The day was one of those beautiful ones, caught inbetween a fading summer and the impending winter. Bright and blustery, the wind carrying a nippiness that says soon frost will be there. 

Chanyeol buried his face into his scarf. It was large and warm and perfect. He had pulled it out of the cupboard for the first time this morning since the last day of frost earlier that year. It made him smile. It was strange that something could make him smile though he didn’t know why. This happened to him regularly, a cup of toffenut latte, the tinkle of an ice cream van, a certain song on the radio, something would fill him with immense happiness and the hint of memories he couldn’t grasp would hover at the back of his mind. 

It wasn’t just happiness though, sorrow at not remembering, at the idea of something so special being so lost would blanket him just as regularly. Jongdae would look at him sometimes, torn emotion present on his face, his mouth open as if to say something but stopping himself at the last moment. 

Losing his memories was easier he decided, than being the person who had to watch. Jongdae was his only link, his only handhold when he woke up and found his life slipping out from under him. His childhood friend was a rock through everything that had happened two years ago.

Walking into the coffee shop that was on the corner from his new apartment he inhaled the smell of coffee beans. He didn’t understand why he was so addicted now, it was one of the small quirky changes that he had discovered when he woke up.
He had hated coffee before, always heading for the hot chocolates but now, now it felt like coffee was important. Something that he should know. Something he should appreciate. 

The barista looked at him with deliberately blank eyes and pursed lips, tilting his head as Chanyeol ordered a peppermint mocha. 

Feeling self-conscious, Chanyeol asked cautiously, “Do I know you?” 

The shorter man smiled then, though it was tight and sad. “Maybe, maybe.” 

Before he had chance to ask further, he heard his name being called. Turning on instinct, his heart skipped as he saw someone he hadn’t seen in so long. Someone he hadn’t seen since he threw him out of his life, refusing to listen or talk. 

He’d been scared then, but now, now he had okay. It was okay to see this person. 

“Hey.” He felt pathetic that he couldn’t say anymore. What does one say to an ex-boyfriend who you dumped because you had no memory of them?

Luhan smiled brightly, even though awkward tension filled the air. “Sit with me?” 

Chanyeol nodded, unable to stop himself as Luhan asked the barista, Minseok, to bring their drinks over to them. 

Sitting opposite each other Luhan asked questions, “Do you often come around here?”

Chanyeol shook his head slowly, “I just moved in round the corner.” 

“That explains a lot. If you had come here before, Minseok would have told me.”

“So he does know me?” Chanyeol turned back to stare at the man behind the counter. 

“He’s my best friend,” the silent of course he would know you rings clear. Another worker, who Luhan thanked by name delivered their coffees and scampered away, looking at Chanyeol warily as he did so. “How have you been? I saw that you went back to work.”

“You followed me?” Chanyeol tried to stop himself from being pleased. 

“You’re a well-known producer, any one could’ve looked you up.” Luhan dismissed it quickly as a blush rose on his cheeks. Chanyeol wanted to reach across and brush the stained skin, see whether he could make it worse. Restraining himself he looked at the table and the coffee instead. 

A mixture of feelings was filling him. Luhan did this to him. He did it to him 2 years ago, but he wasn’t sure whether it was better or worse. Now his mind wasn’t filled with Baekhyun, wasn’t trapped in his life that ended years ago, that was already lost. It was filled instead with all the work he had done, everything he had rebuilt, hours of therapy and feeling lost. Helplessness no longer flooded him when he felt of Luhan, guilt was there instead. Maybe meeting the other man was good, it would provide closure. Closure for a relationship, a love, that Chanyeol couldn’t remember but he had seen in photos, videos, songs he had written, their home that he had vacated as quickly as he had entered it, hiding at Jongdae’s until he could afford his own. 

Everything he had learnt of Luhan showed that they had been perfect. And he had ruined it. 

A shiny ring caught his eye, a sliver band wrapped around Luhan’s fourth finger on his left hand. His heart caught in his throat, Chanyeol croaked out, “Are you married?” 

Lu blinked in surprise, and why was Chanyeol calling him Lu in his mind. “No.” The Chinese man gazed at the ring with such softness that he wanted to grab it and throw it into the Han. 

“Are you engaged then?” 

“No.”

Chanyeol’s heart felt like it would break out of his ribcage. 

“Then…”

Luhan’s smile was like the sun. Knowing filled his face, hope and love and joy. 

“I’ve been waiting.”