Tap, tap, tap.

It was snowing again.

Above her, the flakes, silver and grey, flitted down lazily. For a second, they were caught in the warm ambers of the setting sun, and a soft orange glow seemed to illuminate them. Then, as fast as the moment came, the warmth left the icy flakes, and they settled down on the roof of the bus stop, soft and sleepy.

It had been snowing for a few days now, and the novelty of snowfall had long worn off. While the snow-laden town was a sight to behold, it still left a dreary aftertaste in Riko's mouth.

"Man, it's snowing again," someone voiced her thoughts.

Riko turned.

It was Chika.

Her ears, red from the cold, peeked out from the orange scarf snugly wrapped from her nose to her neck.

An orange beanie was forcefully stretched over her head, exposing nothing but her eyes. She wore a long brown coat that settled above her knees, where a glimpse of her grey uniform skirt could be caught.

She was marching on the spot and her hands were wrapped around her neck, tightly shoved under the scarf.

She reminded Riko of an overzealous mikan mascot in a school uniform.

"At this rate, I'm gonna freeze to death before I can get home!"

You chuckled at her muffled exclamation - a sweet sound that tickled Riko's ears.

"Don't laugh! I'm actually freezing over here!"

"Alright, alright. Why don't you wear your gloves then?"

Riko thought the same.

The orange ball stopped her pacing.

"M-my gloves!"

Chika's hands burst out from under the scarf; the cloth loosened and settled around her shoulders like a donut.

Riko could see her face now - a caricature of realisation and frustration.

"I left them in the classroom!"

Without missing a beat, Chika took off, her figure quickly fading in the obliquely falling snow.

The town sunk into silence.

It was just the two of them now.

Riko did not consider herself particularly adept at making conversation. In fact, almost every social interaction she had had in her life was initiated by the other party. Did she hate talking? Not really. She liked to think that she was just comfortable with silence.

But…

Riko peered over her shoulder. You was standing slightly behind her.

She felt like her stomach had been twisted into knots.

What is wrong with me?

It was not like You was naked or anything. On the contrary, there was nothing adventurous about the way she was dressed at all. A blue beanie with 'YOU' printed on the front-facing fold was pulled over her forehead. Swathed loosely around her neck - in a manner that defeated its purpose - was a sky blue scarf that fell to her hips. Like Chika, she was cloaked in a short brown trench coat that stopped above her knees.

So why was it that Riko felt so…

..uncomfortable.

As of late, Riko had noticed a twinge in her chest whenever she was near You. Their eyes would meet and she would turn away - her breath caught in her lungs and her hands balled up by her side. The air would clump up like her head was buried in flour, filling her ears with the impatient drumming of her heart. And she would ask herself: What is wrong with me? And her heart would answer: You already know. But did she? You're just denying it. Denying what? That you're in lo- And she would stop herself there. That's right - she was just feeling under the weather. All those cold nights she had spent writing lyrics had taken a toll on her. And so the moment would pass, and Riko would be back to normal.

This time was no different.

"Riko-chan? Are you alright?" You's voice brought her back to reality. She was in front of her now; blue eyes staring into gold ones. She was close. Too close.

"H-huh?" Riko leaned back so that the sailor's face was not all that she could see. "Yes! I'm fine! Perfectly fine!"

"Really? Cuz you looked like you were freezing," You frowned in concern. Caught in the golden waves of the sunset, the ocean in her eyes gleamed a mellow bronze. The canary rays - and the way Riko uncontrollably scrutinised each and every part of You's face - revealed to Riko an icy pink flush that unfurled across You's cheeks. At the moment, the ash-haired girl was a picture of beauty.

Yet…

The familiar twinge danced across Riko's chest.

Why does it hurt to look at her?

"I'm fine, I-" Riko looked down at her hands, breaking away from You's gaze. Right. She only just noticed that her hands - icy cold - had been desperately rubbing against each other. "You're right. It's really cold out here."

You seemed to have been waiting for these specific words.

Before Riko's eyes could flit back up to You's face, her rubbing hands were abruptly intercepted and snared in a warm embrace.

You was holding her hands.

"T-this will keep them warm," You muttered under her breath. The cold flush on her cheeks had evolved into a fiery blush.

Riko felt like her heart had burst into flames.

