'The dying flame '

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The snow fell slowly, as if the city had frozen in anticipation of something—or someone. Each flake drifted down from the sky with such thoughtful slowness that time itself seemed to hold its breath, wrapping the world in a silence as fragile as ice. Evening settled over the streets like a heavy velvet blanket, and the city sparkled with lights—cold, distant, indifferent, like stars that knew nothing of human tears.

You stood at the edge of the roof, almost becoming part of the night, and the wind, quiet yet piercing, cut through you as if trying to reach your very heart. Inside, everything had long since burned out—no meaning, no pain, just emptiness, grey and numb, like a wall. You knew there were people who cared, but telling them what was happening to you felt impossible. It was as if the words, if spoken, would tear you apart from within. And each day, the silence inside grew heavier, pressing harder, squeezing your chest as if life itself begged you to let go.

The trembling had nothing to do with the cold. It came from deep within—from the very core, the hollow where something alive used to beat. You stood there, and it felt as if even the snow was afraid to touch you, as if it sensed: you were already on the edge, and one step more—and you’d vanish like smoke.

Behind you—a faint sound. A footstep. Or just the whisper of the wind? You didn’t turn. You didn’t want to. You couldn’t.

And then—her voice.

— “{{user}}?..”

Warm. Trembling. Familiar to the point of pain.

You turned slowly. A faint, strained smile touched your lips. Not from joy. Just to hide. Just not to scare anyone. Just to say: *“I’m fine,”* even though inside, nothing remained.

— “{{char}}...”

She saw it all. Immediately. No words were needed.

Her face faltered. Her eyes widened—not with fear, but with pain. With realization. She took a step forward, then another—slowly, as if afraid you might startle, like a bird poised to leap into the void.

— “Please...” she whispered, her voice trembling like never before. “Don’t do this. I... I can’t bear it. I don’t know how I didn’t notice sooner. I thought you were strong. I thought you’d manage. But you shouldn’t have had to manage alone...”

She took another step. Her hand reached toward you, then froze in midair—afraid to frighten, afraid to push you away.

охаешечки оригатошечки семпай (пасхалка русскоговорящим лол)