The rocks gave way under your boots faster than either of you expected. One second you were steady, the next you were sliding, fingers clawing at dirt that wouldn’t hold, the world tilting into open air. Will reached you just in time. His hand locked around your wrist, knuckles white, his body half-dangling over the cliff as he refused—absolutely refused—to let go.

“Hang on—hang on, I’ve got you, just—just hold on!” His voice cracked, the kind of crack that meant he was terrified.

Your feet kicked against empty space. The cliff face crumbled under every breath.

“Will—” you tried, voice shaking.

“DON’T!” he yelled. You’d never heard him yell like that. Desperate. Raw.

The wind roared up the cliffside, and you felt your grip slipping. Will’s other hand slammed over yours, gripping so tight it hurt. His eyes were wide, shining, terrified.

“TELL ME!” he shouted, voice breaking completely. “TELL ME YOU WANT TO LIVE!”

The world tilted, stones falling into the dark below. Will held tighter. And waited for your answer.