You sigh down at the papers laying spread across the small round table, tapping the pencil repeatedly against its glass surface. The papers stare blankly back, all horizontal lines and tiny circles plainly innocent. Another frustrated sigh before you finish what’s last of your now cooled drink, stuffing the papers into an old, worn out notebook and placing it into your bag. With a sweeping gaze around the small café, you stand and throw away the paper cup into the nearest trash can as you walk through the doors and into the chilly winter air.

Your breaths come out in disappearing white puffs and you bury the lower half of your face into your scarf, hands stuffed in the pockets of your coat. You continue walking down the too familiar streets and your eyes sting because of the cold. Your heart aches; it’s a lie.

“Taemin!” You yell, jogging towards him, smiling.

The other boy turns, looking at you questioningly. He looks genuinely surprised when you wrap your arms around him and you sigh happily, “I missed y–”

“I – I’m sorry… but do I know you?”

“What?”

You pull away from him, eyes wide and tearing because you’re just as confused as he is. Taemin stares and you can see, by just looking at him, that he doesn’t recognize you. You tell him your name and he shakes his head, a frown settled against his pale pink lips.

The sun beats down hotly as you watch him walk away. And you finally understand why he’s been gone, why his parents had been obviously trying to keep you away, telling you he’s resting at the hospital and to just stay away from him, forget him. You finally understand why they’ve just simply said he won’t remember.

Because he doesn’t.

You find your way back to the building, others like you – tugging strings, blowing notes and pressing keys – bustling around hurriedly. The warmth is welcoming and you slip off the scarf, carefully putting it in your bag. You smile at familiar faces and head towards the only room you usually find yourself. You’re not surprised to find it empty.

The bench squeaks quietly when you push it back to take a seat. You pull out the sheets from before and lay them out in front of you. Fingers rest against cold, unused keys and you close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

Exhaling slowly, you open your eyes, pressing onto each key knowingly, reading and playing every note written down on your composition.

The room echoes in beautiful melody, emotions joining the rush of flowing music.

Taemin smiles and you’re momentarily blinded as he continues to guide you through the building, stopping at pristine white doors. His hand his warm around yours, fingers pressed against the back of your hand in promise.

You smile because you trust him – because it’s love.

You don’t know what’s possessed you to come here. Or, at least that’s what you tell yourself as you stand right at the double doors, watching him play in front of the audience. Just the sight of him makes you lightheaded, something hot blurring the edges of your vision. Your stomach is twisting painfully, your heart beats achingly against your ribcage and it feels like something is constricting around your neck. It’s hard to breathe.

The spot light is on him and he plays just as perfectly as the day you first met him, when he was just a boy, when he wasn’t famous.

You stand frozen because you know you still love him, even if he doesn’t remember.

Even if it hurts.

You rub at your tired eyes, dropping the pencil in your hand and not bothering to pick it up when it rolls to the floor. Instead, you gather your things and get up from the desk, heading out through the door.

It’s eerily quiet, your footsteps dully echoing in the hallway. You hear a faint melody and your ears immediately know it’s a piano. Curious, you head towards the sound, pushing open one of the double doors and peering across the auditorium and at the boy sitting, playing piano on the stage.

Your breath hitches once you see him, eyes closed as he plays each note perfectly, fingers pressing each key in firm confidence, yet gently alluring. And it’s beautiful, you think, as you watch and listen to the enticing music, but it stops all too soon. You almost protest, stopping yourself when you push open the door a little further, causing it to creak loudly.

You look up just as the boy turns his head in surprise. You gasp when your eyes lock; bolting out before he could do anything. Your shoulder bumps into the other, closed door however, ruining your escape. The papers in your hand slip from your grasp and you drop down to quickly pick up the scattered sheets.

There’s another set of footsteps and shuffling before the boy appears in front of you, on his knees as well.

“Hello.” He says, smiling dazzlingly as he hands you your papers. You can’t help but stare.

“Hi.” You breathed, awed at the beauty you thought the boy had. You take back your things, still shocked at how charming and talented he was.

His smile grows and you feel your heartbeat quicken when he takes your hand.

“I’m Taemin.”

You have to force yourself not to cry, still watching him play. He hasn’t changed much, you noticed. Taemin is still strikingly beautiful, angelic with the light tracing his form. You feel your throat tighten even more at the unconscious smile that graces his lips.

Your heart twists, hoping, wishing, wanting for him to notice – to remember.

The song ends and the audience erupts in a round of applause. Your own hands glued to your sides. Taemin stands from the seat, smiling brightly at the audience as he bows gracefully. His shinning eyes meet yours and you stare back unmoving.

There’s a flash of something – recognition? – across his eyes and that’s all it takes for you to gather enough strength to run out the door and down the hall.

You don’t get far however, tripping over clumsy feet just as you reach the lonely piano room you’re so fond of. With a heavy sigh, you pick yourself up and head towards the piano, playing your heartache. Warm, familiar hands are touching your shoulder, standing you up and you don’t realize your crying until you see his worried face. Belatedly, you realize how he always manages to get to you so fast, wondering why he had followed you.

“Hello.” Taemin greets gently, and you’re thrown into bittersweet reminiscence. “You’re pretty good.”

“Hi.” You say, voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles at you, “Have we met before?”

But suddenly, the both of you are separated by a sea of people. Slowly, you take steps back, watching him as he continues to look at you, only you. The crowd surrounds Taemin, fans pushing against security, paparazzi flashing pictures and his gaze focuses elsewhere, everywhere but you.

And he forgets.