Whumptober 7 & 12: Carry and Broken
Anti carried himself through the blinding snowfall and the burning clean white covering the ground as he dragged his dead and broken wings. He crashed into the trees while he was trying to fight his way through the bitter cold, but he met his defeat when he landed in some pine trees and broke his left wing. After standing and dusting off snow, Anti found himself limping through the cold air. If he could find a house or smoke...
To his surprise, he did. He looked toward and squinted his eyes to find a home in the snow. Shaking, he grinned shyly and moved towards the home. All he could thing about was the warm embrace of heat to soothe his broken bones. All he had to do was keep moving forward. But his hands were turning blue and his lips were numb and cold. The hair on his arms stood to keep warmth with him, but he could feel it slip away from him.
With tired eyes, he fired his way through the snow to get to the front door. Shaking, he lifted his hand and knocked, but it was a gentle knock that couldn’t be heard if you didn’t listened. He knocked again—2, 3, 4— but his knees couldn’t stand any longer. He started to slouch and leaned against the door frame, a tired hand knocking on the wooden door.
His body slipped down until he was hugging his knees, his head against the door, a tired had growing weaker from knocking. Maybe if Anti shuts his eyes he would wake up from this nightmare? Maybe this is what he deserves after years of torture and destruction. A bitter cold death with a broken wing.
A small smile from as he shut his eyes. He felt Jackie’s arms around him once more, holding him close to his chest. He could smell him from his dark red sweater as his body grew lax and light. He was tired of carrying himself... he was tired.
The door opened and his body caved in, his head hitting the floor with a thud. He did nothing to catching himself or fight back the arms at dragged him in. Frostbitten eyes fluttered opened to meet a familiar aura as he was carried to the warm fireplace.
“Your an idiot,” the scattered voice muttered as he laid Anti down gently next to the fire. He felt the warmth of a heavy, soft blanket dripping over him. “But you can’t fight back, can you?”
Anti looked into the flames before shutting his eyes again, drifting to sleep.
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