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Once again, drops of white flooded the town with all its twinkling flakes. Dropping onto the land blanketed in white, the rooftops of the houses in the small settlement, dying them with that same shade as well. As if shielding the village away from the sun's warmth, coating it in what one would assume as an eternal rain of white.
Although, that seemingly everlasting snowfall was nothing short of a usual phenomenon there. Even the children who resided upon this town had come to peace with the harshest of blizzards that laid themselves bare before the land. Playing with the falling snow wouldn't be a problem for them in the slightest.
However, such wasn't the case of a certain couple who lived somewhere in the depths of this town.
Beneath the roof of a small, cozy cottage was a pair of women whom had lived the joys of marriage. One had proposed to the other many years ago, and such was enough to move the hand of fate so to show them happiness of their supposedly long, fulfilling lives.
Even so, as the clock continues to tick endlessly with the remaining time of everyone's lives looming above themselves, many, many misfortunes fell upon them both. An illness with an unattainable cure, the distance from everyone they knew caused by that illness itself, and lastly, how it affected their lives so drastically that even the slightest bit of glee that danced upon their forms would vanish in the snap of a finger.
Yes, one of them was, indeed, harboring such a thing in a sickly, weakened state.
Laying down on the bed was Honami, gazing into her window as the snow continued to fall. Covered in her beloved's unused coat and a thick blanket so to shield herself from the cold, she sighed, a small, translucent cloud forming before her hands.
"I wonder why Ichika-chan's taking so long..."
The girl sighed to herself as she buried herself further inside the covers, waiting for her dearest to come back from her stroll outside. No one should be spending their time out in a blizzard like this, she thought.
A ring of a bell then interrupted the inner silence, followed by an opening door's creaking from downstairs and the footsteps of someone rushing towards her door.
A decently long pause, maybe one that lasted a few minutes, occured. That was, before the door then slammed itself open, revealing a disheveled Ichika and her faintly white-stained clothes.
"Honami!" she lightly yelled, rushing to her wife's side with a cup of hot chocolate now placed on the nightstand. "I'm home."
"Ah!"
Something sounded of a small squeak, a startled noise coming out of the lady resting beneath the covers. A fleeting feeling of surprise danced in her heart, and that was soon expressed with nothing else besides a small smile of warmth. Cheeks brightening as she endearingly looked into the eyes of her spouse, her exhausted form decorated in twinkling flakes.
Ridding herself of the dirtied cloak she wore, the fabric of her button-up shirt laid itself bare before whoever laid eyes upon her. That clean, unblemished cloth that hugged the pianist's form was now revealed, its pristine shade of white giving an essence of purity into it for whatever reason. A pair of trousers, one colored in a certain dark beige that looked not too dissimilar of black, wrapped themselves around the lower part of her figure, covering the hem of the white fabric.
Once she finished her act, the lady returned to her dear one, taking a seat beside her upon the bed.
"So, how's your–"
Without even thinking of anything else that once bothered her mind, a hand then reached out so to tug onto the older's arm, pulling her close for a momentarily embrace.
"Ichika-chan!"
"O-oh," she murmured, feeling her arm move itself closer to Honami. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," her dearest uttered out. "It's just that... I feel like snuggling up to you, Ichika-chan. I missed you."
"I just went to go for a walk outside, Honami..."
Sighing, she thought of her in such a way. But of course, who wouldn't be happy if their beloved was to worry over them, even if only for a fleeting moment?
With that in mind, Ichika couldn't help but to gently laugh, a hand enveloping her lover's form. A warm, intimate time for the couple, embracing one another in the early evening. The joy that coated both of their hearts the second the two intertwined their fingers before the snow's eternal fall, such did not cease to exist as the taller one of the two kissed the other's palm. Fingers still wrapping themselves around each other, not too dissimilar of their own resting figures.
Soft, warm, fluttery kisses spilling onto Honami's freezing hands, a merely useless attempt of Ichika trying to warm up her dearest's frail body.
"Ah, I almost forgot something," she breathed out, a small, heated cloud touching the younger's ear. "Here, have some hot chocolate. I brewed it for you the moment I came home."
While the tall lady's hand took hold of the mug, her free hand remained still, holding so tightly onto her wife. Passing the hot, warm mug into the brown-haired's hand, she soon let go of their intertwining fingers, hands entirely taking hold of the cup.
"... I see. Thank you, Ichika-chan."
"Don't mention it." Her large hand found its way on her head, patting it so to assure her of such words. "I'm just glad you're happy with it."
As usual, the room then falls into a quiet silence. An awkward one to behold, if they were to be honest. Although, beneath the uneasiness that would sometimes mask even the happiest thing that appeared before their lives, under it were layers and layers of pure delight, one that was enough to stain their hearts in glee.
A music box distantly playing out a tune Ichika would play on the piano downstairs wafted their own sound inside the small room, ridding them of the initial embarrassment the couple experienced through silence. Nostalgic memories; many of which originating from their childhood, was indeed the only one present to dye their minds in warmth besides the scent of hot chocolate and the sound of their laughs.
While the couple giggled joyfully before one another's gaze, the melody continued its waltz upon the once cold air, the tiny figure of a pair inside it spinning and spinning so slowly for as long as it plays on. A beautifully carved couple, one of them holding the other, as if their souls silently danced along with the tune itself.
If either one of them, whether it was Honami or Ichika, laid their eyes upon this old music box in a significant, earnest manner, they'd probably remember how this object even ended up in their room.
On a snowy afternoon, back when her wife was still as healthy as the two of them used to be, the sun lets itself set upon the horizon, leaving them with the street lights dyed in white snow.
During their stroll, however, a small tune wafted within the air, as if luring Ichika into a store by the side of the street.
Before her was a music box, its own small figures spinning inside its form.
"Honami, can we get this?"
"Hm? Why so?"
"It... reminds me of us. Can we...?"
A giggle escaped the lady's mouth before she accompanied her so to buy such an item.
"Of course."
And there it is now; a small box that reveals its melodies before their once empty ears. Thinking about all that made Ichika feel... warmer. As if the warmth of the cup Honami is holding wasn't enough to faintly warm her hands, almost like their embrace became even warmer as she stayed.
That was, before a shattering noise interrupted her train of nostalgic, delightful thoughts.
A light cough, followed by the sound from the mug that was once held by the other. How it fell out of her grasp, briefly rolling on the bed before falling onto the wooden floor, its pieces spread across the stains of the remaining scalding fluid. Honami's trembling hands shivered so slightly, her dearest's once happy gaze now turned into one filled with nothing else but sheer worry and shock.
Her illness... It really has gotten into this stage, hasn't it?
The only thought in Ichika's mind then blurred itself into a distorted fragment, her eyes now moving to look at the remains of the glass.
"Ichika-chan..."
That voice was filled with prevalent guilt, one that shook her heart to the core. Sounding so sorry was her dearest wife, as if trying to apologize for what she thought was her fault.
It really wasn't. Ichika knew that from the start.
So she bitterly smiled, the look of emptiness in her eyes clouded by Honami's own teary gaze.
"It's okay, Honami," she assured, entangling the loose strands between her fingers, patting them ever so slightly. "I'll go clean it up. Stay here, alright?"
"Be careful!"
Small, steady steps so to not damage herself with the broken ceramic shards, the girl soon ran out, closing the door gently so to keep her wife in a calm state. Unsurprised, serene and at peace with whatever escalated in front of their eyes. Unlike Ichika herself, whose eyes widened with a bleary-eyed vision the moment she shut the door behind her back.
It felt as if a lump rose in her throat, restricting her actions and movements. She couldn't even move her feet now. Even if she could try to swallow the rising discomfort that bloomed within, nothing could ward off the despair that whelmed her heart.
Honami's illness...
It really did reach that point.
As her eyes blur the sight of the wooden floor and the first story downstairs, tears started to fall onto her feet. As if the world distorted into a blob, a hand covering her mouth as she weeped.
She wanted to scream and cry. Even if it felt like something in her heart was restraining her to do such a pathetic act, she really wanted to do exactly so.
Once she opened her mouth, however, nothing came out.
Only a broken weep, one mixed with bitter laughter.
"Honami..."
The night has settled in, leaving Ichika alone with her own solitude once again. Her beloved wife was now resting upon their bed, ragged breaths coming out of her with each and every cough. No matter how she tried to hide it all from her dear lover, she couldn't do so. She can't help but to let out even more of them, spilling so freely as the noises made their ways into the older's ears.
Ever since that evening, nothing good appeared to cheer up Ichika besides her wife's still remaining presence. The worsening of the other's illness was what caused this awful heartache. It keeps progressing into a horrible predicament to unfold later in her life, she thinks as she walks downstairs for her eyes to meet a piano nearby.
Beside it was a table out of ebony wood, a small frame sitting upon it as she rested her form on the chair before the instrument. Inside it was a picture of her and Honami, clad in their wedding attires. Beneath the softly falling snow, they smiled, two familiar figures standing near them, seemingly happy for their marriage.
A lady in black whose suit contrasted the shade of gray in her hair, and a blonde woman in white whose smile stood out between everyone else shown there.
But of course, Honami will always be the one to stand out in her eyes.
Somewhere on the glass framing it was a crack, one caused by an accident where Ichika eventually found out about the illness her beloved harbored.
That day she collapsed in front of her eyes, her figure knocking the picture frame down with her as well. On that very moment, a few shards of glass shattered before the older's eyes, not too dissimilar of what happened today.
That moment was but an unpleasant memory, one that would soon reveal itself as a terrible predicament that worsened as the clock ticks, once again.
"Honami..."
The girl silently mumbled, wiping away a few remaining teardrops that found themselves present beneath her eyes.
"I want us to be happy again. But isn't that... too selfish of me?"
Another lonely, pitiful laugh echoed in the room, followed by another weep as her fingers sink into the monochromatic tiles. The same tune that played out on this very evening from the music box earlier was now turned into one filled with more emotion. That emotion was, indeed, nothing else besides the remaining hope she had in her despaired heart.
A melody of desperation howled out in the silent night, a forgone prayer for the soul lost in the eternal blizzard within. Blinded of hope and happiness was she, her only remaining joy merely delivered in small pieces.
Smaller than an atom, that is.
But of course, the pianist played on with her show of madness, millions of her feelings twirling between each and every note her fingers laid themselves upon. That melody was now no more than an entirely tear-jerking show to whoever dared to listen and watch, which was Ichika herself. Even if her dearest could hear it, even if her friends could hear it, even if anyone else who resides in this godforsaken village could hear it, only she would be weeping at her own pathetically arranged notes of despair.
Memories of warmth then came to flood her mind. Those times where Honami would sit beside her as she played a tune, her soft voice accompanying it as they sang. Her gentle smile that would brighten and melt even the harshest of lives and the coldest of hearts was but another treasure for Ichika to behold.
Someone she held dear.
Her hold on her, however, is now slipping away.
The clock would never cease to tick, ruthlessly killing every last second that remained for Honami to live. The illness she harbored would wretch the insides of her frail body, leaving her in an awfully weak state with every single day she lived in.
Such thoughts continued to travel Ichika's mind, and for whatever reason, the tune she played now turned into a messy jumble of notes.
Many wrong taps here and there. The melody twisted itself in the air. Her eyes grew bleary, as if blinding her from the black and white keys. No matter how hard she tried to stop herself from crying, tears endlessly streamed down her face.
"Honami..."
She choked out, her head aching as she tried to restrain herself. Even as she buried her head into her arms as she crouched on the stool, she couldn't stop crying. Even if everything has been done, her tears...
They will never come to an end.
"Hona... mi...."
Her voice faded away into silence, for the piano's music has now settled into a halt. Unlike her everlasting tears of sheer sadness and dismay, never to stop for as long as she breathes for the night.
"Why... do you have to go... through such a harsh life, Honami?"
