Winter in Toronto season 1: Through the Portal of Light - Chapter 1: The Portal of Light
Warning⚠️: lots of fluff and comfort
Winter Lightstone had always thought her life was meant to be ordinary. She was the quiet girl, the one who smiled shyly when spoken to, who preferred books and sketching soft doodles in the margins of her notebooks over crowded parties or noisy laughter. But sometimes, she felt it—the strange shimmer at the edge of her vision, like a half-forgotten dream tugging at her soul.
That evening, the shimmer became something more.
She stood alone in her bedroom, the night sky painting the walls in pale silver. Her emerald eyes caught the faintest flicker of light in her mirror—no, behind the mirror, glowing like sunlight on water. The air shifted. Her long, pale-blonde hair stirred as if caught in an invisible breeze.
"Wh-what...?" she whispered, her soft voice trembling.
The glow widened. A circle—no, a portal—unfurled like a blooming flower. It pulsed with gentle radiance, both terrifying and strangely inviting. Winter clutched her hands to her chest. She should have run. She should have screamed. But instead, her heart whispered something else: Step forward.
The world folded in on itself, light pouring through her. She felt weightless, as if she were falling through clouds spun of silk and fire. The last thing she heard before everything dissolved into brightness was the sound of her own name echoing back at her:
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When the light cleared, she was no longer in her room.
She stumbled onto cracked pavement, her white summer dress brushing against her legs as a sharp wind whipped around her. Car horns blared. Neon signs flickered. People bustled past with coffees in hand, speaking too fast for her to follow. A massive billboard blinked above: Toronto Maple Leafs vs. Montreal Canadiens – Tonight!
"Toronto?" Winter breathed, dazed. Her shy smile faltered. She had never been here before.
Before she could gather her bearings, someone brushed past, nearly knocking her over. Then another. She backed up instinctively—only to find herself stepping right into the street as a bus thundered toward her, horn blaring.
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Scott's POV
Scott Pilgrim was having what he called a "meh" kind of day. The kind where he wandered aimlessly after band practice, trying not to think too hard about the gaping hole Ramona Flowers had left in his chest. He told himself he was over it—yeah, totally over it. But the bitterness lingered, clinging to him like gum on his sneaker.
That was when he saw her.
A girl, standing in the middle of the street, framed by headlights. Long blonde hair caught in the wind, emerald eyes wide with terror.
"Uh—what the—HEY!" Scott shouted, dashing forward. His sneakers pounded the pavement as he lunged, grabbing her by the wrist just in time to yank her back onto the sidewalk. The bus roared past, rattling the glass of the storefronts.
The girl stumbled into his chest, trembling. She looked up at him, and Scott forgot how to breathe.
She was... stunning. Not flashy or edgy like the girls he usually crushed on, but soft. Angelic. Her face radiated a kind of gentle innocence he hadn't seen in... ever.
"Y-you—are you okay?" Scott stammered, his cheeks turning bright red. He immediately let go of her wrist, fumbling awkwardly. "I mean, yeah, duh, almost getting flattened by a bus isn't okay, but—uh—are you okay?"
The girl blinked, her shy smile trembling into place. "Th-thank you... I... I didn't mean to—" Her voice was so soft it nearly vanished under the city noise.
Scott's heart did a weird thud-thud.
Great. Just great. First mysterious blonde girl he meets after swearing off heartbreak and he's already turning into a blushing mess.
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Her heart was still hammering in her chest. If not for the boy who had pulled her back, she would have been... Winter shivered at the thought, clutching her hands together nervously.
He looked about her age, maybe a little older. Messy orange hair, scruffy jacket, eyes that carried both weariness and something boyish underneath. His nervous expression—flustered, awkward, almost sheepish—made her shoulders relax just a little.
"I... I'm so sorry," Winter whispered, her emerald eyes downcast. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."
The boy scratched the back of his neck. "Uh, no, no, you're fine. Totally fine. I mean, except for the almost dying part, but like... that's not—uh..." He trailed off, grimacing at his own words. "I'm Scott. Scott Pilgrim. Resident... uh... random guy who saves people from buses, I guess?"
Winter blinked, her shy smile tugging at the corner of her lips despite herself. "Scott Pilgrim..." she repeated softly, as though memorizing it. "I'm... Winter. Winter Lightstone."
Her name sounded strange here, like it didn't belong on the noisy Toronto streets.
Scott tilted his head. "Winter? Like the season?"
She nodded, brushing a strand of her long blonde hair behind her ear. "Y-yes."
"That's... actually really cool," Scott admitted, his cheeks warming again. He was already kicking himself mentally. Why did he sound like such a dork? But something about her—gentle, delicate, but not fragile—made him want to keep talking.
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Scott's POV
Okay, so: facts. Girl almost gets run over by a bus. Girl says her name is Winter. Girl looks like she stepped out of some kind of... fairy tale or something, all soft eyes and summer dress and a smile that could probably cure seasonal depression.
And she looked completely lost.
Scott shoved his hands in his pockets. He knew that look. The wide-eyed "where the heck am I" look. He'd worn it himself after every breakup, wandering Toronto like a ghost. Only with her, it wasn't heartbreak—it was like she'd landed on a different planet.
"You're, uh... not from around here, huh?" Scott asked cautiously.
Winter hesitated. Her lips parted, but no words came. How could she explain she'd literally fallen through a glowing portal? If she told him, he'd think she was crazy.
"I... I don't have anywhere to go," she admitted instead, her voice small.
Scott blinked. 'Oh no. Oh no, nope, nope, don't do this, Scott. You are not doing this again.'
Except... she looked at him with those wide emerald eyes, and his heart practically melted into a puddle.
