The first day she met him—well, you couldn't really call it a 'day'. It was more like a perpetual limbo in a rip between the fabric of time and space—she was cold. So very cold.

Her day had gone disastrously, starting with being late to class and ending with multiple bruises from yet another fight. She had been eager to get home, and by the time she had reached her house's front steps, her eyes were already drooping. Thus, the murmuring tendrils of sleep engulfed her. That was when he appeared.

At first she thought he was a fairy prince, with delicate spiky white hair and cold, cold turquoise eyes. The way he materialized from behind the snow-capped trees, it was as if he were dancing, lightly treading on the heavy air above the frosted blades of grass. A boy made of glass.

He gazed at her with such intensity, as though she was the bane of his existence. And then, slowly, softly, a melancholy smile made its way onto his sharp, angular face. Suddenly, his happiness was all she needed.

She woke up ten minutes later, those mournful eyes still boring into the back of her mind.

The next time she saw him she was in class, a few weeks later. It had been snowing, gently at first, but quickly began to stick. She had been gazing outside the window tiredly, her pencil stuck behind her ear, and her mind drifting aimlessly.

Before she knew it, she was back there.

There, the frozen earth crackling quietly underneath her feet. There, the intoxicating smells of mint and pine. There, with a sky blooming with colors ranging from the deepest cobalt to the palest lavender. She turned, slightly dazed, and her onyx eyes met those cold turquoise ones that had haunted her every waking moment.

He took her hand wordlessly. Her breath caught, and she knew without looking that her cheeks were bright red. But despite that, he simply guided her through the mysterious world.

The fairy boy finally stopped in front of a large oak door decorated with bright orange, red, and yellow flowers, like flames. She shot him a confused glance. Reaching out, she tried to turn the doorknob. Locked. The vice-like grip loosened on her hand, and swiftly, urgently, he took a step towards her.

"Karin."

She woke up later with the faint taste of his sweet breath still ghosting upon her lips.

She began to expect to be transported to that winter wonderland more than anything else. The enigmatic boy invaded her thoughts, her mind. Suddenly, he was her point of reference. Every event in her life became 'before him' and 'now'. And strangely enough, everything before him was a blur.

The bond of intimacy, of understanding, they shared shocked her. For all she knew, they were strangers.

So, the third time she saw him, she asked for his name. He just looked at her strangely, like 'you should know my name, you moron'. She couldn't help the indignant cry that rose up in her throat.

And then, he did something that made her stand stone still. He laughed. Nameless, soundless, nearly expressionless fairy boy laughed.

Heat rose up into her face once more. He laughed like he couldn't stand how amusing she was. But it was his next words that sent shivers into the core of her very being, resting there to shake her soul. Familiarity flooded her senses, but her mind was so hazy, she didn't know why.

"Hitsugaya Toushiro." And so, the fairy boy finally had a name. "Remember."

She woke up with a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Is this real?"

They could both hear the true meaning of the question.

Are you real?

He didn't answer. Silence ensued, except for the small crunch of his footstep. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. His breath fanned across her face, and both their eyes slid closed. Trembling, she reached up to tangle her fingers in his soft spikes. His frozen fingers cupped around her flushed cheeks in response, as feathery of a touch as a snowflake.

There weren't words anymore. They didn't need any.

The intimacy was not unknown to her. But she couldn't remember. No matter how many times he took her into his arms, or showed her is rare, secret smiles. There was nothing but the vague feeling of familiarity that didn't provide her with any enlightenment.

And it hurt them. Far more than they could ever put to words. They both knew. He gave, and gave, and gave, until all that was left of him was just skin and bones. She called him a selfless bastard, because it was true. There were no lies. Just as there were no happy endings. Life was full of choices, but theirs were so very, very limited. Was it better to run through life with eyes blind and ears deaf, or to simply follow everyone else, those fools, in their petty, selfish lives? That wasn't living. So all they could do was simply keep on going. Keep writing their fairy tale that they knew one day would have to come to an end.

Finally, he broke the serenity with the small shake of his head, and gestured to the door. She tried once more. It was still locked. She looked towards him, and found him with his back to her. The sounds of his feet walking away echoed in her ears.

She woke up with her mouth agape in a silent, strangled scream, cold, silver tears streaming down her pale face.

"Toushiro…"

It's been half a year since she last saw him. She sighs heavily, waiting for the familiar feel of snow against her skin. There is nothing. She can't remember how to live without him. She can't remember life before him. And she can't imagine life without him.

She's walking home one day from school with her sister, who is chattering as though there is no tomorrow. This is something that she has does thousands of times before, but it feels unnatural. Without warning, she crumples to the ground. The vast, hollow hole in her heart feels as though it will swallow her whole. You can put a band-air on a cut, and get stitches for a scrape. Pain is something you can heal. But loneliness—utter, complete, dark nothingness—you can't. How can you heal something that's essentially made up of nothing—of vacancy?

The tears that pour down her face are proof that humans are such empty creatures.

"Karin-chan?" Yuzu cries, kneeling down to her twin's level. "Karin-chan, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Karin whispers hoarsely. "Nothing at all."

"Toushiro!" She calls, the name winding wistfully from her mouth like an aria. "Toushiro—you're—you're here!"

He says nothing. Just like him. She runs to him, the powdery snow mingling in her ebony locks. He turns to look at her, a small golden key in his hands. She stops.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four

Five…

It takes her about a minute to remember how to breathe. And it takes her thirty more seconds to find her voice. This will be the last time she sees him. The look in his eyes says it all, but she speaks anyway.

"You're—you're leaving, aren't you?" She asks this pointless question accusingly, even though she knew it would happen someday. Accusations mean nothing if every word is true. Her eyes find the ground, dewy droplets of saltwater balancing on the tips of her eyelashes.

"Karin, I—"He starts. This is the most he's ever said. But why, why did it have to be these words? It's sad that in reality, spring is blooming vibrantly, while here, everything is wilting, withering into nothingness.

"Toushiro! You promised me!" She's screaming now. She can't help it. His eyes, his smile, his laugh. Never again, never again. "You promised me forever!" An impossible vow, in all those words unsaid. He takes her hand and the key presses against her palm. It's wet with their tears.

It's their fate—a tragedy.

A bitter love story of a girl who can't remember, and a boy who can't forget.

When she looks up again,

He's gone.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading.