𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄
—𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟹—

     𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐀 wave of butterflies enter her stomach when Frost had placed his lips upon hers, and sent her mind into a frenzy. Within seconds, her hands had moved to cup his face, and Frost's grip had moved to her waist, forever pulling her closer to his chest. But this sensation ripping through them and coursing through every ounce of their existence wouldn't last a lifetime. Soon enough, Melody would be yanked from Frost and she would never remember anything that had happened here.

But for now, he would enjoy the fire that flamed in his chest and forced him to pull her closer. He would pretend that this would last forever, and that he would get to wake up every day and listen to her thousands of questions. That he would be able to get lost in her eyes anytime he wanted to, or would be able to kiss her like this. Despite ignoring the feelings that had built up inside of him, Frost was glad that he had finally told her the truth about how he felt for her. At least now he wouldn't have to worry about not having the chance to spill his thoughts.

Melody pulls away from the kiss to catch her breath, laying her forehead on his. She places her thumb lightly over his lips, finding that they were unusually warm. That was different; he was always cold.

"Your touch gives me warmth," Frost surprises her non-spoken question with an answer. "I've never understood it, my mother's touch didn't do the same. Then again, maybe it was just you that I was missing."

The girl chuckles at him, shaking her head as she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a tight embrace. "Maybe that book will give us some information we needed. And perhaps it'll tell us that I, of all people, will be able to remember."

Past the smile that Frost gives her, he knew that things would never work in his favor that way. The spell would have no exceptions, especially when it came to Melody's liking to him, and his to her. Magic spared no one, and would continue as it always had. But instead of breaking her heart all over again, Frost would hope for the best, too. He wouldn't ruin this.

"Maybe," he says, looking up to the tree that Jude chirps from. "But for now, lets focus on getting there, okay? We're still short on time."

"Sadly, I've come to realize that," Melody says with a sigh, placing her hand in his. "We should probably get going then. Come on, Jude."

When walking for only a few minutes longer, the teens found themselves struggling to get through the snow on the ground. The blizzard of Westbrooke was near, they could tell. The snowflakes grew heavier by the second, melting against the warmth of Melody's face, but simply sliding off of the cool surface of Frost's. Jude eventually gives up on flying through its harshness, giving up to rest in the hood of Frost's hoodie.

"I can only imagine how easy it must be to handle this harsh cold for you," Melody says, her teeth chattering together. "I wish I were you at this very moment."

"Don't worry, Mel," he sighs, looking over her freezing figure. "We'll be there in only a bit. Just hold on a little longer."

Frost would've wrapped her up in his arms if he thought it would help in the slightest. But by the temperature of his skin, he would only do more damage. For now, he would have to let her be, and watch her shiver against the wind and snow. He removes his hoodie, ignoring Jude's chirps of discomfort, before placing it over her shoulders and zipping it.

"But don't you need it?" She hesitates to put her arms through it. "What if someone spots you?"

"Then let them," he hums, giving her a soft smile. "Your safety matters more to me than they ever could. And besides, do you think anyone would be out during this storm? Not a chance, sweetheart."

Melody blushes a dark shade of red, before thanking him once again and snuggling up to the hoodie. Frost smiles at the sight of her, but turns his head as she looks to him. He wouldn't let her know how much she meant to him; that would only make their goodbye so much harder.

---

When reaching the outskirts of Westbrooke, Frost finally let out a long breath of relief. Despite how Melody thought she wouldn't make it through the cold, they had. He quickly leads Melody onto the broken down wooden porch, ignoring the whining of the boards beneath them as they step forward. Coming face-to-face with the door of his childhood, the white-haired boy swallows tightly. He didn't think he'd ever be back here again, let alone that he'd have a girl by his side.

His big blue eyes move down to meet Melody's, reflecting the fear that resides inside of him. The girl gives him an encouraging smile, nodding towards the door despite how cold she was. She ached to be inside where she could feel the fire that burned within the fireplace.

Frost drums his fist across the old door, the sound of his knock resonating around them. "I hope this goes well."

