Honestly, Salvia had no idea why people thought shopping was fun. She had spent the entire afternoon at the mall with her grandmother, trying on clothes that just refused to cooperate with her body. It felt like the fabric tugged in ways that somehow made her arms look thicker and her waist wider. Nothing fit right. Nothing looked right. Her legs looked too flabby, her stomach too bulged out, her posture somehow worse under those weird mall lights.
The salesperson's stares did not help. He was judging her, she was sure of it.
Author's note: He was not. He was just underpaid and ready to clock out.
She nodded. Acted like she did not care. She always did that. Acted like things did not bother her when they absolutely did. She told her grandmother that she did not like the clothes there, not in a "they don't fit me right" way, but in a "the clothes here are just trash" way since she never showed anyone that she didn't like her body. She acted confident when inside, it was eating her alive. In reality, it wasn't the clothes, it's how they she thought they looked on her.
Her grandmother instantly saw through her but did not say anything. She just smiled.
After they left the mall, she dropped her grandmother back at the house and went out for a walk. There was nothing else to do. It was that strange, quiet stretch of time between junior and senior year, when schools gave breaks to get students ready for the absolute hell they were about to experience during their senior year. Her phone stayed quiet. Not in a dramatic way. Just… quiet. She had classmates, acquaintances, people she talked to. But no one she really shared her feelings with.
The evening air was warm, the streets nearly empty, birds singing, and that was when she saw him.
He was sitting on the edge of the bridge.
At first, she just stared. He looked unreal. Dark hair falling into his eyes, skin warm and sunlit, features sharp and soft at the same time in a way that made it impossible not to look. He was probably mixed, somewhere between East Asian and European.
Well, to put it simply, he was just good-looking. Very good looking.
People like him always seemed different. Like they lived life on a different frequency.
She stood there for a moment, simply admiring him, thinking absurdly that he looked like someone who belonged in a romance novel, not real life. (Is this what they call breaking the fourth wall? I don't know)
Then she noticed it.
He was tilted.
No.
Leaning forward.
"Oh," she said out loud before her brain caught up. He was about to jump.
"Oh no. No, no, no."
She rushed forward, panic doing all the thinking for her. Without even realizing what she was doing, she covered her eyes with one hand and grabbed the front of his shirt with the other.
"Hi," she blurted, breathless. "I don't know you. I might be completely wrong. But if you are here to jump, I am really sorry, I cannot let you do that."
He froze.
She kept going. "Because if you jump while I am holding you, I will get charged with pushing you. And I really do not want that on my record right now."
Silence.
"I have covered my eyes," she added quickly, fingers pressing harder against her face. "So I don't know who you are."
Still nothing.
"I do not know what you are going through," she said, her voice wobbling just a little. "But please wait. Like… uh, one year? Just wait a year before making this decision. You can do whatever you want after that. I will not stop you then. I mean, what are the chances I come here again. But right now? Please don't."
Her grip tightened without her meaning to. "Also, please come down. Slowly. Because if you jump, I jump, as I would rather die than spend my senior year in prison. "
For a second, nothing happened. And then he shifted. Just slightly. Enough to make her exhale.
"Thank you," she said quickly, still not looking. "Thank you so much. Okay. You are alive. That is great. I am going to let go now. Don't jump, okay?"
She released his shirt and took two steps back, still covering her eyes.
"One year, maybe two if you feel generous," she said, already turning away.
Suddenly, a hand closed over hers.
"What's your name?" His voice was deep, steady, and somehow exactly like him.
"Salvia," she whispered, and he let go.
She stepped back, her heart still catching at the warmth of his hand, and walked away.
"Salvia... "