It was the fourth week of December when the snow hit the dirt roads and pavements of the town. Of all the seasons, winter was my favorite. There was something magical about it—everything was covered in a white blanket of snow, festive twinkling lights were strewn across the streets, holiday carols flowed through the air, putting on fuzzy socks and sipping warm drinks to combat the cold, days became shorter, and night became longer.

I didn't hang out that much with the group before Christmas break, and I didn't receive any text messages from Michael. It felt quite lonely, but it was a productive kind of lonely as it made me concentrate more on studying for the midterms. I couldn't afford to get bad grades; otherwise, that would be another heated dinner discussion with my mom. I wasn't completely alone during those times, though. Sunny joined me in my study sessions, but what she did mostly was pig out and complain about our projects.

To be honest, I wasn't sure if I was studying because I wanted to. Maybe I was just distracting myself from the fact that I missed Michael and our talks and after-school adventures. The news article about Elodie's death hadn't left my mind, and I was waiting for the right time to talk about it with him in person.

On December 21, Nate drove the group to the neighboring city where the Winter Festival was happening. It was the last night of the event, so the place was heavily congested with people wanting to see the grand fireworks display and snow sculptures.

We didn't go there just to see the festival, though. We had planned to make a surprise birthday party for Michael later that night.

We had three hours to kill until the fireworks display and our surprise party, so we wandered around and marveled at the exhibitions. A caroling competition was being held at the amphitheater, and their symphonic tunes filled our ears until we reached the fairground, where shrieks coming from the white-knuckle rides pierced the air.

Nate and Rose argued like an old married couple over which ride we should go on first and then the next. The rest of us didn't want to interfere; we only followed whoever won the argument. We tried a few bumpy rides and laughed so hard when Clint threw up in a corner.

Our last amusement ride of the night was the Ferris wheel, though Nate and Rose were the only ones who got on. We'd had enough of their bickering, so we forced them to ride the car and left them there. The four of us stood outside the area, looking up at the big white wheel covered with flamboyant lights. It was rotating ever so slowly.

"Are they going to be fine together?" I asked.

"Totally," Clover said. "Look, they're so very happy."

From a distance, we could see Rose glaring at us and Nate waving his two middle fingers in the air.

Clover took charge of the rest of our trip around the park. "Let's check out the stores and get some souvenirs," she told us and linked arms with Clint.

"So many couples," Michael murmured, who was walking beside me. Those were the first words he said exclusively to me since we got to the city.

I observed the area. Couples were indeed everywhere. Teenage couples. Honeymoon couples. Elderly couples who probably had spent their entire lives together. Some were walking hand in hand. Some were happily taking pictures together.

"No surprise there. It's Christmas," I told him.

When I returned my gaze to the oddball pair in front of us, I became aware of my situation. Everyone in the group was in pairs. Clint and Clover. Nate and Rose. Michael and me. A warm sensation swirled in my stomach, but I quickly snapped out of my fantasies and rushed to Clover to clutch her free arm.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Nothing. Just wanna walk with you," I said. I dared not to look back at Michael and let him see my abashed expression.

A moment later, we happened upon a store that exhibited plenty of accessories and souvenirs. One thing was prettier than the next, so Clover and I had difficulty deciding which item to get. The boys looked around the shop, too, but they were not as enraptured as we girls were.

During the whole course, I kept myself close to Clover until a mini Christmas village behind the storefront glass caught my eye. I only gazed at it for a minute. When I turned around, my friends were gone. I felt like I was seven again when I thought my mom had left me in the mall. Panic sank into me, but I tried to keep my calm as I texted Clover.

While waiting for her reply, I scanned the other stores for them but to no avail. It was hard to identify them from the sea of thick coats, vibrant sweaters, and wool caps. I was stuck in the middle of a crowd that was taller than I was until a distinguishable figure caught my attention.

