FicWad

He has no idea how long he has been kneeling there, alone and unmoving, uncaring of the cold. The snow dusts his hair, his uniform: a speckle of light on dark, a sprinkle of white on red. He doesn't feel anything; perhaps his heart is dead. His heart is still beating, yet he thinks, almost vaguely, that it might as well be sleeping along with Stellar, away from the cold in that warm, happy place.

The snowflakes that melt against his skin as he tilts his face to the sky feel a little like tears. Shinn doesn't wipe them away.