A/N

Hi guys~ I appreciate your love and comments to this fic, so thank you~!

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Yifan found himself at Miyoung's house during the first few days of winter. It was pretty frosty and the winds were picking up every few seconds. The weather felt like ice and Yifan could not tolerate such quick changes in the weather.

One moment it was just a gentle breeze and then it became a whirlwind storm.

Miyoung sat on her bedroom floor, wrapped in a thick blanket, holding a oil brush that danced amongst the paper. Yifan was quiet as he stood by the window, wondering just when would he be able to return home.

They had only planned to study for their winter exam, but somehow got stuck inside. Miyoung's parents were out doing work, and left the two home alone.

Yifan had tried calling his home phone, but his Grandmother didn't pick up. The television had said that some electric poles had fallen down or something along those lines. Anyway, it seemed he wouldnt be able to speak to his Grandmother for awhile.

"Yifan, don't stand by the window, it's coldest there." Miyoung said, after hearing Yifan sigh for maybe the tenth time. "Your Grandmother would hate me if you got sick."

Yifan had to chuckle at that, and opened his mouth to say his Grandmother would never ever hate Miyoung for such a silly reason but Miyoung stopped him before he even got the words out.

"Don't even say it." She said sharply. "Your Grandmother cares for you, and if you're sick, it's my fault."

Yifan moved away from the window and moved toward Miyoung. He settled on the floor, and relaxed himself with his arms supporting behind him.

"But she won't hate you." Yifan said, eyeing the way Miyoung's hand gracefully moves the paint brush swiftly across the colorful paper. Miyoung only sighed and did a sharp turn with her hand, making a very angry looking slash of red. His eyes widened for a second but then he gazed softly at her face. Her eyebrows were furrowed and he knew she was upset.

She was quiet for awhile and Yifan just settled for silence.

The girl beside him wasn't painting anything in particular, but she concentrated hard on the colorful array of colors that drowned the canvas. Yifan had grown to like seeing her paint, even if it was just a few times, but he still enjoyed it. She was quiet when she painted, and her eyes filled with this passion Yifan just couldn't put his finger on.

With the wind knocking harshly on the roof and slamming against the windows, they sat in silence. The light flickered once or twice, and then soon shut off.

Miyoung merely gasped in surprise before jumping towards Yifan. Only then did Yifan realize she was terrified of the dark. Not the storm outside, or the eerily sounds of the wind but the dark.

"Y-Yifan?" He heard her whisper. 

"I'm still right here." He said back, noticing the way her voice sounded so small. "It'll be alright. Do you have a candle somewhere or something?"

There was some shuffling from right across Yifan and he heard metal drawers being opened. Then, a bright light was shot into his eyes.

"Oops! Sorry Yifan!" Miyoung gasped as she moved the flashlight beam away from his face. She sat, still wrapped in the blanket, inching toward Yifan. 

"You're afraid of the dark, aren't you?" Yifan asked, though he could already tell.

"Yeah..." She whispered.  When Yifan felt a hand grab his own, he almost shivered. Her hand was cold, her painting hand, and it felt slightly clammy. But her hand with his warmed his insides somehow.

"I.. I was always afraid of the dark." Miyoung says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was always afraid there was a monster watching somewhere in the dark."

Though Miyoung had not hit Yifan as the 'scared of the dark' type, he could still understand that people got scared sometimes. Even people who seemed as fearless as Miyoung. 

