Snowbound Hearts: A Year Later

The snow came heavier this year, blanketing the town in quiet. Sam stood at his bedroom window, staring out at the untouched yard. The scarf still hung from the low branch where he’d left it last winter. It swayed faintly in the wind, frayed at the edges.

A year had passed. Sam was taller now, his face sharper, the baby fat all but gone. But the ache in his chest hadn’t changed. If anything, it felt heavier.

People didn’t talk about Jake anymore. Not his classmates. Not his teachers. Not his parents. Sam had stopped asking questions, but the silence felt wrong. Like a story with a missing ending. Once, he’d heard his mom whisper something to his dad, her voice tight with worry.

“He was just a kid,” she said.

Her words had haunted him. He couldn’t stop thinking about what they might mean.

Sam turned away from the window, but a faint sound made him freeze. A laugh. Quiet, familiar, carried on the wind.

His chest tightened. He turned back to the window, his breath fogging the glass.

The scarf was gone.

Sam blinked, his heart pounding as he scanned the yard. A figure stood where the scarf had been, silhouetted by the moonlight. Sam’s stomach flipped. He didn’t need to see the boy’s face to know who it was.

Sam shoved his feet into his boots, barely stopping to grab his coat, and bolted outside. The cold bit at his cheeks as he stumbled into the yard, his breath coming in sharp gasps.

“Jake?” he called.

The boy turned. His grin was crooked, the same one that had made Sam’s chest ache for as long as he could remember.

“You came back,” Sam whispered, his voice trembling.

Jake tilted his head, his expression softening. “I told you I’d always be here.”

They walked through the empty streets, the snow swirling gently around them. Jake’s boots left faint impressions in the snow, but they didn’t last. Sam tried not to notice.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Sam asked, his voice breaking the silence.

Jake’s smile faltered. He looked ahead, his shoulders stiff. “About what?”

“You left,” Sam said, sharper than he meant to. “And no one told me why. Not even you.”

Jake sighed, his breath fogging in the air. “I didn’t know how to say it without making it worse.”

Sam swallowed hard. “Was it me?”

Jake stopped, turning to face him. His eyes caught the faint light of the streetlamps, heavy with something Sam couldn’t name.

“No,” Jake said firmly. “It was never you.”

Sam looked away, his throat tight. “Then what was it?”

Jake hesitated. “Sometimes…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “Sometimes the world gets too heavy, Sam. And you don’t know how to carry it.”

The words hit Sam like a punch to the gut. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

They climbed the hill behind the school, the one they used to sled down every winter. The town stretched below them, its streetlights flickering like scattered stars. Jake sat down in the snow, leaning back on his hands, and looked up at the sky.

Sam sat beside him, his chest aching with the weight of everything he wanted to say.

“Did you know?” Sam asked quietly.

Jake didn’t look at him. “Know what?”

Sam hesitated, his face burning. “That I liked you. Like… really liked you.”

Jake’s expression softened, but he didn’t look surprised. “Yeah,” he said.

Sam’s heart pounded. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

Jake smiled faintly. “Because I didn’t want to hurt you. And I didn’t want you to feel like you had to fix me.”

Sam’s breath hitched. “You didn’t need fixing,” he whispered.

Jake turned to him, his smile sad but warm. “I didn’t know how to believe that.”

The silence stretched between them, soft and fragile. Jake reached out suddenly, brushing a stray snowflake from Sam’s cheek. Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed him—not on the lips, but on the cheek.

It was quick, warm, and left Sam frozen in place.

“What was that for?” Sam whispered.

Jake smiled. “Because you needed it.”

By the time they returned to the yard, the horizon was blushing with dawn. Jake’s figure was flickering now, his edges soft, like he was being pulled away by the wind.

“Do you have to go?” Sam asked, his voice trembling.

Jake nodded. “It’s time.”

“Why?”

Jake looked at him, his gaze steady and full of something Sam didn’t understand. “Because some things aren’t meant to stay. But I’ll always be with you, Sam. Even when you can’t see me.”

Jake stepped back, his form dissolving into a flurry of snowflakes. The scarf fluttered to the ground, impossibly warm when Sam picked it up.

He clutched it tightly, his breath hitching. “I’ll be braver next time,” he whispered. “I promise.”

The wind carried his words into the quiet, and for a moment, the world felt lighter.