It haunted him.

The feeling of a breath against his cheek or the ghost of a light, breathy laughter. The person whispering his name who was always gone by the time he turned around and the name that was on the tip of his tongue but he could never remember. The longing for something, someone, that felt out of his reach. The feeling that he was forgetting something important, something that shouldn't be forgotten but he had forgotten anyway.

At first, he thought he was going insane, pollution in the snow clouding his mind. But every wintry day, the image got just a bit clearer. Glimpses of an ethereal being with light in her eyes and a smile aimed at him; images of a girl with silky white strands of hair blending in with the drifting snow, crystal blue eyes that shined with laughter, a pink dusting across pale cheeks and ears, and a smile that conveyed unconditional love and boundless affection. But the clearest memory - out of the fragments to pick from - were tears. Clear as ice, tracing down creamy cheeks and splashing down in the loudest sound he had ever heard.

The feeling of being so close yet so far drove him crazy. He took up art, hoping to sketch out the figure in his mind, and it turned out futile, with his pencil only tracing a silhouette. Photography was also a failure, for he got lost every time he tried to visit and capture the places that would flash through his head. It seemed that whenever he tried to catch the moments, they would only escape further.

But then he remembered, and he hated himself for both forgetting and remembering because it hurt even more.

Whenever he passed through the familiar place of his hometown, tears would gather at the corner of his eyes. Their story wasn't flashy or cliche, but it was enough, enough for his heart to beat and enough for the immeasurable feeling of longing within him.

The ice rink, where he had first saw her as a small figure on the ice, dancing in her own little world. Where he had found the courage to praise her skating and she had beamed before worriedly asking him if he had a fever because his face was that red.

The college, where they had been ecstatic at discovering that they were in the same school and the same classes. The place where they had made their own group of friends along with their not-so-secret pairings within that group.

The beach, where they both had something to say to each other and, at the exact same time with the exact same words, professed their love.

The sidewalks they had walked hand in hand on, the place where they had left their marks on freshly fallen snow.

The apartments where they had lived as a happy couple, living in a blissful and happy haze they both thought would never end

The place where everything had fallen to ruin.

It was his own stupid mistake, a drunken haze of idiocy because of a fight that he couldn't even remember the cause of. She was pretty, probably. But her golden hair wasn't as pretty as hers, her blue eyes not as clear or mesmerizing. But for that one day when he couldn't have the girl he truly wanted, she was enough.

But then the girl with pretty hair and mesmerizing blue eyes had appeared, coming home despite the blizzard outside. Her smiling, apologetic face froze as she took in the compromising scene before her. She didn't ask who the girl laying in their bed was, nor did she ask the billion questions no doubt running through her mind.

All she wanted to know was why.

And he didn't know why, not anymore. He was apologizing to her, over and over and over as tears endlessly flowed down her cheeks in a way that pierced his chest and made him feel like he was going to die. He was on his knees, begging for her to just look at him. But she couldn't. Her small hands were covering her heart-shaped face and she was shaking her head no. 

It was too late, too late to apologize and too late to restart. 

But he didn't understand, couldn't understand. She kissed him with freezing cold lips and, as the tears froze on her face and next to her heartbreakingly sad eyes, disappeared into the protective snow. That spring, as the snow melted, everyone forgot one by one until it was like she was never there.

And now, staring at the snow blowing around him, he wanted to laugh despite the tears freezing against his cheeks as he wondered how he could forget her name when it was so simple and just like her. It was lonely, in a bittersweet way, to remember the name he once whispered fondly, a sad sort of happiness that would never disappear until he was no longer alone. The name fit her perfectly, the name as pure as her soul and white as hair.

Yuki.

And now that he knew her name, he was going to find her. Find her and never let her go again.