It wasn't but moments later that a lock sounded from inside, and the door began opening in front of them. A short woman, who looked to be the age of Melody's parents, stared out at them, her eyes as big as saucers as she took in the sight of Frost. From the pale and fading shade of blue in her eyes, Melody could tell this was his mother.

The woman he had so rarely spoken about.

"I can't believe it . . . " her weak voice begins, the shaking of her hands obvious. "Frost Mason, is that you? Or am I daydreaming again?"

"It's really me, mother," Frost speaks softly, as though he might break her if his voice were any louder. "I've come back to see you one last time."

The woman reaches a shaky hand to place it upon his cheek, taking in his appearance with her watery glance. "You left so many years ago, I . . . I can't believe it. My boy, you're home."

"Could we come in for a bit?" He asks, gesturing towards Melody and to their interlocked hands. "We've walked quite a ways to be here, and our time is limited."

With her eyes locked upon Melody, the woman steps aside and continues, "of course, come in. Although I apologize, I didn't clean up earlier. I wasn't expecting anyone, and certainly not you."

She waits until they're inside before going on. "My darling, what possessed you to make you come back?"

Frost and Melody take a seat on a worn leather couch, the girl laying her head on his shoulder. She inspects the house, taking in her cozy surroundings. It wasn't as big as her home, but was nearly there. It had a welcoming sort of warmth; one that stood out and made her feel happy inside. Several painting hung on the scratchily-painted walls, standing out against the maroon color. The smell of lavender lingers in the air, as if a candle was burning at the very moment before they stepped inside. And now, it was simply fading away.

"I need my book," he states. "Do you remember where I put it after all these years?"

"On your dresser," she takes a seat on the love seat across from them. "But why on earth would you need it? You can't change this, Frost. I've tried everything."

"There's a spell to stop all of this. To erase what has been done, I had to get a geminite crystal and find the one destined to help me," the boy glances to the brunette. "And as you can see, I've completed those things. But now, for everyone's sake, I need to know what happens after the spell is done."

The blonde-haired woman averts her eyes to Melody, a slight spark arising in her eyes. "You're helping my son?"

"I'll do what I can to protect my people, and to help those who need me," she rolls her thumb across his knuckles. "And he seems to know me quite well, from what I've been told."

"I always knew he'd find someone," she utters, the edges of her lips twitching upwards. "Yet he was always strenuously believing that no one could accept him as he is. And look where you've gotten to now, Frost."

"I'll go get the book," he excuses himself, shooting a stern look to his mother.

"Where did you come from, dear?" Miri Mason asks, relaxing into her seat. "The next town over, I presume."

"Westbrooke, actually," she corrects the woman with a polite smile. "I've grown up here, and I intend on staying for a while."

"And how did you ever manage to find my son?"

"He found me at a library and requested my help. And I accepted."

"I never thought I'd hear of Frost asking for help," she chuckles, shaking her head. "Always independent, that one is. I may not have seen him for a couple of years, but that something no one will take from him. And as stubborn as ever, I presume."

"You've got that one right," she giggles, running her fingers through her damp hair. "Take care of him for me, darling. He needs someone that'll watch out for him, and I . . . I think, that from your expression when you look over him, you'll do just about anything to protect him."

Melody was prepared to respond; to tell her that she was, in fact, right about that too. But by that time, Frost had re-entered the room with a sullen face. He had closed his eyes for a moment, positioning the open book in her grasp before sinking back into the sofa.

"Frost, what is it?" She questions hesitantly, not sure if she wanted the answer. But no reply came. Looking down at the book in her hands, she begins to read.

'Upon such a curse, all of those involved will not only lose their recollection of what happened, but will also lose the ability to recall that who began the situation in the beginning. Although, at the sight of the very person, may their memories come back.

The caster of the spell will, too, have to face the consequences of such a mistake. All will be forgotten of the forgoer.

"So that's it, then?" Melody closes the book with a shaky breath. "We all forget about you, and that's how it ends."

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