That night, the pianist cried before the gods' gaze, weeping as if there was no tomorrow. Her tears of hopeless agony found themselves embraced by the mere illusion of warmth from the dim lights, an acception of her own feelings even as she helplessly cried.
And that picture beside her...
It still remained. Those memories still remained, no matter how painful their lives shall become.
Another morning dawned upon the pianist's exhausted form, her eyes still wet with tears despite the countless hours that has passed. Her head, which once rested on the piano's closed lid, has now risen itself so to blindly stare into the rising sun.
"Ah, right," she mumbled. "Honami's still upstairs. I should go check up on her and make her something while I'm still here."
Rising before the sealed piano keys, she soon started to boil a cup of tea. The heat from the ceramic was beyond comfortable, she thought. Continuously holding it as she weakly stepped onto the wooden surface, she climbed up the stairs, her tired eyes looked here and there. Scavenging the empty floor with absolutely nothing in mind, a hand reached to open the bedroom's door.
A still slumbering Honami rested herself upon the bed, her body heaving up and down with each breath she took.
That was, before her eyes flickered open, catching a glimpse of Ichika's disheveled form.
"... You're already awake?"
"I guess so," the young pianist took a seat beside her wife. "Is there anything you'd like to do today?"
A quiet silence filled the room, albeit its unmoving warmth. Smiles on their faces bloomed so vividly, as if nothing has happened for the last night. Almost like no tears has been shed, no such thing as despair whelming both their hearts. As if the desperation inside the sickly lady's soul was never to exist. As if the despair wretching the pianist was never there.
As if their feelings were reborn anew.
Although, that only lasted for a few seconds, shorter than a whole minute. A cough soon rose upon Honami's throat, alerting Ichika of her dearest's illness once again.
Despite that, however, a calm, serene smile bloomed on her face.
"I... want to go outside."
A surprised, yet worried expression dyed Ichika's face in the span of a short, brief second. Eyes widening ever so slightly, she then approached her wife, wrapping an arm protectively around her.
"Are you sure?" she questioned the younger in her arms, supporting her clothed form as the two descended from the bed. "In a snowfall like this? Will you be alright?"
"Fufu, of course, Ichika-chan."
Taking hold of a crimson scarf that hung beside the pianist's coat, she wrapped it around her neck as she watched the other put on the thick fabric dyed black. Now, a gloved hand reached out to her own one, leading her into the long lasting fall of white fragments twinkling onto her clothes, as if taking a stroll upon the clouds among the heavens.
To lead her downstairs.
To take her to the outdoors that'll happily embrace her longing of the vast lands covered in snow.
As the two set foot onto the outside world, the younger of the two soon ran off into the snow, not too far so to not make her beloved worry. Spreading her arms as she danced along with the snowflakes falling from above, she twirled so elegantly in the wind, giggling as she smiled.
Never had Ichika seen her wife smiling so widely ever since... that happened.
Regardless of all that, despite all her worries of Honami suddenly collapsing in this vast field of snow, she laughed as well.
"Seeing you smile like this... makes me really happy, Honami," the young pianist thought, seeing her dear wife dance along with the long-tailed tits fluttering around her fingers.
"As if I was to fall in love with you, all over again."
Leaving footprints onto the large field of snow, Ichika rested herself on a tree trunk nearby, getting closer to her wife in this land of pure white. It'd be hard to find her in case anything happens if she was to be so far away from her, after all.
Seeing her dear pianist rest upon the snow, she then crouched down to look at her, giggling as she did so.
"It's been a while since we've went outside together in the snow like this, you know?"
The brown-haired girl said, leaning onto Ichika's shoulder.
"That's right," she laughed. "You seem so excited about all this. Could it be that you've wanted to do this for so long?"
A nod came from the younger before the pianist gently smiled.
"I see. Just don't go too far, alright? I don't want anything to happen without me being able to help."
A soft, warm kiss on the cheek before she left to play with the birds once again.
Come to think of it, Ichika seems very happy, too. The gleeful look on her face was enough to prove such. Seeing Honami in what one would consider a healthy state, witnessing her play with the wintry creatures, just like how she did as a child... That truly amazed Ichika. She wanted to treasure these moments forever.
