THE PRESSURE GUYS, THE PRESSURE. YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH I'M CRYING IN FRUSTRATION RIGHT NOW ;u;

The morning rays seeped passed the velvet curtains and onto a figure on the bed. "," the figure muttered as a chilly wind blew in from the opened windows. He groaned, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He climbed out of his bed, dark red sheets wrapped around his slender body. Moving to the windows, his already not very pleasant mood continued to worsen as another chilly wind slapped him right in his face. He pushed away the curtains, eyes opening slightly to glare straight at the opened glass windows. A rush of sleepiness came over him and he closed his eyes, blindly reaching out to close his only source of discomfort.

His hands, however, came across a rather rough material - not so quite smooth to be glass. He opened his eyes in confusion, only to see a post-it in his hands.

Don't forget to close the windows, the nights of Seoul are always cold. -16/2/2010

His eyes softened before he let out a small smile, shutting the windows and pasting the slip of paper back on the cool surface. He rubbed his eyes and sighed when he turned to clock. 6.57A.M. 

Great, I couldn't even enjoy my last few minutes of sleep, he thought and moved to throw the bedsheets off his shoulders, shutting off the alarm that was scheduled to wake him up at seven. He dragged his feet to the bathroom, letting one last yawn escape his lips. 

He opened the door and the first thing that catches his attention is a blue coloured post-it stuck right in the middle of the full length mirror in front of him. 

Don't forget to stablize the temperature of the water before entering the bath, I don't want you to burn yourself or drown in ice. Oh and I changed the post-it into a blue one since using the same colour was boring. -19/7/2009

The figure chuckled, eyes crinkling up. He stuck the note right back on the mirror, doing as what the piece of paper instructed him to do. 

After a 15-minutes bath, he moved out of the bathroom as he wrapped a towel loosely around his waist.

Stepping in the walk-in closet situated at the corner of his room, he looked around before he found what he was looking for.

Don't forget to take a pair of socks when you leave. Oh and do not wear that pair of pants with bananas to work, Luhan will murder you. And Chen will call you a walking fashion disaster. -20/4/2009

He chuckled and placed the note back to where it was peeled down from and reached towards the rack that hung the many different pairs of pants. After glancing through the whole wardrobe, he decided to settle on dark grey slacks with a black oxford shirt, topped off with a light grey blazer. He was adjusting his collar in the mirror when a familiar ringtone rang the whole penthouse. He sighed before turning to leave the room, only to be met with a hot pink coloured slip of paper. 

If you leave this door open, Xiumin will sneak in and take those favourite banana pants away from you, so don't forget to close the door and that darn fluffy bun will not be able to succeed in his evil plans - in courtesy of a certain orange. -4/9/2010

He let out a soft laughter while he stuck the post it on the door handle, opening the door and leaving the room, closing the hardwood behind him. He reached for his phone, the corners of his lips still turned upwards.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Hello?! You retard, where are you?! The meeting's starting and if you ever - and I mean it - forget about your documents, I swear I will castrate you right in front of your father,"

"Please, Chen, you can't even kill a bug for your boyfriend, what makes you think you'll be able to handle the surgical tools? Anyways, I'm just trying to be fashionably late, so don't even bother dragging on the meeting. Start without me,"

"WHAT?! YOU SON OF A-"

"I know, I know. I appreciate your compliments. Now run along,"

And with that, the phone call was ended and the device was slipped into his pocket. The figure looked around, hands coming in contact with a neon green post-it stuck onto his coffee machine.

 

 

No matter what you say, Chen - your oh so lovely assistant - won't help you get your coffee. So drink a cup before you leave. You'll need it. -13/3/2011

He smiled for the umpteenth time, placing the paper back, but skipping the coffee. I don't feel like having caffeine, he thought and made a beeline for the door. 

Your car keys. If you came here straight from the kitchen, that means you forgot your car keys. And your house keys too. -1/10/2011

The figure raised his eyebrows, hands immediately shoving into his empty pocket. He chuckled and walked the coffee table, grabbing at the two items, pausing when a bright yellow post-it was revealed.

 

Remember to check what time you get off work, you have someone waiting for you at home ❤ -27/11/2012

He smiled, eyes soft as he fumbled with the note in his hands. He returned it to its place before heading out the door. 

The first thing that greets him at the office entrance was a rather sassy looking blonde male, eyes narrowed into daggers at whoever passed by him. When he became the target of those fearful pair of cat-like eyes, he chuckled.

"You still have time to laugh?! Since when did 'fashionably late' meant skipping the whole meeting?!" Chen shouted as he followed the other boy into the large office.

"Since today. Not my fault though, Sehun broke down on me,"

"Wha- I can't believe you! Who the hell names their car after a living person? And it just so happens to be Luhan's oh-so-precious boyfriend for god's sake," Chen shrieked out, disbelief plastered on his face.

All he got was a chuckle and soft smile. Chen stared at the pair of dazy brown eyes, before dropping his over-dramatic facade. 

There was a moment of comofortable silence between the two, until it was broken with a soft voice.

"Hey, Chen... What time does my schedule end for today?"

The said assistanct's eyebrows etched as a frown took over his face.

"Your last meeting will be at 6," Chen said. When there was no reply, he sighed and took it as his cue to leave.

He stopped when he saw a crumpled and torn part of a plain paper taped to the wall beside the door.

 

Chen, remind hyung to bring his coat along with him when he goes home. -23/2/2009

Why is this still here? The frown on Chen's forehead deepened significantly before he left the office, sending one last worried glance at the figure sitting behind the desk - the desk with a name plate carved with gentle and beautiful letterings.

Byun Baekhyun

Byun's Label, CEO

When the boy stepped in his house, the first thing he does is pause right in front of the coffee table. All he did was stand there and stare. For 10 whole minutes, he stood rooted to the ground. After what seemed like forever, he lowered his body onto the floor, resting his forehead on the cool glass surface.

"There's no one here waiting for me..." He whispered, voice breaking at the end. Then he cried. A crumpled and smudged letter lay near his feet, it's folded edge and roughen texture caused by water.

Hyung, I left to buy some stuff home, stay put and don't go anywhere.

It's going to be awkward if I say it out later so I'll just write a note now. 

Hyung, for the past 4 years you've been great. It's okay if you're forgetful. I don't mind. Next time just don't burn yourself, okay? I promised you, didn't I? That'll if you're the light, then I'll be time. I catch you, so don't be afraid to fall. Don't be afraid to forget about things. I'll always be there, I promise.

By the time you read this note I'm probably standing behind you, so turn around and see :) -27/11/2012

Baekhyun forgets, often. Certain fragments of his memories last only a hourglass long. He can forget the smallest things - like switching off the lights when he leaves the house - to the biggest things - like showing up for an anniversary. 

But no, he's perfectly fine. He doesn't have any mental problem since birth or anything like that. Because since when was depression and stress disorder a problem? No - it never was. It never will be, in Baekhyun's dictionary.

So Park Chanyeol reminds him. But it just so happens that he himself forgets to check the road before crossing - to check and see if there was any cars dashing in his way. So on November 27, 2012, a young man passed away on the rough floor surface, a bouqet of roses tightly and safely wrapped in his long, red stained arms.

That night, no surprise happened. There was no birthday song sung - no parties, no cakes. There was no laughter. In its place were tears, screams of agony and the lonely, fluttering slips of paper.