BRANCE + RINNEY

when its cold, id like to die

His movements ceased, his head resting upon the cold, rain-battered concrete. Blood rushed out of his broken nose, making his head dizzy and limbs weak as he closed his eyes. He could hear someone approaching, their footsteps rushed and voice loud through the thick, silent air.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Wake up! Please, wake up!" The voice was frantic, their hands warm against his cold skin. His head throbbed, heat dwelling into it much like a rapidly burning fire. He couldn't move, his heart beat slowly clicking against his ears as he forced his eyes to stay open.

"You, you need to go. It's not safe." His voice came out shaky, broken. The person touching him retracted their hands, their warmth lingering for only a brief moment before it too was gone. "Fuck being safe! You're dying!" Their voice rang through the air, wisps of fogged breath trailing behind their words. "You have to go." He whispered the words out, peppered them against the blood-stained concrete that he laid his head on. His heart beat thumped slowly, reminding him that this may be his last moments alive.

"I'm not leaving you here, asshole." The warmth was back, clinging to his skin by a hand stretching his arm over a pair of shoulders. He groaned, blood soaking over his shirt and onto the ground as he was forced to stand. The person next to him shifted, his breathing coming out loud and in heaves as he walked the both of them farther down the pathway. "Safe, need you safe."

His words trailed off, an echo into the cold weather as he fell onto the concrete. The person beside him knelt down, their cries going mute as thunder boomed.

"Vance Hopper, you fucking idiot."