The cold season ca silently.
One day, I woke up strangely early, and I thought that the dim dawn light from outside the window was strangely white. I crept out of Alans arms in case he woke up and silently stepped onto the cold floor.
When I opened the curtain past the fireplace, which was faintly lit in the ashes that had disappeared overnight, I was so surprised that I covered my mouth with my hands.
Wow!
The vast garden had turned all white. It was not to the point of piling up, but I was happy with the unexpected luck. I heard that Lunoas climate is mild all year round, so its not easy to see snow.
At that mont, a warm warmth surrounded from behind.
Ah!
Its the first snow.
Did you wake up because of ?
Alan, with his chin on my shoulder, looked out of the window for a mont in silence and buried his head. His murmuring whisper in a sleepy voice was cute.
A morning of the first snow with Alan. I beca helplessly happy. Even this private peace will eventually fade with ti, and the fact that it is just a mont will make unbearably sad.
If so, I hope that I will rember it for as long as possible.
So peaceful days followed like that. Alan returned ho every evening. Even in this cold season, he always gives a bouquet with moist water in my arms.
These days, Alan sotis doesnt go to the office during the week. At first, I woke up in the morning, and I was surprised that he was still sleeping.
Maybe its the day of an important regular eting? Hes already a young boss, but what if a snake-like executive secretly blas him? With that in mind, I was about to wake him up by slapping him on the back, but I was attacked by Alan, who got up quickly.
I cant breathe!
Alan said he cut back on work. So he can rest once or twice a week.
I didnt know he was the kind of person who could put things down. After he learned about his parents, I was worried that there might have been a change of heart in a bad way, but I was happy with the thought that the ti we could spend together had increased.
In addition, Alan brought a tutor into the mansionat my earnest request to teach the Lunoan language. The emptiness of the ti without him beca bigger and bigger, so I wanted to fill that emptiness with the excitent of learning new things.
It was quite interesting to stutter through the novel in Lunoan. It can be said that there is a unique tragic beauty and sophistication that cannot be felt in the translated version.
Of course, there were days when we fought too. Because we are so different people.
It was always a small argunt, but there were tis when we couldnt understand each other so we didnt talk all night.
The cause of the quarrel was largely trivial. At the very least, it wasnt sothing like each others past lovers.
For example, if I was crying while reading a sad book, he would co up to and ask about it, and then he would be irritated and say that he couldnt understand my tears.
Its an emotional luxury to cry after reading a made-up story.
Then I would say that we only live in the story anyway. Then I asked if we should castrate our emotions. If I, the character in the story, love you, is that also a luxury?
Well, it was all a stupid wastage battle. In the morning, he always apologized in a hoarse voice. Then I kissed him reluctantly, pretending to accept him. It has solidified like a promise to us.
We quarreled so often and sotis raised our voices, but at so point I have never been to the annex. Although the corner of the garden overlooking from my room in the annex is also quite elegant.
At the end of November was Alans birthday. I heard about it from Butler William. The surprising fact was that it was the sa day that Alan saved from the cold snow.
Last year, there must have been enough people to fill Florin Boulevard to celebrate Alan Leopolds birthday. But he ca to my rescue, refusing all the boisterous celebrations and rrymaking.
On the day he was given life, I also gained a new life because of him. What words and letters can convey this overwhelming feeling?
He sotis called the sea. At tis like that, I would call him the wind. He was always the one who made waves in the sea.
After thinking about it all night, I decided to write a poem to celebrate Alans birthday. The last poem I wrote was a letter to him, which is already more than a year old.
I wrote him a second love poem.
I can see the wind,
Because the tingling wind with your face cos to like a flickering star,
When you blow, Im hit with open arms without resistance,
At tis like that, I often thought of death,
Although II never thought that there would be a sad or pitiful death in the world,
I will be smiling if my heart stops beating with your love,
Ill open the windows on winter nights so you dont wander,
What kind of face did you have?
Before they hurt you,
* * *
lissa.
Alan looked dry at the dinner table, where a dreary candle was burning over the silver candlestick. I smiled indifferently.
What do you think?
At least I liked my poem. But Alan didnt seem to be.
You didnt have to celebrate my birthday.
What?
On the birthday of my beloved lover, the feeling of facing his way of speaking when he doesnt like sothing.
You know, were lovers, but isnt it polite to say thank you even if its just empty words? Its been almost a year since I wrote a poem. As a special gift for your birthday
It doesnt an anything. Its just a date made up by the family.
Ha.
Cant you just say thank you and move on? I tried so hard. Theres no need to talk about uncomfortable things.
My heart pounded all day because you brought to life the day you took your first breath.
As soon as I moved my lips to say sothing, Alan continued.
Do you know youve changed?
.
Oddly enough, the words seed to break my heart. Its nothing special, but my eyes suddenly blurred.
I pressed my eyebrows with force to stop the tears from flowing.
Why? Because the , whose face turns red and couldnt even look into your eyes, no longer exists?
Ha, lissa.
Shining monts are always short. Thats why I never stopped the ti or emotion I spent with him.
Even if it was sweet enough to swallow in one bite, I put my nails in my soft palm and held it in. Just licking carefully and preciously, trying to last all our monts for a long ti.
Do you think Im a disgrace? Because I dont look up at you like I did before?
But Alans cold words seed to shatter all the hard work, the fragrant candy-like monts. Even my heart.
What are you talking about?
Am I the only one whos changed? You also said that everything I write is good!
A sudden surge of sadness ca over . I was as sad as the ashes in the stove. The soot that must have burned like heat soday, but now has been swept away. Tears flowed helplessly.
Im not good at talking unless its about work.
Alan swept his hair up frustratedly and rose to my side.
Still, listen.
A large hand approached carefully and wiped the tears from my cheeks. The thumb and the edge of the hand, then the back of the hand. It was quite ticulous and caring.
Co to think of it, the feeling of the black gloves he wore as a habit, touching my cheeks beca so distant that I couldnt even rember from when.
I like the words and sentences you use. Everything. Your handwriting, too.
But whats wrong with you. Why are you doing this to ?.
Im sorry, lissa. Im sorry.
Alan held my wet face in his hands, and I cried more and more because of his warm heart, but I hated him and didnt hug him.
It wasnt long that you said that my poems are good enough, heuk, to morize.
Because you werent a poet who used the word death in a love letter.
Are you an idiot? You have to look at the whole thing, not the word itself.!
With a deep sigh, he put his chin on my shoulder. His pulse passed through my trembling shoulders.
Im the one who was greedy to have you by my side, and Im the one who made your novel disappear, so I have nothing to say. Still, I was worried that my crude self-righteousness might have ruined you.
.
You used to only wear shiny things. You said you wanted to live a season that looked like , lissa.
He hugged tighter and whispered. His voice trembled like a flickering candle.
Now I remind you of death?
.
What he said was partly true. From so point on, the love between him and reminded of death. Theres nothing more powerful than this love.
That cant be.
It was clearly who was crying, but at so point I was comforting him.
Our love is indeed no different from that of children. Are you thinking the sa as ? It reminded that so fears are sotis caused by too much love.
In the anti, I was sohow relieved by his warmth, breathing quietly in my arms. His back was hugged by without a tear stain, I cried and comforted him affectionately, as if I were going to use all the moisture in my body. It was such a strange and tender comfort.
So we were happy. We are just clumsy and young lovers who are so precious and lovely to each other. Even if I get lost in the dark, if Im with you, Ill be happy like a dream.
But life is a harsh journey, and misfortune always cos suddenly. It had only been a few days since the day we shared the warmth of tears.
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