The first time I met Jugo was during my second suicide attempt. I was standing on the edge of the bridge behind my high school. I remember my breath was heavy, and sweat slid down my neck at a snail’s pace. My legs shook and shook and shook.

“What’re you doing?” He said.

I looked up to see a boy floating in front of me. He and his pink rabbit onesie were slightly transparent. His brown hair was a bird's nest, and he had no pupils.

I stared down at the muddy, brown lake beneath me.

“I’m going to jump.” I said.

“Why?”

“Because I’m very tired.” 

“I see.”

He floated closer to me.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

I looked back up to him. 

“Himari.” I said.

He smiled. “Hello Himari.”

“Hello.”

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“My name is Jugo.”

“That’s incredible, Jugo. I’m going to jump into this lake and hopefully never wake up now.”

“I see. Himari?”

“Hm?”

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

“You’re not scary.”

This seemed to surprise him. 

“But I’m a ghost!”

I shrugged. “There are things scarier than ghosts.”

"What’s scarier than a ghost?”

“Lizards. And spiders. Spiders are scary.”

Jugo nodded. “Snakes, too.”

“Yeah, snakes are spooky as well.”

“Hey, Himari?”

“Yes, Jugo?”

“Do you want to be my friend?”

“I don’t know how to do that very well. Are you sure?”

“Yes. You are very pretty.”

“Okay, Jugo. I will be your friend.”

“Great! Wanna do something fun?”

I scratched my cheek. “Um… I’m a little busy.”

“Just one thing, pleeeeasee? After I promise, we can come back, and you’ll jump!”

“Hm… promise?”

“Promise!”

“Alright, what do you want to do, Jugo?”

Jugo laughed. “What else do friends do? We’re gonna go burn the sky, of course!”

“Eh?”

Jugo picked me up and took to the sky. The wind funneled around us as we flew further and further away from the bridge. I remember how badly I wanted to cry back then. So scared. I was always so scared.

“Jugo?” I said.

“Yes, Himari?”

“Where the hell are we going?”

“The sun.” He said.

And then I snuggled into him, and said- “okay.”

When I got home that night, my mother asked me why my knees were bleeding, and why I was drenched in mud water.

“The sun, mom,” I whispered, “a ghost boy named Jugo took me to the sun.”

Mom started crying and drew me a bath. Normally when she cried, I would cry as well, but for the rest of that week, I always saw the sky instead of black whenever I closed my eyes, so I let her cry by herself that night. Because that’s what you do when you catch the sun, you don’t cry, even when it burns your pocket and your hands when you play with it. It’s yours, so you keep it until you have to get a new one.

But I never did see Jugo again.