Black hoodie. Dark jeans. Messy hair covering his eyebrows. He was pushing his way through the crowd to get to me.

"Where are they?" we spoke at once.

The shock made us speechless for a second.

"I thought you were with them," I said.

"I thought you were with them," said Michael. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I was just looking at the display, and when I turned around, you guys were gone."

"Same thing here. Have you contacted them yet? I tried calling Clint, but he's not picking up."

"I have. Clover's not replying either."

He raked his hair back, exposing his forehead, and sighed. "Let's go that way." He gestured to the area that we hadn't been to yet.

As we walked, I felt self-conscious and kept at least a three-foot distance behind him. My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I was about to breathe a sigh of relief until I read the message.

Clover: Don't worry about us. You're with HIM, so use this time to talk to him. And I mean, REALLY talk to him. Crossing my fingers for the best. Thank me later. ;) PS: R&D Café. 9 PM. Don't forget! xx

I sighed in frustration. A setup, fantastic. Maybe the other reason why she did it was that she wanted to have a private moment with Clint. I could smell some fishy business going on.

By the time I looked up from my phone, Michael was far away. He didn't even look back to check if I was catching up. Running, I screamed at him to wait up. He stopped walking and turned around, a white mist coming out of his mouth as he exhaled.

"You move so slowly."

"Short legs, remember?" I said. "Slow down your walking, jeez."

"This is already my 'slow walk,' Marmalade."

"Why am I stuck with a titan?" I muttered.

"Look, just hang on to my shirt—"

"What?"

"—so you can keep up your pace with me and avoid getting lost, too. I don't have all night to search for missing people. Hang on." He pushed his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and resumed walking. "Go ahead, Autumn."

Grudgingly, I gripped the back of his hoodie and followed him behind. I lowered my head before I could see anyone looking at us funny.

A couple of steps later, my head bumped into Michael's back.

"Why did you—"

I wanted to ask why he stopped walking, but I noticed his shoulders shaking. He pulled out one hand to cover his mouth, and that was when I knew what was happening to him. He was laughing at me!

I clasped his hoodie and yanked it in one strong move, making him lurch backward.

"Hey!" he exclaimed.

"Stop making fun of me," I barked.

His silent laughter turned into a noisy one. He turned around, and my frown vanished when I saw the creases in the corners of his eyes and his big smile.

"Can't help it," he said, still chuckling. "You look like a lost cat, especially with that beanie of yours."

I puckered my lips and tried to look mad. "I like this beanie, so shut up."

"It suits you."

Only Michael could change the mood so quickly—from "you mean something to me" to "sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you" and repeat the process from the start.

"You're such a confusing guy, you know?" I said before I could think better of it.

That must've struck a nerve because he clamped his mouth shut. I wanted to read what he was thinking, but he turned away as if he knew my intention, and he didn't like it.

"I think I saw them over there. Let's go," he said, gesturing in a random direction with his thumb.

Without reluctance this time, I grasped the back of his hoodie again.

"You can let go of me, Autumn."

"I don't understand. You encouraged me to hang on, and now you're giving me a choice to let go?"

"Because I saw how much trouble it puts you through."

"That wouldn't be a new concept for me. I can put up with it." We might be talking in a witty manner, but I felt this conversation had a hidden meaning, and it was making my throat close bit by bit.

"You can act tough all you want, but I'm sure that at some point, you'll get tired and eventually you'll let go."

Silence hung in the air. Our shoes scuffed against the snow-covered pathway, leaving shallow traces of footsteps behind us as we headed to the place where he thought he had seen our friends. I couldn't decide whether to tell him they had ditched us on purpose.

We reached an area where lesser people were around, and Michael stopped walking to face me.

"You really are not going to let go, are you?"

"No."

Sighing, he wrapped his fingers around my wrist in a firm yet gentle manner, and I freed his hoodie, my pulse quickening. I looked at his hand, waiting for him to release me, but he pulled me along with him. The entire occurrence was surprising and poignant, like the first drop of snow.