Joyfully hopping and stepping on the snow, almost as if it was but a stage of lights that shined upon her world as she smiled. Truly a moment to behold, one to capture with a sort of camera if she even had one.
All of this... It all feels like a dream. A very good one, of course.
That was, until the gods' hands turn the wheels of fate and snap the pianist back into what they would tell her as a reality.
In the distance, a small, faint cough could be heard, followed by the chirping of the birds flying away from the source of the sound. Something sounded of someone falling onto their knees, coughing as the snow took over them and some sort of illness in their body taking over their weakened form.
She shouldn't have let her go that far.
She shouldn't have let her go out here.
She should've stayed inside.
She should've slept in that day while Ichika takes care of her, just like how their days usually went.
How did it end up like this?
The coughing progressively grows louder and louder. A guttural noise even emitted from the sickly girl's form. Those were what Ichika heard as she ran closer and closer to Honami's trembling form, the scarf around her neck only serving to burn her throat even more as she coughed.
It's so sickening. It keeps tightening around her neck. Even if she loosened it and took it off in this bitter cold weather, her throat still burned, and so did her heart.
Never has she felt this sort of agony in her life.
Even that day where she collapsed before Ichika was incomparable with whatever she's currently going through.
"Honami! Honami!"
That distant voice echoed from afar, its form uselessly wafting through the lady's ears as she let herself fall onto the cold, hard surface of the eternal snow.
"... Icchi..."
Now, her mouth couldn't even utter the pianist's name properly. The pianist that had given her many melodies to listen to, one whom had loved her with all her heart put into those notes as they both sang together in the still nights of winter. The pianist whom cared for her when nobody else did, giving her the proper forms of care as she obeyed her orders of pure concern.
The very same person whom proposed to her, whom she married on that fateful day.
Now, a saying of her name would mindlessly ring inside the ears of whoever dared to hear.
A soundless voice, now crying out so desperately inside her aching heart.
"Honami!"
The pianist's voice then resounded inside her mind, feeling a pair of arms now holding her frail body with all their sturdiness. Tears frozen by the chill of the wintry wind, falling onto the heart of the young lady as she cried out.
"Hold on, Honami! Don't... Don't leave!"
Her voice broke with the millions of tears she was yet to release, shouting it into Honami's heart, as if a forgone prayer was to be recited in a land of cruelty ruled by the hands of fate.
As soon as Ichika started to let her tears fall, however, a small cloud of white formed before her frozen lips, uttering words for one last time.
"Ichika-chan... Thank you."
A thankful saying for her, sounding like a gust of wind for the pianist. Harboring no sound in those words was she, a barely audible call to her beloved who held her so firmly beneath the falling snow.
Unsteady breaths continues to come out of the two. One out of tears, the other out of sheer cold. The couple continued their grimace of agony, Ichika's hopeless cries echoing endlessly, both in Honami's ears and in the forest before them.
"Honami... Don't die... right here! I won't forgive you... if you'll leave me like this!"
Swallowing her salty tears bitterly as she sobbed and weeped, her voice grew hoarse with tears the moment she uttered that white lie. Yes, a lie as white and as pure as the snow. Although, all she wanted to do was to scream and shout, to beg for mercy from the gods so to bring her dearest wife back, no matter what.
But of course, even the mightiest of them would not give such an opportunity for someone as selfish as her.
After all, death is but an inevitable parting one shall encounter.
And no one, even those who rule the heavens, shall fasten or wish for it to come to a halt upon its own arrival.
"Honami!"
She dismissed those thoughts as soon as they entered her mind. Even if that'll be the last time she'll shout, she won't let anyone take Honami away from her. Her egoistic heart wouldn't let such a predicament unfold. Not even before the eyes of whoever resided above.
Regardless, the girl buried her face into the fabric of her dearest's clothes, stained in white. The bitter cold that enveloped it came to put themselves at ease with her tears, as if freezing them before her own eyes.
