Yi Fan continued to wait for Joohyun, expecting her sudden appearance any time. He would fall asleep in his armchair, jumping upright and knocking over the suddenly cold coffee. When did that get there?

To be honest, he was growing tired - sick. Why did he have to wait - how long had he even known her? Upset he stormed into his room, noticing the neatly folded clothing - and sinking to the ground. Why did she leave him?

Wait - she didn't leave, she's just going on a "trip". Right. 

But no matter how many times he told himself that, he felt a cutting feeling in his chest - telling him that she probably - probably wasn't going to come back. "Don't think like that," he chided himself - getting up off the ground and looking around his suddenly spacious bedroom. She had taken her books off of his shelves, collected her hair bows and picked out her socks from among his clothes.

He headed toward his drawers, looking at the cute labels placed on each section.

Clothing - socks, place in wash once worn once.

Clothing - ties, fold three times before putting away.

Memories, stacked according to date.

Amused, he rummaged in the drawer, randomly pulling out a large and thick book with a deep velvety blue cover. Yi Fan blinked, once - twice, before finally registering that in the front cover was a picture of him - and Joohyun. 

This looks too long ago to be us though.

The two were wearing high school uniforms, holdings hands and smiling widely at the camera. There were balloons all around them, and a large crowd of blurry faced students, similarly dressed. Confetti and colorful lights were vivid still - he could almost hear the blaring music. 

He slipped his finger behind the protective slip, and gently pulled the photo from it's position - scanning the back of it. 

2006 Jeonju Fine Arts High School, Second Anniversary. What's the date today? He glanced at the calendar on his wall - 2013. 

Is that where I went to high school?

He wasn't sure, but he opened the books - gasping to see it filled with dozens and dozens of pictures - of them. They were together in almost every single shot, preparing for what looked like a festival, dancing, eating, studying, reading, talking - they were everywhere. 

He unpacked his whole drawer, dumping all of the contents onto the ground. Meticulously counting and tallying - the results: almost twenty picture albums, three leather bound journals, two photo diaries, and two identical rings. Everything seemed delicately brushed over with a fine layer of dust, settling into every single crease and fold of the pages.

Before he could take a closer look at the rings, the rice cooker began to sing.

"Shoot - I forgot," he said and rushed from the room - leaving his discoveries on the ground.

When he came back after washing the dishes from dinner, he settled comfortably onto his bed - casually flipping open the journal that was clearly marked with the number !. It was of a dark brown leather, soft and worn from use. He blew and dust came off of it in  a gentle cloud, settling onto the ground as he thumbed through all the pages.

An object fell from the pages, and he reached down to pick it up - realizing that it was a dried chamomile flower - the once white petals now a see through yellow. The center had withered and crumbled, the leaves shrunken, mostly brown with a hint of the fresh green of before. It must have been pressed a long time ago because now it was paper thin - as if time was fading it into oblivion, wiping it away as if it had never been there before. 

He turned to the first page, reading the neat handwriting across the page. 

From Seo Joo Hyun. His face broke into a grin. 

To Kris-oppa.

He shook his head bewildered - why is it here if it's for her Kris-oppa? He smiled bitterly. Like it could have been his. 

My diary that I'm gifting to you.

I started writing this after you told me the news. I'll still love you - I'll remind you, I won't forget. 

Even if you do.

Let's lock a part of us in here, neh? So that even if you can't remember - I still can.

Yi Fan grabbed onto his head, crumpling into the pillow - he has seen this handwriting before - it was etched onto the sticky notes on his drawers, it used to decorate his fridge, used to hide between the covers of cards she wrote to him.

But this ink is faded - it's too old to have been her. He didn't know her that long ago. Right?

He heard the fluttering of old notebooks, the smell of paper - fresh ink, laughter. Clutching his head, he curled up - wrapping the blankets around him. The cheerful tinkling of  a girl's voice, the shattering of a broken promise - or a glass cup. Or his heart.

"What! What is it - make this stop!" He howled into the silent night, begging for it to cease - he heard it again, a sharp snapping - the crunching of his apparently bruised heart. And the dam flooded, tears coming from somewhere within. He cried - he wasn't sure why but he cried.

He hollered and sobbed and bawled and whimpered - the feeling of a dreaded loss sinking in, creeping into every single fiber of his being. Yi Fan clawed desperately at the sheets, gripping on as the sickening feeling consumed him - he had lost something, someone.

He managed to grab the stupid journal, opening it to a random page as he attempted to calm himself. The room was getting too small - he couldn't breathe. Everything was too dim, the moon wasn't bright enough - he began to convulse violently, gasping - struggling against a pressure on his forehead. 

It pushed him down, chained him to the bed and was choking the very life out of him. Flailing, he croaked out feebly, "Joohyun..." - the wall was going to fall on him. 

Red, purple, green spots began to dot his vision.

"Shh..." A gentle whisper cooed beside him, his face - wiping his cheeks. He stiffened, putting his hands over his ears.

"Get away! Get away," he shrieked, curling up again. "Who are you!"

The voice spoke again, a mellifluous outpouring of words - "It's me, Joohyun."

"J-Joohyun?" He asked, trembling - biting onto his lip roughly. The blood trickled down to his chin, his teeth set in a clench - eyes wide, chest heaving. 

There was no reply. He felt his limbs relaxing - and he could finally breathe again. A vanilla scented candle was placed carefully on his bedside, burning warmly.

He sat up, looking around his room for Joohyun - she wasn't there. Yi Fan dashed to the kitchen. No Joohyun.

Living room - nope.

Bathroom - not there. 

She wasn't there.

But he had heard her, the voice had called itself Joohyun. 

He returned to his crumpled sheets, carefully picking up the notebook - squinting at the carefully written characters. Yi Fan thought long and hard - this was Joohyun, it had to be Joohyun. But who was Joohyun? 

Really - who was she?

She appeared randomly in his life, then left again - like a ghost. Or an angel. 

Yi Fan thought hard, focusing on the handwriting. He tried and tried, he racked his brain - squeezed every ounce of mental energy into recalling this person. He knew she was important, someone he had to know - someone he didn't want to hurt. 

Day 30

It's almost been one month since you told me.

We went to the park today and had ice cream together - vanilla tastes the best with you. You said you liked my dress, so I cut a piece from the tail of the bow and taped it in here - so you can touch it and remember.

We kissed today, an ice cream kiss that was so sweet. I wish we could have stayed like that forever - but then you walked me home. 

For the first time, in the ten years of knowing you, you forgot the way. At that time, I could only chuckle and walk you to your house before walking home alone.

It was lonely. 

I''m back! I haven't forgotten this fic yet - don't worry. 

Just got reinspired :) it'll come back to me!