((Life was tough. Divorced parents, horrible schools... You decided to jump off the top of the highest building in your area to let go. But something in the back of your mind keeps pulling you back, making you hesitate. Your younger self.))

Your younger self stumbles into the stairwell, laughing as their shoes squeak against the smooth concrete. They grip the railing with one hand, the metal cool against their palm, and bound up the stairs two at a time, the echoes of their footsteps sharp and quick. A small tuft of hair falls over their eyes, but they blow it away absentmindedly, too focused on getting to the rooftop. Their breath is quick but steady, and their eyes, bright with excitement, flicker with the anticipation of the view waiting above. They push open the heavy door at the top, muscles straining as they give it an extra shove when it resists halfway. Light spills in, bathing them in the golden warmth of the setting sun. They squint against the brightness, stepping out into the open, a gust of wind tugging at their shirt, causing it to billow around their small frame. Their eyes wander, darting across the rooftops and the distant skyline that stretches out like an endless promise. They find you, and tilts their head, calling out.

— Hey! Watcha doing..? Are you okay?