1. Fold the paper in half to form a triangle and crease. Repeat in the other way.

2. Using those creases, bring the top three corners to the middle and flatten.

He's watching TV, curled up into a ball on the couch and leaning on the armrest. He's been sitting there for too long and there's an awkward dent in the cushion.

It's kind of uncomfortable.

He looks to the other side, but doesn't move. That's not his spot. This is his spot. That spot is hers.

They're watching a drama at night and it's a particularly sad episode. There's an empty tissue box on the table in front of them and wadded balls of tissues all around them.

"If you can't come to my world, I will go to yours."

Hearing that line, she reaches into the box and, realizing it's empty, decides to cry into his chest instead. He feels the wetness seeping through his shirt and he traces circular nothings on her back.

"Would you come find me if I disappear?" she asks, voice muffled.

"Does that mean you're a time traveler too?"

She lifts her head up to glare at him and pouts, despite everything. The soothing circles pause momentarily before beginning again.

"Of course."

He touches his face and is only mildly surprised when his hand comes away wet. A teardrop splashes onto the remote as he turns up the volume. He settles back into his spot and lets the overwhelming sound blanket him. With the TV blaring at him, the house feels a little less empty.

3. Open the uppermost flap, bringing it upwards and pushing the sides inward. Flatten.

4. Turn over and repeat.

There's too much food.

He stops thinking when he's cooking and his body automatically makes enough for two. But he's alone and now it's too much. But he still sets the food down at the dining table and he stares at it.

"I can't wait until I'm pregnant."

He looks up from his magazine and sends her a questioning look.

"Because then I can eat whatever I want and however much I want and blame it on cravings," she tells him dreamily, as if already imagining it.

He rolls his eyes. "You can do it now. I won't judge you," he says with a teasing smile.

"Really? Then go get me ice cream."

"Now?" he whines, glancing back at his magazine.

"Yes. Go," she orders, making shooing motions.

"The things I do for you," he grumbles as he slowly puts down the magazine, stands up and stretches.

"Because you love me."

The food's gone cold and he throws the untouched meal into the trash. He takes a tub of ice cream out of the freezer instead.

Mechanically, the spoon goes from the tub to his mouth to the tub to his mouth to the tub to his mouth to the tub to his mouth to the tub to his mouth.

The ice cream melts in his mouth without him realizing and it doesn't taste like anything. Kind of sweet, kind of bland, kind of sad. The coldness spreads from his mouth through his body to his mind. The brain freeze kind of hurts, but it's okay.

He can't think anymore.

5. Fold the right flap the left.

6. Turn over and repeat.

It's the first snow and they're outside. She's catching snowflakes with her tongue and he's watching her, smiling and content.

"Don't just stand there!" she calls. "Come have fun for once."

"I always have fun!" he protests as he walks over.

She hums patronizingly, but he can't resist the urge to kiss her. Surprised, she giggles into his mouth and they hold each other, kissing as snowflakes float lazily around them.

Her lips are cold, but the kiss tastes like love.

He's not sure why he's standing outside. There's no one there and he doesn't even know what he's persevering for. What did she say before she left?

Wait for me.

No explanation, no excuse, no pretext.

Nothing.

But still, he holds onto the fleeting memories of her warmth, her smile, her love.

But it's too cold outside. His body is numb, but not his mind.

He needs ice cream inside.

7. Fold the top flap upward for the wings.

8. Turn over and repeat.

The paper cranes crunch when he walks over them.

They're everywhere, filling up the small apartment that still feels too empty. There are nine hundred and ninety nine strewn throughout, unless the ones flattened under his feet don't count. Because then he will have to make more- an excuse to wait just a bit more.

He grabs a piece of paper- the last in the pile- and begins folding it without even thinking.

One thousand days is a lot. Almost three years.

But the three years he spent making crane after paper crane is a blur to him. He doesn't remember doing anything. It's as if he was in limbo the whole time, caught between the past and present. But he doesn't want it to be over. Because with this last crane, he'll be brought back to reality.

The reality that he has to move on, that he is a fool, that his apartment is littered with folded pieces of empty hope.

So he takes his time.

He can't stop himself from making it, so he makes it perfect.

Every crease and every fold is lined up just so and he is so concentrated that he almost misses the doorbell.

But he hears it and it's so loud, even with his heart suddenly beating nervously. With the half-finished crane in his hand, he walks over to the door. He takes a deep breath, daring to wish and pulls the door open.

9. Fold the tip of the head down.

10. You're done!

A familiar face greets him- the face from those countless memories, the face that is now right in front of him.

"I'm back."

"I missed you."

The one thousandth crane falls to the floor, wish fulfilled.

@c-drama-addict,

I know this is kind of sad even though it's a Christmas present, but I wanted to give you good gift and I'm best at writing angst so...>_< Hope you liked it and merry Christmas!!