He moved a few feet farther toward the center of the bridge from the support tower, gripping the bridge behind him, and looked out over the flowing river below. So this was how his torment ended. Not with treatments and medications, but with cold water and darkness. Noah smirked, feeling as though Dr. Carmichael would approve of this sort of immersion therapy.
His smirk dropped into a hollow feeling of misery. He would miss Beckett, if it were possible to miss anyone or anything in death. Beckett was the light and warmth that had transformed his darkness into a few moments of beauty. He was glad they’d enjoyed such a wonderful day together on their last day. Everything about it had been perfect, from the way they’d laughed together while skating in the sunshine to the way they’d made passionate love when they went to bed.
Perfect. Now he was able to use the word.
It was a good thing. It meant Beckett would have happy memories of him. Perhaps his beloved would even look back on him fondly instead of screwing up his face, like he’d eaten a bad lemon, every time someone asked whatever happened to the English madman who had shoved his way into Beckett’s life and turned the whole thing on its head.
Perhaps Beckett would continue to love him until the day he died, and the two of them could somehow, miraculously, be together in whatever life came next. That was all he wanted—a life where his mind would not betray him, where he could be at peace, safe from the wildness that made him do mad things when his spirits were high and the crushing desolation when he was black. That was all he wanted—freedom.
He drew in a deep breath, then looked down, willing himself to just get on with things so everyone could be happy.
“It’s not as easy as it looks,” an accented voice said in the darkness.
Noah yelped and twisted to grip the edge of the bridge tighter, his heart racing.
“Who is it? Who’s there?” he asked into the darkness.
Movement closer to the support tower drew his attention, and a moment later, another man emerged from the shadows, scooting toward him. There was just enough ambient light from the city and from the moon above for Noah to make out the strong features and muscular form of the other man. His skin was darker, and his hair was black, and from the accent he spoke with, Noah guessed he was Spanish.
“Who are you?” Noah asked, adjusting his grip on the bridge’s railing to hold it tighter. “What are you doing here?”
The man laughed and scooted closer to him, clutching the bridge in a similar manner. “Eduardo,” he said. “And I would imagine I’m doing the same thing you are,amigo.”
Noah blinked at Eduardo. It didn’t make sense. He assumed he would be alone in his final moments. The last thing he’d expected was a conversation.
“I don’t understand,” he said, shaking his head.
The breeze across the river seemed to pick up, stinging his face and hands with cold. Noah was worried he wouldn’t be able to hold on…which seemed ridiculous, considering why he was there.
Eduardo laughed, but there was sadness in his voice. “We came here to end it, no?” he asked. “Because it is all too much.”
Noah stared at him, trying to make him out better in the moonlight. “But you’re young,” he said. “You don’t sound miserable. What could possibly make you want to hurl yourself into a cold river in the middle of the night?”
Eduardo shrugged as best he could with his arms clutching the bridge’s railing. “I could ask you the same,amigo. You are young, dressed well, and speak in a fine voice.”
Noah lowered his head. “I’m a madman,” he confessed. “And an aberration.” He figured he might as well add that, while he was at it.
“You do not seem mad to me,” Eduardo said.
Noah glanced up at him with a wry laugh. “The doctors call it manic-depressive disorder. I’ve spent time in an asylum—in London, before coming here. And my…my lover has tried to seek treatment for me. They…they shocked me with electricity. The doctors wanted to rip my head open and scramble my brain.”
Eduardo hummed long and low with grim understanding. “I have heard about shocking.”
“It was a nightmare,” Noah said, glancing down at the water again. “I couldn’t do it, and Beckett couldn’t watch. I…I can’t put him through my misery anymore.”
“Oh, so your lover is a man, then?” Eduardo asked.
Noah looked up at him, caution throbbing through his body. Which, again, was ridiculous. It didn’t matter what a stranger thought of him or his proclivities. Neither of them would be around to judge for much longer.
“He is,” Noah said, bravely nodding. “And he is the most wonderful, kindest, loveliest man who has ever lived.”
“Then why do you wish to leave him,amigo?” Eduardo asked.
“Because I don’t want to be a burden to him,” Noah snapped defensively. “Because Beckett deserves better than to be stuck with me and my fits and my madness for the rest of his life.”
“You don’t sound mad now,” Eduardo pointed out.
“I’m hanging of the edge of a bridge in the middle of the night in November, conversing with a Spanish stranger as I contemplate ending my life,” Noah pointed out.