Incessant whines fill the living room. Jongin has his legs pulled to his chest, chin resting on his knees with a pout gracing his handsome face.

“Why did you leave off there?! What happened afterwards?” Kim Jongin was truly a child at heart.

“Because I am an author and I know how to leave good cliffhangers. Besides, my manuscript is due tomorrow. I only have two chapters left and I think I’m over my writer’s block now,” Yerin practically shooed him away.

Grumbling, the former idol took his leave and retrieved the book he had previously put back. He had only read the first paragraph, but he was already entranced. Scenery was detailed to the point that he could depict the government facility in his own living room. Every action the characters carried out described the character’s true personalities rather than the personas they let on. Theories formulated in his mind about the characters’ plans that always surprised him. A quarter into the book, Jongin was so enticed by the plot that he didn’t realize he was already laying on the sofa, blinking in and out of consciousness as he let the book gradually cover his face.

Sleep took over, but he could’ve sworn that he briefly woke up from his consciousness to feel the pressure of the book off of his face. His stiff neck aching from lying on the arm of the sofa was lowered onto a softer cushion he presumed was a pillow. Soft cotton of a blanket covered his body and a hand lingered on his head, patting him in soothing motions that lulled him back to dream land. Before completely returning there, the dancer felt a soft, lingering press against his lips. He didn’t fight it, because it honestly was pleasant. It felt familiar, like returning to a flittering childhood memory for a moment by seeing an old toy or candy. However, the memory slips away as fast as it came.

Jongin dreams that night of coffee escapades, always in a hurry to leave. But the thing is, he doesn’t want to leave. The short time before he has to leave makes him become a child again. Alone with the warm person resembling thick comforters in the winter and hotpot in the fall, there are no restraints. There is no acting or any need to please anyone. Even if Jongin can’t clearly see the other person’s face, he knows by the feeling they radiate was that of home – safety and comfort.

Unrelenting rings of the doorbell snap the dancer back to reality, forgetting entirely of the nostalgic dream in haste to answer the door. Getting up a bit too quickly, he sits for a bit to calm his spinning head. The blanket slips further off the couch with more movement. Familiar furious typing invades his perception he quickly recognizes as the midnight-haired author. Groggily surveying his surroundings, Jongin spots the coffee machine on the coffee table. Not even a cup, not even a pot, but the whole flipping coffee maker is there! If that wasn’t already problematic, then the male had to check the time. It was already eight forty-five. Didn’t Yerin have a manuscript due today?

Jongin bolted for the intercom, ready to answer the call. The typing speed rapidly increased and he could feel the tension.

“Wait! Don’t answer the door!” She was practically banging on the keys now, cursing how the computer’s voice didn’t give of the urgency she needed to portray.

“Is that person supposed to pick up your manuscript?”

“Kim Jongin, don’t you dare open that door!” Said person crossed his arms.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t finish it yet.”

“Shut up! I’m writing the last paragraph!”

Jongin raised an eyebrow. “Just for that sass, I’m letting them in,” his finger inched toward the ‘answer’ button.

“Don’t do this to me!” She thrashed her legs like a child’s.

Ding

“Come right up, I buzzed you in.”

Hands flew up to Yerin’s hair, almost pulling at the strands before resuming the rapid typing session. She made sure to throw her husband a dirty glare. Calmly tidying up the living room, Jongin mocked her with his nonchalant attitude. Less than a minute later, ceaseless knocking reverberates from the doorway and of course, the tanned male is the one to answer. By then, Yerin raises her arms in victory and slides the laptop off her lap as if she never wants to see the document again. Her husband frowned; disappointed he didn’t answer the call earlier. Opening the door, the assistant barges his way into the luxury apartment with familiarity.

“Mrs. Kim! I can’t believe you left me to wait out there for almost twenty minutes!” The assistant marches towards the author. Jongin gaped and his wife can only offer a sheepish grin while rubbing the back of her nape. The rushed male gives the former idol a curt wave in acknowledgement.

“Anyway, I expect you to have you’re manuscript finished by now,” the assistant exhales.

