"You are awake," the voice suddenly rings, and I open my eyes, frowning because I failed to act like I was asleep. I sit up and gaze around the empty space, empty brightness and sigh. "You are about to leave soon, anyway," the voice says again, and to my surprise, I heard it chuckle, and I smile. 

"Someone seems to be in a good mood," I mumble as I stand, brushing off the invisible dirt on my clothes. 

"Yes, but that someone does not seem to be you, Taemin," the voice replies, and I smile again simply because I was happy it did. 

I hum in agreement. "I've been better, to be honest. And you? Why are you suddenly so happy, Mr. Voice?" I call out. I felt a little rude for not facing the person I'm speaking with as we chat, but there really wasn't anything I could do about it. I was talking to some random voice, yet there was absolutely no one there. 

"Please, do not call me that, it makes me uncomfortable," he says shyly. "The mere fact that I am speaking to you makes me uncomfortable." 

"Then what do I call you then?" I sigh. "And isn't it your job to speak to me? You do that every year, don't you? You wake me up and put me to sleep." 

"Yes, but that is all I am supposed to do. I am forbidden to chat with you, Taemin. I am genuinely sorry to say." There was a tinge of sadness in the voice with no beginning nor end, the voice with no gender, the voice with no speaker. 

I press my lips together for a moment, gazing around as if doing so would magically make the speak appear, but of course not. So intstead, I say, "Who's forbidding you? Is it God?" 

The voice laughs. And that was all I could remember before I black out because of the pain and coldness that washed over me. I wake up to someone's voice and touch, and as I open my eyes, I groan because of the pain that lingered. But I feel a smile creep to my face when I see Minho crouching above me, worry vivid in his eyes. "Taeminnie," he calls, panicked. 

"Minho," I murmur. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, heaving a sigh of relief. He helps me sit up and craddles me against his chest before I feel his soft, cold lips against my forehead. I try not to smile, but I fail helplessly, the goofy grin on my face betraying me. 

I gaze around us for a moment, unsurprised by all the snow and the cold wind. Minho's skin felt cold and I immediately hold his hand, wanting to share warmth. Against my forehead, I feel him smile. 

"You found me," I mumble, finally looking up at him and immediately regretting it because his smile melted my guts. 

"Because I was looking for you," he whispers. 

"How have you been?" I ask him conversationally, embarrassed because I found interest in his fingers and start playing with them. But he doesn't protest, and instead he offers all his fingers to me, as we lay on the cold snow. 

"Well, I was a little lonely, but I feel wonderful now," he murmurs, and I feel him bury his face in my hair. I feel my face heat up and all the nerves on my body tingle. Since when has he been so... touchy? "I have something to show you," he says, and when I look at him, he reaches out and buries his hand in the snow next to us, and then he pulls out the flower I had given him the last time we met, except it was all sparkly now. I bite my lip to keep myself from giggling, but I fail. 

"You hid it there?" I ask him, my voice so high with interest. But he shakes his head. 

"I hid it somewhere far away, but the snow brought it here," he whispers. "I take it with me everywhere." 

"Oh." 

"Taeminnie, I was thinking, you've given me such a beautiful gift, and I want to give you one, too," he says, taking his hands away from mine so he could wrap his arms around my waist. He adjusts me so I was sitting between his legs, my back against his chest. And then he returns his hands to me so I could continue playing with his long fingers, which I did because I couldn't help it. 

"A gift?" I mumble. 

"What would you want?" he asks, and even though I had my back turned to him, I knew he was smiling, because he felt warm. His aura was bright and beautiful, and I was happy. 

"Anything," I say, experimentally interlacing my fingers with his, surprised when he holds onto my hand tightly. 

I hear him hum in concentration, his cool breath brushing against my neck, and then he places his hands in my hair and begins running his fingers through the strands, the feeling of his touch making me close my eyes and relax my body. Peace was the only word I could think of. And then his hands become incredibly hot, and before I knew it, he stopped touching my hair and instead placed his hands against mine, allowing me to play with his fingers again. 

I feel something on my head, and when I hear him chuckle, I reach up to find something cold, thin and sharp propped on my hair, and I turn to look at him. He only smiles and says, "Do me a favor and keep it on, okay? And then you'll see what it is." 

He stands and helps me up, and we start walking again, holding hands, just like before. For a moment, I press my lips together and wonder what was lying on my head, but whenever I think about it, he smiles at me and tells me to be patient. Occasionally, he would reach to touch whatever was on my head, and when I look at him, he would just smile innocently. 

"So, did you meet Jonghyun last year?" he asks as we walk down a path in a snowy forest. 

"No. He doesn't look for me, so he can never find me," I say, ignoring the hint of sadness and disappointment in my voice. But Minho wasn't oblivious to it, and he squeezes my hand. 

