
His thoughts raced, faster than the cars passing behind him, and his heart pounded painfully in his chest. Everything felt too much the pressure, the loneliness, the relentless need to keep up appearances. His job, the suits, the endless meetings, and deadlines that seemed to bleed into one another, a blur of monotony and silent suffering. And then there was the past, the memories that haunted him, whispering that he'd never be enough, that he didn’t deserve to be.
Wonwoo’s fingers tightened around the railing, knuckles turning white. It would be so easy to let go, to just fall and be done with it all. One step, and it would be over.
But before he could move, a voice broke through the fog of his thoughts.
“Hey, careful there,” someone called out, their voice light, almost teasing. “That railing’s a bit rusty. You don’t want it breaking on you.”
Wonwoo turned his head slowly, his brows furrowing as he took in the man standing a few feet away. Tall, with a wide grin and eyes that sparkled with mischief.
The man tilted his head, studying Wonwoo. “Mind if I join you? Looks like you’re having a pretty intense conversation with that river.”
Wonwoo blinked, caught off guard by the stranger’s words. “I… I’m fine,” he replied, his voice hoarse, defensive.
“Really?” the stranger replied, unconvinced. He took a few steps closer, his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn-out jeans. “Because you don’t look fine. In fact, you look like you’re about to do something really stupid.”
Wonwoo frowned, a flicker of irritation breaking through his numbness. “And who are you to decide that?” he snapped.
The man’s smile widened, but his eyes remained serious. “Kim Mingyu,” he said, extending a hand, as if they were meeting at a party and not on a bridge in the middle of the night. “Professional photographer, part-time artist. Full-time believer that life’s too short to spend it staring into dark waters.”
Wonwoo stared at Mingyu’s outstretched hand, then back at his face. There was something about his easy confidence, his lack of fear, that was both infuriating and oddly calming. “Wonwoo,” he replied flatly, not taking the hand. “And I’m really not in the mood for… whatever this is.”
Mingyu didn’t seem bothered by the rejection. Instead, he leaned against the railing beside Wonwoo, looking out at the water. “You know, I’ve been where you are,” he said quietly, his voice softer now. “Not on this bridge, exactly, but… in that place where everything feels like it’s crashing down around you.”
Wonwoo’s grip tightened again, his gaze fixed on the water. “You don’t know anything about me,” he muttered.
Mingyu shrugged. “Maybe not. But I do know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning in your own head. And I also know that it helps to have someone throw you a life raft every once in a while.”
Wonwoo glanced at Mingyu from the corner of his eye. There was something genuine in the way he spoke, something that made Wonwoo’s chest tighten with an unfamiliar feeling. “Why do you care?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Mingyu smiled softly, leaning closer. “Because I know what it’s like to feel alone,” he replied.
Wonwoo felt his heart stutter in his chest. He wanted to argue, to tell Mingyu to leave him alone, but instead, he found himself asking, “And what would you know about that?”
Mingyu chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh, I know plenty. I’ve got stories for days. How about we get out of here, and I’ll tell you a few?”
Wonwoo hesitated, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on him. He looked back at the river, at the dark, inviting water, then back at Mingyu’s open, earnest face. And for a moment, just a moment, he felt a flicker of something – curiosity, maybe, or hope.
Slowly, he nodded, stepping back from the edge. “Okay,” he said, his voice shaky but steady. “Okay… I’ll listen.”
Mingyu’s grin widened, and he clapped Wonwoo on the back. “That’s the spirit! Come on, I know a place with the best late-night coffee. Let’s go make some bad decisions that don’t involve jumping off bridges.”