Work Text:
In the winter, snow didn’t often stick to the ground much. But it was still cold.
The sun had set a mere three hours earlier and it had felt as though an eternity had passed. The street lights flickered in the distance, the shadows cast were long, stretching up the sidewalk and brushing against the doors to houses and apartments. They didn’t reach where he sat but he was covered by the shadows of the apartment regardless.
With empty eyes he observed the falling snowflakes, watched as they melted on the ground and turned the earth damp. In the morning, it would be frozen and firm. The snowflakes danced in his vision, demented fairies as they landed on his hair and skin, soaking into his flesh and clothes so that he looked as if he’d been swimming.
It was so horribly cold.
He wondered if they’d let him go inside soon. He was really cold. It kind of burned. His feet were an atrocious shade of purpling pink and the snot in his nose was like ice. His eyes stung and really tears were pointless. His shoulders shook violently despite his attempts to stifle them.
As he sat curled in the shadows he wondered if this was truly better than what his life had been before, in that other house with that man and her... He told himself it was. But he really didn’t know. At least then he’d hidden in the house where the snow couldn’t reach.
Then he remembered the fear and the pain and shook his head.
No. This was much better.
He breathed out a shuddering breath, trembling. There was a little puff but his breath wasn’t very warm anymore.
He blinked slowly. It hurt.
Resting his head against the wall, he heard snoring from within. They were already asleep. He likely wouldn’t be able to go in for another few hours. He hoped that they hadn’t forgotten about him. He’d heard about kids freezing to death outside before and the thought made him tremble more.
At the very least, he wished he had a blanket. And a book to read. Something that would occupy him and distract him from the growing pain in his fingers and toes, from the full body shudders so violent that his muscles may get sore, but most of all, from the crushing loneliness he felt constantly. The feeling of being unwanted and unloved and the knowledge of everything he had ever done wrong at the forefront of his mind. He kind of wanted the book more but that was stupid. Or it should have been. At the moment it seemed perfectly reasonable.
His blinks were growing longer, slower.
He was in terrible pain yet so numb at the same time. He curled in on himself as much as he could in a last ditch attempt for warmth. He was soaked from melted snow that no longer melted, that clumped on his lashes and leaked into his eyes. His face was buried in his knees which were tucked tightly against his chest. His slow breathing was laborious and the world was dark and getting darker. Whether that was from the lack of light from the stars and the long since set sun or from his fading consciousness, he did not know. He didn’t particularly care.
He was just tired and cold. So cold. He was so tired.
The shadows are growing closer. He was a little scared but not quite coherent enough to process both the thoughts and emotions at the same time.
As time supposedly passed, he finds himself a little less cold now and less tired, a bit more sleepy though the tiredness never left him.
The cold seemed to seep away with his consciousness and processing ability, slowly, leaving him with only the washed out shadow of reality.
The world is dark. His eyes have shut and he’s too weak to open them even if he wanted to. No sounds reach him. The howling wind whispers against his numb skin, the light is sealed from his eyes and his dry throat traps his voice and strangles it in its cradle.
His heart’s irregular beat continues its dissonant, fading hum and his breath becomes so shallow that it cannot be perceived from further than a few feet.
He is very tired.
Then world is gone from him and he’s fallen past awareness, lost to the cloying embrace of unconsciousness.