Later, he will remember many things about Yixing with a small, fond quirk of his lips.

Later, he will remember the way her fingers would softly trace absentminded patterns on the back of his hand. He will remember the way the soft pads would ghost across his skin when they watched TV, would draw out the characters 我爱你世勋 when they were tangled together under the duvet, would rub soothing circles when he felt nervous or angry.

Later, he will remember the way she would lean against him as they cuddled on the sofa. He will remember the way her head would rest against the side of his neck, tucked under his jaw like it belonged there. He will remember the way she would run her fingers along his jaw, softly giggling as she complained about how sharply his jawbone dug into the top of her head.

Later, he will remember all of this and none of it will hurt, will make him feel like his heart is simultaneously shattering into a million little shards and being ripped out of his chest.

But not now.

For now, he will just curl up under the duvet they once shared with a gaping, aching hole in his chest because she's not here now, the image of her walking away from him burnt into the back of his eyelids, torturing him whenever he closes his eyes.