A multitude of images flashed in his mind like a slideshow, only way faster and not in order. Suddenly his head became a mess of flashbacks, forgotten scenes whirling inside like a hurricane. He remember places he didn’t recognize, people he never met. And the feelings, the emotions locked up at the back of his mind, came crashing like a tidal wave. His knees felt wobbly, his lungs refused to take in air. He rubbed his temple to ease the terrible headache, but his heart hurts even more.

He sat at the bus stop for a long time, trying to gather his thoughts and collect himself as well. He has so many questions that needed to be answered. But what bothers him more is that they lied to him. Sehun, his best friend since first grade, lied to him. His parents lied to him. Why?

After the rain stopped, he decided to walk around the area, in case he remember anything else. He let his gut guide him through, betting his chances to the feelings that had just came back. He’s positive that they move in together, meaning they own a flat somewhere. He walked round and round, willing himself to recognize the diners and cafes he pass by. He looked at buildings, trying to sense some familiarity with each structure towering above him. 

He finally came across a simple neighborhood that sparked a tinge of recognition in him. The faded white exterior, the cozy lobby and the groaning of the lift felt all too familiar to him. It felt like home. 
 

He found himself minutes later standing in front of a dark brown door. It wasn’t any different from the other doors in the floor level except for the number, but somehow he felt drawn to it. Somehow it felt like he had been entering and going out of this door many, almost forgotten, times. 
 

He stood there for a long time. And then he left.

//

“Open it.” 

She eyed him with a questioning look, clearly amused. They are cuddling on their bed, arms and legs tangled and bodies pressed together when he gave her a box neatly wrapped in white with a bright pink bow. He saw her raise her brow at him, but she obliged.
 

“A planner?” she mused, holding out a little black notebook from the box. In the front of the black cover, an image is embossed in silver. She is hugging her knees, lips curved in an enticing smile. Her wings are folded, hanging low in her back. An angel.
 

“Happy birthday, my angel.” He whispered.
 

She thanked him with a sweet kiss, which he gladly accepted. They kissed until they are breathless. 
 

“Why a planner?”
 

“Because I know how forgetful you are. You tend to forget your deadlines and the phone calls you have to make and the clients you have to meet. You can use this to write down your appointments and plans every single day of every single week of every single month.” He answered. “Plus, you can write my birthday so you won’t forget about it anymore.”
 

“Hey! I didn’t forget it that time. I was just so busy meeting a deadline.” She defended.
 

He laughed at