I was sure I fell in love with him again like usual. He did things that made me go back to him. Once again, it scared me half to death.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"Of what?"

"Walking."

"Oh." I thought he meant to ask if I was tired of hoping for that someday to come when he would call me and tell me how he felt about us. I couldn't believe I still had that glimmer of expectation.

"I am. A little," I added.

I thought I'd feel happy because there was only him and me, me with him. But I felt sad. That night, I came to a realization that even if I wanted to close the door on him, my own foot would still stop it from closing. And even if I did manage to close the door completely and he would come knocking years later, I would still welcome him and say, "I've been waiting for you."

Michael and I sat on the edge of a wide fountain. The statue of a woman in the center of it was both a disturbing and fascinating piece of art.

"Let's make a wish," I said.

He turned to me, confused.

"Throwing a coin in this fountain to make a wish is a custom in this city," I explained. "All the tourists do it. People say this particular spot has a legend around it."

"What legend?"

"It would take forever to explain it. Just grab a coin and make a wish."

He shrugged and fumbled in his pockets.

As I grasped my coin, I thought about my previous wishes that I'd been storing up for a long time. There was one specific wish that I had been longing to come true. A wish that he would know how he made me feel without me having to speak a word.

However, my judgment about that wish changed when I looked at Michael and studied the shadows beneath his eyes, and I caught myself wondering how he was deep inside. Knowing my true wish, at last, I closed my eyes and tossed the coin over my shoulder. It heard it plop into the half-frozen water.

My eyelids flew open, and I found him tossing the coin as well.

"What was your wish?" he asked after.

"If I told you, it might not come true," I said.

"That depends on what you wished. If it was something that you could work hard for, I believe it would come true. Come on, tell me." A grin appeared on his face. Once again, he was charmingly crafting his words to win over people.

I rolled my eyes, trying to resist him but obviously failing. "Well, my wish was..." I put my mitten-covered hands on my cheeks and laughed unsteadily. "I'm embarrassed to say this. Um, my wish was... for you to be happy."

I waited for him to say something, but he didn't speak.

"What did you wish for?" I asked to cut the growing silence.

"I wished that whatever you wished for would come true."

The silence that I had attempted to cut grew again, and I was rooted to my spot with a feeling of exhilaration, shock, and gratitude whirling inside me at once. Michael's gaze became distant and wistful, and seeing him like that made me think of a fractured glass that would crumble down with just one push of a finger.

"Why did you wish me to be happy?"

"Because you deserve it. Everyone does," I said.

"I am happy."

"Are you?"

"Yeah." He chuckled. "I'm with my friends."

"But how about when you're not with us?"

He sighed, closing his eyes for a bit. "What are you trying to make out of this?"

"I just want to get to know you better. That's all," I said, remembering the newspaper I found in the attic.

"I thought you knew me already."

"No." I paused, and he looked at me. "For one moment, I thought I did. I feel like regardless of how much time we spend talking to each other, I'll remain looking at the surface of who you are."

"It takes a lifetime to know someone, Marmalade," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Then, I'll make another wish." I grabbed a coin from my cotton sling bag and said my wish aloud: "I wish Michael would give me more clarity on who he was. He knew so much about me already. I think it would be fair if I knew him as much as he knew me."

When I heard the coin plop into the water, I gave him a deadpan look. "There. Since you wished that whatever I wished for would come true, now's the time for you to grant it."

A wide amused smile crossed his face. "Nice try, Marmalade. My wish was one-time use only."

I nudged him. "Come on."

"Fine." He straightened his back as he inhaled a sharp breath. "I don't know where to start, but here we go. My name is Michael, in case you don't know."

"Nice to meet you, Michael," I teased him.

"And..." He took a long pause, his smile fading away. With a mounting sense of gloominess, he licked his lips and said, "I don't think that was supposed to be my name."