This winter is particularly cold.

Winter is a cold season, he knows as much. He knows the golds and reds and browns fade into grays and a cool white. He knows ruby-leaved trees die, and he knows the ground gets wetter. It is interesting, since just last week he had been lounging in his room in shorts, attempting to beat the heat.

A bipolar little island, full of people, full of stories. He's one insignificant speck in Japan, one tiny body in all of Asia, he knows he doesn't even register on the radar in the whole, wide universe. He knows he doesn't mean much, but he exists.

He used to be okay with that.

He used to, once upon a time, be okay with his little dreams. He was okay with his old, hand-me-down telescope. He was okay with his plan for the future; astronomy fascinates him. He loves the stars.

But it's not enough.

It had never not been enough. After all, he just had himself to consider, he had his dreams, his wants, his needs, and now he's found himself with her. They walk home together everyday - side by side, snow, rain, heat, hail - it never fails. The conversations are short and brief. He's fine with that.

When they walk, sometimes their hands bump against the other's, and she never seems to notice. She doesn't seem to care. He knows she doesn't care. She is Haruhi Suzumiya, she is the girl who is searching for more than just the stars. She is searching for the beings that live among the stars, who can take her back with them, and tell her stories. She is searching for the proof in her life that she, ultimately, means something.

He uses more of his brain now.

He's not okay with being a dull blip on the radar, he's not okay with dreams of the stars and the sky, he's not okay with not meaning something. He has realized there is more than just daydreams and telescopes and spiders scuttling up the walls, he has realized there is hearts beating faster and faster, he's discovered sweating palms, and a heated face. He's realized he can want nothing more than to talk to someone, to hold their hand, to know they are okay and alive and happy.

He is full of wonderment, at times. He wonders how she can see the world so differently. He doesn't need to look at the sky anymore to find a brightly shining star, he has a glowing, beautiful one by his side, every day, after school, through snow, rain, heat and hail.

This winter is particularly cold.

They're both wearing gloves.

He wonders if she'd feel him holding her hand, through the thick leather. He wonders if she'd look at him, and how she would react. Would she react? Would she just swat him away? Or would she acknowledge him, him and his awkward height, him and his sweaty palms beneath the gloves, him and his just-barely-reddened face, him and him alone. He wonders if Haruhi Suzumiya would acknowledge Itsuki Koizumi.

He decides not to try.