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Just Skin and Bones

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It’s cold. It’s so fucking cold.

The snow only grows deeper as Prompto goes further and he’s losing the energy to lift his legs high enough to trudge through the snowbank. His boots are heavy and feel muddy too—it’s like his feet are encased in concrete. 

The wind blows right through his coat like it’s nothing, and cuts like daggers in his cheeks. The chill seeps below his skin, ice gnawing at his bones—daylight is running out quickly and if he doesn’t find any shelter soon, he’s gonna… he’s gonna…

But then again, Prompto’s pretty sure he can’t see more than three feet in front of him and even then, that’s a stretch. Everything’s gray and white and cold. He could be walking in circles for all he knows and with how fast the snow’s falling, he’s sure his footprints are fading fast. If any of the others were to come searching for him, they’d have no idea where to start.

If they’d even come looking for him. Honestly, Prompto wouldn’t blame them for going on without him.

His breaths comes out in puffs that are swept away by the wind faster than Ignis can gut a garulessa. Man, what he wouldn’t give to have some of Ignis’ cooking right now, like one of his bowls of soup or curry…

The tips of his fingers and toes are starting to tingle. They feel fuzzy, like Prompto’s leg after Noct lays on it for too long. His fingers are clenched into fists and he can’t move them—he’s afraid that if he tries too hard, they’ll snap like twigs. They’re permanently frozen like that.

Is this how the others will find him? Frozen in place on the ground? Or would anybody even find him at all? Maybe he’ll just lay down and go to sleep and no human will ever find him again. His body will just lay in the snow, all alone, for the rest of eternity.

He wishes he could say bye to the others, call them one last time, even if they’ll probably just decline his message. But his phone is left on the train and that’s all that’ll be left of him, for he’s got his camera tucked away in his pocket. It’d be nice to look at his pictures one last time but he physically can’t bring it out.

At least the cold isn’t as bad anymore. The wind’s still as bad, but the tingles he’s feeling now aren’t as bad anymore. He’s feeling a lot warmer now.