"Uh." He rubbed the back of his neck again. "Well, um. I mean, I... have a place. It's not like, uh, fancy or anything. Or clean. Or... big. But it's a place." He winced at his own words, then blurted out before he could stop himself: "You can crash there. If you want."
Winter's eyes widened. "R-really? You'd... let me stay?"
"Yeah, I mean—yeah. Just, you know, until you figure things out. No big deal." Scott tried to sound casual, but inside, he was spiraling. 'What are you doing, dude? You barely know her! But she's... she's different. She's kind. She's not Ramona. She's not gonna—'
He cut the thought off before it burned.
Winter smiled shyly, the kind of smile that felt like sunlight breaking through heavy clouds. "Thank you... Scott."
And just like that, Scott knew he was doomed.
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Winter's POV
The boy—Scott—led her through the streets. The city was loud, overwhelming, but he kept glancing back to make sure she was keeping up. She clutched her dress lightly, her sandals clicking against the pavement, trying not to lose herself in the crowd.
He slowed his pace so she could walk beside him. It was a small thing, but it made her heart flutter. He didn't even realize how thoughtful it was.
When they finally stopped in front of a modest apartment building, Winter tilted her head. The place wasn't grand, but there was something... cozy about it, like the air itself carried laughter and late-night conversations.
Scott fumbled for his keys, his face pink. "Uh, so... welcome to, uh... Casa Pilgrim. Don't expect much, but it's, you know, shelter. And it's got walls. And a couch. And, uh... you can have the bed. I'll take the floor."
Winter's eyes widened. "Oh, n-no, I couldn't—"
"Nope. Bed's yours," Scott cut in, waving a hand quickly. He was nervous, tripping over his words, but there was something so genuine about the way he insisted. Like he truly wanted her to feel safe.
She pressed her hands to her chest, her cheeks warming. 'He's... kind. Kind in a way I didn't expect in this strange world.'
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Scott's POV
As he pushed the apartment door open, Scott realized something terrifying.
For the first time in a long time, he wanted to protect someone—not because of ego, not because of fights with evil exes, not even because of loneliness.
But because she had trusted him with nothing but a shy smile.
And he couldn't—wouldn't—let her down.
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Scott's apartment wasn't large, but to Winter, it felt like stepping into another world entirely. Which, she reminded herself shyly, it literally was.
The living room was cluttered with mismatched furniture, band posters, and stray laundry. A guitar leaned against the couch, its strings slightly dusty, and there were open bags of chips on the table. Winter clasped her hands together politely, emerald eyes wandering the space with quiet curiosity.
"It's... cozy," she said softly, offering Scott a gentle smile.
Scott blinked. Most people would have called it messy. Chaotic, even. But the way she said "cozy," like she actually meant it, made something warm settle in his chest.
Before he could say anything, a voice called from the hallway:
"Scott, is that you? Did you finally bring home a girl who's not totally out of your league?"
Winter startled, turning quickly. A man with perfectly styled hair and an amused smirk leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.
Scott groaned. "Wallace..."
Wallace Wells. Scott's roommate, part-time chaos generator, full-time expert in sarcasm.
Wallace's eyes flicked over Winter, widening just slightly before his grin returned. "Well, hello, angel. Did you fall from heaven, or did Scott just win some kind of weird cosmic lottery?"
Winter flushed, her shy smile trembling as she glanced down, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I... I'm Winter. Scott was very kind to me."
Wallace's brows shot up. "Kind? To a girl? Wow. Miracles do happen."
"Dude, shut up," Scott muttered, cheeks burning.
Winter looked between them uncertainly, but Wallace only winked at her. "Don't worry, sweetie. I tease him because I love him. And also because it's easy."
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Scott's POV
Scott wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Of course Wallace had to show up right now, acting like Scott was some kind of hopeless loser. Which, okay, maybe he kind of was, but still!
Winter looked so shy and out of place, standing there in her pale dress, that Scott felt this protective surge all over again. He stepped a little closer, almost instinctively, as if to shield her from Wallace's teasing.
"She's just staying here for a bit," Scott blurted. "Until she figures things out."
Wallace raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. Sure. Just remember, Scott, guests don't do your laundry. Or clean your room. Or fall in love with you just because you made them ramen noodles."
Scott's face went scarlet. "WALLACE!"
Winter's soft giggle floated into the room. She covered her mouth politely, but the sound was like wind chimes, gentle and warm.
Scott froze. That laugh. He couldn't remember the last time hearing someone laugh made his chest feel lighter.
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Winter's POV
Scott showed her the small bedroom, insisting she take the bed. Winter ran her fingers over the blanket, her heart swelling. She had no home here, no place to belong—but this boy, awkward and kind, had offered her a safe space without hesitation.
She turned to him, emerald eyes shining. "Thank you, Scott. I don't know what I would have done without you tonight."
Scott rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. "Eh, don't mention it. Really. It's no big deal."
But Winter could tell it was a big deal. She saw it in the way his shoulders softened, in the way he hovered by the door as if making sure she'd be okay.
She smiled shyly. "Still... it means a lot to me."
Scott's heart thudded, his ears burning.
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Scott's POV
Later, when he collapsed onto the couch with a blanket, staring at the ceiling, Scott Pilgrim had a startling realization.
He barely knew this girl—Winter Lightstone. She'd appeared out of nowhere, lost and fragile and smiling at him like he'd saved the world just by existing.
And somehow, impossibly, she had already found a place in the hollow ache Ramona had left behind.
Scott pulled the blanket over his head, groaning. "You're doomed, dude," he muttered to himself. "Totally doomed."
But for the first time in a long time... he didn't mind.
