Climbing down the stairs, I recalled the routine that Kimmy had gone over with me: lead to the living room, introduce Nora to my parents, have my sisters say hi, sing my song, go through a short family conversation, and show Nora out the door like a gentleman. The conversation part had me worried. I was expected to participate, but how?

Kimmy had shrugged. "Just provide commentary once in a while. Make sure she doesn't feel like she has all the pressure to communicate with our parents. You're a part of this too."

I reached the front door and opened it. Underneath her hood, Nora's hair was sprinkled with snowflakes from this morning's flurry. She held a plastic bag and what looked like a long cylinder.

She smiled. Her freckles almost blended in with the redness of her cheeks. "Happy belated Christmas. Can I come in?"

My mind blanked as I let her in. Shedding her winter coat, Nora had ditched her usual blazer in exchange for a loose blouse. She gave me the cylinder. "Here's your Christmas gift. I wasn't sure what else to get you, to be honest."

I shook it, but nothing rattled inside.

With my curiosity piqued, I handed her a pair of slippers—an Asian custom—and led her to the living room, where everyone waited. After we got the awkward introductions out of the way, it got more challenging. On the plus side, Nora handled the conversation like a champ. She had dated people before, so I guessed she had experience with this stuff. She especially got along with Kimmy. My parents remained reserved but amiable.

I couldn't avoid everyone's fleeting glances at me though, like I was a magnet to their attention. Was it my expression? I pulled my face into a forced smile. No, that wouldn't work. Think positive. I was feeling positive, swaying in my seat. Nora's song played over in my head.

"How was your Christmas?" Mom asked. "Did you celebrate with your family?"

"It went well! I'm a fan of winter so I'm glad we had snow. I also cooked some new dishes. It didn't end with a complete mess in the kitchen, thankfully."

Mom clasped her hands together. "You should cook with Tai! He always knows how to add that extra flavour."

"I'm happy your Christmas meal turned out okay," I told Nora. We had made our boundaries clear before this meeting—and one of them was about not mentioning unrelated family drama. So I knew to keep that part to myself. "I don't think you posted pictures on Instagram though."

Nora touched her temple. "I keep forgetting to post those things."

"I can remind you if it helps," I offered.

"No, memory isn't the problem! Not really. Just..." She shook her head and gave me an enigmatic smile.

When my parents didn't jump in with another interruption, I stood up, eager to give Nora her Christmas gift. Singing would communicate everything and more I wanted to say to her. "I'll get my guitar from upstairs. And the diorama."

I had recreated the setting for when we first met. Colouring and folding up the geometry nets into the rectangular prisms of Aurora's downtown shops was the easy part. Then there was the tea shop where Nora and I had our conversation about life. It still looked flat, so I'd borrowed Tienne's old bracelet-making set and collected all of the clear-coloured beads. Using clear string, I hung the beads from the diorama's "sky" to create the illusion of rain. When they caught the light the right way, it threw mini rainbows everywhere, radiating the same energy of positivity I felt remembering that day.

I presented the diorama to Nora. She took it carefully in her hands and placed it on the coffee table like it was made of glass. "Don't say anything yet," I told her. "This is only half of the present."

With my guitar, I positioned myself in front of the TV and faced everyone. Starting with a tentative strum, I built upon the rhythm into a richer melody.

I reached out with my umbrella and gave it to you

I didn't want someone feeling down too

Actions speak louder than words

Is that true?

That day was a blur

But slowly, our love grew.

It turned into shared playlists

And then sharing Timbits

Text messages and some calls

Now I gained something to recall

I want to share it with you

Lift it up and over the sky

The rain doesn't apologize

So why do you and I

Wish for someone better to lift the sun

When it'll come in due time

Just look for the signs

And tell me when to open my eyes

Rain ends, and so begins the sunrise

The songs I sent

Do you know what each one meant?

Let me tell you, through song

That my feelings for you are strong

I want to share my love with you

Lift it up and over the sky

The rain doesn't apologize

So why do you and I

Wish for someone better to lift the sun

When it'll come in due time

Just look for the signs

And tell me when to open my eyes

Rain ends, and so begins the sunrise

We walk on opposite sides of the road

But today, we found a way to meet again

This time, with falling snow

The rain doesn't apologize

So we'll lift up the sun

Just look for the signs

And tell me when to open my eyes

Rain ends, and so begins the sunrise.

