Wu Fan started to mumble something in Cantonese. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about. Yet I unconsciously smiled when I heard him sleep talking, I had loved this habit of his even though half of the time I didn't even understand his words.

I felt so happy, just standing there boiling some porridge. It felt so... Right. As if everything was finally where they belonged.

He had came to my place on a daily basis before our break up, and often slept over.

I hadn't known how much I missed his presence in my apartment. 

I didn't know how much I missed him in general. I shuffled awkwardly towards him, even though Wu Fan was still unconscious and sleeping.

I placed a hand on his forehead to check his temperature, and on the way gathering a stomach of butterflies. Why the hell was I behaving like some lovesick girl?

"His fever is gradually going away now." I whispered to no one in particular.

I frowned nervously when Wu Fan groaned and turned around, he was on the sofa and there really wasn't much space. 

He started to sleep talk again after a minute or two.

"I'm sorry but I'm too busy." He muttered sadly, in Korean.

I froze, two years ago he had said the exact same thing to me. Just in a different way, he had been sarcastic and angry. 

I shook my head, reprimanding myself for being so arrogant in thinking he was talking to or about me. Wu Fan was probably just having a strange dream.

It's a sad thought, but he most likely had moved on with life.

Memories of him aruptly popped up in my head. It felt as if I was watching a strange movie.

Memories of us walking down a street. Memories of us swimming and drowning together. Memories of him comforting me flooded my head.

It still felt so surreal, that Wu Fan was right here with me. When, just two years ago I was pathetically lining up for his autograph, holding an album.

I did get his signature at the end, but he never noticed me.

I cringed when I recalled him smiling so gently at me, asking for my name, as if nothing was wrong. As if three nights ago we didn't argue painfully. As if three nights ago we didn't break up.

As if I didn't mean anything to him.

He had signed my album, writing 'To Miyeon.'

I shuffled backwards, realization hitting me once again like two years ago that we were from two different worlds.

He was all that while I was nothing.

---

Author's Note:

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Sorry if this fanfic's too slow paced :L I don't know why but it just turner out this time.