[ Tired ]
The first thing Allen notices is--
He can't feel anything. Not a single thing-- the ground, the cold, the pain-- nothing. If he looked, he'd see that his wounds were still spilling blood, red pooling around his body in a stark contrast to the snow that had been his landing spot.
What happened-- it's fuzzy. His entire mind is fuzzy, names dates places-- all of it smudging together in some sort of a mess inside the tiny confines of his skull. Something-- an Akuma. It'd thrown him, claws ripping through his uniform his flesh bones heart blood so much blood and he'd ended up on the ground. The coughing and sputtering hadn't lasted long, his body desperately fighting to keep together as the cold bit into his skin, the life literally seeping out of him and every part of him was screaming, shrieking--
Get up.
Get up.
You're going to die--
Get up!
But there was only so much a wounded body could do, and the injuries and the cold-- they were quick to take his tole.
So now he was here--
Just...waiting.
Waiting for-- rescue? No, he knows his body is too far-- the hands of death curled far too tight around his neck, only waiting for the perfect chance to pull him under for-- forever.
Forever.
That's always been an odd concept for Allen because-- really. Forever was literally the rest of-- everything, nothing else but that and there was nothing you could do about it-- not able to speak, smile, love again-- nothing, and that alone scared him because it was the unknown, and he couldn't touch it or fight it and that wasscary.
But it's-- a bit of a comfort. No more war, fighting, death-- no more pain, and as much as he felt like a coward he was glad to get away from it because he was so tired.
So tired...
His skin went white, white with streaks of red, and his eyes glazed over into a dark-- dark, dark almost black, and his last concious thought was--
I should have told him how I felt.
Ah....
Like that bastard would return my feelings.
See you later, Bakanda.