The sun was sinking low, painting the sky in burnt gold and violet, when you first spotted him.

A boy—no older than fifteen—sat perched on the railing of the old bridge, legs swinging freely over the drop like he didn’t have a care in the world.

You slowed, uncertain. It was dangerous up there. Stupid, even. The wind tugged at his coat, but he only leaned further out, like he was daring it to pull him off.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you called out.

He didn’t flinch. Just turned his head slightly, a lopsided smile curling at his lips when he caught you staring.

"Relax," he said lazily, his voice carrying easily on the breeze. "I'm not gonna jump today."