Warning! un-beta-ed. Please excuse typos and grammatical error, i'll fix it as soon as possible.

The bright, sunny color of yellow roses evokes a feeling of warmth and happiness. The warm feelings associated with the yellow rose are often akin to those shared with a true friend. As such, the yellow rose is an ideal symbol for joy and friendship

             Time starts to trickle down. Seconds turn into minutes. Minutes turn into hours. Hours turn into day. The cherry blossom that used to greet me every morning is now barren, its leaves falling down, withering and forgotten. Day by day, the void in my memory starts to be filled by the new ones. Now, I already know the eleven guys that keep me company every day.

            The short, white-skinned guy – the one that they keep insisting on calling him Suho – is Kim Joon Myun. With warm eyes and soft smiles, he told me about myself. About Park Chanyeol, the man in those pictures. He told me how naughty I were – apparently, I’m one of the resident prankster in the group - , and some details like when was I born, where do I live, and things like that.

            The tall, angry bird-like faced guy is called Kris. He and Suho are both ‘leaders’ of the group. He came from Canada, but he’s a Chinese. He asked how does it feel to be asleep for long time, how I missed a lot of things in the world.

            A pair of guys that always stick to each other like a glue are Luhan and Sehun. Luhan is the cheerful one, while Sehun is the rather gloomy one. Luhan always smiles, while Sehun…. frowns. There an episode where I would ask Luhan whether I and Sehun have bad past. He laughed it off. “Are you kidding?” he asked. “You’re one of his favorite hyung, Yeollie,” his gaze softened. “It’s just he’s quite upset after hearing about your memory problem, that’s all.” . They’re like moon and sun. Day and night. Sky and land. Different, but complement each other.

            A doe eyed boy, whose name is Kyungsoo always brings me delicious foods. He always seems nervous, and some other time, I would catch him gazed worriedly at me. I remember how soft his voice when he first talked to me. He brought a kimchi spaghetti, that day. The good aroma filled up my nostril, as he unwrapped the box. He softly said to me, “this is your favorite food,” he stated. “she often made this for you,” he whispered. “What? “ I asked. “N-nothing,” he stuttered as he took a seat beside my bed. She? and soon, that question always stored deep inside my mind.

            A rather tanned boy would join Kyungsoo, sometimes. He said his name is Jongin. He said, he’s a dancer. He would tell me some stories about trivial things. How I met the guys –apparently we were in same high school back then, separated at university- and there was a day where he brought a laptop. He put the laptop on my lap, as he scrolled down at a folder. “You see, hyung?” he explained, eyes beaming. “This is us at high school graduation day.” There, a man with the other 11 guys raised up their glasses which filled by, I assumed, coke. He clicked the next button. “This is us when we had a summer vacation together,” he explained at the next photo. Some other photos were shown after that, and soon, I went into some walk down the broken memory lane.

            Another soft spoken man also would come sometimes. He brought me a lot of vitamins. “It’s good for your health,” he explained in a broken Korean. He introduced himself as Yixing. Zhang Yixing. He told me, that he came from Changsha. Not many words were shared, so sometimes I would feel awkward being in a room only with him. So in order to shoo away the lingering air of awkwardness, I would ask him about a lot of things. How did I get here. How come I don’t remember anything. He cleared his throat, as he started. “You came here because of an accident, Yeollie. A car accident. A really bad one. You can’t remember anything because the memory storage part of your brain were badly injured,” he gulped. “We almost lost you, Yeol.” And with that, he finished it off with a melancholic stare. I wanted to ask more, at that time. Am I the only victim of the accident? Who’s that girl in the photo? But seeing his expression, I decided to shut my lips tightly, afraid that I wouldn’t hear his voice and the uncomfortable silence comes back again.

