SMP Oneshots

Cold [w•s]

i cannot believe i had to rewrite all of this. shitty internet can suck my dick. anyway, i really liked writing this and could only think about this

main focus: schlatt and wilbur

tw: none

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Schlatt was cold.

Snow was falling fast, coating his shoulders in an icy layer that left him shivering. His legs had gone numb, and pain shot through his feet with each step he took. Walking in snow wasn't easy to begin with, but walking in it while your body was shutting down? That was much harder.

He had walked nearly two miles from home, anger taking him much further than he would normally go. But that anger could only last for so long before it died down and he was able to actually think about why he was doing this. And that was when he realized he was being irrational and started to head back. But by the time he started to do that, his body started to finally feel the effects of the weather.

The sky above was completely grey, growing darker by the second. As the snow fell into his hair, it melted before quickly freezing, creating small icicles that hung in his vision. The trees bent to the wind, twisting and shaking. Their limbs reached out towards Schlatt, ready to grab and hold him down so that he would disappear into the snow. A crow's call echoes against the howling in his ears, though the actual crow was nowhere to be seen.

The snow was much higher than it had been when he had first left. Which made it not only harder to walk, but also made his boots fill with snow. His core was painfully cold, the few layers he had on doing next to nothing. He couldn't feel his hands, the tips of fingers a slight tint of blue. Every few minutes he would bring them to his mouth, blowing warm air into them to try and keep them just a bit warmer.

It didn't work the longer he walked.

The events leading up to this point kept replying in his mind, making this trip just so much worse. It had started as a normal conversation, about something now long forgotten, but he supposed that's how most arguments started. In hindsight, a fight had been a long time coming. Tensions had been building between the two of them, making comments just to get under each other's skin. Eventually, everything boiled to the top, spilling out with loud and hurtful words.

Schlatt ended up saying a lot of things he regretted now, but the thing he regretted most was saying "I hate you." Not joking, no hint of remorse, just speaking with anger and hatred. He had never said it before, never even crossed his mind to say it, and he barely registered that he had said it.

What he did register was the hurt, confused face now in front of him. Eyes filling with tears as a hand went to cover trembling lips. That just fueled the fire burning in his chest, and in that blind fury was when he turned around and left the home, slamming the door behind himself. You do strange things when you're in love, the same was true when you were angry.

Schlatt made a silent prayer that he would make it home.

Schlatt was freezing, he knew that. He couldn't seem to catch his breath, always getting air but never enough. His muscles were twitching, cramping it up, sometimes forcing him to stop and let them get under control. His mind was on the fritz, telling him to go back, that he wasn't going the right way or that he needed to take his coat off. His eyes were heavy, and he was tired. So very tired.

His movement started to slow, giving a weary look around the area. There wasn't anything, no light, no footprints, nothing. He couldn't keep going, he had to stop, just to catch his breath, maybe warm up a bit. So he did, stood in the middle of a clearing as snow and wind whipped around him. Maybe it was the wind, maybe it was how dizzy he was, but he fell forward, having absolutely no way to stop himself.