I had no idea that on that rainy day, me, a random guy agonizing over his career and life choices and who drove up north because I felt like it, would accidentally flirt with Nora. I didn't even know that offering an umbrella would look like flirting—I just saw someone getting drenched, so who wouldn't?—but a lot of life was made of coincidences and luck. When life moved fast, you forgot to appreciate the little things. I wanted to do that now.

Polite applause. Nora became very interested in her slippers. She had her arms crossed, but she said softly, "It sounds so different compared to your regular songs. Did you change the genre?"

She noticed it! "Yeah. You like pop songs the most so I played with the tempo and rhythm. It was challenging but not as hard as I thought. It helped me take a break from feeling like I was going in circles with my music. I hope you like it."

"Of course I do. The diorama is amazing. You captured the atmosphere perfectly, just like how I remembered it. It's one of the best Christmas gifts anyone could have given me. Thank you very much."

It was my turn to open her present. Unscrewing the cylinder's cap, I tilted it upside down. Out slid a roll of fabric. Unraveling it revealed a black and grey tapestry of Toronto's skyline at night, but the artist had taken artistic liberties to make everything awash in gold hues. Yellow music notes floated up to the sky. It was hypnotizing.

"I didn't know if you'd like something more colorful," Nora offered.

My entire body felt like it was floating. It fought against gravity no matter how high or how many times I jumped. The poster flapped in my hand like a flag. "I love it."

I embraced Nora in a careful hug. She wasn't ready so we were in that awkward position, and I could tell she wasn't sure either, since I usually wasn't good with hugs outside my family. But I needed to share my happiness with someone before it took over myself. And hugs were easier than words. She was comforting like a teddy bear.

"I'm glad," Nora said quietly.

—

"What did you want to talk about?" I asked, distracted by Mom and Dad's watchful gazes from the living room windows. After a lot of frustrated hand-waving, Kimmy flashed me a thumbs-up before yanking the curtains closed. "Parent police," she'd called herself before not-so-subtly banishing us to the driveway so Nora could say whatever she wanted before driving home. I wondered what my parents wanted to tell me. So many things to keep track of...

"Tai?" I didn't miss her quiet exhale of a sigh. "Are you—no, I shouldn't say that. I mean, sometimes, I don't understand why you don't focus like you don't want to pay attention to what I have to say."

Words lodged in my throat. I was trying. I was really trying. But it was trying to catch snowflakes in a hailstorm with a fishing net. Not being able to focus was just as frustrating for me as it was for anyone else, if not more.

She hugged the diorama to her chest, the beads suspended by string swaying. The tips of her red ears peeked from her toque. "You mean a lot to me. You're practical but optimistic. You never pity my family situation, or pretend to understand. And I never had anything quite like this before. Not only your gifts, but you've made me remember what it's like to be truly happy.

"So this is selfish of me to say, but...the more I force myself to think this long-distance relationship is working, I still....feel sad that you expected me to leave so soon. I thought you would want me to stay longer."

I shifted from foot to foot. The satisfying crunch of snow softened the tension, allowing me to breathe.

Love remained invisible to me until someone put their love into words. Until they told me, in words, that I mattered. Actions were a one-way street where I couldn't possibly extrapolate someone's intentions or motivations. I could only measure them by how they affected myself.

Aside from the "I love you"s, it was the first time that Nora clearly articulated her feelings about me. Until now, "I love you" functioned as the punctuation at the end of our conversations, because I thought it was a societal rule to be followed.

I wanted to use Shield to visualize my emotions, to figure it all out, but that wouldn't work with Nora in front of me.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. But there's only so much time I can spend in-person before it drains me," I explained. "I know that you prefer physical affection, but I'm not comfortable with that. A-And...I thought that I did show my love! The song I wrote for you, the diorama, I put my heart into it because I care about you so much. So I don't understand..."

"Oh Tai, I'm sorry." Nora shook her head, looking up to the sky. "You're right. I said what I felt, and I know it's wrong, but...it was callous of me."

I swallowed, nodding.

"I mean it," she said, something close to panic fraying her words. "I'm s—"

"I knew you mean it," I said. An apology wasn't what I needed.

