"Do it!" One of his classmates yelled from below, though it was less of a shout and more of a whisper, with how high up Taemin was. "Just do it! No one gives a about you anyway!" Taemin ignored him, hands gripping the railing behind him tightly as he toed the edge of the roof, eyes cast towards the sky. It had been raining earlier that day, but now it was bright and sunny. Just the right temperature. Weather Taemin absolutely adored. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the right, breathing in the sun and the warmth and the smell of fresh, clean, spring air.

One of his other classmates, elbowed the one who had yelled, and they exchanged a few words before laughing. There was a crowd beneath him. He could hear a few of the girls sobbing, screaming for him to stop, to come down and get some help, while the boys laughed and snickered, making jokes about the noise it would make when he hit the ground.

A group of girls ran for the school, hoping to grab the attention of their homeroom teacher, or someone to help him. There was no stopping him now. He was starting to feel numb; probably from bloodloss. He had cut himself pretty well that morning, in hopes of dying during classes, but apparently wrapping a bandage around his arm has restricted the blood flow, so it wasn't coming out as quickly as he had wanted. He had ripped it off on his way up the stairs to the roof though, and the blood flowing down across his palm felt good.

"Just do it, you wimp! Give up already!" Another yelled, rousing some laughs from the other guys. One of the girls screeched, "Stop it!" but was silenced by their laughter and a shove to the ground.

There was a slight breeze in the air, and Taemin took a deep breath, relishing in the familiar smells of black pepper and laundry detergent and peppermint. It smelled like Minho. Minho, his best friend, and the person he had been in love with for the past four years. It was something that had tormented him. Minho had stopped being his friend, at one point about a year before. Taemin, for some reason, had felt the need to keep a diary. It helped, to write down his feelings and try to sort them out. How was he supposed to know that his best friend would find it, read it, and never speak to him again?

He heard the voice of their homeroom teacher, screaming for someone to call the police, an ambulance, call for something. He could hear footsteps, running up the staircase to the roof. It wouldn't be easy for them to open the door, though. Taemin had barricaded it beforehand, pushing some extremely heavy boxes over to the doorway. Not an easy task, when your arms were bleeding out. 

He could hear yelling, male teachers voices, and then slamming against the door. "!" He heard one of them yell, and then there was a voice he hadn't expected to hear. 

Minho's. "Taemin! Please, get down! Open the door, please!" He was crying, Taemin could tell. He had heard Minho cry enough times to know. He had sort of been a crybaby. "Taemin!"

Another slam against the door, and it was open. One of the teachers fell, sprawled out against the pavement as Minho and another teacher jumped over him. Taemin looked back quickly, in fear, before he lifted a foot and loosened his fingers, ready to say a quick prayer before he went flying. "Taemin, no!"

And then he let go, blood soaked fingers sliding easily off the metal railing, eyes squeezed shut as he readied himself for impact. But before he could feel the wind blowing through his hair,  or the cement against his head, there were hands gripping his arm, keeping him suspended in midair.

Minho was gripping his arm as tightly as possible, fingertips digging into Taemin's fresh cut. "Taemin, oh my God, no, Taemin," Minho panted, eyes an ocean of fear and tears. "Taemin, no, no, no, please,"

Taemin shook his head and lifted his other trembling arm to pull Minho's fingers from his arm. "Please, just let me go," His lips trembled with the effort of speaking; something he hadn't done in quite a while. He could already hear sirens in the distance, closing in on them. "Please! Let go!"

There was no use. Three male teachers were behind Minho then, helping him pull Taemin up and over the railing, arms restraining him as he kicked and screamed. "I just want to die, I don't want to live! Please just let me go, please let me do it, please!"

"I'm sorry," Minho was sobbing, snot and tears running in rivers down his pale face. Fingers covered in blood wiped them away, only smearing red across his face in their wake. "I'm so sorry Taemin, I'm sorry, please forgive me I was just scared I'm sorry!"

"You were my best friend," Taemin screeched, still kicking even as the teachers held him down, waiting for him to calm before they attempted to take him down to the ambulance, which had arrived. "Yet you were the one spray painting '' on my locker. You used to tell me we would be friends forever, and that you loved me like a brother," 

"I'm sorry," Minho hiccupped and wailed and rubbed at his face with hands balled into fists. 

"I didn't fall in love with you on purpose!" Taemin screamed out in pain as one of his cuts gushed blood, and he stopped fighting, knowing it was futile. He was lightheaded and dizzy, and he knew he was going to pass out. "I didn't mean to fall in love with you, I didn't know this was going to happen, I didn't expect you to find out. I just wanted us to be friends forever!"

There was nothing Minho could have said to make him forgive him, at that moment, yet Minho continued to cry and to wail, body shaking with the force of his sobs. "I'm s-s-sorr-y," he in a deep breath, not even able to hold it before it was out again in a loud sob, more tears spewing from his eyes. "I'm sorry, Taemin, I'm sorry! I was so scared, I'm sorry!"

"I would have forgiven you," Taemin grumbled out, vision starting to fade into blackness, the sun and the bright blue sky above him fading to something he was more than used to seeing. "if you had just let me die."