It had been a strange kind of February.
The snow still clung to the edges of rooftops, but the sidewalks were beginning to remember what warmth felt like. Cafés had started offering sakura-themed sweets a little early, and students whispered about entrance exams and graduation like they were shadows creeping up the hallways. The winter light wasn't quite as sharp anymore. It pooled soft and low through the windows, brushing against Emi's sketchbook like a silent companion.
She had found herself slipping outside during lunch more often lately not because the classroom was noisy, but because it was full. Full of shifting dynamics, teasing glances, and half-finished thoughts.
And Axel.
Always somewhere in the corner of her eye, like a bookmark she hadn't placed but always found again.
She settled on the back steps near the old gym, coat tugged tight, sketchbook balanced on her knees. Her fingers, though slightly numb, danced with ease as she worked. A bridge. A train passing. A girl standing quietly near the edge. Sometimes the girl had Emi's coat. Sometimes not. But he was always there across the page, in the margins, or behind her shoulder, drawn in lines even when she hadn't planned to.
A soft exhale.
She was halfway through shading when a familiar voice floated over her shoulder.
"I always thought people who draw in the cold are either geniuses… or just really bad at time management."
Emi didn't look up. "Guess which one I am."
"Let's go with genius." Axel said.
She allowed herself a smile before she looked at him. Axel stood with his hands in his pockets, scarf slightly crooked, the wind tugging at the strands of his hair.
"Did you follow me?"
"No," he said casually, sitting beside her, "I just have incredible timing."
They sat in easy silence, the kind that only exists when two people have shared enough days together to make quiet feel like a conversation. The clouds moved slowly overhead, casting shifting shadows on the pavement.
Somewhere far off, the school bell rang for the end of lunch, but neither of them moved.
There was something about the air the tail end of winter, the edge of something new that made everything feel both heavy and featherlight.
As time passed the sun had begun to stretch a little farther each evening. There were fewer icicles clinging to the eaves, fewer patches of snow on rooftops. The world was slowly shifting not in a dramatic thaw, but with the quiet patience of something sure of itself.
Emi found herself sitting on the back steps near the old gym, knees hugged close, a familiar sketchpad resting on her lap.
The pages were filling up again not just with doodles of snow and stray cats, but with moments.
Moments that happened quietly.
A sleeve tugged in a hallway.
A scarf shared under one umbrella.
A boy who always listened even when he pretended not to care.
She stared at the latest one: two silhouettes, side by side, under a bridge.
A soft rustle broke her thoughts. Axel stood nearby, holding two cans of warm cocoa from the vending machine.
He tossed one to her gently. "You always draw outside in the cold?"
She caught it with a shrug. "Better than doing math problems."
"Fair."
They sat in companionable silence, sipping quietly. Somewhere beyond the schoolyard, the wind carried the faint scent of melting frost and early spring.
"Everyone keeps saying I should hurry," Emi murmured after a while. "That if I wait too long... I might lose something."
Axel didn't answer right away. He watched a couple of birds skimming across the edge of the field.
Then he said, "You know… people make a big deal out of labels. Boyfriend. Girlfriend. Confession. Like it has to be loud and timed perfectly or it doesn't count."
He glanced at her, eyes calm.
"But I think… sometimes just becoming the kind of person who knows someone's heart without needing it spelled out means just as much. Maybe more."
Emi's breath hitched slightly. He wasn't saying it to her directly but he wasn't not saying it either.
Axel continued, softer now, "Being close… it isn't just about saying you're in love. It's about being someone's best place to fall when the world gets too loud. Being in sync without needing to talk about it all the time."
He leaned back, closing his eyes briefly.
"And if two people already get each other like that… I don't think there's anything they could lose. Even if they don't call it something yet."
A long silence followed. Not uncomfortable just full.
Emi smiled slowly. "You always say the quietest things when they matter the most."
He smirked faintly. "You're just better at hearing them."
They didn't talk about love. They didn't talk about fear.
But between them, something settled.
Not a confession.
Not a promise.
But a shared knowing.
That their story wasn't waiting to start.
It was already being written — in the sketches, in the shared cans of cocoa, in the snow that hadn't quite melted yet.
They sat there until the sky deepened into violet and the first stars blinked above them.
Emi whispered, half-teasing, "You still haven't told me what your wish was at the shrine."
Axel shrugged, looking ahead.
"I wished the snow wouldn't melt too fast."
She tilted her head. "Why?"
He didn't look at her.
"Because I wanted more time to keep things exactly the way they are… before they change into something even better."
Emi didn't reply right away.
The light had changed again — soft gold tinting the gym wall beside them, as if the sun had paused to listen too. Her fingers played absently with the tab on the cocoa can, her sketchbook now resting closed on her lap.
"You know," she said finally, "I used to think… that love had to be loud."
Axel blinked. "Loud?"
She nodded. "Like in dramas. Big confessions. Fireworks. Rainy train stations." She laughed, a little breathless. "But maybe it's also… sitting on cold steps and passing cocoa."
He glanced sideways. "So, I don't need to stand outside your house with a boombox?"
She gave him a look. "You do that, I will call the police."
"Noted," he grinned.
The laughter faded slowly, leaving behind a warmth that didn't quite need to be named. They both looked forward again, their shoulders close, breaths visible in the cooling air.
"Do you think," Emi asked after a pause, "that some people are just… quietly building something before they even realize it?"
Axel didn't answer right away.
Instead, he leaned back on his hands and let his gaze trace the sky.
"Yeah," he said eventually. "And by the time they realize… it's already strong enough to hold anything."
The silence after that felt different. Full, not heavy.
Eventually, Emi packed up her sketchbook, but she didn't stand yet. Axel, noticing her hesitation, asked, "You coming?"
She looked at him not flustered, not unsure. Just seen.
"Yeah," she said softly. "But maybe just… let's stay a few more minutes."
So they stayed.
Long enough for the sun to tilt lower. Long enough for the snow around them to glint like it was made of glass. Long enough to hear distant footsteps from students heading back but not long enough to forget this moment would be one of those memories that stays.
And if someone had passed them just then two teens on old gym steps, one sketching, the other sipping cocoa they might not have seen anything extraordinary.
But they weren't supposed to.
Because the extraordinary part wasn't the gesture.
It was the quiet.
The trust.
The realization that love, when it's ready, doesn't rush.
It simply… stays.
And when Emi finally rose to her feet, dusting the snow from her coat and brushing her hair from her eyes, she didn't feel unsure.
She felt ready.
Maybe not to confess.
But to keep walking. With him.
At her own pace.
Until the snow melts. And who knows if this feeling was mutual.