It didn't take long for his memory to find its way back to him.

                But it didn't take long to escape.

                “Chanyeol.” I stepped closer to the couple cautiously.

                Tiffany smiled warmly at me, gently pushing him forward even as the confusion on his face intensified.

                “I don't understand, Tiffany. He looks familiar, but I've never met him in my life.” I ignored the frustration that stung in the core of my chest, reassured myself it was the Alzheimer’s talking.

                “Just spend some time with him, honey.” I cringed at her use of the word, recomposed myself quickly. “You know how memories come back to you every now and then. Trust me, he's a good friend of yours.”

                Chanyeol grumbled in defeat, and I couldn't help but smile to myself at his eternally childlike antics. “All right, all right.” Tiffany grinned and patted my arm as she took her leave, waving cheerfully at her disgruntled husband.

                “How was your day?” I asked, but he simply kicked at the dirt, arms crossed as he glared at the willow. I cleared my throat and tried again, pulling a sketchbook and charcoal out from behind my back. I held it before him. I hadn't quite planned on this, blurting out the idea in sudden desperation. There was no way he couldn't remember me. Us. “Draw me.”

                With a hardened stare, he glanced at the sketchbook and then fixed his gaze on me as if I were insane. “I'm not an artist.”

                “Sure you are. Look,” I sighed, placing the materials in his reluctant hands, “I know you think you don't know me, but you do. I know you'll remember me. If I can remember that you have 192 sketches of the willow tree that used to be about five feet from this one, then you can remember who I am. I know you can. So just try. Please.”

                He pursed his lips but said no more and flipped to the first page. I struggled to keep myself together as we sat on what I figured was a new bench, shaded by the leaves of the willow. The charcoal sat in his fingers much the same as it had forty years earlier, his nose scrunching in the same concentrated manner. His were skillful, smoother than I remembered.

                It wasn't until I realized the scratch of charcoal against paper was long gone that I noticed the stillness of his posture, his chest heaving.

                “Chanyeol?”

                The charcoal was clenched in his fist as he trembled, eyes on what I finally saw was the completed sketch. He looked up at me, and it was as if I were reliving the first time we had met in forty years. Ice scorched in my veins.

                Chanyeol was remarkably strong for his age, arms like bricks around my waist, my breath escaping as he wrapped himself around me. “It's you,” he cried, “It's you, you're here, you came back.” He wept into me, the warmth of his tears soaking against my shoulder, his broken sobs familiar to my ears.

                “We promised, didn't we?”

                “You know, you were right all those years ago,” Chanyeol said as we seated ourselves back on the bench, coffees in hand.

                I arched a brow. “About what?”

                He paused, took a sip. “I was scared. Of dying.”

                I felt my throat close around the heat of the coffee. “I know,” I choked out.

                “I didn't trust you for a long time.” He traced his thumb over the lid of his cup. “I didn't trust anyone for years.”

                “I know.”

                “But I did fall in love with you. Don't ever think I didn't.”

                “I know.” I cracked a smile at the expectant look in his eyes and softened my tone. “I loved you too. More than anyone who came after you.” I took a breath. “But I think it's... great that you have Tiffany.” A smile managed to plaster itself on my face as I kept any hint of bitterness within myself. “She seems to take good care of you. I'm glad that you're so trusting of her.”

                He blinked at me, his head tilting. “What do you mean?”

                It was only then that I realized there were two worlds in Chanyeol's damaged mind. It took another moment before I realized that they only traveled in circles, revolved around different suns—different people.

                “Who's Tiffany?”

                That not once would they ever cross paths.

--

I am so sorry it's taken me forever to update!  I hope all of you haven't completely forgotten the storyline.  :\

Will update Buffalo Chasing soon!