[part three: let me fall]

From a height, the buildings look tiny, the people tinier, but their smiles seem to drift in the skies and laugh at Suho. He gazes down, sticks a hand over the edge and slowly clasps his fingers into a fist. He tries to grab a hold of their smiles, slaps his face a few times, feels the stinging cold and screams. No matter how much he tries, the smiles are too far from his reach, so he leans forward, reaches out into the frosty winter air, and his body falls. 

This time no one saves him.

---

The best way to save someone is to let them save themselves.

---

In a four walled cage of claustrophobia, he refuses to respond. The gentle voice of the psychiatrist he visits every first Monday of the month only calls on curt questions and lacklustre replies. 

He leans back into the black leather chair, but he is far from relaxed. He attempts to hide his shaking hands by clasping them together, but she notices. 

"You’re trembling." She matter-of-factly points out as, for the first time in the past hour, the boy with the chocolate brown hair looks up to meet her gaze.

His eyes are weary and unfocused, clouded by memories of him, traces of what were thriving emotions splattered over a monotonous canvas of black and white. 

He tries to forget, tries to block out the images that never seem to fade, but he has seen too much.

Forgetting is no longer a possi