Wide eyed staring at the ceiling in his dimly lit room, he calculated the time in his head. It couldn't be more than 1 am. He sat up straight, threw off the covers and stood up. He grabbed a pair of jeans and put them on. His hands feeling in the dark on the dresser for his earplugs. He grabbed them and the hoodie hanging off his chair. He silently left the house through the back door, closing it behind him.
The night was cold, not biting cold, just cold. His hoodie up and earplugs plugged in, he walked on. He looked around searching for a familiar face. He couldn't afford to be seen out this late. He increased his pace and carried on towards the river. No one on a week night would be there, he was sure of that. He wondered if his parents would find out about this or if he could get mugged or murdered. He felt like on open invitation to all sorts of bad activities. Maybe he should just go back to his house he tried to calm his mind and told himself that, stuff like that happened only in the movies. He was lying to himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that.
He reached the river and was slightly startled. He saw a silhouette of a man sitting on the wall with 2 bottles next to him. Maybe the man was drunk. That would pretty much explain it all. Drunk and sitting on the edge with 2 bottles at his side. It seemed like an end of bad decision and sorrows.
He stood there wondering if he should stand from a distance and watch him. After a second of thinking, he walked towards the man. Adding up to the things slightly surprising him in this night was a fact that the man sitting on the ledge was on a suit. He stopped a meter behind the man. Should he make himself heard or what. The man sat up straighter and his eyes widened. This had been a bad decision. Who was this man? Was he going to kill him? Was he a killer? A horrible thief? Before he could run away, the man turned around and looked at him.
His stood rooted to his spot. Mortified and somewhat relieved it wasn't a monster. For a cynical teen, he was quiet afraid of monsters. but the man in suit turned away. Disinterested perhaps, he lightly patted the space next to him. He was scared again. Should he or should he not. He decided to be brave and sit next to the man in suit.
'New to town?' The man asked.
'Kind of, yeah!', he answered.
The man nodded slightly and after a pause asked, 'Your name?'
'John', he replied.
The man looked at him smiling slightly. The man wasn't scary looking or too old. He looked like he was in his late twenties and had been having a rough time for some time. He couldn't make much else out because the street light at this particular spot was very dim.
'So am I.' The man in suit replied.
'Your name is John too?! John asked the man, who nodded.
He grabbed a bottle and shook it. There was some more liquid on it . He downed whatever was left in it.
'Bad date?', John asked quietly, that would explain the suit as well. The man laughed mockingly at himself and shook his head. He finished the bottle and threw it in the river.
John's eyes widened and he asked, ‘Won’t you be fined for that?'. The man shrugged and scratched his neck. John could see the beginning of a tattoo. But he didn't mention or ask about it, even though he was slightly curious. The cold night’s breeze made John slightly shiver and almost made him retch because of the smell coming from the man. Jeez, he thought, I'm never drinking alcohol if that is how I'm going to smell.
'Why are you in a suit?', John finally asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.
'I'm gonna meet somebody today for the first time'.
'But you smell so bad. I mean, Sorry, no offense but you do!'
The man smiled slightly again and said.
'They aren’t gonna care what I smell like.'
John didn't quiet get it. He tried to think of anybody who wouldn't be repulsed by that smell. Maybe he was gonna meet somebody who had lost their smelling sense.
The man sighed and looked up. Closed his eyes and breathed calmly. He wondered how the kid was taking all this. He opened his eyes and looked to him.
The kid wasn't there. Of course he wasn't. He hadn't even come here in the first place. The kid didn't exist, not anymore.
His imagination had just conjured that thing up. Taking a leaf from his younger life. He wanted to cry now. What had happened to that kid? His did he get here?
He remembered exactly what happened. His mother's death and his father being accused.
His relatives took him in for the authority's sake but he had made himself. And he had failed at it. Sitting there on the edge with a bottle of liquor and life flashing before his eyes was enough proof.
A tear rolled down his cheek and he brushed it away. He dug in his pocket to find the lighter and blade. After he got hold of those things, he rolled his left sleeve up.This suit had cost him good. The only time he had put on a suit was at his mother's funeral. But when you gonna meet God you want to look nice. He warmed the blade with the lighter and placed it on his arm. It burned and hurt like hell.
He was doing this only for the old time's sake. He thought of the time when the blade work had turned to permanent tattoo work. He threw the blade aside, knocked over the bottle and jumped to his death.