Earth moved on.

Those threadbare, multicolored gloves looked cheerful enough, but they did little to protect the grimy fingers from the cold blanks blasted by the snow-speckled wind.  He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore.  He was past the point of feeling them, of the agony as circulation slowed, further and further, until it stopped altogether.  Now they wouldn’t move, stiffly curved towards his palms as they became as static as the rest of him.

Breaths, constant and rhythmic in all of his twenty-four years, were beginning to slow down.  The metronome of his heart was forgotten, lying on top of an unoccupied piano, the ticking increasingly sluggish.

Pump, please pump. 

It’s hard.

Humanity refused to look at him.  There was no need; he was simply another filthy mass by the street.  He gave them nothing to prove.  The police ignored him.  The cars skid past, speeding up as their occupants caught sight of him.  The departure of these cars blew more wind into his face, ruffling his hair.  It was once brown, and was now layered with a new color:  frost.

A thin film covered Kyuhyun’s vision, causing everything to become blurry.  His eyes fixed towards the grey sky, unblinking, unresponsive even to the occasional flakes of snow that alighted on the reflective surface.  He smiled, the cracks between his lips expanding, welling, filling with red.  His heart was valiant enough for him to be able to bleed so freely.  He was proud of the thumping muscle…but it was time to let it rest.

Man supposedly feels indescribable warmth right before he freezes to death.  He was experiencing this now.  He welcomed it.  The heat seeped into his bones, encompassing him in comfort, rewarding him for his trial on Earth.  An equally warm pressure was felt on his chest.

“I have you…I have you…”

His eyes closed.

Yes, God.  You have me.