Tasting the bitter tears, she held herself back so to not weep over her. Rather, to beg so lowly to whoever took hold of her remaining life now. A hopeless stare into her wife's eyes that has stirred shut and her form covered in snow, one devoid of any emotion beside the sheer despair and selfish desperation that infested themselves in their heart, ever since she was to find Honami in this state.
She didn't want to cry again.
Even if her head would ache with each second passing as she restrained her tears, none of that matters.
So she slumped over the form before her that was once filled with warmth, her cheek resting on her dearest's chest so to hear the remaining traces of what was once a heartbeat.
"Hey," she choked out, her throat frozen and strangled with ragged breaths and sobs. "At least... wake up and speak to me for one last time, will you?"
She laid still, her unmoving body not reacting by even the slightest bit of touch from Ichika.
This... really is the end, isn't it?
In the end, she'll have to carry her back and return with absolutely no happiness left in her heart.
So she did exactly that.
Wiping her tears away in a childish manner, she carried the no longer living being on her back. Clouds of white forming as she took each and every step, her face contorting with struggle and hopelessness at the very same time. Yes, even as the entirety of her face was to scrunch in the sheer pain of having to get up once again to do something like this, her eyes shall remain empty without joy, the smallest glint of hope gone from her once again.
Her heavy steps and her heavy breaths didn't come to a halt. Even as her legs grew weak and even if her lungs were to reach its capacity, she'd still try her best to not collapse in the middle of the snowfall.
Though it'd be nice for her to depart the world with Honami as well, she thought.
The moment she saw people, however, was the moment her entire body couldn't take it anymore. This long walk, caused by how her tears blinded her of the path where they came from, has crushed the entirety of her body, heart and soul. Her form grew so weak after being in the bitter cold for so long, her heart feeling like it was frozen by the wintry wind itself, and lastly, her soul, wretched by the loss of someone she held dear.
The only one she had left, now lost to the cold gusts of wintry wind that lets themselves blow onto the town with every passing year.
She couldn't take it anymore.
The ground seemed to sway beneath her feet. The sight of trees and birds were no more. Blurred by her dried tears, as if blinding her of everything else besides the white snow she was going to fall into.
Regardless, she called out, before her body entirely collapsed on the delicate white.
"Don't worry about me. Just... take care of her..."
Such were the words of a pianist dyed in vain.
19.00.
For how long has she slept?
Ichika opened her eyes to find a clock with its hands pointing to that exact hour. Come to think of it, it's been... 5 hours since she was found in the fields of snow. A cup of tea laid by her side on the nightstand, seemingly cold after such a long time.
Someone probably made it for her before they left.
Regardless, she drank the scalding liquid, her legs supporting her now frail body as she descended downstairs. It's already dark outside, she thought as she glanced it the windows.
As she reached the piano downstairs, she rested her form on the stool before it, her fingers hovering over the black and white keys as she intended to play that old tune she and Honami would always hum to.
Before playing, however, she caught a glimpse of the frame beside her.
That smile of Honami's...
Now, it's no longer attainable by the conditions they went through.
Will such an expression leave warmth in Ichika's heart, even as she departed from this world, though?
Of course. She knew that already.
And so, the pianist let out her voice rasped with tears as she played on. Although, those weren't tears of pure despair. Now, those were tears of joy and reminiscence, a recollection of their old memories as they sang in the still nights of winter.
This time, however, harbored the same warmth as the past. A familiar voice and the familiar warmth it brought...
Was there someone singing along with her? By any chance, was that...
Honami?
As soon as she thought that, she smiled, as if a pair of warm arms was to wrap themselves around her once weak form. As if whispering, "You've found me again," as the young pianist finished the nameless melody.
She then glanced at the photo once again.
And with that, her heart felt light. No more sadness in it. No more of her despairing acts will now be presented by the eyes of whoever witnessed her.
Only a fleeting warmth, a sense of faint glee as she embraced her own happiness.
In the end, she smiled as well, her laugh echoing in the room that was once filled with bitter silence.
At last, a happy end for the once despaired pianist's heart, has now arrived before her very own form on this fateful day.