Chanyeol stood on the stage, s next to him.

Things didn't feel out of place.

He had gone up to perfom a thousand times already, after all. It was something he loved doing, even though, the people around him sometimes assumed he didn't, for the schedules were to tight, the pressure too high, the freedom of resting too small.

Of course, things are like that- no, were.

They were hard, sometimes he had even sat in the van that was to bring him to his next appointment, interview, photoshoot, and Chanyeol had allowed himself to cry, the fence that was his smiles and goofyness breaking for just a moment as it seemed to grow unbearable. The rising stress and sleepless nights finally creeping on him for a second, for a minute, for the exact moment the vans fancy doors were no use in hiding behind anymore and he was back behind the safe wall of happyness that people grew to love so much.

Though, ever since waking up from the 3 month coma, chanyeol was given more freedom, a lose schedule and way more than enough time to cope with any pressure. He didn't think there was much pressure lately anyway, almost none actually. The fans were as supportive as ever, s were nice to him, his friends, his family. Everyone was kind and good to him.

Had they always been this nice? If someone ever came up to him and asked, Chanyeol just wouldn't know.

He didn't know how life had been before he had woken up. Or rather, he didn't know how life had been for the past 3 years before he had woken up.

He didn't know that his car had crashed down on the side of an abandoned bridge and that he had barely made it out alive, because that's just what he was told.

They said that he had been able to somehow, make it out alive and safe, just before the car had finally given in to the gravity that kept on tugging on it, and had fallen into the river not leaving any trace of ever existing but the scene of a broken guardrail, a destroyed concrete wall and an unconcious chanyeol who had lied on the ground till the ambulance finally picked him up half an hour later.

However,

it sounded weird. Strange. Wrong. Yeah, most of all, it sounded wrong.

How was he able to get out of that car when they told him he had been the only one inside and knocked unconcious the moment the car hit the fence? And how was he able to lie there out of the car, still unconcious, when at that night, the streets were dead empty and even the woman, that had been the one calling the ambulance, told chanyeol she had rushed there just after seeing the carlights and how it dropped down into the water the very next moment?

It didnt make any sense. And of course, he had asked about it. He did, but they told him that was just how much they knew as well. The bridge was old enough for people to decide not to install any CCTV's, as the chance of something actually dangerous happening there was small, and so, there was no evidence to chanyeols accident at all.

He had decided to just ignore it, as it didn't help racking his brain for answers it couldn't give him anyway and there probably is a simple and logic reason, right?

So here he was, living his life almost 2 years after the accident, still unable to remember 3 of it.

Thing's didn't feel out of place though. Not when the fans were yelling his name, screaming their lungs out just to get his attention even if it was just for a moment, not when he sung his lines of his bands oh so sweet songs and oh, of course, definitely not when the members group-hugged at the end of the concert for a short moment, all smiles and giggles.

They went back home after the concert and a few drinks later. It was a good day, they had fun and the mood had been great.

Even when Chanyeol finally dropped on his bed, still in the hoodie and sweatpants, shoes still on, a small smile still tugged on his lips and he thought about how lucky he was. How lucky he was to survive the accident, how lucky he was to have such great people surrounding him, how lucky he was to still be alive. He thanked whoever was responsible for that.

He turned his head to the left, to look at the book that lied on his bedside table every night.

A soft black cover, embracing the 531 pages that were distributed into 12 chapters, smoothly. Chanyeol knew the book by heart by now, forgotten even how many times he read it already.

He reached out to grap a hold of the book, shifting slightly to be able to and bringing it close to him while the fabric of the book felt just as soft as it looked. One of his favourite materials.

Chanyeol traced his fingers over the title in such a manner that made it seem like he was afraid the book would crumble into mere dust between his hands if he was just a slight bit harsher.

He had never asked anyone what the matter was with this book. Maybe he was just too scared for answers he didn't wanna hear, maybe he was scared he wouldn't get an answer at all or maybe it was the feeling that held him back, telling him that this book was really just for him and that no one else knew anything.

The thought always had a bittersweet taste to it. This book was dedicated to him, the only copy that existed in this entire world, Chanyeol knew that, he tried googling it once.

It was dedicated to him, for him to remember the sweet memories shared, to remember past times. That was probably also the reason why the authors name was no where to be found, This person for sure thought he would never be forgotten, right?

Well, jokes on that, who would've thought Chanyeol would ever look at this book and not remember. It was almost funny.

Almost.

But things didn't feel out of place. No, not at all.

However, when Chanyeol opened the book slowly, the only indication of the authors name being a bold fonted cursive B and the dedication on the first page being his very own name,

things, still, did not feel out of place,

or maybe Chanyeol just wished them not to.