Day 05

You cried, crumpling before me as you told me . Two years max - that's all we had. The doctors say medicine can only slow down the degeneration - it's okay oppa.

"You won't forget," I had promised. Your hair looks really nice blonde, did you know that?

I've even started drying flowers for you between these pages. Then you can see, smell, and touch all the times we had together. There's no way you can forget. 

Yi Fan was reading the journal in a random order, flipping through it. He touched the delicate petals of the pressed flowers - taking in their fading scent. There was the ever beautiful rose - a small bud squished onto the yellow pages. He saw a hibiscus - it's blood red petals staining a soft pink onto the old paper. 

Day 21

"What is your favorite flower?" You asked me that question today.

Even though you bought me pretty pink carnations for my birthday half a month ago.

Even though you gave me white carnations for Valentine's instead of roses.

It hurts. 

His vision blurred, heavy tears wetting the fragile pages - making the ink smear. Words smashed together - like his thoughts.

What is this - why - hurts. But he adamantly read on - clenching the book, creasing it even more tragically. His fingers dyed with blue, he smudged his white polo as he flipped fervently. Trying to find her - trying to find himself among the pages. 

He felt a strange bond with the journal - maybe because it had her neat handwriting over it - maybe because it smelled like her. Maybe it had a part of her in there somewhere - he wanted to save that little remnant of her, lock it away in his heart. So that he could cradle it at night when he was sleeping, or whisper to it when he was lonely. 

Day 15

Half a month.

Can everything that we've built - crumble away in just half a month? 

He couldn't read anymore - a tugging at his heart told him to set it aside. Who is this Kris person she loves so much?

Yi Fan walked into the living room, mulling over a mug of chamomile tea. He took a long sip - then he heard it.

In the quiet of his home, he heard it - his heartbeat, her heartbeat. Two heartbeats so synced that if he hadn't gasped, he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. Yi Fan covered his ears, the mug smashing to the ground - porcelain flying as it hit the mahogany. He curled up in a ball in the seat - eyes wide, shivering - mumbling incoherent words. He kept seeing lights, then shadows - then lovely, beautiful snow. 

It kept falling and falling from the dark sky, white and pure. Then it began to pile up on his immobile body, getting heavier and heavier as it melted and soaked him through. His clothes clung to him, heavy with sweat, snow and tears. Yi Fan couldn't move, he couldn't breathe again - the familiar suffocation slowly creeping back in.

He wheezed and squirmed and kicked - trying to pull the hands that held his neck away

A girl appeared before him, face ashen - arms frail. Blood from her shoulders - a gash on her cheek. Glass in her back. 

She faded - he met the darkness. 

Day 01

Next week is my birthday. 

Concussion. Memory loss. Progressive dementia. 

All after that stupid skiing trip - because I wanted to see the first snow while on a freaking snowboard. Why did you have to fall Kris- ah - why did you have to be so damn nice and take me?

But you're not dead, and that's okay - I'll stay. I'll stay and then you won't forget. Right?

Because I'm here. 

You won't can't forget.