Standing there, he looked down to the waves of the ocean. He stood there on the bridge, his body on the railings of the bridge his face red and puffy, his eyes stinging from crying for too long. His name was Franklin Jacobs, he recently failed his exams for law school. This was the third time. He was deep in debt, but that won't matter soon.
He looked out into the sunset was still so beautiful, a scene like this made what happened next almost poetic. His eyes were still stinging, he had ran out of tears long ago, staring at the setting sun eased his pain, made him wonder what the world would've been like if he were luckier, if he were better, if things were just.. fair wasn't the right word. All of life he did what he was told, his family, his friends, his girlfriend. They all always told him what to do. And he tried his best to impress them, to get their respect, to obtain the affection he wanted so bad.
He shook his head, he didn't deserve affection. After failing his exam, once again, his family disowned him, he was the middle child of five others. He came from a family that were famous for having well respected lawyers, judges, and politicians. He however was a failure, or that's how he felt. Growing up he tried his best, pushed himself to meet their expectations, whether sick, tired, or in pain. He would always try to accomplish his work. But to himself, and his family this was an obvious sign of wasted investments. He was kicked out of his home and was forced to find an apartment for himself.
Lack of family and crushed dreams? No problem he still had his girlfriend. He thought. She moved on, he remembered all the "I love you" and all the "I promise" that they'd say to each other. A part of him was betrayed, hurt. But he wasn't surprised. This was a long time coming. He didn't want to think about it but he knew she wasn't interested in him, at least not in the way he loved her. He wanted to scream for her to come back to him, he wanted to run after her and beg for her to come back. But he knew it was already too late. At this point he didn't feel loss, he only had one thing left he could do.
He asked himself if his life was meant to be this way. two faced friends, cheating girlfriends, bastard genes. He wanted his life to mean something, all these years he'd face the world with a smile. But each time he fell he'd tell himself tomorrow would be better than the last. It never got better, no matter he pleaded, prayed, begged to whatever was listening. Nothing would Answer back.
This time he made one more prayer. Hoping that someone, something would save him from what he was about to do. That someone would call out his name and save him. That a brother, his ex, that someone, anyone, would hug him and tell him he was loved. That he mattered to them. He stood there by the bridge's railing, tears dried on his face, his face still red and puffy, the sunset now gone, replaced by a blanket of twilight, with stars so distant, so far. As if mocking his attempt to call upon a savior, they shone bright, the moon waxing. He took a deep breath and looked up to the sky. "Goodbye, I wish I mattered more, I'm sorry Alexa, Dad.. I'm sorry for wasting your time."
There was no fanfare, no dramatic rescues, no last moment rage, no heroes in capes, no golden haired aliens, no gods of red and blue telling him everything will be alright. Just the incoming mass of black he saw rushing at him. As he got closer and closer, he closed his eyes. He believed that this was the natural conclusion, that he never mattered. The sea never looked so soft to him. When he made first contact with the ocean, his face split, his torso was broken, his lungs were filling with sea water, he wanted to fight, he wanted to matter, he wanted to be loved. He wanted a friend who would've saved him from this, he wanted to be saved. A friend was all he needed, but he didn't deserve one. His last thoughts were of how cold the sea was, the burning sensation of the salt water against his opened wounds. His friends, if you called them that, were the type to keep you around cause you offered them something, at times around them he felt like an outsider looking in, and the way they'd remember he was there. Not a friend, just a stranger watching him. Maybe that's what he's always been to most people.
As darkness consumed his vision, he felt his lungs burning as he finally felt the last moments of his life leave this mortal coil. His body, and his tears, lost to the sea, filled with the bitterness and apathy of many before him, his broken body unseen and mourned only by the same stars that mocked his cries for a savior.
Franklin woke up in a warm bed, his body instead of being torn apart by his fall into the ocean from the highway's bridge, he was instead in relatively good health. He got up, and looked down at his body. He wasn't wearing any clothes he recognized. Instead he wore a coat with a notched collar, a small sleeve cotton shirt, and cotton pants with rope holding it up. He felt his face up with his hand and found it to be covered by something rubbery, feeling it up more he had discovered it was.. a mask? Getting up, he looked for a mirror to gather his appearance for himself. What he saw, was similar to how he looked before his "attempt", he removed his gas mask, to find a bonier looking face, as if he was living off rice, heroine and was in a competition to see who'd look more sickly against an anorexic model.
"Why am I alive?" He whispered, looking at himself in the mirror, rather than sadness in his voice, there was relief, trembling joy, and reverence for whatever gave him another chance.
Suddenly someone barged in, messy brown hair, some covering his eyes, similar apparel to Franklin, with a white cotton shirt, yellow lines on the tip on his collar, bandaged arms, an obvious lack of a coat (and gasmask) a young man about his age entered apologizing not even a moment after "Hey Frank-! Oh shit!" As he entered, he accidently knocked over a few books stacked up on a desk by the door, the sudden crashing woke Franklin from his thoughts, and was surprised to seeing someone else in what he assumed was his bedroom. "Hey you ok there man? You look like you've seen a ghost?" he looked at this person's face, and he saw genuine concern. As if they've known each other for years, maybe decades. In a softer tone, the stranger's concern much more evident "Hey dude-" Franklin broke down crying, his gasmask was fogging up, his legs buckled under his fit of tears, he fell to his knees crying, remembering what lead him to his "attempt" he didn't know where he was so he just cried. The stranger knelt by him, a gentle hand on his shoulder "it'll be ok buddy, another bad dream? You can cry for a few more moments dude, but we've gotta get going!" Getting up, he offered Franklin a hand up. "C'mon bro, I'm not going to meet up with with the without my best friend! heh heh~" He added smugly. Smiling beneath his gasmask, Franklin nodded, and got up. However he didn't know what had happened, where he was, or if his "previous life" was actually a life he lived through. He pushed the thoughts to the side, whatever happened, he's alive now. He'll learn who these people are and try to live his life.
"-But most importantly" he thought to himself. "I won't let anyone hurt my friend.. I swear to whatever gave me this chance after I wasted my last as a servant to bullies, cheaters, and an unloving household. I will experience true friendship." He swore to himself, following behind the stranger whom came to invite him for whatever reason..