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You look stupid and you know it, bundled up against the frigid Keterburg air like a giant pink marshmallow. You’re not even sure if it’s worth the embarrassment, in all honesty; you can barely walk, what with all the snow and your too-big, hand-me-down black boots, and there’s a hole in your left mitten that didn’t bother you at first, but now that the snow’s all trapped and melting against the palm of your hand, you want to cry. You almost do, but then you remind yourself that nine is too old to cry, and anyway, if you can just make it over this hill, he’ll be there waiting for you.
You swipe the half-frozen tears from your eyes, leaving a streak of snowmelt on your cheeks, and push on through the latest snowbank. In truth, the accumulation isn’t too bad, but you’re not exactly tall, even at your age, and you’re almost up to your knees. Sometimes you ride on Saphir’s shoulders when the snow gets too high, but while he has you beat in height, he’s lacking in strength and stamina, and more often than not, he puts you down after a while. You don’t really mind. Saphir’s nice, even if he does creep you out a bit, but it’s not his attention you’re here for.
You reach the top of the hill, and your heart skips a beat, the way it always does when you see him. He’s standing with his back to you while Saphir sits at his feet, but he turns around when you call his name and smiles. He’s got the nicest smile, you think. Not like his sister’s, innocent and childish, and certainly not like Saphir’s. His smile is dark, mysterious, like he’s smiling at some secret joke that you aren’t a part of. There are goosebumps on your arms and nervous butterflies in your stomach, and you can’t help but smile back.
“[Name],” he greets, taking a step towards you and away from Saphir. The smaller boy pouts and eyes you with what looks almost like jealousy, but he doesn’t say anything. He waves at you hesitantly.
“Hello, Jade,” you say. He’s not much older than you are — he’s a winter baby, you’re a spring — but he’s a head taller and, you think, worlds more sophisticated.
“Hey, [Name],” Saphir says shyly, scrambling to his feet and moving to stand next to Jade. He’s like a lost puppy, the way he mimics the brunette and watches the two of you for approval. He knows what’s coming next — how could he not? — and you almost feel bad, but you’re like a lovestruck schoolgirl, and not even the hurt look on his face when Jade says, “Saphir, could you give us a moment?” is enough to extinguish your giddiness.
“Your glove is torn,” Jade notes when Saphir is gone. He smiles again — that smile, you think, it’s perfect — and takes you by the hand, like you somehow knew he would do. You let yourself relax, then, leaning your head on his arm. You’re freezing, and you can feel a cold coming on, and you look like a stupid pink marshmallow, but none of that matters now, because Jade is here and everything is fine, and you’re almost certain it always will be.