A/N: Holla! I was inspired to write this story while listening to Beyonce and after reading about 5 Pointz in New York. But I think as I started writing, it veered to a different direction? IDK. I just wanted to post because stress levels are rising and I needed an outlet. Anyway, I should shut up now.

1. Imprimatura 

His vision adjusts to the yellows diffusing through the wide windows. Reaching an arm out to the other side of the bed, his hand meets with fabric and paper instead of the warm flesh he has grown used to waking up next to. Lifting yellow paper to eye level, it reads:

Good morning~ I took the liberty of choosing your wardrobe for you. Must look your best!

He cannot help but smile as he prompts himself to get out of bed to take a shower. There was still hot water left for him, the necessities lined and organized on the bathroom cupboard. Emerging through the steam from the warm bath, he notices another note, white this time, stuck to the bathroom mirror as he surveys his reflection. The arch of his left eyebrow was twitching—a tick that shows when he’s feeling apprehensive and his hands feel like unstable quivering knobs.

Calm yourself. The Eyebrow will be fine. Can’t have shaky fingers shaving too~

He raises a hand to his eyebrow and massages it gingerly until he feels the twitch slow and disappear. Smearing his face with shaving cream, he begins to groom himself.

He pulls on his pants and sniffs a faint whiff of cologne on the collar of his dark dress shirt as he puts that on after. He feels a crinkle of paper on the pocket of his shirt and fishes a tiny red square.

Sense memory works best for when you want to distract yourself. 

There is a calm that settles over him. This is a reminder of the comfort he has come to associate with the pleasant musk  surrounding him.

Padding to the kitchen, he finds a bowl of Honey Stars and his coffee mug, top covered with a saucer, a green note stuck to the body.

Breakfast of champions along with caffeine confidence made as sweet as you. Heat before drinking~^^

He lingers a little longer drinking his coffee and munching on his cereal, mulling over his appointment for the day. As if on cue, his phone beeps with a message: 'Stop stalling and finish the coffee.' Alarmed, he peers at the corners of the place looking for hidden cameras. He was easily spooked and receiving that kind of message while he was surely alone in the flat threw him off. What if aliens are watching him? He knew he should've kept the tinfoil hats he made during middle school. He shouts "You aliens can't abduct me!" in a shaky voice even though he probably looked stupid after that. Another beep from his phone and a message 'It's not aliens, idiot. I just know you too well.' He glares at his phone screen but refrains from replying. May as well get this over with as fast as he can.

Walking to the garage and retrieving his car, he settles in and finds a blue letter stuck to the steering wheel.

Drive safely. I'll see if I can catch up with you later.

Written below was his destination. He was normally scatter-brained and forgetful but he won't forget that place. It was a landmark for both his heartache but also the reason for his current joy.

Driving out of the car park and into the main street, he grips the wheel comfortably, feeling the breeze with his car's top down and the sunlight bathing him with its warmth. He takes a deep breath and decides, Lee Donghae, you'll be alright. You're alright.

He giggles a little, thinking of how someone left color-coded messages for him for today.

He arrives to the book cafe five minutes early.

"Donghae!"  A merry voice greets him from the counter and he sees a statuesque man with the cafe's signature red apron on. "Coming here alone today?"

"Hey, Zhoumi. I'm meeting up with someone but I'll be taking my usual. Reserve a whole Torte for me to go later, yeah?" Zhoumi answers him with an affirmative and tells him that his favorite spot was unoccupied. He nearly collapses on the olive green couch and tries to calm the nerves that overtook him again. Why is he doing this again? Closure. You'd want to settle this once and for all. 

Absently he rubs the arch of his cheek, imagining the immense burst of red-hot pain that burst through his once fractured zygomatic bone. He can't lose composure now. Not when he was back to being stable and sure like earthy terracotta, as sturdy as the trunk of an aged tree rooted deeply into the earth, when reality was not fighting against him and the world is not tipping him back and forth in a swirl of confusing neons or hitting him black and blue. He snaps out of his reverie when he hears Zhoumi raise his voice, obviously hostile. Craning his neck, he feels his blood run cold at the sight before him.

Standing there with gel-slicked hair, coat hanging nicely over his frame, hands clenching and unclenching on a scarf was a picture of his past. He feels his surroundings swirl into wisps of black and zero in one him.  Zhoumi was switching back from Korean and rapid Mandarin, anger written on his face. "Get out before I call the police on you," He has never seen Zhoumi like this, incoherent and furious when his near-perfect Korean can almost convince anyone that he isn't an integrated foreigner.

The man tries to calm Zhoumi, his voice lilting and soft, "Don't misunderstand, Zhoumi, I really set an appointment with him," Donghae manages to stagger forward and volunteer to save the situation from getting out of hand.

"Zhoumi, it's fine. I'll take it from here," In his peripheral vision he sees the man turn to him, feels his eyes examining Donghae's face openly. Zhoumi offers to assist further but he manages to decline. "Would you want Jasmine tea?" He now meets the eyes of the man standing opposite him. If they rewind about five years ago, Donghae will not deny the rainbows that seemed to pour out of his smile and the warm pastels that he feels pumping throughout his system.

"It's so nice of you to remember that, Donghae," the newcomer directing his old rainbow and pastel charm at him and if Donghae was a weaker person he would have staggered a little with that disarming smile.

"Three years is hard to forget Kibum," He replies, jaw hardening at the familiar way he was addressed. "Why don't we take a seat?"

From the glass doors, he sees the skies turning gray.

TBC.

A/N: So how was it? Honestly, the narrative sounds a bit off for me but I wanted to try a different approach? It feels a little skewed for me. 

For perspective, I referred to these materials. :)

Feel free to leave a comment, I give out almost Hyukjae. ;)

ETA: BELATED BIRTHDAY GIFT FOR 012715!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thanks for being such a beautiful friend. We've only known each other for like...2/3 months? But we are so completely enamored with each other I want to puke. Sleepover when I get home!! I LOVE YOU, LADY!!!