She hummed a simple melody and stared up at the flakes falling from the sky, thicker than they’d ever fallen in the real world. The boy had lent her his coat, and she snuggled under it, thankful for the warmth it provided.

“How can I move on?” she asked quietly, very aware that she was breaching a long silence. Sehun paused for a moment and coughed, but didn’t reply. He had a habit of not answering her questions. Frowning, she repeated her question.

“It’s simple, but difficult,” he said, just as she was about to ask a third time. “There are three steps, but they can be taken in any order.”

“What are they?” It seemed that every time she asked him anything, he would go out of his way to leave blanks in his answer, as if she wouldn’t ask for clarification. She hoped he was starting to learn that she was really quite persistent.

“One step is remembering your name,” he said. “Another is creating a happy memory.” He paused, and fell silent.

“What’s the third one?” she asked, staring hard at his back.

“You need to remember how you died,” he said, turning around to face her. “It’s supposed to be pretty traumatic. I recommend you take that as the last step.”

“I can remember,” she insisted, looking up at him. He looked at her doubtfully and then at the darkening sky.

“You can try,” he said absentmindedly, peering through the trees. “I’ve tried for years and I still haven’t moved on.” She was surprised by this information, and even more so when Sehun cursed. He hadn’t meant for that to slip out.

“You have your own Ghost Light?” she asked. “You aren’t an angel?”

“I’m not even properly dead,” he said, impatiently. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her with him into the forest.

“Why are you here?” she demanded, wrenching herself from him. “I thought you couldn’t get out!”

“I lied,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “Follow me, and I can take you somewhere else.” He was spreading something out on the snow that was black as jet and smelled like soot.

“You lied to me.” She couldn’t trust him, but the frightened part of her disagreed; she didn’t want to stay in a perpetual winter forever.

“I thought you’d just follow me! I didn’t think you’d ask so many questions!” He was yelling now, his temper getting the better of him.

“I won’t go then,” she said, taking a step back. “I don’t trust you.” It was as if she had hit him; he paused over his work and his eyes widened in hurt momentarily.

“Fine.” His eyes hardened and he turned away from her. “I was stuck for three years before I got out, and the week after I got help, I remembered my name. Good luck remembering yours.”

The powder began to glow and smoke blossomed like exotic flowers. She watched as the snow beneath the powder transformed into a small hole, and then a jagged crater. She watched the boy crouch down at the edge and jump without a last glance at her. She watched the hole grow smaller and smaller.

She jumped.

Because no matter what, she didn’t want to be alone anymore.