There is no proper way to describe how it feels to want to die so badly you are willing to take the job yourself and end your own life. One way to describe it might be to imagine your chest being eaten up by an endless black hole that up every good event that's happened, and replaces it with utter despair and self-loathing. And, while your chest cavity feels as if it is going through the slowest most painful implosion it can, and despite the fact that possibly your body is bursting at the seams trying to find some way to vent all the emotions, you'll never have a name for an never be able to properly speak. That's one way to explain it I guess, but it still hardly explains it all. It's most likely a different experience for everyone. And right now, for me, it’s all of what I've just described and at the same time completely different. Perhaps it is because instead of just bearing with the soul crushing misery, I made the choice to give in.
    What I feel is the strong winds that come with being at such a high altitude beating against me like an encouragement, a promise of what is to come. Winds that, I tell myself, are to blame for the tears in my eyes and the ice in my bones. I feel the empty space in which my toes stick out from the buildings ledge. I took a final glance at the world around me, appreciating the lights that glowed so far beneath me. Happy with my last vision, I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. Lifting my leg, as if taking a step, I feel the wind rush up to capture me in a cold embrace as I leaned forward ready to take the ultimate plunge.
    You know it's funny how easy it is to think you can just embrace death. That you can go peacefully and with dignity, head held high and all. As I stepped off the ledge for a moment I experienced the queer sensation of floating right before gravity claimed by body and sent my stomach to my throat. In that curious moment where I had felt almost suspended in midair I had a realization; I didn't want to die. Despite everything that had transpired to lead me to this eventuality, I no longer wanted to find redemption in death but to earn it in life. That epiphany hit me as hard as the ground soon would. There would be no coming back from this and a sudden urge, no desire to live spring forth from a place that had been empty until now. With the intense desire to live came the despair at the knowledge I was going to die.
    Second chances don't just happen all that often though; there was nothing to grab on to stop my fall. And despite wishing for some angel to swoop down and save me I knew that such things sure as hell don't happen for suicidal men have just begun their descent off of a skyscraper.
    That's what I thought until I distantly heard a voice; any words that might have been said were washed away leaving only the raw sound of someone screaming, followed a surprisingly strong set of arms wrapping themselves around me. Just like that all momentum halted for half a second before I was once more flying through the air. Only this time instead of free falling to the earth I was being pulled back onto the roof top. Shocked beyond belief the breath was knocked from my lungs as I landed on the body which had miraculously stopped me from dropping down to the earth in a most deadly fashion.
Not moving so much as being rolled off of my savior I was entirely unsure of how to react. Part of me, the part which had decided that death was the way out, wanted to scream at the person who had interfered. What right did they have to play hero with someone they didn't know? But a bigger entirely more grateful part of me wanted to cry out my thanks, to offer something, anything, in return for having been saved from myself. I was unable to do either or react in anyway except to wheeze and try and regain the breath that had been knocked form my lungs.
    I wasn't afforded such time as all of a sudden my savior, surprisingly a woman, was above me. Eyebrows scrunched together in either anger or worry, it was hard to tell, and lips set into a firm scowl I wasn't surprised at the angry sounding words spilled forth.
    “What on earth were you doing?! You could have died!”
    She continued on scolding me for the position I'd put myself into and I really meant to listen. I knew that I deserved every single scathing word and more but it was hard to pay attention. It was a mix of the adrenaline and shortage of oxygen most likely that made it so hard to hear what she was saying. I could only focus on her face which was undoubtedly the most angelic face to have ever existed. Eyes that were neither large nor small gleamed with tears that I couldn't figure out the emotion behind, perhaps frustration. Her lips trembled from the effort of holding back the tears that peeked from the corners of her eyes. And her hair which was being thrown around carelessly by the wind was the same soft sepia color as her eyes. She was beautiful and angelic what with her soft looking skin and amazing people saving talents.
    She had also stopped yelling and had somehow stood up and was dragging me along with her. Unsure of what was happening I simply held on to her hand that had found my own at some point. I might have held her hand a bit too hard as she pulled me across the roof but she squeezed my hand just as hard as I did hers so it was okay.
    When I'd first step foot on to the roof it had taken and eternity to walk to that ledge. The return trip, which hadn't been planned at all, was just a matter of seconds in comparison. In a blink of an eye the woman had pulled me and her into the elevator which had been my ride up. Watching the metal doors slide shut I appreciated that her hand never let go of mine despite the fact it was no longer necessary. After all we were now in a closed metal box, nothing to jump from anymore.
    My feet tingled from the light rumbling of the elevator, or maybe it was because the air was very much warmer in here than it was outside, it was hard to tell. Either way it was a nice reminder that there was still blood flowing through my veins rather than out of them. It was still hard to think of myself as alive. For all I knew this was some weird grim reaper trial to figure out if I was going to heaven or not. Maybe. Her hand which still gripped mine so tightly, as if afraid I'd vanish, felt awfully real. Taking a peek over at her I couldn't help but wonder why she'd been up there and more importantly why she'd saved me. What reason did she have to save me?
