A Year of Winter

epilogue

September 1, 2020

“We’re so pleased to have you here. Really, we are,” the woman says eagerly, eyes wide with excitement. Her hands clasp together, as if to keep the energy inside her from bursting from the seams. “I just ate up the book in one night—honest, I did. I just couldn’t put it down.”

“Thank you, that’s very sweet,” I tell her appreciatively, nodding at her.

She beams. “Well, I’m just so grateful that you’ve decided to take time out of your busy schedule to come down and organize this little book signing for us.”

“I was glad to,” I tell her. She’s given me a long table to sit behind, rows and rows of books to my right and left. It feels like something I might attend, if I wasn’t the one behind it all. “This honestly feels kind of surreal.”

“Well I’m happy to do this. It’s not often we get best selling authors in here,” she says with a grin. Suddenly, she looks curious, “How old are you again?”

“Twenty-four,” I say.

She looks amazed. “Twenty-four,” she says in awe. “If I had your kind of talent at twenty-four—well, I wouldn’t have had to open this book shop.”

We laugh.

 ❄

By the time the event starts, throngs of people flood in through the bookstore. I’m surprised by how many faces I see, and by how many want to see mine.

“It’s amazing.”

“Is it based off a real story?”

“It’s inspired off a real story. Haven’t you seen his lecture at Columbia?”

“God, I just wish he’d write another!”

“Did you get yours signed yet? He’s cute!”

I try to tune out of the outside discussions as best as I can, but I feel like they’re surrounding me. I create a system—a clockwork—where I take a person’s book, thank them, ask for their name, sign it, and give it back to them. It becomes a rhythm of it’s own, one that I cannot easily break.

The owner of the bookstore leans down to say something: “This turnout is great. One of the best I’ve ever seen.”

I break the clockwork for a moment to look up at her and smile gratefully, “That’s wonderful,” I say. She smiles, and I return to the rhythm, hastily scribbling away.

“Thank you very much,” I tell the last person, and I hand her the book. I look back down at the table, where suddenly, another book is placed in front of me. Without mention, I open it, “Thanks so much for reading, I really appreciate. Who’s this for?”

They laugh. I recognize the sound, somehow, but my eyes are still on the paper.

“Who says I want an autograph?” She chuckles. “I guess it’s true what they say—fame really does change a person.”

Confused as I am, I scribble my name down on the book regardless. Her voice sounds like one I’ve heard a million other times. “Sorry, do I know you?” I ask her.

She scoffs and takes the signed book back, holding it against her chest. “I wouldn’t expect you to remember. It’s been a while, and you’ve gotten quite famous,” she says. I look up at her, and suddenly it clicks. The wires in my brain go live. She smiles crookedly, frosty blue eyes pinning me to my chair.

“Haven’t you, Book Boy?”

---

a/n: aaand that's it! 

i just want to add one of these notes to thank you all so much. this has taken away a huge chunk of my life--nearly two years, bc i'm such a bad uploader--and i've honestly enjoyed writing every moment of it. i love every character with all my heart, and i hope you have too. i also hope you've forgiven me a bit after reading this epilogue :)

(i MIGHT hold a oneshot competition. but only if enough people entered, so tell me if you think any of you would be interested)

anyway, thank you all again so much! i'm overwhelmed and elated and so, so, thankful. it means everything.