Chapter 15

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She doesn't remember how she gets home. It's not a blur, or fragments, or flashes of memories - Winter's door, stairs, street, cab. No. She just doesn't remember, because that's not important.

All she remembers is Winter and her hazel eyes full of tears.

Did she break down on her way home? Or was it when she entered her apartment and saw the tree still standing there; wrapping paper still scattered on the floor; Winter's presence still very much there, in her living room?

She laughed when she make Winter's favourite pancake, just this morning. Winter laughed, too. Winter smiled and left an awed kiss of gratitude on her lips when she was finished.

Winter never wants to see her again, and her sheets still smell like them; and Karina's head hurts almost as much as her heart when she climbs into her bed, shoes and all, curling up against Winter's pillow. Winter's pillow. She's been spending so much time here that Karina's come to think of so many things as hers. There's her toothbrush in the bathroom, and her towel. Several pairs of fluffy socks and all the undershirts she's forgot to wear in the morning. Karina's old sweatpants, neatly folded on her chair. This pillow and the right side of this bed she's never noticed to be so unnecessary big before.

And her. She's Winter's, but Winter doesn't want her anymore. Just like all these things, she's hollow. Meaningless. Void of purpose while still carrying Winter's mark, her scent and her touch clinging to her skin.

She doesn't get to spend weeks holed up in her bedroom, smelling the sheets and crying her heart out - but God, does she want to, even though it hurts like it never has. When she heard about her dad's accident, maybe. But that pain was different. It's not something she can compare, and she doesn't want to in the first place.

If she closes her eyes and pretends - it's almost as if Winter's still there.

She dreams of her that night, when she cries herself to sleep. In her dream, there's a knock on her door, and she throws it open because she already knows it's Winter.

"Karina," Winter says in her dreams, and she's just as soft as she always is with her. Was. "I found you."

"But I lost you," she replies in a small voice, and Winter's holding her in her arms again, and there's snow falling outside the window while the blanket keeps them warm in her bed.

"I found myself for you," Winter tells her between kisses. Gathers her tears with her smiling lips. Karina is safe and wanted and warm.

"Don't leave me. Don't walk away from me. Please, Winter, don't ever walk away from me."

She doesn't want to wake up. She has to, but she doesn't want to. Not that day, not a day after that; not a week after that, either. Her mom says it'll fade. Karina knows she's waiting for her to get over Winter, and she doesn't know how to tell her she doesn't want to. She doesn't tell her about the scheme. Can't bring herself to think about it, but can't stop herself from doing just that, either.

Giselle is, understandably, pissed. "I'll kick her ass," she promises Karina when she finds her the next day after Winter broke up with her. "I don't care how rich or scary she is."

She's decidedly less vengeful when Karina tells her everything. "What the fuck were you thinking?" She shakes her head, astonished. "No - what the fuck was Jeno thinking? How did he even... I don't even know what to say," she sighs, running a hand through her hair.

Karina really tries to fight her tears this time. They still come, and Giselle sighs again before scooting closer to her and hugging her close. "Hey," she whispers, rocking her back and forth. "It's gonna be okay. Somehow. I don't know. I just have a feeling about you two. It's gonna be okay. Just give it time, alright?"

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