Nora continued, "I—Okay. I'm still working with my therapist on communicating what I feel. But I was afraid that telling you what I truly felt would be the catalyst for ruining our relationship."

Tremors ran through my chest, and the tears that welled in my eyes were swept away by the dry winter wind. It was as if I'd turned into delicate glass, and the slightest push would fracture everything. "I felt like I would be the catalyst. I don't want to hurt you, but it hurts knowing I shouldn't be doing what's natural to me."

She reached out, presumably for a hug, but stopped. "I...I've been doing my best to educate myself on Autism. But to be honest, I'm still not sure if I understand your boundaries, and what you can do and what you want help with. You don't need to feel insecure about being Autistic."

I adamantly shook my head. "No. I used to, as a kid, but that was thanks to the media stereotypes. I love my Austistic identity! I see the details in architecture and work out every single mechanism that culminates into this phenomenon that most people just take for granted without questioning. I get to hear music and feel it on a deeper level in my soul. If I wasn't Austistic, I don't think I would be able to appreciate the world like I do, and that's terrifying."

Each sentence stoked the flames of passion growing in my chest. The wisps of clouds escaping my mouth floated and disappeared into the sky, bright and cold as ice. "I can't speak for everyone. It's a spectrum. But I feel sad when people don't understand me. It's getting harder to wake up and tackle the day with a positive outlook when I'm misunderstood for being who I am. I don't want to mask," I continued. "But I do want to find a way where both of us can feel loved. I don't want you to feel alone, because I know how painful it is."

Nora put a hand to her chest and closed her eyes. I wasn't sure what that gesture meant. When I stopped talking, she said, "I wasn't sure if you knew what it was like to have this kind of loneliness. You seemed like you were fine with being alone."

I dug the heel of my boot into the lawn, sending cracks through the rippling flakes of ice like the frozen edge of a shore. "Being alone is peaceful. But just because I'm an introvert doesn't mean I wanted to walk this path by myself. I hope I never feel the same way Liam did, especially with our overprotective parents."

Surprised, she said, "Surely being overprotective is their job?"

I shook my head. "Not when they're skeptical of my decisions. I'm sorry if they were grilling you earlier today. It's the trademark of them realizing I'm an adult now, I guess. You mean a lot to me," I said, the words releasing a rush of warmth that filled my cheeks. "You see me for my music but you see beyond my talents too. As long as I'm with you, I'll remember...I'll r-remember that I can always come to you," I muttered, mincing my other thoughts.

Nora wiped away a tear. "That means a lot to me, Tai. I'm so glad I can be that person in your life. I take it you're not giving up on your dream?"

I looked up to the sky, cloudy as milk. I thought of Instagram and Youtube, of people I'd never meet supporting my music. Even the few negative comments couldn't quench my drive to walk the path I should have years earlier. And now, the people around me. They were the tangible proof, the unflinching mirror that reminded me of my own resolve.

But exactly what portion of my relationships were built upon the stuff I hid from people? What portion of it was real? I thought of Monty, Phiona and Rajathiran. Should I even go back to Toronto? My home was here, in quiet Kingston, where snow fell against a familiar backdrop instead of the honking horns of the 2.74 million commuters in an urban city that wasn't suited for me.

Without thinking, I was repeating "decision" to myself, tasting the soft syllables that ended on a coarse finality. The vocal thrum soothed me like sunlight sculpting the rough contours of ice. I rubbed my thumb over the dog carving on my bracelet, slipping it over my glove so the cold metal tag didn't burn a hole in my skin.

Beside me, Nora shivered as a cold wind blew up, sending dust of stray snow up in the air. "You know..."

"Yeah?"

"When I watched you sing, it was like seeing you come alive."

I took in a deep breath. "Yeah. I was thinking of that too. I'm thinking of making lyric videos with video footage I got of nature," I blabbed, smiling to myself. "I might need your drawing skills. To help you wake up those creative muscles."

She straightened, as excitement of a new project glinted in her eyes. "Sounds like a plan. Text me when you're feeling down, okay? I want to support you in any way possible."

I walked her over to the bus stop, our feet crunching the sidewalk salt in tandem. We waited. As she boarded the bus, she waved goodbye, a hint of teeth peeking from her smile.