we witness the first bloom of the morning glory, breaking against the ice and snow. we watch its petals embrace the caressing warmth of the sun. our boots tread on the snow-laden path, making a sloshing sound as it comes into contact with the melting ice. it's still chilly but her fingers are laced with mine.

nothing feels warmer. (except her body against mine but we'll leave this speculation to another day)

school has commenced yet again with tutors loading expectations on us as "year 3 students", "i expect fruitful discussions in class, i expect meaningful responses to essay questions, i expect you to cope with the (inhumane) demands of my module" (yes, i nod in cynicism; because i'm only taking "1" module this semester, professor.) but i guess it doesn't seem so bad having your best friend beside you. i imagine us to be handsome knights of valor, battling cruel professors and difficult assignments.

wendy makes a handsomer knight and i volunteer to be the damsel in distress, but the demands of school don't allow for that so i stick to being the less handsome knight, and i guess that's fine by me.

"I'll take your books you little weakling." I throw her a look of defiance but she grabs the books that are on the verge of toppling over my arm. I look at her and she manages her other arm around my shoulder (how the hell does she balance all those books on one arm?) she tilts her head so that it slightly touches mine.

"I'll walk us over to our battleground."

(she meant medieval literature)

like the flower that fights the remnants of winter to feel the caress of the sun, her hands are laced with mine, it's us against the world. (sometimes I envision epics of the both of us, sometimes I envision just us in our own world.)

do we believe in grand revelations or shall we revel in the little epiphanies? nimble of the pen gliding across the white sheet of paper, the occasional pauses, punctuations to fill the gaps. I didn't know exactly which paragraph which line which word the thought, like a flash of lightning, whizzed through my mind and stayed there, lingered like an itch at an unreachable corner of my back.

only wendy could reach it.

so this was it, I thought, as I dotted my essay with a full stop. it wasn't my first time penning down an academic work, but it was my first time a work emblazed such a fire within me, a fire inspired by a random train of thoughts that were connected to a particular person.

I was merely writing an essay on loss. marilyn robinson* had a way with words and so she said "everything that falls upon the eye is apparition... the swing of the coat so familiar as to imply that they should be permanent fixtures of the world, when in fact nothing is more perishable... it is better to have nothing." here she appraised and supported the alternative of being a transient in order to cope with loss; that if we shook everything off, we wouldn't feel the pain of losing it, because we never really had it anyway.

it cut my heart suddenly that I couldn't live like a transient, although I had an inkling I could forego all aspects of the material world, and embrace nature. there was something that kept me from going with the wind, and that something, someone, was a force more irresistable than any gust of wind.

(i could simply blame myself for giving in and walking over to that derp who waved at me one semester ago, but i choose to believe she was holding the other end of the red thread* that was bound around me, and tugged me towards her like we were always meant to find each other.)

"done with your essay?" she whispered, placing a cup of coffee on my table before settling down beside me.

I nodded, my eyes darting subtly from my essay to the figure on my right. my hands trembled because I knew then that I was done with my essay, but I wasn't done with love, nor loss (was I going to lose her? I didn't want to lose her)

she interrupts my thoughts, "I'm not done yet though"

"did I ask?"

"you're going to have to wait for me anyway"

I slap her on her arm and she grins, because I know its true, where could I go without her?

it's the weekend again and I'm over at her place, taking a break from school work and switching channels on the tv. nothing is interesting enough for us. my mind is being hyper today and suddenly reels to the time I was over at her place during winter. I bite my lips, trying to make sense of it.

lips, I remember vaguely a weight hovering above me before the weight of lips pressing against mine. I was semi-conscious I couldn't have been dreaming (I swear, I swear i could still make out the indistinct murmurings on the tv that was actually the eulogy scene), and there were no other persons to press their bodies against mine (not going to creep myself out with supernatural speculations) so this was really quite funny, being on the same couch watching some show on tv and all I could think about was

does wendy like me or what

well maybe I could take my chances (to freak her out in the event she doesn't feel the same way and what she did previously was under the influence of sleep – was there such a thing as sleep-kissing?) I twiddled my fingers nervously because the recent little epiphany I had was making my heart beat so fast I could hear it thumping in my ears, feel the blood rushing to my fingertips and I knew wendy was just beside me lazily switching channels and complaining incessantly "man this man this is boring man there's nothing good on tv anymore man–"

and man I just want to kiss you or man maybe you should man up and kiss me and maybe own up you little what's there to lose

yeah what's there to lose (wait did my brain just redirect this statement to me?)

I really wanted to connect the dots, so I tried to secretly look at her (she was the only source of my answer anyway). she suddenly turned and furrowed her eyebrows at me. but the transition of her side profile to her entire face facing me catches me off guard. we are now inadvertently caught looking at each other and she makes no effort to look away so I continue looking, the curious yet playful glint in her eyes fades (she probably thought we were going to engage in our childish banter again) and I think I see a longing look in her eyes. my breath hitches.

remember the red thread I was talking about? it seemed to be drawing me closer to her face and I couldn't resist it. I could see her sitting frozen in her spot and I hope she's not too taken aback. pushing the stray strands of hair that was falling over her face I leaned in, our lips meeting firmly.

"I know what you did last wint–"

I try to breathe the words against her lips but she draws me in again with her right palm pressed against the back of my neck and kisses me again and again, slow but confident.

outside, spring bids winter farewell and the chill departs, a new gust of fresh warm air blows the pollen of blossoming flowers; life has started again for nature.

in the form of love (and a girl named wendy son), too, life has started again for me.

------

a/n:

*she wrote housekeeping, one of my favourite novels

*the legend of the red thread of fate

hi guys, I managed to finish this because guess which slacker decided to not do her homework? I hope it's up to your expectations (although I had fun writing this chapter because I could incorporate some of my favourite references/allusions). nonetheless pls comment because I want to know how I can improve (& I need to know all you wenrene shippers out there; you have good taste ;))