Kris paced up and down the hallway outside your room. You could hear him every time he passed your bedroom door, pausing for a moment, and then pacing on.
On his sixth time past your bedroom, you wrench open the door to find yourself face to face with Kris.
“I-!” 
“You-!”
You both speak at once. You feel a familiar heat creeping up the back of your neck. 
“You- you first,” you say to the ground.
“No, it’s okay, you go first.” 
“No, seriously, just say it.” 
Kris looks up at you nervously -suspiciously out of character- then hurriedly blurts, “Ifahaddagohomewoodoocomewimme?” 
You narrow your eyes, wondering whether this was a joke or not. (Though he had no reason to joke all of a sudden.) “What?” Not waiting for an answer, you plough on, running on a bold streak. “Anyways, I was wondering-,” Kris breathes a sigh of relief, “-if you would tell me about Tao.” 
Kris seems to hold his breath then, as if waiting for an explanation for your sudden interest in Tao. “You’re not- you didn’t…me and Tao…” He points behind him and you raise a wary eyebrow. 
“No, I didn’t,” you say without thinking. 
“Oh, good,” Kris sighs in relief again, then resumes his pacing.
“So-…so will you tell me?” You ask again.
Kris stops in place and frowns down at you. “What?” His mind seemed to be everywhere but present at that moment.
“Will you tell me about Tao?” A hint of your impatience seeps through your words.
“Um, yeah. I guess,” Kris shrugs. “The roof?” He looked hopeful.
“I preferred the lawn, actually.” You rush to say, crushing Kris’ spirits. You hadn’t wanted to make him sad, but you also didn’t want to dwell on his memories of Krystal more than you had to.

“Tao. My unexpected Taobao (-“Wait, that’s Chinese, right?” “Yeah, my mom was from Guangzhou.” “…oh.”-) in the whole mess that was my life during the time we first met, after Krystal’s death. It was around the time I was wandering around, wondering what I would do next. Tao appeared…as alike to a human angel as one could be…though I didn’t treat him like one at all.”

Kris had wandered from shabby house to shack, slowly diminishing the stock of money he had been given by Krystal. But he didn’t care. He needed the money and didn’t want anything to do with Krystal anymore.

“I was really angry at the time. She was the one who had promised me to see her everyday, and then she just disappeared. I didn’t even know what had happened.”

Kris had waited a week for Krystal; walking by her house, hoping to catch a glimpse of her; calling her repeatedly, and sending her letters through snail-mail. Nothing had gone through. Or everything had, and he was being avoided - Kris didn’t really want to ponder that option. 
Kris had to assume that Krystal had given up on him, decided to live a new life with her husband. Turn over a new leaf and start fresh. 
Until his doorbell rang for the first time in days.

“Uh…Mister Wu Yifan?” 
Kris cringed at the sound of his old name. “Yes?”
“Tha’s you, innit?” The man looked up at him from behind a thick moustache, speaking with a heavy country accent.
“Yes, yes, that’s me,” Kris snapped impatiently. His fuse had been a lot shorter ever since Krystal disappeared on him, he often found himself swearing at the television, on the verge of throwing things at it or breaking valuable gifts -from Krystal, of course- for no apparent reason.
“Uh, I’m gonna have to ask you to vacate these premises immediately.” The man’s nose twitched, and Kris jumped to a conclusion.
“Oh, Krystal put you up to this, didn’t she? She wanted to get the slave out of her house so she could live here? Fine!” Kris found his hand automatically swinging out and grabbing the closest thing he could find. He threw it to the floor, where the glass ornament shattered into tiny pieces. “Fine!” Kris yelled again.
The man looked increasingly nervous. “Look here, mister, it says here that this house belonged to Krystal Jung, dinnit?” 
Kris turns, already half transformed by his rage. His ears caught one word. “Belonged? Belonged to Krystal? Why, she fleeing the country?” Kris asked angrily, staring at the ground where the man couldn’t see the tears burning to fall.
“Uh, no, mister,” the man says quietly. “See, Krystal Jung died in a car accident awhile ago.”
Kris went numb. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t feel. He needed to feel; feel something, anything, to know that this was real, but he couldn’t. 
“Ac-ci-dent?” He repeats before crumpling to the ground.

Kris wakes a little while later, the man hovering over him. 
“You okay there, son? Took quite a spill there, you did,” he nodded to himself.
Kris resisted the urge to give the man the finger. “What happened to Krystal?” He croaked weakly.
“You sure you din’t hear nothin’ on the tv, son? I’s a huge story, it is. Rich heiress, car found in the lake. Probably lost control of her car and flew in. And you know the strangest part?” The man leaned in, beckoning Kris to edge closer. “There ain’t no body,” he whispered. “Sure, her phone was found ‘n’ all that, but police is suspectin’ some foul play, they are. But o’ course, you’d hafta find a body to do an autopsy, ain’t it right, son?” The man winked at Kris.
Kris gagged. He felt like throwing up. Which is exactly what he ran to do in the nearest toilet.
“You need some help there son-?”
“Don’t!” Kris gasped. “Don’t - come - near - me!” He panted weakly, gripping his sides as he heaved again. 
He made it back to the door, his sweaty palms sliding down the doorframe. “Get outta my house.”
The man looked at him dubiously. “Well actually, sonny, you have 10 days to permanently vacate this con-do-minimum.”
Kris pointed to the hallway. “Then get the hell out right now,” he snarled. 

Needless to say, Kris left the building the next day.

[AN: the second the man winked, Kris felt his old days coming back. He felt the guy must’ve been a e, or of the sort.]

kso, sorry bout the delay...the internet is an amazing place when you've been without it...especially when EXO is going crazy behind a box at a certain exhibition...
(lol did everyone see Kris' eyebrow grooming? my fave part xD)