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The rain fell relentlessly, soaking the landscape in something gray and heavy that seeped all the way down to the darkest corners of his soul—the places where the shadows weren't his own, where he had no control over them. Deep down, he knew he shouldn't be here. But there were moments when he needed warmth just as desperately as he needed air, and tonight he hadn't been strong enough to deny himself.
Something in his mind revolted against the comfort anyway, whispering every reason he didn't deserve it.
He never had.
The blood on his hands was a stain; his very existence was proof that some things belonged to the darkness. He was only fooling himself, letting the light reach where it was never supposed to.
Even as the fire crackled at his back and fogged the window, he couldn't shake the feeling that he shouldn't be there.
No.
His shadows carried him away before his hands had a chance to thaw.
He'd lost count of how many times he wondered what lay on the other side. And yet he could never bring himself to take that step. There was a kind of fear far more terrifying than one's own: being afraid for another.
It was bad. A leaden feeling, settling in his chest and slowly stealing the air from him. It was a mortal danger, a wound that wouldn't close.
That was how he was going to meet his bitter end.
And he had tried. Honestly tried—even as the fire sang its sweetest song and promised everything he never should have wanted. He'd always known, somehow, that this would be his undoing.
So he buried the desire to draw closer to the flame alongside every part of himself that wasn't meant to see the light, tangled among the sharp-edged pieces of him that kept everyone at bay. He'd believed that need was safe there.
He had never thought anyone would reach in.
This precipice was one he knew too well. He had drifted close without realizing it—and now he stood at the edge, looking down, already bracing to lose his nerve the way he always had.
Every instinct screamed at him to turn around and run.
But he was just so tired.
Even as he took a step—his heart thundering so loud, beating so fast he wasn't sure he'd survive it—his mind supplied every reason he shouldn't.
That was it. He no longer had the strength to keep holding on to the cold. Surrender grazed his face with a gentle caress, welcoming him with the inevitability of all the truths he had refused to accept.
He didn't believe he deserved warmth...and yet it had been freely given to him.
Azriel turned to the window, where the sun was beginning to crest the horizon.
He had watched thousands of nights die without ever staying to see the dawn.
When Eris settled against his chest, Azriel simply closed his eyes. Let the blushing light of the sunrise wash over them both.
He had jumped. And Eris had been there.