'Every day, I secretly chase after your footsteps.' I follow her down the darkened street, secretly chasing after her, careful to study her and to hide behind dumpsters and light posts whenever she’s about to turn around. 'I’m always careful so you won’t notice.' Curious about where you go when you leave the dorm, ever since little presents have been appearing on my bedside table. When the members pointed at her, sitting on the couch, blasting music from her headphones, that’s the night I began following. But she’s careful, too, making sure to take twists and turns in case there was someone tailing her. Someone like me. 

'Where are you going? Step by step, I follow you.' She’s doing it again, trying to throw off her trail by making sharp turns on abandoned streets with no light, cutting through people’s yards. 'Without a word, you lead me.' I can’t hear anything from the familiar figure except for the occasional breath or two, and can’t see anything but her silhouette and the foggy trail that comes out of , a side effect of the cold seeping through our jackets and pull overs and pants and boots. It’s winter, our favorite month of the year. When the sky’s the color of swollen gray and heavy with snow, when hot cocoa and soup are the perfect food and drink, when the only sound at night is the wind blowing through spider limb-like trees. 

It’s dusk, the sky’s lightening overhead, and the cover of darkness is starting to waver. She speeds her pace up, desperate to finish whatever business she’s attending to this time. 'When the sun rises, I walk in sync and together with you. I am really, really into you.' I’m desperately hoping it’s her that’s been leaving all the gifts for me, and not some prank from the others. 'When the moon rises, you fall asleep in my arms.' Then I remember how you’d hold me during the thunderstorms and when our room was freezing and you complained about being cold, and when you’d wrap your arms around me. 

And I know it’s you. 'Day by day, we resemble each other more and more.' Whenever we’re together, somehow we manage to be in sync: doing the same hand motions, the same stance. 'Your laughter and tears, I know it all. Don’t be scared, we’re a fate tied by the sun, it’s our destiny to be together.' She makes another sharp turn, leading me down a bustling sidewalk, packed with people out shopping. It’s close enough to Christmas for people to already be shopping late at night, trying to find the perfect gift for their loved ones. 

Is that what she’s been doing this for? Christmas? Something tells me that it’s not just that, that it’s something deeper and more meaningful. 'The person in the mirror is shining, so I can get jealous of the smile that resembles you. I stick closer to you and we are connected.' Now it’s easier to track her, with the cover of the crowd, and I see her heading off in the direction of a flower shop, nearly empty because it was near its’ closing time, and strung with colorful lights. She pushes open the door, and greets the old woman behind the counter warmly, while I stand outside the door, peeking in and eavesdropping secretly on the two. 

“Hello, Ms. Choi! I’m here for the flowers I ordered a few days ago, the big bundle?” She says in that soft, sweet voice, and smiles brightly at the woman. Ms. Choi nods her head and disappears into the back, and soon returns with a large bouquet of beautiful flowers. “Thank you! Have a nice Christmas!” She says, and I hide behind the door as she walks out, sniffing the flowers and heading back in the direction we came in. 

I manage to see which flowers she’s picked out: a purple lilac, which symbolizes the first emotions of love, Gloxinia, which represents love at first sight, Acacia, which means secret love, Ambrosia, which means love returned, an Azalea, and a few cherry blossoms. Good lord, this looks like a confession waiting to happen. Instantly, I am rushing home, taking short cuts I know she’d never think of, and make it to our dorm and into my bed minutes before she does. Enough time to change into my pajamas and calm my breathing down to a steady pace before she steps in, cautiously, and sets an intricate glass vase on my table. “I love you,” she whispers as a finger runs through my hair. I pray to God she doesn’t feel the melted snowflakes there. “My little shadow,” she murmurs into my ear before pressing a sweet kiss on my cheek.