    Still hopped up on adrenaline I found my mouth moving without permission from my brain.
    “Why me?”
    My voice came out hoarse and dry. I sounded like I'd just walked through a desert rather than having just attempted to take my own life. Coughing a bit from nervousness and the realization of my parched throat I anxiously peered at her from the corner of my eye. The girl didn't answer me and just leaned against the elevator wall hiding her face behind her long locks. I desperately wanted to see her face or get some sort of answer but got nothing verbal. However her hand still lingered in mine and that was enough of a condolence. With the noise of the elevator serving as an odd sort of background music we stood there hand in hand looking more than mismatched.
    Left to my own thoughts, I wasn't very capable of thinking all that well. Like a train on a loop, all my thoughts kept repeating over and over. That is to say I still couldn't grasp the events that had just occurred. For all intents and purposes I should be dead right now by my own hand, but I wasn't. And it was all because of the angel whose hand was still holding mine. I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about everything, I couldn't help but wonder if as soon as she left I'd be right on that ledge again. I wanted to feel grateful, and I did in such spades that it was some emotion beyond grateful that I couldn't properly express in words, but at the same time I didn't. The dark part of me that had dominated my brain space of late was bitter at having been stopped. Despite my new found desire to live, I was pessimistic about how long it would last. Maybe tomorrow morning I would forget this feeling and there would be no one to stop me from successfully jumping.
    My thoughts continued down such a route with nothing to halt the depressing road they were starting to go down. Well nothing did interrupt my thoughts until the woman spoke up with her soothing voice.
    “If you see something bad happening are you just supposed to walk away and let it continue on unabated?
    To say I was startled would be an understatement. I hadn't expected her to answer at all none the less to answer with a question. Adding to my consternation the elevator suddenly shuddered violently as it came to a stop and all of a sudden she was pulling me out of the metal box. Unsure of how to react to her pulling me along without my consent I chose to instead focus on the question that she'd posed to me. There had been times in my life that I hadn't been the person I should have probably been. Kids who were bullied that I'd seen and ignored. Was she right? Was it better to stop and intervene at the risk of your personal safety rather than keep walking because it is easier? Did I even have the right to question such a thing? Thanks to her not walking away and ignoring me I didn't drop to my death, something which I was not longer sure I wanted.
    Squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to stave off the impending headache at the ramifications of her actions and the effect they had on my beliefs, my life. I wished that it was easier to understand everything that had, and was happening but life doesn't work that way. There are no clear answers to every question and sometimes you can't find the answer you want. Like right now.
    My hand subconsciously squeezed her own a bit harder as she led me out of the hotel and onto the crowded street. I should have paid more attention to my surroundings to keep track of where she was taking me but all my focus was directed internally as I tried to figure out the mental mind that had been placed in my lap. That depressed, pessimistic, manic, take your pick, part of me wished I'd just have died as it was easier than figuring out if it was worth living and exactly if she was right about not ignoring tragedies around you. Stuck with my mental turmoil I only once more took notice of my surroundings when she finally stopped dragging me around, for a woman she was rather strong, and had stopped in front of a 24 hour food stand.
    Gently she prodded me in with a small smile that I surprisingly responded to, if you can call a brief facial spasm smiling. We sat next to each other at the small bar and I heard her order some food but couldn't quite catch what it was she ordered. Given recent circumstances food didn't sound all that appealing and I just stayed quiet. The silence remained hovering like a thick fog around us that made it impossible to speak. I tried to find the words to say, if there were any to be spoken at all, while the restaurant worker went around dumping noodles in hot oil and banging pots and pans. While trying to form the words I wanted to say so as to express in some small fashion exactly how I was feeling she beat me to the punch.
“Why did you want to jump?” she looked me straight in the eyes her own chocolate brown eyes looking inexplicably sad, presumably at the notion that I'd had a reason to off myself at all.
    For such a simple question there was no answer the fit. I didn't know her well enough to explain that it was my fault someone had died and it was only suitable that I should die in return. And I had no words to explain the depression and guilt that had eaten me up until all that was left of my soul a rotten worm infested core with poisonous seeds thriving on the macabre mentality I'd formed. Without a proper way to respond I considered staying silent. But this brave angelic woman had saved me when I wouldn't save myself. She had literally picked me up from my pit of doom and set me back on solid ground despite the risk of her falling from being unable to carry my weight. I owed her an answer. I owed her so much that an answer was the least I could give.
    “I became so burdened with regret that it ate at me. I deserved to die for the mistakes I made, in fact I still do. No matter what anyone says about it being an accident it was my fault and, and I had to repent somehow. A life for a life, that makes sense right? I jumped because I deserve to die when I deprived someone else of their life.”
    I was rambling I knew I was rambling but it was the only words I could find. They didn't make sense and I couldn't find a way to make them. I just desperately hoped she understood in some way what I was trying to say, what I felt. It had been so long since anyone understood. I'd only gotten pity or condemning glares, never understanding. At the same times I was nervous. Would she think less of me than she already did? Did I deserve her to think anything good of me? Because as absurd as it sounded, even to myself, I wanted her to think well of me in a small way. I wanted it so bad.