“I just finished. However, when you submit this to the editors, tell them I would like to request discussion on the editing payment.”

Jongin gapes for the second time that day, bewildered by how the cheeky tease of a wife just minutes ago could turn into a mature, professional writer. Their conversation continues with talks of editorial and publishing matters the former idol doesn’t understand, but is nonetheless intrigued by. One of the habits he had was to stare intently at whoever was speaking. His band members used to laugh at him, watching their recordings and making note of the intensity of the tanned male’s gaze. That was exactly what he was doing now, eyes trained on the exchange.

Several copies of the document is transferred onto flash drives before the assistant bids his farewell, reminding Yerin of the next due date. Shutting off her overheated laptop, she stretched herself across the sofa like a cat and curled up into a fetus position.

“Did you really drink so much coffee that you felt the need to just carry the machine here?” The female gives a weak nod, trying to bury her face deeper in her knees. Jongin gives a slightly exasperated sigh. Nonetheless, he bids her to sleep well and drapes the blanket from the floor on her. Even breaths caused the female’s stomach to softly rise and fall. In this moment of almost complete silence, Jongin feels a sudden serenity that he hadn’t felt for the last couple days. Every day since the memory lapse had him forcibly dragged around by the female lying before him. Technically, he could do whatever he wanted, but he fell into step with his wife’s whim.

The male found he was staring for longer than intended to; noticing the woman’s features he otherwise wouldn’t when the other was awake. Long eyelashes would twitch every so often, making him ponder what type of dream his housemate was having. Her rounded nose and thin lips added to her delicate features. Even though the female appeared to be mischievous and dainty, there was also an air of maturity she possessed. Normally, women would fruit over their significant other losing cherished memories, desperately seeking to regain their love through any means. Yet, Yerin was patient. She didn’t ask for is love, nor did she demand him to be the person he was before. She gave the male space, making him comfortable despite the situation, as if she was willing to start over their relationship. Was she hurting? Did it hurt to see the one you shared love with to suddenly forget everything you two built up, only to brush it off for the other’s sake? A hand inadvertently his wife’s hair – a silent consolation.

Giving a final pat, Jongin stood up to start being productive. Heaving the coffee machine to its original location, he paces, trying to decide how he should carry out the rest of his day. After freshening up, the dancer almost searched through his contacts to catch up with former members, but refrained. Uncertainty filled his mind about his relationship with them, not knowing who he was close to and not close to anymore. Beside that matter, it was risky speaking with the others in case the memory loss became problematic. But Kyungsoo hyung said everyone was on good terms, right? Speaking of the short vocalist, it shouldn’t be a problem chatting with his favorite hyung – he already knew the circumstances. However, the vocalist hung up with a ‘I’m busy, call me later,” before hanging up. That option could be crossed off the list.

If the male’s memory served him right, he recalled photo albums on the shelves amongst books. Maybe he would get more answers from the photographs than what his wife was telling him. Hearing only short snippets of their past was getting tedious. Pulling out the albums from the shelves, he gathered all of them in his arms before settling on the carpeted floor of the living room to spread out space. He opened the first album of the stack, beginning with a picture of the two in a café. The following photos were of the two on dates where the former idol’s face was covered with a mask for the majority. A particular photo made him grimace. Chen and Yerin were posing with matching peace signs and markers in hand while Jongin was presumably sleeping in the back with cat whiskers and nose and eyes drawn on his eyelids. Not to mention was also a giant on his forehead. We all know who drew that. Flipping the page, the tanned male snorted. It was a photo similar with the other, except this time, Jongin and Baekhyun were posing next to a sleeping Yerin with a Sharpie mustache and beard, completed with filled in potato eyebrows. As much as Jongin would like to let out the loudest roar he could muster, he was still mindful of the sleeping figure not so far from him.

