At this point, you knew you'd fucked up. Big time.

"–!"

Your mouth fell agape as you looked down from where you hanged.

Your faith relied on your hands that gripped tightly around the concrete edge.

Your legs dangled off. The wind blows against you, making you almost lose hold.

"This view is amazing, isn't it?" Calvin kneeled down. He brings his face closer to yours with a scrutinizing look.

He's mocking you.

"How about I draw you here?" He cooed. "Maybe this could be the final painting of my series entitled, 'Naive Beloved.' Hm? How 'bout that?" He provoked.

Suddenly, he pulls out a small notebook and a mechanical pencil from within his tuxedo. Despite its size, it's big enough to fit a sketch.

You honestly don't know what to do in this situation. Your hands are slightly getting sweaty but the wind helps them dry.

The wind is still a bit of a problem though. Since you're in an open area, and not to mention, on top of a high building, the wind is quite strong to the point where it made your legs sway along.

All you have to do now is to stay patient and wait for someone to help you. There's a possibility Calvin isn't being too serious about this. He wouldn't just throw you off a roof and let you die, right? You literally just got married yesterday.

However, the artist began to draw lines and shapes on a page of that notebook, which shows that he is indeed serious about this.

'Stay patient, (Y/N). Stay patient.'

You tried to reassure yourself that this won't be the end of you. There's got to be an angel or something looking after you, right?

Your hands are beginning to sweat more than before.

You tried to calm your palpitating heart by taking in sharp and steady breaths to calm yourself down.

His eyes would occasionally pierce through your own, gaze at your body, and move back to the formed figure on his notebook.

You trust his skills in finishing an artwork immediately.

After finishing his sketch and making the lines more defined, he randomly brings out colored pencils from his tuxedo.

Oh, great heavens.

You thought this man was just going to do a quick sketch, but he ended up wanting to complete his artwork instead.

You knew that whenever this artist colors, he makes sure it's done well.

"Calvin..." You whimpered once you noticed that your hands are beginning to get sweaty. The blows of the wind stopped for seconds.

Your pleads for help are ignored by the artist who remains working on the artwork.

"I think I'm gonna fall...!" You shriek as you look below on the busy streets of New York.

Calvin didn't spare a glance.

He tched and continued drawing without care.

You're honestly quite disappointed. Isn't this man lovesick? You recently got married to him.

You actually don't give a damn about his weird lovey-dovey tendencies nor do you feel romantic feelings towards him, but you do find it upsetting that he didn't care about your life on the verge of death at any moment.

Maybe, there's no hope at all.

...

Your palms are almost losing holding around the edge. You're already beginning to say your prayers and wishes before you die.

You decided to take some time analyzing your surroundings since Calvin appears to not give a shit about your situation right now.

You peered at buildings near you and it seems that there are groups of people above them who noticed you dangling off the rooftop.

Your eyes brightened with a tint of hope.

Hopefully, these people have called for help.

You're glad that there are other people on that rooftop.

People stood by watching, and some even brought out their phones.

There is one who appears to be calling someone immediately.

The familiar tune of an ambulance, police, and a bunch of other noises begin to surround you.

Maybe there's still hope.

You yelled at the top of your lungs. Your voice could almost result in an echo.

Swarms of people began to form below you on the pavement. Groups of people in uniforms came running towards the building.

Calvin took notice of it.

"You dumb bitch," He tsked with his eyes squinted towards yours. "You deserve this! Why would you call for help—"

"Calvin Doris. You have the right to remain silent."

You could hear the sound of metal clicking. The hatred on the artist's face is now replaced with a look of shock and horror.

You managed to take a glimpse of his hands and he already appears to be in handcuffs.

The police dragged him away from you while his feet shuffled around, trying to create friction against the ground, all in hopes to stop them from bringing him away from you.

"W–we're married! See? Look at my ring finger! You can't just drag me away from my wife! We just got married! This can't happen!" Calvin roared.

A bunch of men in uniforms worked together in pulling you up.

The people eating lunch on that rooftop bring out their phones. Cameras flashed everywhere, especially on the scrunched-up, tearful face of the world's famous artist.

"Holy shit! Did y'all got that on camera?!"

"Oh my God."

"Can't believe this stoic man is secretly insane."

You suddenly felt your form lifted upwards and you begin to feel something against your feet again.

You took frequent inhales and exhales. Your heart was beating quickly.

A person from the crowd noticed your presence and suddenly, everyone pointed their cameras at you.

"Ain't that (Y/N) bro!?"

"Fuck, I hope she's okay. She looks so pale."

"Can't believe I'm seeing a whole fucking crazy romance story unfolding in front of me, and it had to be between a popular artist and a model too, goddamn...shit's crazy."

Many people began to ask how you're feeling but the screams of Calvin echoed throughout the building.

You could still hear him.

Your head is beginning to hurt.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" One of the men in a uniform throws you that one question plenty of times. You nodded with your eyes closed and your hand on the side of your head.

You allowed your body to naturally lie itself down on the concrete floor. Your arms lay below your head as comfort.

And suddenly, everything turned dark.