He stood here, his knees below the snow and his fragile body shivering. His eyes frantically shifted from side to side in the darkness of the blizzard, waiting for something, or anything, to come towards his direction. He was alone in the complete frigid darkness; cold, wet, and afraid. Where were they? He had been waiting out here for quite this while.

He took out his phone, the light stinging his bloodshot eyes. The time was 11:08, four hours ago they promised to pick him up before the blizzard had started. Did they forget about him? No, that'd be impossible, they couldn't have forgotten about him. But, what if they did...?

He shook his head, throwing up his hood and shoving his phone back into his warm pockets. The hand warmers seemed to do their trick, it was almost like a fireplace within the arctic. Although being a lover of the cold, he didn't want to be here. It was Christmas Eve; he was meant to be hanging out with the guys and bonding with them—not alone in this cold wasteland.

"Did they really forget about me?" He asked to himself out loud, his warm breath becoming crystallized within the thin air. He buried his pale face into his scarf, only his eyes were shown in the darkness.

The wind had picked up, he adjusted his backpack that was full of small, hand made gifts. The snow that was twirling around him blew harder, almost as if saying, "Give up and go back home." Yet, he stayed. Half of his legs felt like icicles, and his face was as red as a tomato. It wasn't pleasant to be out here, but he waited.

He waited.

Was that really all that was left of him, just someone who waits for something to happen?

Would he just stay situated until they would come, or would he just give up and go home?

He frowned, taking out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts until he could find the right names. He decided to call Adam first, he was the one who invited him after all.

"Hey, you reached Adam's—er I mean my voicemail. I'm really really really busy at the moment, just leave a message after the—TY SHUT UP I'M MAKING A VOICEMAIL!"

He clenched onto his phone tightly, then spoke, "Hey it's me. I've been waiting for four hours and—" he paused, taking in a deep breath, "it's really cold. Please hurry and pick me up."

He called Jason next.

"Hey what's up it's Jason! So, like, I'm not really here right now or I just left my phone in Adam's car again because, y'know, life I guess. Any who, because I'm stereotypical, leave a message after the dubstep and I'll get back to you as soon as possible! Alright, three, two, one—"

He hung up the phone before he could hear the ear rupturing dubstep. He groaned, his expectations of someone picking up becoming low. He decided to call Quentin, he was responsible, right?

"This user is not available right now. Please leave a message after the beep."

Maybe Ian?

"Hey I'm not—"

Jerome?

"HEEEEY IT'S JEROME YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS IF I'M SCREAMING THEN I'M NOT—"

Mitchell?

"It's voicemail, just leave your message."

Ty?

"Hello?"

His face lit up. About to speak, he opened his mouth and—

"Hah! You thought this wasn't a voicemail but it is. Leave a message, I'm the best pra—"

He gripped his phone, wiping away his tears and sniffling. He felt the tears coming back to him as they slowly rolled down his pale, redden cheeks. It was a cold, frigid evening where there was suppose to be joy. It was Christmas Eve, the happiest times in which you should be spending it with your family and friends.

And here here he was; Seto stood in the blizzard, freezing, crying, and waiting for something to happen.

Alone.