Blaine was surrounded by the red metal structure of the bridge again, just like yesterday, at the exact time he came here every day. The lights overhead twinkled, reflected in the water beneath him causing the light to distort and ripple. He wondered what would happen to the water if he were to jump in, disturb its peaceful wave and never surface again. He stared at the winding waves for the longest time, just watching the reflections of the bridge, the lights and the moon, the traffic rushing past on one side. He had been walking along this bridge every night at exactly 9 o'clock at night for the last five days and no one had stopped him, no one had asked if he were ok. He laughed ruefully to himself and without humour.

He stared at the water, flowing and eddying beneath him. It almost felt like torture to be this close to something that could be his downfall despite it looking so peaceful now, with just the wind changing the stillness. Blaine closed his eyes against the wind that suddenly blew over his face, bringing the smell of the water to his nose. He desperately wanted that peace that water always brought. He remembered that feeling he had had this morning in the bath of being completely clean and he had tried to stay as still as possible to let the water complete its magic. The water had that hold over him now, if only he could just walk through it, slowly going under, being submerged rather than plunging to his death. He didn't want drama, just peace, an overwhelming need to be taken over and control taken from him.

He noticed the rocks at the side, far away from the bridge and they looked like danger to Blaine who was so far away. Their jagged edges represented feeling stranded, no help, no friend and the thought of the tide taking him away was not a good feeling. He would rather be submerged, cleaned, made better. It wasn't that he wanted to die as he stood looking over New York from the Williamsburg Bridge, rather he just didn't want to live anymore.

This was his secret. The secret place he went to as soon as he moved here from Ohio. He always loved water and going from place to place, his father finally seeming to settle them both in New York, he had gravitated towards water wherever he had lived. There was always a moment before he returned home to his dad and their new apartment where he considered falling from the bridge and he would imagine the wind in his hair, the rush of air out of his lungs, his arms wide. He would feel free until the water would hit him with its full force and he would die. No longer alive, bearing the guilt or the worry and anxiety. He would be free in that moment and no longer need to cling to anything, like he did now.

He stood there considering again his options, coming to the conclusion as he continued to watch the ripples below, that he would never do it, never have the courage but he knew he couldn't keep coming here. The temptation to complete his intention often overwhelmed him and he knew it was dangerous to keep coming here. He got out his phone and found the number he had saved in his phone the day before and he considered ringing. He knew he needed saving, wanted this to end but he winced against the wind hitting his face, at the thought that he was beyond help. He rang anyway.

"Hello, you've reached the Trevor Project helpline, how can I help you?" The voice was so optimistic but calm that Blaine instantly relaxed and found himself smiling.

"I'm on a bridge, I'm hoping you can persuade me not to fall," he said simply, no attempt at humour, just truth. The wind howled a little louder around his ears and he almost didn't hear the man on the other end.

"Oh gosh, don't do that!" he exclaimed, "I mean, that would be a great shame, just..." The young man stuttered on his words, clearly never being in this situation before and Blaine almost felt sorry for him, his optimism fading. He sounded young, barely out of high school.

"I don't really know what to do," Blaine said, suddenly feeling a sob threaten to escape and his chest constricted in the cold air.

"Don't jump, please don't jump," the boy continued, "I mean, why do you feel like jumping?" he asked, clearly remembering some of his training.

Blaine thought over the question. There were so many reasons why he wanted to jump and he knew he could never explain himself fully. He looked around at the water, the bridge, the lights and knew he should continue this conversation somewhere else.

"Life just seems a bit hopeless, no one cares, life just seems to get worse. It's not that I want to die, I just don't really like living." Tears worked their way down his face though he managed to keep his voice steady. The young man on the line paused for a long time and Blaine wondered if he actually had any answers, whether he had made a mistake in ringing, when he suddenly spoke.

"I don't know what you're going through," he said quietly, reverently, "But I can try to help, I can tell you that it does get better and that people do care." Blaine highly doubted that last part until the young man added his final statement. "I care."

Blaine couldn't remember the last time someone had said that to him and this total stranger was saying it without knowing Blaine at all.

"If you could say one sentence to me before I jump what would you say?" Blaine asked suddenly, desperate for him to say something to make him think and feel alive again. He knew it was simplistic, he knew that one sentence couldn't change his life but he needed something. The young man on the other end paused, clearly thinking about his one chance to say something profound, feeling the heavy weight on his shoulders.

"I think I would say: don't let go, never give up, it's such a wonderful life," he finally said and Blaine breathed out at the simple statement.

"Ok," he said simply, feeling a small smile twitch across his lips.

"Ok?" he asked incredulously.

"Ok," he repeated, "I mean, it doesn't remove or change anything but it's a start."

"Yes, it's a start," he said kindly, clearly relieved, "Can you ring tomorrow, at the same time?"

"You do regular calls?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah, I can call you if you prefer."

"Will it be you that I speak to? Your voice?"

"Yes, if you want to," the young man said quietly, "My name's Kurt."

"Yes, I'd like that," Blaine said, without saying his name, "I'll ring at the same time tomorrow."

And he hung up, walking along the walkway of the bridge, back the way he had come, trying to return home and feeling a little lighter.