Work Text:
Trapped again in that damn camp—and by his own choice, at that—Hilts had spent the rest of summer in the cooler. He hadn’t been able to enjoy the sun or the nice weather. Lately, he could feel the days growing shorter, grayer, and colder as well. He tried to see the positive side: he’d be allowed out soon. Great, because he was starting to lose it. Sometimes, the wind would blow through the narrow window of his cell, and he thought he could hear Ives’ melancholic laugh…
He never imagined that one day loneliness would weigh on him…