Prologue

***

"I assume this is the moment I profess my undying love for you?"

"... Right now, Jeremy? You sure have bad timing when it comes to things."

Vela's eyes were glossed over with outspoken uncertainty. Was this truly the buildup that lead to her future? If so, that was one hell of a shitty happening.

"Jeremy…"

"You needn't worry. I know."

The male's voice managed to cut off the stiff atmosphere between the two. His icy eyes averted the Spanish's gaze, setting on the train railings. A single sigh escaped his pale lips; otherwise, the only foretelling of his dissatisfaction.

If only you would have told me sooner, then…

That thought fell heavy into the pit of her stomach. What an idle desire. Too fragile and inconsistent to ever take flight.

Chances were that if she knew, nothing would have changed. Well, apart from the uneasiness she was feeling -  which would have amplified up to an unbearable level.

So they just stood there, hands almost brushing against each other. Her wrist close enough for him to grasp into a tight hold.

All of that pent up desire had taken a hold onto the poor boy. Not knowing whether or not he was in charge of himself anymore, Jeremy allowed a muttered curse to burst through his lips.

"Oh, but why do we act as if we'll never see each other ever again?" Vela laughed nervously in the back of her hand.

"Jer, we still have all the holidays… not to mention that Americans have all those public celebrations."

"Be realistic, Vels. You can't possibly fly down here with every chance you get."

"Bet!"

"How much you'd bet me for all the times you'll end up stuck there because of work? Or because of friends, or convenience's sake, or--''

"--I get it, I get it!"

"-- or because of a new boyfriend."

Jeremy's last line hung low over their heads, despite the fact that his statement only came of as a murmur.

The main instinct of the older female was to shake her head in feigned disapproval. Awaiting a few moments to organize her trail of thought, she sighed deeply.

"Jeremy, listen. I am flattered, but--"

Not even allowing his friend to finish her sentence, the younger male raised from his seat. Agonizingly slow, his left hand travelled down the handle of Vela's suitcase, taking a strong grasp over the leathered arm. Shifting his weight away from his right foot, Jeremy begrudgingly offered the girl his free arm.

 "And up we go."

"Thank you."

"... I'll take care of this luggage for you. I'll stack it up above your seat."

Snow danced in the light, a choreographed ballet conducted by the harsh wind. As Vela watched the boy bask the luggage forward, her eyes grew a tiny bit wider.

The street looked like an unfinished painting. So much of that canvas was still perfectly white, as if waiting for the artist's hand to return. That faint, slithered light of the early morning washed over her auburn hair. Still struggling through the murky cloud, yet persistent in its weakness, it danced across the shadows of Jeremy's face. Soon enough, his deep frown ceased to ascend over his features, and the highschooler glanced back at his dear friend.

Vela was eyeing him shyly, perhaps with a notch of awkwardness; despite the furry coat that engulfed her figure fully, the muscles of her lower back were clenched painfully - a subtle sign of her discomfort.

Breath pale against the numbing air, Jeremy cleared his throat, behind a black knitted scarf. He blinked thoughtfully as the frost impatiently bit his face, all too captivated by the soft, dusty illusions of light, that sat heavy on the Spanish's eyelashes. 

That holy glimpse of her rendered him against a thin wall, with a single conclusion easing coherency into his mind: though he never really cared for snow, he adored the sight of it on Vela's frostbitten cheeks.

"Attention to all passengers: because of the heavy snow storm that announced itself upon this early morning, the coded trains 34, 27 and 71, will be each belated by 5 to 20 minutes. On the behalf of the management, as well as conducting team, we sincerely apologise."

"Well then…"

"So many words for a simple meaning: <Your trains aren't coming, sorry about that. Feel free to freeze to death, though!>"

The older girl shifted from one foot to another, before plopping herself back on the snowy bench. With a small giggle, she eyed Jeremy with sight amusement.

"That's so mean of you! The poor woman has nothing to do with the roads being stuck."

The sound of Vela's cheerful laughter set Jeremy's heart ablaze. And for once, he was happy that the reddening tips of his ears could have been overlooked as the mere protest of cold.

"I just say things how I see them. No point in beating around the bush."

"Hm. Well, there is no point in getting mad at the weather, either."

The boy glanced back at his wrist watch, as a small array of calculations took a hold over his subconscious.

The time boldy read 7:46, and now he felt indebted to add up a scruttening 20 minutes into the mix.

School was supposed to start at the nick of dawn, thanks to the grace of becoming a senior. 

