Sana and Momo always held hands when they were together. The action was so effortless for them since the age of 6 that it was almost synonymous to breathing. Sometimes they held hands so casually that Momo wouldn't even notice that they were holding onto each other until she got up from the sofa and Sana's hand would gently pull her back down, or when Sana turned to walk into her own house and Momo felt a tug on her hand as Sana pulled away.

Momo thought nothing of their habit of holding hands, never really noticing that they were even doing it until one day when Momo found herself starting to notice all the moments where they weren't holding hands. Suddenly Momo's hand felt cold and empty whenever Sana's fingers weren't intertwined with hers. Momo's heart felt lonely whenever she couldn't feel the warmth of Sana's hand squeezing hers. And suddenly, whenever they actually did hold hands, Momo was starting to notice now, too.

Momo wondered when exactly her heart started to change. Sana was her best friend since childhood, someone that Momo spent nearly every waking hour with from the ages of 6 to 16. But Sana was becoming more important to her than the boundaries of their friendship would allow.

Sana was effortlessly invading her thoughts, invading her dreams, invading her heart. The overwhelming feelings that Momo felt for Sana scared her, and Momo couldn't even talk about it to the one person who usually put her at ease about these things, which wa