A lock was held between the hands of the couple, meaning the two were at Namsung tower. However, the next photo was of the author frowning so deeply, it almost beat Sehun’s. He could barely read the locks behind to close up face of Yerin’s, but he could faintly make out some locks that read along the lines of ‘Marry Me Kai Oppa!’ or ‘Jongin, Have My Babies!’ Snickering, he moved on to the next photos. Most were selcas at various locations such as a hot spring and amusement parks, though the pictures were limited. The last page had an empty slot he was sure had a photo before. Next to the slot had a teary-eyed Yerin holding her left hand up to display an engagement ring while Jongin had an arm wrapped around her, beaming with a radiant smile. However, the location of engagement threw him off. Judging by the hospital gown the author wore and IV stand, they were in a hospital. Did something happen to her? And why propose in a hospital of all places?

Jongin moved onto the next album, he was distracted by a rose archway in front of a fountain. Under the arch, a beautiful woman wearing a flowing, white silk gown stood. The dress was simple, only adorned with embroidery at the hip. The tanned male stood opposite of her, clad in a black suit and tie. Both bride and groom stared at each other, loving smiles crinkling their eyes with a bouquet held between them. Never had the dancer in the photo looked at anything else with such adoring eyes. Jongin in real time, however, had to do a double take. This bride was the same person as the cute little Yerin that loved to tease?! He snapped his neck to the sleeping author and back to the photo several times. How could someone transform into someone this beautiful?! The power of makeup always left him mystified.

Another photo showed the newlywed couple under the same arch, but with former Exo members looking as stiff as they usually do during professional conferences. The façade only lasted for so long because the next photo was of all of them making funny faces and doing Sailor Moon hand symbols, similar to the photo framed in the main bedroom. A smile stretched across Jongin’s plush lips, browsing through the wedding photos of other bandmates. Nostalgically, the dancer remembered looking through photo albums in his youth, his children (what he called his dogs) pawing at his legs during his trip down memory lane. WHAT HAPPENED TO HIS BABIES?!

It only took another couple flips to find a photo of gravestones labeled with his three dogs’ names. Yerin was consoling a bawling Jongin laying flowers at the grave. Presently, Jongin was on the verge of breaking down into the same state. May you rest in peace, children.

Wiping away droplets stinging his eyes with the ball of his hands, he collected the photo albums to shelve back in their designated spots. People say ‘a picture is worth a thousand words,’ but all of the photos only depicted jubilant memories. Not everything could be captured through images – especially hardships that brought them to where they were, well, before the whole memory loss. If anything, the dancer only had more questions that needed clarification. It’s not like Jongin minded the story sessions at night. He actually wanted to learn their story from her.

Grumbling of a stomach snapped Jongin out of his reverie. The time was already noon and he was honestly down for some chicken right now. After all, Kim Jongin cannot cook to save his life (minus ramen and popcorn, but those supposedly didn’t count.) Apparently, he wasn’t the only hungry person because in the midst of dialing the nearest chicken restaurant, the most ghastly figure trudged into the kitchen. Disheveled hair, deep gray eye bags and rumpled clothes made the male jump, almost dropping the cell phone and missing the chicken guy picking up. Yerin cutely rubbed away eye boogers with the back of one hand and held up a white board with the other. He had the urge to hug her on the spot.

If you’re going to order food, buy me some too~

“Hello? Are you still there?”

Jongin almost dropped his phone again. Embarrassed, he turned his back to the sleepy author so she wouldn’t see pink blossoming in his cheeks.

“Er, ehem, yes, I’m still here.”

“Oh, Jongin-shi! Would you like your usual?”

‘What’s my usual?’ Jongin turned back to mouth to Yerin.

Two whole fried chickens.

Damn, that was a lot of chicken even for the chicken mania Jongin was. The order was confirmed and all that was left to do was to wait. The dancer started preparing some tea (since he was never really much for coffee,) as a way to occupy himself. Not accustomed to the kitchen, cabinets were being opened left and right to just locate the tea packets. When he turned around to get hot water, he wasn’t prepared to answer the impromptu question.

Kyungsoo oppa texted me. He asked if you already made an appointment for a brain scan.