And while keeping Vela company was more than he could hope for - especially since he was mildly aware that they won't be seeing each other any time soon -, the male simply couldn't ignore his studies. 

Even so, there was no way Jeremy would waste the sole opportunity to bid his affectionate goodbyes. The only thing he'd hope for was for the train to be arriving as soon as possible; a conflict of interests, for he knew that her absence would orchestrate the gloomy tune of his second term.

"Attention to all passengers: the coded train 27 will arrive in its designated station in any following moment. We advise any remaining travellers to prepare their luggage for embankment. Thank you, and have a pleasant rest of your day!"

Jeremy's shoulders slumped over, as his eyes took the form of a mournful gaze. Casting his rage down onto a pebble, the shadow of the Englishman looked sluggish, a fragile reminder of his tall stature. Mouth stuck into a semi-pout, he kicked the dejected stone with his fine oxfords, taking in a deep breath.

"Your train is…"

"Ah, yes, yes. Number 27."

Replying with a simple nod, the 17 year old turned his head to the station, seeing how the massive contraption slowed down at the sight of the platform.

The raucous, metallic shriek heralded the arrival of the deceit carriage, standing in defiance of it's condition - all corroded iron and tacky upholstery. 

The doors reluctantly eased open with the force of a stocky station guard, as if gripped by age, the handles stiff with arthritis.

<Simply put, there is only one advantage of waking up at five thirty in the morning!> Jeremy remembered his friends' words. <I am endowed with the generous elbow room and a guaranteed window seat all to myself.>

His thoughts were drifted away by the fresher, more present melody of Vela's memoir.

"... I guess this is it. End of the tracks!" The girl lightly joked, signing to the impressive teach.

The locomotive resounds again; the brakes are pushed by the impatient inspector, announcing his thinning patience for the two lost souls.

Against Jeremy's ears, the bell was nothing more than a prospective shrill, jangling away at his nerves each time the large man set it off again.

He shallowly wondered what symbolism it held in Vela's mind. 

"All aboard!"

And, for the first time, he realized just how far away they've ended up. From each other, from their friends, for the buzzing students.

He could feel his chapped lips being whipped by the unforgiving cold; and only when a thin drop of blood rolled down onto the white coat beneath them, Jeremy licked them gingerly.

Noticing how Vela didn't seem to move from the cold bench, he extended his arm, aided by a stiff movement,

"Say, Vels, you still want that window seat?" He managed to ask, offering her a faint smile.

To that statement, Vela's eyes slowly lit up, straightening her back with ease.

"You remember which seat I like?" She asked with a childish pout.

"You say that as if it's a big thing; I only remember about that because you wouldn't shut up about it as kids."

Having said that, Jeremy tangled his fingers with the girl's very own, leading her to one of the ajar doors.

***

Jeremy's heavy footsteps carried him away from the train station, back into his 80's car. And as he walked down the streets, feeling rough cracks through thin soles, the wind moving as if he wasn't there at all,as if he were a ghost and nothing more, the boy collapsed into the front seat of the vehicle.

Despite the dim rays of sun, who made their presence known mere hours ago, the parking lot felt dark and clammy. The snow was still falling at a furious pace, forming clumps of wet flakes at the bottom of the car's wheels. They all stuck to its rear mirror, drifting windlessly down, in heavily condensed drops.

Connecting the car keys to their hole, he looked over to the street for the last time in that day.

The mushy sidewalk greeted him back; no longer was the train's track imprinted on the road. It's marks were erased by an onslaught of white snow, and with them, so was Vela.

Just like her, gone with the wind he was, stepping on the brakes with renewed force. The car inched up the steep, wide avenue, wheels pinning momentarily before they regained traction. The wipers were moving frantically over the windscreen, accompanied by the sporadic sounds of overworked engine.

Picking up speed by the second, a single gasp escaped Jeremy's lips, as the car approached the road to his own house.

Slamming the door shut, he crouched down onto his porch line, allowing the gentle snow to coat his jet black hair.

Snow: a precipitation in the form of white crystals, mainly of intricately branched, hexagonal form. Often enough, it is agglomerated into snowflakes, formed directly from the freezing water vapor in the air. Lush and opaque, cold to the touch, powdery heavenly beauty.

Now, with the absence of Vela, it all felt like a driving blizzard, a bitter wind; biting, stinging, a never ending sea of white. Snow beat against jackets and jeans, drifting boots to sink low into it's chilly hold. Wetting the skin, making you fraughed, giving you frostbite, making you cold.