"Don't you ever think that, maybe he can't find you because you don't look for him, too?" he asks softly, moving closer to me so our shoulders touched, looking down to our feet. 

I bite my lip, hesitating, and then I finally say, "So you're saying that I can find you because you look for me, too?" 

He chuckles. "Of course, I look for you. To be honest, I can't wait to see you every year," he whispers, never looking up at me. I smile at his statement, I smile because he felt the same way I did, I smile because of the pink on his cheeks. 

"So, did you meet Kibum?" I ask him, squinting a little at the mention of his name. I didn't hate Kibum, I just sort of wished both Jonghyun and Minho would look for me, too. But it's okay, as long as I have Minho. 

"Yeah. He keeps talking about Jonghyun," Minho mumbles. 

I laugh softly. "Seems like they're really fond of each other." 

He nods. "And when he's not talking about Jonghyun, he asks about you. He says he really wants to meet you," he continues, glancing at me before looking away from me again. 

I bite my lip again. "I.. I'd like to meet him, too. But it's impossible," I sigh. 

There was silence, and we continue to walk through the path, gazing at the trees, the brown, the white, and the occasional green and amber. The wind wasn't too cold here, and I liked the place. It was peaceful and beautiful. 

"When you're up there, up in the clouds, do you meet anyone?" I ask him conversationally, not wanting the silence to overpower us, wanting to hear his voice, to see him smile. 

"No, but there is a loud voice that wakes me up and puts me to sleep," he says. He stops walking for a moment and crouches down to bury his hand in the snow again, pulling out the flower. I smile at it because of it's beautiful mystery. 

"Yeah. I had a chat with that voice today, before I came," I told him, looking at him to see his reaction. His eyes widen for a short moment, before he turns to me with an interested expression, a small smile gracing his lips. 

"Really? What did you talk about? That's really cool. All it ever tells me is, it is time for you to wake up, or please rest now," he teases, playfully mimicking the voice but not quite doing a good job at it. I laugh. 

"We didn't talk about much, actually. He just seemed to be in a good mood." I chuckle when he brings the flower to his nose and takes a whiff of it, and then his eyebrows raise. 

"He? How are you sure it's a he?" he asks, laughing a little. 

I shrug. "I just feel like he might be a guy." He scoffs softly. 

We were approaching a small village in the middle of the woods, and I smile because I found the small houses there beautiful and attractive. Minho squeezes my hand again before he pulls me into one hut and begins searching for food like last time, and I laugh at him as I say, "Take one that doesn't hurt this time." 

He got one brown paper bag and rips it open, the scent that gushes out of it attracting me. I move toward him and look inside the bag, and then he tells me to take one of whatever was inside. I do as he says, and I pull out a small cake, it's scent so sweet and mouthwatering. 

"What do you think it's made of?" I ask him. 

"Take a bite and the taste will tell you," he says, taking a piece for himself. I bite it carefully, before I start chewing. The sweet, sweet taste makes me close my eyes and hum, before I take another bite. I open my eyes just in time to see Minho take a bite for himself, and he smiles at me as he chews. 

"It's chocolate, Taeminnie," he mumbles. 

We consume all the cakes in the bag before he drags me around the house, telling me what the objects were called and what they were for. He makes me knock on the wall and tells me that it's made of wood, and he laughs at me when I panick as he builds a fire inside the house. But he just tells me that it was called a fireplace, which Humans use to keep them warm. He told me so many things and it was all so overwhelmingly interesting, and at some point, I wished I was Human, too. 

He makes me sit next to the window and tells me to wait as he goes into another room, telling me he had something to show me. While he was gone, I contemplated on taking a look at whatever was on my head, but I didn't do it, because I didn't want to disappoint Minho, when he clearly wanted to surprise me. 

He comes back with a wooden stand and a white, rectangular object, and I gaze at it curiously. He just smiles at me and leaves again, before coming back with a rectangular box and a thin, wooden, circle object with a hole on it. 

He chuckles upon seeing my expression, and then he holds up the circle object, and says, "Taeminnie, this is a palette. And this," he pauses, pointing at the white, rectangular object on a wooden stand, "is a canvas." 

I feel my eyebrow furrow. "What's it for?" 

"It's for painting." He opens the rectangular box and reveals lines and lines of different colored tubes and brushes, thin and thick. I watch him closely as he takes a yellow tube, a pink tube, a light brown tube and a sky blue tube. He then removes all their caps and squeezes out some sticky objects of yellow, pink and light brown and sky blue. "This is paint," he finally says. "It's art." 

I smile at him, and he smiles back, his expression brightening up. "Are you going to paint?" I ask him. He only smiles. 