"Well, it's okay." Yifan assured her. "I'm here."

~~~

When it had become completely dark outside, with the wind still trying to slam itself through the roof, Yifan grew worried if the weather was really going to stay as horrid as it is.

He had held Miyoung by the hand in the never ending power outage but he worried whether or not his Grandmother was okay or if Miyoung's parents were ever coming home. He had not dared to leave Miyoung alone, especially  when she was shivering  in cold and in fear. 

The beam of the flashlight was still bright as it danced around Miyoung's room, she had pointed the flashlight in different directions constantly, in attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Yifan was quiet about the light, though it slightly annoyed him, just because it helped with the girl's fear of the dark.

"Are you hungry Yifan?" The girl asked him, tightening her hold on his hand. Yifan, naturally shook his head in the dark before realizing she couldn't see him.

"...No." He simply said, watching absentmindedly at the beam flying across the walls. As he stared, he realized the way the light moved in a pattern. It flew to the right and then to the left, in a infinity pattern, over and over before moving in a different pattern. Yifan turned to the girl on his side - his eyes adjusting just barely - and realized she held the light with her painting hand. The light danced elegantly, just like the way she painted, in patterns which resembled her painting that lay forgotten on the floor. 

She was still drawing even without her paint.

The windows began to shake from the outside, startling the both of them. Miyoung almost shrieks and ends up dropping the flashlight, shattering the lens.

"Gosh, this is horrible." Yifan hears her say. Yifan can make out her trying to pick up the pieces but he grunts to stop her.

"Don't pick them up, Miyoung. You'll cut yourself." He warns, pushing her aside. He can barely see but he attempts to brush up the pieces, winces when he gets stabbed a few times, and piles them together. "We'll pick them up later, can't risk any of us getting hurt." He adds, pushing the both of them away from the mess. Miyoung clutches his arm, shaking and Yifan can tell she's looking around desperately. He sighs before hugging her toward his chest.

"You're absolutely safe with me." 

~~~

It's late when her parents get back. The wind is no longer sweeping up everything into the air, and the moon hangs high in the air. It's still freezing and Yifan is forced to accept a ride home from Miyoung's father. Miyoung and her mother stay back to clean up the glass mess and to try to put the electricity back on. Yifan is slightly uncomfortable sitting in the passenger seat, staring ahead, alone with Miyoung's father. 

"The weather was awful, and I'm so glad you were there with Miyoung. She gets scared even when she doesn't seem like it." He said, a smile tugging at his lips. Yifan nods, because he knows. Silence ensues between them. Usually he would be more friendly and talkative, but I guess that wasn't the case now. 

"I hope your grandmother isn't too upset with you coming at this time.." The man beside Yifan says quietly, more to himself. Yifan just looks out the window, hoping she was alright. Occasionally, he would see the damage the storm did the streets. Some people's cars were left on the side of the streets and trash was just about everywhere. He sighs silently when he catches sight of his house.

He isn't sure how to feel.

A tall electrical pole had fallen on top of his house, and abulances, along with police cars surround his home like a swarm. He immediatly exits the car hurriedly, and feels fear build inside of himself.

"Hey!" He shouts, coming up the nearest police officer. "W-What happened here?" He asks. 

"Sir, please step away, we are-"

"I live here!" Yifan shouts, "Where is my Grandmother? Is she okay?!" The man before gives him a strange look and just begins speaking to his walkie talkie. Yifan pushes by him and comes closer to his demolished house. He's stopped by a few more officers and they explain that the electricity isn't safe to be around. 

A hand grabs him and he turns to Miyoung's father who looks absolutely worried.

"Calm down Yifan." He says. "I'll talk to them, just sit here and wait."

Then Yifan finds himself sitting there on the wet sidewalk, looking at his house with worried, disturbed eyes. He wants to run in there and see if his grandmother needs his help. His house looks horrible. He assumes there was a fire by the electric pole from the burnt roof and ash buried in the snow. He's shaking and rocking back and forth, trying to find a way to breath when he sees a group of people come out with a stretcher. He can see an arm hanging out, with his grandmother's frail hand dangling from just under the white hospital sheet draped over her. He could reconize that hand anywhere. The hand that held since he was born and raised him till now.

He hears someone call his name, but he can't hear it clearly. It was muffled somehow as he approaches the stretcher fast, and hopes it isn't her, though he knows it is. The medics looks at him with pity, and he doesn't want them to see him like this. He lifts up the blanket, and sheds a small tear.

He says good bye to his Grandmother that winter.