Jongin’s shoulders tensed. “Y-yeah, I’ll make an appointment later,” he stuttered. Was it really necessary to go? He had already come to terms that thirteen years of his life were forgotten. Even if the results showed the whole ordeal was caused by stress, they wouldn’t be able to tell what he had stressed from. Was it from his job, or Yerin? Heck, if he didn’t know, how were doctors supposed to know? Or what if he had a disease like Alzheimer’s at an early age? Tremors ran down his spine at memories his hyungs forcing him to read Anterograde Tomorrow. He ended up locking himself in his room to bawl his eyes out while the other members snickered. Finally coming out of the room, Jongin had a period of depression, clinging onto Kyungsoo whenever he could and having sob sessions just recalling the fanfiction. Wouldn’t it be better to not know that he has an illness and enjoy the rest of his time remaining? A slam of a white board against the dining table called his attention.

You’ll be fine~ The checkup is just to make sure everything all right and it will only benefit you. The wife gave a tired, yet reassuring smile.

Jongin swore that Yerin could read minds or something. When the fried chicken was delivered, the two ate amicably. Naturally, Yerin finished first, only able to down two drumsticks. In the midst of eating a chicken thigh, Jongin’s attention was called to another message on the white board.

After you’re done eating, we need to do some intense exercises.

Intense exercises? Jongin gulped.

***

Three hours later, the dancer is laying stomach-down on the sofa, groaning into a Rilakkuma cushion. This was not what he had in mind when Yerin mentioned ‘intense exercises’ – it was worse. He never had to cram this much information since high school! Apparently, the author’s idea of ‘exercises’ was studying the names of more than fifty photographers and directors as well as their personalities and how he had to act around them. Wikipedia pages from the laptop were projected on the TV while the cursor would highlight the names. A word document was off screen for Yerin to write notes the computer later dictated.

It was pure hell. The lecture might have been endurable if not for Yerin periodically quizzing the male on some director from a billion tabs ago. If he didn’t answer correctly, then he didn’t get smacked upside the head, but worse. He got the Sehun frown. Pitying the poor dancer, she ended the lesson for the day.

“Are you okay?” The automated computer voice still sent shivers down Jongin’s spine.

“No, my brain hurts,” his voice muffled from his face in the pillow.

“Well, you have to know all of this. You can’t just put your job on hold for a long time. People will get suspicious.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just have to memorize all this and then be pretty in front of a camera.”

“Actually, we have to work on your acting skills too. You’re known as the CF king.”

Jongin groaned louder into the Rilakkuma’s face and sat up straight. “You know what I don’t get? Why do we have to keep this all a secret? Wouldn’t it be easier to just tell the public I lost my memory? I mean, I wouldn’t have to hide everything and act like I know people when I really don’t.”

There it was again, that Sehun frown. “First of all, you’re just complaining because of all the studying. Second, I really don’t think you want to be mobbed by the media about this. You’ll just gather unwanted attention that wants to ‘help’ you. Everyone will want to know how you lost your memory when even we don’t know. The media will probably dig up some crap about you from a long time ago in the process which will make matters worse. Bottom line is: keeping it secret is the best option right now.”

The dancer let out a long sigh before plopping down on the sofa again. Someone was in a bitter mood. Pity consumed Yerin once again before she typed away at her laptop.

“Maybe you should dance out your pent up frustration instead of sulking. That usually does the trick.”

“I’m too mentally tired. I don’t need to be physically tired as well,” Jongin pouted.

“Alright, then how about we start story time. It’s a bit early, but I’ll pick up from where we left off last night.”

Abruptly, Jongin shot up from his seat and skipped straight over to Yerin’s couch. Settling himself in his little corner with another couch cushion (it was one of Krong from Pororo,) he waited for the shorter one to start. The author let an amused smile grace her lips as she began typing another story of their past.

______________________

A/N: Goodness, this was a monster to write. Finally finished writing this chapter (I write the best when I'm procrastinating hw...) This chapter was meant to be more mellow and reveal more of the plot in present time. If you haven't noticed, I've been trying to do the present in Jongin's perspective while the past is limited to Yerin's perspective~

As always, sorry for any errors! Comments and subs are very much appreciated!

Who's ready for Exo's comeback? I am!

~ Audrey