He stares at me for a very long moment, and then I squirm a little under his gaze, ridiculously uncomfortable. But he just cracks a crooked smile and says, "You just sit there, okay? And don't move." 

I laugh softly. "Okay." 

He then dabs a certain brush on the yellow mush of paint, and then he begins painting, the canvas' back turned to me so I couldn't see what he was painting. He glances at me occasionally, but then he just returns to dabbing and brushing the canvas. I chuckle softly at the concentrated look on his face; the way his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes squint, he bites his lip. And at that moment, I knew that he was perfect. 

Minutes and minutes had passed when I was gazing out the window, admiring how the color of the trees was such perfect contrast to the white of the snow, admiring the cloudy sky, admiring everything. Minho suddenly calls out my name, softly, like he was careful of how the word rolled off his tongue. And when I turn to him, I see that he's smiling, and I smile back. 

"You wanna see?" he asks softly, shyly. 

I nod and hop off my seat, and he reaches out a hand for me to take, which I did very willingly. He holds me by the shoulders as he shows me his painting, and when I see it, I feel conciousness leave me for a second of two, just like the gasp that escapes my lips. His painting overwhelms me, as if it reaches out to me, surrounding me, bringing me to it and embracing me in such warmth, such love that I had no doubt Minho had expressed through the painting. I close my eyes as I hold onto the feeling, never wanting to let it go, and I almost whimper when it fades. 

I open my eyes again to let them savor the beautiful mixture of just four colors: light brown, pink, yellow and sky blue. And what made me so fascinated was that it didn't seem like only four colors were used. It seemed like.. like it wasn't a painting at all. It seemed like it was right there. 

"It's you," he whispers into my ear, hugging me, wrapping his arms around me securely, and giving me a feeling that told me that he never wanted to let go. 

I press my lips together, unsure of how I should react. Me? This is how I look like? To be honest, I'd never actually seen my face, ever. Not that I couldn't look into mirrors, I actually do, a lot, in hopes of seeing my reflection. But everytime I look into one, I don't see my reflection. And to think that, with just a few of the brush, Minho had painted me, showed me for the first time my appearance. It brought tears into my eyes, the fact that I could finally see myself. 

I stare at myself in the painting, gazing out of the window, the light making my hair shine gold. My eyes eyes so distant, so soft and so peaceful in that faded shade of brown, my complexion pink, and blooming, and Minho didn't miss a single detail, and he was even able to portray my aura. To be honest, I was quite happy with my appearance. My nose was straight, my lips were fine. 

Yet I couldn't help but think, despite how Minho had emphasized my beauty, that the most beautiful part of the painting, was what layed on my hair. What the sky blue was for. The icy crown, standing with all it's beauty, sparkling with cystals, it's soft shade of blue such a beautiful contrast to the yellow of my hair. I turn around in Minho's arms and sink deeper into his embrace, thankful that he was there or I never would have known how I actually look like. I smile against his chest after I feel him plant a kiss on the top of my head. 

"You gave me a flower, so I give you one in return," he whispers, hugging me tighter. I'm dumbfounded for a moment, confused by what he said, and when I understand what he meant, I giggle.  

"It's so beautiful," I mumble, refering to the painting. 

"Because it's you," he says, gently pushing me away to look at me straight in the eye. And I stare at the deep red hue of his irises, and I gasp when a thought occurs to me. But I shake it away, embarrassed with it. 

I try to look away from him, but he cups my cheek and forces me to turn back to him, before he places both his hands against my cheeks and I fear that he could feel them burning. I face him, but my eyes don't, and when he gets irritated, he softly demands, "Look at me." I bite my lip but oblige, surprised when I see his eyes were very deep red. 

I stare into them, and he smiles. "Don't do that.. Don't-- Don't look away from me. It makes me scared." 

I sigh. "Sorry." 

He chuckles. "It's okay, just don't do it again," he mumbles, kissing my forehead tenderly again. Why are you doing this? What are you trying to say? 

I turn to the painting, and again my breath catches in my throat. I stare at it, relaxing, my body leaning back onto Minho's. 

"Taeminnie, tell me how you feel when you look at it," he says. 

I squint, surprised by his question. But I answer anyway. "I feel like hugging the person in it -- me. I feel like protecting me from everything, I feel like loving me and.. I feel like I love me back." I was surprised by my own answer, and I wondered where it had come from. But I feel Minho kiss the back of my neck and I stop thinking, my mind going blank. 

"Frankly, that's how I felt when I saw you." 

I gasp and turn around, but tears well up in my eyes instantly as Minho smiles at me, kisses me on the forehead, before he disappears completely. 

I gaze at the snowflake he left in his place, and when I touch it, when I hold it between my fingers, I hear his voice, so faint, merely a whisper.

"I love you, Taeminnie."