Thank You.

The two words you find scrawled in the corner of the cover of your music book in the morning. 

You squeeze your knees into your chest and ponder at the empty spot on the bed beside you.  He was here last night.  It wasn’t a dream.

Tao.  He slept here. After seeing his eyes—red with exhaustion, after hearing him speak—oiled with fatigue, after watching him smile for the first time in days—he had fallen asleep in your arms.

“Ready?”

“No.”

You pinch your lips together.  “You’re not ready?”

You shift uncomfortably on your backside, sore from sitting for so long on the wooden floor.  You’ve been observing Tao for the past half hour, watching him place his hand on top of the box, only to pull it back with a sigh.  You feel like an interrogator, sitting in the dimly lit room, across from someone that always seems so vulnerable.

“It’s not going to open itself,” you say, not intending to sound demanding.

He runs his hand through his hair.  “I’m scared.”

“Of what? Don’t tell me…”

“What?”

You clasp your hand over his and whisper, “That these are your criminal records.”

He draws away with an offended look on his face.  “I’m not a criminal.”

“How do you know?” you bicker.  “It’s not like you would remember.”

You bite your lip after realizing your insensitive comment and Tao’s hurt expression.  You swallow and sigh.

“On the count of three, okay?” you say softly.

Tao nods.

“Okay. One.”

“One,” Tao repeats.

“Three!”

The lid of the box flies open, sending a flock of dust into the air.  You pull your hair away from your face and reach into the box immediately. 

The first thing you retrieve is what looks like a written letter and a map of the academy.  You set those aside, seeing that they were dated recently.

Next is a thin notebook.  The front of it reads Angel: The Children’s Institution.  You hold it up but Tao shakes his head when he sees it. 

“Do you know what this is?” you ask.

“I lived there for a while before I found this apartment.  Everyone had a notebook, but I never wrote in mine.”

You separate it from the other papers.  “It’s okay.  As long as you remember where it’s from.”

Tao sits silently as you continue to excavate through the box, occasionally asking him if he can comprehend any of your findings. 

You discover registration forms, doctor recommendations, even a few job applications.  But Tao looks at them the way he did when he met you for the first time.

“You really haven’t sorted through these before?”

“I never open the box unless I’m putting something inside,” he says.  “I haven’t touched it since the day I received the letter from the academy.”

As you look through everything carefully, you’re beginning to see the way Tao organizes his life.  The pictures he showed you before—of the man and woman, of a young Tao—were of occurrences that obviously impacted him as a person.  The various notes and papers that he stores in his desk are remnants of his everyday living, even to the smallest detail.  You believe the contents of the box will tie together the bridge between his past and present.  It’s where Tao stashes his most ordinary memoirs.  Though the documents show events that aren’t hard to remember, he throws them all into the box and never looks at them again. 

If you can get him to recognize one thing, maybe it will trigger his memories.

Nearly three hours tick by, and you finally reach the bottom of the box.

Tao still seems to be trapped in a box on his own, in tranquility.  He hasn’t moved from his place.  The entire floor is covered with piles of books, notebooks and papers, and he sits amidst it all, like a statue.

“I think this is enough,” he unexpectedly articulates.  “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

You frown.  “The box isn’t empty yet.”

Peering inside, you find a black folder lying at the base.  You remove it and clutch it between your fingers.  You open it prudently, seeing how the edges are brown with age. 

                “It’s a birth certificate.  Yours.”

                Tao’s head lifts slightly at your comment.  You pull the certificate from its dwelling and hand it to him.

                “Huang Zitao.  Born on the Second day of May,” he recites.  “In the year of 1993.”  He stops reading.  “That’s all it says.”

                “Nothing about the names of your parents?  Or the hospital you were born at?”

Tao shakes his head.

You search his face for a sign.  Disappointment? Joy?  Is he satisfied or was he anticipating for more? 

“I think we should stop here.”

“Do you think there’s any other way?” you ask with doubt as you begin to collect the papers to clear the floor.  “Any other relatives that you’ve been in touch with lately?”

Tao arranges a few folders and places them into the box again.  “I was hoping that one of them would come find me.”

You sigh again.  You weren’t expecting all of this to be for naught.  It was distressing to see Tao’s meager expressions again.

“I really thought we would find something.”

Tao nods, understandingly.  “Let’s just get the place cleaned up.”

He picks up the loose papers while you gather the notebooks and portfolios.  Your heart sinks when you spot the folder that contained the birth certificate.  Perhaps it was the wrong idea to open the box.  You harvest the certificate from the piles and open the folder to replace it. 

But your mouth drops open once the folder is open again.  Your eyes light up unknowingly.

“Tao!”

He jumps in surprise at your outburst.

You clamor to your feet and rush over to him.  “Look.”

You transfer the folder to his hands and watch as he stares in disbelief.

“I didn’t notice when I pulled out your birth certificate,” you gasp, “there’s a second one in here.  You didn’t know you had a sister, did you?”

A/N: Chapter 17 already? :o Thank you for following the story this far everyone!  It's my first fic so there's lots of improvement needed :) But school's starting soon *cries* so I probably won't have time to update as often.  But please don't leave me :'( I will definitely finish Tao's story! Thank you again!