PROLOGUE

What was wrong with her work; was it not good enough? Her mind raced as her client yet again shouted at her for her "failures" in completing what they had asked. Her home designing and artistic skills were nowhere near what the client demanded, yet she was assigned anyways. As she sat out in the sunlight of a crisp autumn afternoon, the California feeling leaving her heart, Niomi knew she was inexperienced and couldn't manage such a tough task.
Why couldn't he work harder? What was wrong with his work? His heart sank as he had seen his subscriber rate drop by nearly two thousand people. Mark fidgeted with his phone, nervous and scared of the steep drop in subscribers. He knew he was slacking and that in this time of his life, he'd slack even more.

But then there was him.

But then there was her.

From across the park, she had caught a glimpse of him, the red hair almost blending in with the fallen leaves beneath his bench. He had seen her as well, her dark brown hair catching wind slightly every now and then, the blanket on the ground beneath her seeming to do her no good at keeping warm. He felt his heart lift again as she felt her heart skip beats.

He stood and managed to make his way over to her, carefully sitting beside her. "Hey, the name's Mark. You look cold." He states, giving a polite smile as he reaches his hand out to her.

"I'm Niomi. And I kind of am." She chuckles nervously and shakes his hand. He looked around before taking off his flannel and slipping it over her shoulders.

"Can't have a lovely girl getting a cold, now can we?" He smiles and stares into her eyes, taking her heart and breath away.

Winter hit California like a brick, snow pouring from the sky and drifting down onto cars and windows, sticking to whatever they could.

Niomi sat alone in her apartment on the 5th floor by her bay window, taking a break from sketching her new ideas for her client and staring out and down into the snowy streets below. She's sworn she'd seen the same snow plow truck go by her building at least four times. As her eyes scan the street and sidewalk, she notices a familiar car pull up to her building, the same car that has visited her throughout the fall and now into the winter.

Her mouth curved into a small smile as she set her sketchbook down, getting up from her comfy place on the windowsill to prepare herself, even though she knew he wouldn't care what she looked like. After running a brush barely through her hair, she nearly ran to the door when she heard his usual soft knock.

She opened the door with high hopes. Her heart skipped beats and butterflies flew up through her throat as she saw him stand there, his hair beaming a brighter red than last week. "Hey there," she giggles softly and moved aside. "Come on in." He nodded his head and stepped into her apartment, setting his side bag by the door in the same place as always, his shoes being kicked off in the same fashion as he has for his entire life; quickly and uncaring of where they landed.

"Have you had a good week?" She asked, trying to get him to start talking. She loved hearing about his weeks and she loved to see his eyes light up as he spoke about his fans and how grateful he was for them. But he didn't say anything. His eyes didn't light up as he looked toward the ground. Niomi felt her hand twitch with nervousness as she shut her apartment door, looking curiously over at him.
"Was it bad? Did something happen?" She asked sincerely, hoping that he was okay. He still didn't make a sound; he didn't move, he didn't even look up. She took a step forward. "Mark, what's-" she started but was interrupted by a piece of paper being shoved at her. She looked up and noticed Mark's face had become a deep red as he shut his eyes. Her hands slipped around the page and took it from him, their fingers touching slightly. She glanced up at him once more before looking down at the paper.

"Niomi,

My dearest friend, I cannot explain how much I love you. I sit in bed every night, after hours of work for my fans, and I can't help but think 'I love her, all I need is her'. It tears me apart when I can't hold you or comfort you when you're crying to me over the phone. It kills me inside and I wish we could see each other every day.

I want to be with you, Niomi. I want to call you mine and make sure that you're safe, even when I'm not nearby. I want to see your smile every day and hear your laugh echo throughout the rooms each moment. I want to see you draw and sing, and even dance. I love every piece of you, every strand of hair on your head, every little pore on your skin. I know we met just a short time ago, but you are the most talented and beautiful woman I have met in my life.

So please, will you be mine?"

Niomi giggled as she see's a typical "check yes/no" boxes underneath. She looked up at him hiding behind his hair as he looked off to the side. "Of course, you big dork." She smiled as she whispered the words. He looked up in shock as her arms wrapped around his chest, her face being buried in his torso. He let out a boyish giggle as he held her tight, his face almost as red as his hair.

"That's what you wanted to tell me?" She asked in a giggling voice. He nodded and grinned like a devil.

"Yes, it is," he began. "now, come. I wanna tell you about my week." She smiled as he picked her up bridal style, carrying her into the living room. He set her down on the couch and they both sat cross legged facing each other. He told her about his fans and how he reached 3 million subscribers and how excited he was. The stories went on for hours until her clock chimed 6 PM. Empty popcorn and candy bowls littered the floor, as did all the soda and water bottles. He stretched as Niomi kept giggling about his last story. When her giggling died down, she looked up at him.

She felt daring as she grinned. "Want some dinner?" She offered and he accepted with a giggle, a "you know it" escaping his lips. They both raced into the kitchen like they've always done on their visits. Like always, Mark wins and he get's to cook using anything he wants in her kitchen. She began laughing, remembering the last time he had burned water, yes, burned. She couldn't figure out how and she's terrified to let him cook again. He noticed her expression and winked.

"I won't burn anything this time, I got better at cooking, I swear!" She couldn't help but laugh as he pulled out a frying pan. "How about stir-fry?" he asked and she nodded, opening the fridge to pull out the small bowl of chicken she had carved for her. She lifted the small bowl and set it on the island behind mark.

"I don't think there's enough…" She mumbled as he glanced over.

"Oh, that's plenty! We'll make it work." He laughed as she counted the pieces. Eleven small pieces were there in the bowl. She shrugged and nodded. The two of them managed to make a decent meal that they both could eat. She set her plate down on the coffee table in front of the couch, grimacing at the dirty dishes she knew she'd have to do when Mark leaves.

He noticed her expression, his plate being set beside hers where there was barely enough room. He slowly grinned and began picking up the trash, throwing bottles into the corner of the room and trash in the basket next to the couch. She looked confused as she asked "What are you doing?"
"Well, I made most of this mess, I figured I'd clean it up!" He said with his little giggle. Niomi shook her head and smiled, beginning to pick up the dishes and carry them to the kitchen. As her hands scrubbed at the ceramic plates and plastic bowls, she heard her vacuum running and her eyes widened as she dropped the bowl she was holding into the soapy water, running to the living room.

He was vacuuming her couch.