last conversation

The fading of the day also meant the fading of any heat the sun had spared through sheets of clouds. Wintry air swirls around her, sucking every lick of warmth from her body.

Clementine wraps her arms tighter around herself, pulling her heavy coat closed and yanking the hood over her head, sighing as her ears find shelter from the numbing chill. She gives a deep sigh, her breath visible as a puff of light mist.

She can hear everyone moving around inside. They'd moved dinner in for the night, deeming it too cold to eat outside, even with a fire going for them all to huddle around.

She almost enjoyed the serene view of the yard completely empty, completely silent aside from the soothing lull of trembling leaves, but she's not out here to enjoy such a thing.

Clementine tightens the heavy knit scarf around her neck, burying her chin in it as her eyes dart around in search of any movement. From the corner of her eye, done past the burnt portion of the school, down the walkway, she sees him standing there with his back to her.

Louis is still, his head down and arms folded over his chest. He's still wearing his usual jacket rather than the warmer one she had found for him last week when the weather took a turn for the worst. It'd been a little big for him, the sleeves falling over his wrists and the puffiness making him look twenty pounds heavier than he really was.

He'd "lost" it the next day, shrugging when she asked him why he didn't have it on.

Clementine steps down the stairs, careful of the icy frost forming along the concrete. It's not too bad yet, but she goes slow anyway.

She's been worried about him since the morning when she woke up to find him gone. He'd been fine, of course, claiming he didn't want to overstay his welcome. Which was silly, since Clementine was the one who asked him to stay after he came knocking on her door.

He'd been so terrified.

Another nightmare, of course.

He'd had plenty of them since they got home after the delta.

He's silent as she approaches, slightly shivering as he stands there. Hearing her footsteps, he cocks his head around to see who's sneaking up on him. Upon seeing it's her, he gives a small, weary grin.

Clementine moves close beside him, saying, "Hey."

"Hey."

"You're going to become a popsicle if you stay out here."

"A 'lou-pop.'"

She smirks. "Cantaloupe flavor."

He elbows her. "Ha, ha."

She reaches for his hand and is shocked to feel how freezing and stiff his fingers are.

"Louis, come inside," she says. "You're gonna get sick, and it's almost time to eat."

"I will," he sighs. "In a minute, I-"

His eyes become lidded, something sad glistening within the darkness of them. She follows his gaze down to the marked grave before them.

Marlon's grave.

"Oh," she murmurs.

"Yeah."

She watches him, her gaze wandering over his neck and the exposed part of his collar bone where harsh goosebumps rise. His cheeks are flushed a dark red, and she can tell his usually soft lips are becoming chapped from the cold.

Clementine moves around to fully face him, unwinding her scarf and wrapping it around his shoulders. She pulls the openings of his coat closed before leaning in and pressing herself against his chest. His arms come around her, contentedly sighing as he holds her. She tries to rubs some warmth into his back as he rests his chin atop her head.