As she had every time before she surprised me by with one hand tilting my face to to meet hers before wiping tears from my eyes that I didn't even know I'd shed. I blinked, startled at such a tender reaction, and was thrown through another loop as she smiled deeply. The hand which until how had occupied my own came up to take residence upon the other side of my face. Her hands were warm and soft and seemed to radiate comfort. Distracted by such an intimate touch I had trouble focusing on anything else.
    I almost missed the words she next said, and am terribly glad I didn't. “I can't be sure of exactly what you mean but from what it sounds like I think this person whom you say you killed would be very angry at you. Whatever this person's role in your life was I can say that they would regret you taking your life? To be alive and experience this world is a gift and to throw that gift away, well, I expect that someone who has lost the opportunity to live would be very disappointed in you for doing that.”
    Her hands fell from my face and took up residence in her lap. I missed the loss of her heat and the sense of calm she radiated. I wanted to reclaim her hand to seek out that calm as my mind turned into a veritable storm at the information which had been thrown my way. Was she right and I had been selfish to try and kill myself? I wanted to believe her words which didn't speak of false comfort or idealistic lies. No they just sounded for lack of a better word, right.
Questions swamp through my head like angry sharks as I tried to figure out if what she said was true, if everything I'd been so convinced of all along was actually false when something occurred to me. A question which I quickly found myself blurting out without hesitation.
    “Why were you there anyway, on that roof?”
It was funny that up until now I hadn't questioned her motive for being up on a dangerous roof at all. In a way I still didn't, someone who saved other people in their spare time could hardly have nefarious purposes, but the curiosity within me demanded an answer now that the question had been posed. Unlike before I didn't have to wait long for an answer. Her face turned red, embarrassed as if to have forgot her purpose, before she began patting her coat looking for something. Finding the desired object, a letter, she smiled in relief before handing it out to me with both hands.
    “I am supposed to deliver this to you!”
Her words were bright and matched the sudden happy look on her face. But that wasn't enough to stop my mind from coming up with more questions like how did she know I was on the roof? Who wanted this letter delivered to me? And then there was the fact she did not look like a mail carrier at all. I opened my mouth to address such questions but was stopped by her ing the letter into my chest.
Hands planted on my chest, the letter and the material of my shirt the only barriers between our skin, she said, “Read it first, then you can ask me all the questions you want.”
    Nodding absently on hand automatically took the letter from her. Undoing the seal I noticed that there was no stamp or address just my name written sloppily on the front. I pulled a single sheet from the envelope and warily unfolded it. On the piece of paper was written in vaguely familiar handwriting:
    Dear Daesung,
    I just wanted to let you know although things right now seem too hard to bear and impossible to overcome they aren't. You have a very big life ahead of you to live and there will always be times of pain to work through but you know, there will also be a lot of happiness to enjoy as well. I'm writing this to you because I know personally that the life you live will be wonderful and full of excitement and even now holds so much in the future. I know that right now just being sixteen is hard, and losing your little brother Jongin was just well. There are no words for that kind of pain. Trust me when I say though that things will get better, after all you at looking at the soon to be Mrs. Yuri Kang. One day that bombshell will be your fiancée and soon she will be my wife. And even a bit further down the road there will be a baby who if a boy will have our little brother's name and if a girl, well, Yuri said she gets to choose then.
    Sincerely,
    You in 16 years.
    No really, time travel is possible.
    Pure and utter shock ran through me like lightening as I dropped that letter and turned to the woman who'd handed me the letter ready to yell at her for playing such a prank. Only she wasn't there, she wasn't anywhere nearby.
Standing up I was prepared to run around searching for the angel turned devil but was stopped by the loud voice of the vendor.
    “Oi, your beef ramen is done!” Startled I looked back to see indeed there was a bowl of ramen next to where the letter had fallen from my hands. And . . . was that kimchi in it, just like I had always liked despite the looks I'd get?
    Numbly, my mind on finding the woman still, I muttered, “I didn't order that and don't have money to pay regardless.”
    Much to my surprise I got a hearty laugh in return.
    “Your girlfriend already paid for it, said it was your favorite, and it better be. I don't like ruining my ramen with kimchi for just any pretty girl.”
Right then I was torn between believing that letter and running to try and find the women who'd bought my favorite food. Almost mechanically however I went back to my stool and began eating. It was impossible for her to have known this was my favorite, as well as for her to have figured out I was going to kill myself. And even if she had randomly stumbled upon me she'd had no time to write that kind of letter as in the short time together we hadn't parted at all.
    Nothing made sense except that my ramen tasted good and despite everything I felt a small seed of hope growing in my heart. The hope that was spreading through me at a rapid rate was halted by the vendor's gravelly voice asking, “So is your girlfriend coming back? I'd rather stare at her pretty face than your ugly mug.”
    Not at all fazed by his insult and consequent innuendo I found myself smiling and saying, “She's not my girlfriend. Not yet.”