@thenightmarerealms​ continued from here.
All Noctis was aware of was how unbearably cold he was. His clothes were soaked through and strained with blood, but the pain had long since faded, numbed by the bitter cold. Everything else was like white noise, his mind too foggy to focus on it.
He'd been on his way home from college when the thugs had descended on him. They'd roughed him up pretty badly, taking his wallet before fleeing the scene, leaving him battered and bleeding in the alley. There had been a knife, a sharp pain in his side, and then they were shouting at each other. Panic. Then they were gone and all he could hear was the downpour of rain and his own ragged breaths.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been there, but it was getting harder and harder to stay awake. He'd tried to stand a few times, but he just didn't have the strength. Each time he fell back down, more and more tiredness crept in. He just wanted to go to sleep.
Would he wake up if he did?
His eyelids grew heavy and he felt himself drifting off until the rain stopped. He'd grown so used to its unrelenting cruelty that he was jolted back to some degree of consciousness by its disappearance.Â
"Hmn...?"
