rattlingthestars | IC Inbox II

We're gonna.

[ It's close enough that Jim's pretty confident of that now. As long as the building doesn't force them out at night, they should be fine. ]

Focus on you and Kuns.

Already on it, buddy.

[ A worry that's been getting deeper and deeper by the minute when all he can seem to see in the distance are big ol' piles of snow. Snow, snow, and more snow... and even more snow. The whistling wind on occasion doesn't help with the bad, foreboding feelings. ]

[ It really, really doesn't. Jim's quiet as they settle in, giving commentary to Zack here and there as the hour draws later. As they slide into lockdown Jim reminds himself they're fine, the tents will take care of them -

until he can't fool himself anymore, because he's hearing something from Zell's screen.

He ends the call. He screams, and cries, and kicks things.

He can't make himself call back. He remembers Tadashi. ]

you're a fucking asshole

[ It's not hard to figure out what happens when Jim suddenly goes quiet. The only thing he can wonder is if he'll ever respond again or if this will be it. And if it's it, well. He can't say he'd blame him. Doesn't stop him from trying to think of something to say, but in the end, what can he say?

It still feels like a punch to the gut when Jim does finally get back to him, but it's well deserved. ]

i know

[ He's not sorry- not for choosing this anyway. But he's not making excuses for it either. They've talked about this. Jim already knows where he stood- how he'd have never convinced him otherwise of this. ]

then why do you keep doing this crap?

pretty sure you already know that answer.

[ They never agreed. They'll never agree. That's the short of it.

Doesn't change the way he wishes the cold wouldn't feel like it's already clawing at him despite the way he's huddled close as he can to Kunsel with a blanket draped over them both in a futile attempt to fight back. ]

This isn't what any of us wanted. What right did you have?

[ Jim's watching Zell on the edge of a breakdown, because it's easier to be angry than acknowledge the grief that's picking him up and tossing him around like a skiff in a hurricane. ]

[ Zack doesn't respond for a solid minute. ]

thiss isn't about that and yu know that to

[ Yeah, he has a second chance. Yeah, he just blew it and he might not be back. He might not be that lucky again.

No, he doesn't regret that. The only thing that he may regret... ]

I know yore mad at meand it miht be a lot to askbut if ths ends up or last convrsatin

It won't be.

[ It might be. By the numbers, it's more likely that Zack won't come back from this. ]

You're gonna be in so much trouble later. What do you need?

[ It very much might be. He's been through a lot of 'almost's and a lot of 'nearly's. But he knows what it means to stay outside in this kind of weather. He's witnessed the consequences over and over again. Everyone knows it by this point. And he's not about to waste a chance of saying something before his time runs out if this is it.

It still takes a while for him to type something out. He wishes he could stop the way his hands tremble. ]

live tak carof echother you an zell. its ll ineed

You know we will.

[ There's a lot of thick fear in Jim's voice, some anger still simmering below the surface, but it's mostly overwhelming sadness. ]

Please come back.

[ He knows they will. He does- but it's good to hear Jim say it all the same- actually
hear it instead of reading another message, even if it kills him hear that ache in his voice, too. He can take the ungodly freezing temperatures any day over that. But there's no going back.

Still, minutes linger by after Jim's message without a response, ticking away too long after. Just as it seems like the line's gone dead, an audio clip comes up in return. ]

Like he-hell- I won't tr-try. I...

[ He trails off, voice far off and weary. It's such a stupid thing to say maybe. There's nothing he can guarantee. He's admitted as much.

But it's all that he can give. ]

Zack? Zack, don't -

[ Jim waits, silent, holding his breath, hoping for one more message. Just one more -

But he's bad at lying to himself. There's none coming. Ten minutes stretch to half an hour, and beyond, and Zack's gone. Again. He's not sure if this is better or worse than Zack's swift, brutal first death. Maybe there is no better or worse, just death.

He waits just a little longer before sending a message he can't bring himself to speak out loud: ]

I don't want you to go.

IC Inbox II

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