            “Yo!” and the loud guy makes his ‘grand’ entrance. His name is Jongdae, but the guys call him ‘Chen’. Today, he brings me a huge set of One Piece comic. “I brought your favorite comic book!” comic? I just know today that I’m a big fan of One Piece. “I stopped by your house today, and I find these on your shelves!” he cheerily explained as he sets down the set on a table near my bed. “You know what? The newest season of One Piece manga just came out! Ah, it’s a miss that you didn’t get to see the last season’s ending!” and he starts blabbering about One Piece. His laughter fills up the room, and occasionally, I would laugh too. “You know what? You should come out from the hospital soon! Let’s go to our favorite comic café like we used to!”

            There are some days where a walking panda came to my room. He said his name is Tao. Just like Yixing, his Korean are broken and there is heavy Chinese accent in it. He would blab about lots of things. Mostly about his days, and thus, making me curious about my own life before. So one day, I asked him. “What did I work as before? “ I asked. He answered, “you were a graphic designer, hyung. A great one.”. And the night would continue with him telling about Kris (his favorite hyung), newest Gucci releases – he works at a fashion company as an advisor – and lots of stuff about the world – apparently a new girlgroup just debuted, he told me - .

            The familiar arome filled my nose as Xiumin – his real name is Minseok – walked in. Just like other days, he brought some baozis. “You used to eat them a lot,” he said. “You said it reminded you of this hyung,” he explained, as he savored the delicacy. I ate them too, and soon finding myself engrossed in eating the food. “I’ll buy you more when you come out, so come back home soon,” he promised. His brown eyes looked like a hyung’s. Warm, brown, as if I’m his little brother.

            Last, but not least. The person who visits me the most, Baekhyun – or sometimes, I just call him Bacon - . He brought me sweets just like the other days. “Yo, Yeollie!” he shouted. “How was your day?” he asked. He would sit after that, setting his ears as he attentively listen to me. I would tell him about hospital food which tastes…. like hospital food usually. I would tell him about a flirty nurse who asked my phone number, which is a dumb question to be asked to an amnesiac person. I don’t even remember my name, let alone my phone number. And he would laugh his off, and clapped his hands like a seal. “Ya, you should come out already and let’s play!” he said to me. I found a best friend in his eyes, and he would fill the night with some funny stories about lots of things, both in past and while I’m in comma.

            They all would always tell me about that man. That man in the picture, that man who shared the same physical appearance with me, the man whom I always see in those photographs. They would always tell me what things that I like and dislike. Like we used to, they say. I grimed at the word. I didn’t know that I will be the same Chanyeol like they know. Me and that Chanyeol… are men with same body but with different memory. So that night, huddled up in bundle of confusion, worry, and curiosity, I let the stars sing me a lullaby, as sleep has found me in its embrace once again.

            White. All white, as I wake up. How do I end up here? Last time I checked, I fell asleep after the 11 guys visited me. All of a sudden, some steps could be heard. I spun around, and I could see flashes of a woman’s face, crying, as she whispered, “Chanyeol.. don’t go!”. I want to go, but the girl’s hand grasped me tightly, as if prohibiting me to run away. “Chanyeol, don’t go!” she says, as her grasp become tighter. I could feel my heart being squeezed, as I see tears streaming down that woman’s blurry face. “Don’t leave me,” she cried.

            So I yanked her hands, and start to run through the endless corridor. That woman’s cry still haunt me everywhere, making the strings of my heart tugged harshly, and deafening screams of agony start to fill my ears. I tried to block it up, covering my ears as I run, run, run, and run through the extremely long corridor. As I open the door in the end of the corridor, I could hear one deafening shout, “Chanyeol, watch out!” before my head was hit, and the world crashes beneath me.

Author's Note

An update everyone! /claps enthusiastically/ It's been a really long time ^.^ My exam and remedial week finally over and tomorrow the half semester result will be announced. My heart is pounding hard right now ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

On the side note, do you guys watch The Heir? Yeah i know, the story is quite cliche (rich boys chasing after a poor girl, yada yadaa~) but i swear that the actors and actresses are so... damn fine *___* Can't stop myself from watching it...

And.. please show this author a bit of love /puppy eyes/ please comment down below and subscribe too if you want ^.^ Let's be friends too~ ㅋㅋ