oh, how chance still adored itrapped. his mind blocked out any unfavourable memories he had had with the man. he couldn’t remember anything displeasing about itrapped. all he remembered, all he could recall about itrapped was how amazing of a friend he’d been. how much quality time he’d spent with chance, how much attention he’d showered on the other. chance went weak at the knees just thinking about itrapped at this point, even if it had been years since he’d seen the man, ever since he was forsaken.

“but chance… don’t you see the flaws in your story? look at the scar on your face, on your eye—it’s… the holes in the story are very prominent, chance. don’t you see what itrapped could’ve done to you? did he erase your memory?”

that was.. elliot. trying to make chance doubt itrapped’s magnificence. trying to deluxe chance from believing that itrapped was all & more. chance wouldn’t have it.

he was sitting at a table with elliot at the time. his mind momentarily diverted to his facial scars, but ultimately he flew to object elliot’s words.

“no. he was my bo— my best friend, elliot. i won’t have you doubting him like this. he always wanted the best for me. always wanted the best for me. i won’t stop believing all that just because you’re jealous!” chance had cried, slapping his palms down onto the table, rising in his chair. elliot had tried, in vain, to deflate the situation from that point. he’d failed; instead, chance had gotten so riled up to the point that he’d stormed out of the survivors’ cabin, although he forgot to take his coat out with him along the way.

he traversed across the frosty lands, shivering as he hugged himself in order to conserve some amount of body heat. he was beginning to regret the decision to storm out of the cabin by now, yet for some reason, his feet just wouldn’t stop walking. as if they had a purpose now. so, chance carried on walking. at some point, he came to a clearing where the frost coating the blades of grass was particularly severe; almost ice, snow even, though it hadn’t snowed just yet. chance looked up, adjusting his fedora with a hand whilst his other remained tucked underneath his other arm in a mode of heat conservation. his eyes focused on a figure standing some yards away from him in the clearing. a figure with a glimmering crown composed of ice, & long, majestic golden hair that gave him an angelic poise. itrapped.

“ITRAPPED??!” chance hollered through the clearing, disturbing some crows nesting in some far off tree. he didn’t much care. he stumbled closer to his old friend, footsteps clumsy & faltering from the cold invading his system. his hands shook as he extended one towards itrapped, moving towards the man’s face. the tips of his fingers were turning purple.

“you came back, didn’t you..?”