"Don't go yet, Peet. Don't go!"

"It's my time already, Tazusa..."

"Don't--!"

She woke to the tears streaming down her cheeks, wetting her pillow. She tasted the salty liquid that immediately tasted bitter, and sighed before resigning herself to getting up and spending another day at the rink.

It was always like this when she woke up. She would wake up to the fresh memory of Peet, to the salty tears that immediately turn bitter. She would wake up to thinking that she had the worst luck in the world for falling in love with someone who was alive for only 100 days.

But then, it didn't matter. She had no time to fuss over her memories of him. Every morning after waking up, she would rush to prepare for an early-morning practice before going to school. And after school, she would hurry to the rink, where she would practice until her coach ordered her to stop. By then her muscles would be aching and groaning, and she would be too tired. Too tired to think of a sweet, sixteen-year-old boy who was alive only in her heart.

Tazusa Sakurano dropped her tired body on the soft green couch in her room, too tired to even complain. Once again, she had worked herself to tiredness, to the point where her bodily functions stopped, and her mind was too tired to care for image training or even remembering. Right now, all she could think about was going to bed and falling into deep, dreamless slumber.

Automatically she stood up and her feet brought her to the bathroom, where she took a quick shower before getting into a pair of pyjamas. It was her routine after Peet had gone.

Peet.

It had been a year since that snowy twilight in Torino. She firmly believed that she had moved on. She was doing just fine, being engrossed in ice skating, aiming to win a medal in the next Olympics. And she was doing great in studies, too. Even Sarcastic the Third could find no flaw in her performance.

Frankly, she believed that Peet was just a chapter in her life, a chapter that has already passed and been written. All she was concerned about now was ice skating.

But why does it hurt to even think his name?

Glancing at the mirror, she tried to smile. It ended up being more of a grimace that she groaned in disgust. Even smiling hurt. Smiling only came when she was in the rink, thinking of flying in the sky, and reaching out to him. But when she reminisced, it hurt like hell.

But it didn't matter. She was too tired to care. Tomorrow, she might spare the energy to think about it.

The planes roared in the distance. A ghost of a smile appeared in her lips as she watched the nose dip for its final performance. Acrobatic planes always fascinated her. It almost seemed as if he were still inside, savoring the thrill of the small plane dancing in the vast sky. Maybe it was his emotions heaving in her chest, making her feel alive. No matter, it was a bittersweet feeling.

Sometimes she wondered if she was really a masochist. She loved to indulge in this bittersweet feeling that she feels whenever she is reminded of him. It was like a dagger teasing her heart, drawing blood, yet not killing. It was painful, but it made her feel alive.

She could not eat tomatoes, but she loved to look at them. Stare at them for endless hours, thinking he'd definitely hate it. She loved to stare at the planes, once even going to the tarmac to see one up close. It made her feel as if he were beside her, examining the machine himself. And when she skated, she jumped as high as she could, desperately trying to fly. Just so she could feel closer to him.

In a way, it was beneficial. She got high scores from the judges who were exhilarated by her thrilling performances. She felt safe whenever she said she had moved on. But how long it would last, she didn't know.

She knew she had enshrouded herself with the memories of him, enclosing herself from reality, and from almost everyone else. She was the reigning Ice Empress. Unfathomable, dominant, icy. And it was a bittersweet name, for all she wanted was to fly with him.

It had been the worst luck, to fall in love with someone who was only gonna be around for 100 days. It was so tragic it was almost a fairy tale. She hated it. But at the same time, she loved it. Now, the only thing left was to think about how to move on without damaging her career.

"Hey miss, are you alright?"

Surprised, Tazusa turned her head to see who interrupted her reverie. Consequently, her breath caught. Her heartbeat sped up. Her eyes confronted the greenest eyes she'd ever seen, and the silkiest, blondest hair. Somehow she had the feeling she belonged in his arms, and that he'd fly with her to the greatest heights. It wa painfully familiar. "P-Peet?" She stammered.

The boy frowned, his eyes clouding with suspicion. "How did you know my name?" He asked.

"O-oh. You just looked like someone." Familiarity washed over her, leaving her confused. She was not Peet, she knew. He was different. Peet was dead. Peet was no more.

"What's your name?" The boy asked kindly. He held out his hand, as if offering a handshake.

"I-I'm Tazusa. Tazusa Sakurano," she replied, still bewildered. She hesitantly took his proffered hand.

The boy smiled. "Noice to meet you Tazusa Sakurano. I'm Peter Carson. Pete. Sixteen-year-old Canadian."

Tears threatened to fall.

"Hey, Tazusa, do you love planes?" Pete continued, oblivious to her inner turmoil.

"N-no," her voice caught. "But someone I knew did. He died. Sometime ago."

"I'm sorry," Pete said sincerely. "It must have been hard."

She could not find the words to say.

He continued, as if he had not really expected her to answer. "I lost my father in a plane crash; he was going home after a business trip here. For months I could not look at planes, or even at the sky. It made me feel as if my heart was clogged with his memories, and I can't bear to see the cause of his death without breaking down and throwing a tantrum.

"But I really loved planes, I have been fascinated with them since I can remember. I remembered how I wanted to fly one, and how he was the one who took me to where the planes are. Now I fly one of those--" he pointed to the small plane that had been exhibitioning just a while ago-- "and when I do I try to fly as high as I could, if only to feel his presence more."

He flashed her a shy, boyish smile that she could have sworn was Peet's (how she knew, she didn't know--she had never really seen Peet; just felt him). "I don't know why I'm telling you this. You must think me a psycho who wanted sympathy from lovely girls."

She felt her cheeks warm. She smiled. "No, it's alright. I guess it's the loss that makes us kindred spirits."

He stared at the far horizon. She was left in her own chaos.

"Ne, Sakurano-san, aren't you a figure-skater?"

She nodded mutely.

"So when you jump, you jump as high as you could, just to feel as if you're flying with him."

A tremulous smile appeared unconsciously, and she felt her heart settle itself. As if it had found peace and calm in this stranger's words. Turning and walking away, she whispered, "You bet."