september

october

John Alec Collins was an idiot.

A big fucking idiot.

This was a fact that he whispered over and over again, a fact that he believed a little bit more every time he laid the sentence on his chapped lips, breathed it out and let it disappear in the freezing october air.

That the rain slapped against his cold cheeks and found it's way through his way-too-thin jacket, without him moving to a dryer and less cold place, did of course made him an even bigger idiot.

He did barely feel the cold, because he had always been cold, like paralyzed, just not in the same way as everyone else.

He had been waiting for a good two hours. Two cold, freezing hours, and now he knew for sure, -even though he would never tell the little part of him who was still hoping- that no boy with brown eyes and a well-used skin jacket would show up and be walking towards him in the rain.

But still, John didn't move. He was just standing there, with his dark thoughts as his only company. He really was an idiot.