You's hands, warm and gentle, softly squeezed Riko's. Her skin burnt hotly at every point of contact. But uneasiness was clearly written on You's face - the slight crease between her eyebrows, the hard biting of her lower lip, and the fervent blush that had fanned out to her ears. In spite of that, her eyes remained firm and resolute, like a child awaiting punishment; the thought of that sent Riko's mind into yet another frenzy.

Yet, she wanted You to let go. Because she wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to toss this unbearably aching heart of hers out into the cold and bury it in the snow - to free her from this perpetual pain and longing. Because if this lasted any longer, she might just melt into a puddle of bitter emotions and empty her heart to this poor oblivious girl who was the source of her torment. Why? Why do you make me feel like this? The answer was clear. But she did not want to hear it.

"I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done this. It's embarrassing, after all," You said in a whisper before Riko felt her hands hesitantly part from hers.

No. I don't want you to let go.

The reason for the conflict in her heart - she had known it all along. From the day she started avoiding You, she had known all along. And she knew the pain that would come if she admitted to it, if she broke the chains holding it back and voiced it out to herself. Even so, what difference will it make if it already hurts this much?

Riko lunged forward, wrenching You's hands back into hers. She couldn't bear for her to let go; she couldn't bear for a moment like this to pass so quickly.

"I like this."

I like you.

You stared at Riko for a second, mouth slightly agape, dumbstruck. Then, in the blink of an eye, her face flushed a vivid red, and her eyes darted away from Riko's.

"I-I like this too."

Adorable.

Riko felt her face heat up.

She gave You's hands a hard squeeze.

I like you so much.

You's eyes flitted back up to hers. She stared at her for a bit, brows furrowed as if she was thinking hard. Then, she broke into a cheeky grin and squeezed Riko's hands back.

They were standing close to each other, only separated by their clutching hands. A faint waft of lemon came from You - it was the shampoo she always used in school. It was a familiar scent that lingered about You's room; A scent that would rile Riko up every time she entered a cosmetics store. And Riko was insanely riled up right now.

It did not help that You was now contentedly stroking the back of her hands with her thumbs. Riko might have finally admitted that she had a crush on this girl, but that did not mean that she was about to act any less apprehensively around her. In fact, she was so on edge that her hands had started to get clammy.

How embarrassing.

The last thing she wanted out of this impromptu hand-holding session was for You to find her disgusting.

Still, part of Riko was soaring above cloud nine. She could hardly believe that they were holding hands right now (in the snow too! How romantic!). She wanted to pinch herself to check if this was all just a wonderful dream. But she knew it wasn't. Because dreams wouldn't hurt this much. Because if it was a dream, she would have had the courage to embrace You, to tell her 'I love you' without the fear of rejection, without the fear of everything falling apart.

But what if she feels the same? That wouldn't be possible. You only saw her as a friend and she knew it. What if she's hiding it? Like me? You's flustered face flashed across her mind. Was it possible? Could her love come true?

Riko smiled at the thought of having her feelings reciprocated. That would be nice.

She looked at You, who was now looking at their interlocked hands, aimlessly drawing circles on the back of Riko's hands with her thumbs. Her lips were curled up in a gentle smile, and her blue eyes were bright and clear, like the ocean on a sunny day.

If only I could be this close every day.

You met her gaze.

Riko smiled back.

If she were to take a step closer right now, how would things unfurl?

I want to be your special per-

"I'm back!" A loud crisp voice rang through the bus stop.

You and Riko jumped apart.

"C-Chika-chan!" You gasped, flustered. "You're back."

Chika scoffed, folding her arms. "Of course I am! I walked all the way down that road in plain view and none of you noticed." She leaned forward, a sly smile spreading across her face.

"Hehe, I guess you guys were too busy flirting behind my back."

"N-No! Riko-chan's hands were cold so I was just warming them up!" You gestured wildly, her face turning redder by the second.

"Hmph!" Chika turned away dramatically before pulling her gloves off and peering back at You. "What about me?"

"Aye aye!" You stood to attention, saluted, and took Chika's hands into hers. The two grinned cheekily.

Riko watched You ruefully.

She was smiling so brightly - it hurt.

Of course, who was she kidding? As much as she wished for it, her love would never reach.

She clenched her fists, the lingering warmth from You scorching her skin tenderly.

Why can't I be the one you care for the most?

You was laughing now. Those eyes that were once trained on her were now focused on Chika.

She felt foolish for ever thinking that this feeling could be requited.

She felt foolish for ever having hope.

Her heart stung with regret and wistfulness. Every breath she took only drove the pain deeper and deeper into her soul.

She knew now, that she never stood a chance. She was only a friend to her; nothing more, nothing less. She could see it in the way You's eyes tinkled now - a spark that Riko could never create. And she could see it now - in her mind - that if she were to pull You close and whisper to her the agonising desires of her heart, You would flash her that kind smile and whisper back, soft and forgiving: "I'm sorry."

And Riko would fall to pieces.

So she could only turn to the drifting snow and pray.

May the falling snow hear my plea, and dye me in pure white.

Snowflakes coasted down onto her palms; they were cold again.

May it freeze my love over

And let it slumber in a fog

Forever.

8 pm.

Watanabe You laid on her bed in a daze.

Her homework stood in a pile on her table, untouched. An unfinished pink dress was strewn across her lap; sewing tools were carelessly abandoned on the floor.

She was having trouble trying to concentrate.

Every time she willed herself to do something, her mind would wander back to the scene at the bus stop this evening. It was snowing - or was it? She could barely remember. All she knew was that she had held Riko's hands - cold, but soft and pleasant - and she had been stuck in that moment ever since she got back home.

It felt so nice… She looked so cute too.

You couldn't help but smile dreamily as the sight of Riko popped up in her head for the hundredth time today. She had caught Riko blushing - a rare occurrence deserving of a celebration - when she took her hand. A cherry pink flush had worked its way up her cheeks to the tips of her ears, narrowly escaping the cover of her neckwarmer. Her golden eyes - slightly glazed - had flitted about nervously.

"Mmm!" You plunged her face into a pillow. This much visualisation was too much. Too stimulating.

She's too cute!

You sat up abruptly, flinging the pillow across the room. She wanted to fling her brain across the room too.

Recently, You had found her attention stolen by Riko whenever she was around. From her mature demeanor to her impassioned piano playing, You had been wholly enthralled by her. As exciting as this new development was to You, it had moments that stung too.

Like when she's with Chika.

Yes, like all the times when Riko had fun without You.

You frowned. Surely, that was not a very good thought to have. She should be happy that Riko was getting along well with the others.

So why does it hurt when she's not with me?

The pain would hit suddenly like an invisible stake was rammed into her chest. Her heart would ram back, anguished. And You would avert her gaze, or the pain would not cease.

Truthfully, You knew what was wrong with her. The name of this feeling, the actions associated with it, the different forms that it came in - You had sung about it, danced to it and wrote about it multiple times.

I'm in love with her.

A heaviness set into her heart.

A knowing weight that told her to give up. To forget that she had ever felt this way.

You climbed out of bed. The pink dress slipped off her lap and fell to the floor, crumpled.

The door to the balcony slid open easily as if awaiting her.

She leaned against the railing.

She sighed, hot breath vanishing into the frigid and still winter night.

Streetlights illuminated the street in even patches. Within the scattered beams of light, snowflakes danced their way down to the ground, silent and ethereal - as if they knew every secret in the world.

Riko's pained expression as You held Chika's hands flashed across her eyes.

Why can't I be her?

Downstairs, her mum was blasting music on the radio. Across the street, a baby was wailing. And if you concentrated hard enough, you could hear the crisp splash of the ocean against the shore.

But none of these could drown out the melancholic murmurs and incessant ramblings of her mind.

The sounds blended into a cacophony of agony.

You wanted, more than ever, to hold Riko in her arms. To talk to her about anything and everything. To say 'I love you' with all the weight of her feelings and not have to shrink in fear.

But that's impossible.

Yet the more she knew it was unattainable, the more she yearned for it.

She felt like a fool. A hopeless idiot.

The snow was still falling, tranquil and calm.

Will my love ever come true? Her heart whispered to the falling snow.

'No,' the snow seemed to whisper back. 'No, it won't.'

I see.

In that case,

You held out her hands, palms facing up.

Dear snow, please dye me in pure white.

Please freeze my love over

And let it slumber in a fog

Forever.