ANGEL ☾ winwin one shots.

lips. [winil]

the limousine stopped in front of a victorian-styled house, with lots of trees and flowers and a water fountain, with a tiger statue. the boy got out from it when the driver opened the door for him.

he walked to the entrance. a man was waiting for him there, flashing a bright smile at him. he didn't know what to say, so he just bowed.

" come in ."

the middle-aged man said as he opened the door, stepping aside to let the other in. the boy smiled weakly at him and went inside. the man closed the door behind him before asking the boy to follow him.

the two-leveled house was spacious and luxurious. sunlight went through the windows and shun the living room brightly. it almost felt alive, and it felt like home. but somehow, something is missing.

the man from earlier led the boy upstairs, to another hallway. he stopped in front of a room and opened the door for the boy. seeing the boy hesitating to go in, he spoke.

" please come in, young master ."

the boy nodded slowly, thanked him and went in. the man excused himself and closed the door before leaving. the boy scanned the room. it was some sort of a reading room.

huge bookshelves filled most of the space. he ran his fingers through the thick-hardcovered books, and there was not even a single dust on them. he figured out they must took a very good care of this house.

he walked to another shelf and it was filled with diaries and journals. he wanted to take a peek, but he couldn't bring himself to. then, he looked up—being greeted by several photographs hung on the walls.

there was a picture of a young woman holding a baby on her arms, and a man hugging her waist. they looked really happy. another one was a picture of a little boy with the woman earlier, both smiling ear-to-ear. he supposed that was the baby.

there's one picture that caught his eyes the most. it was a photograph of him. he was back-hugging the woman who looked older in that one. she was smiling, he was midlaugh.

then it clicked. is that his mother? is he the baby and the little boy?

he ran his finger through the wooden frame of the photograph. even so, he was still clueless. he really doesn't remember anything of that woman, or this room, or the house. he doesn't remember everything.

" ah, you're here already. I'm sorry for not being punctual ."

the boy turned to the voice. it was a man, probably a few years older than him, dressed in a fancy black suit. he was shorter, but average tall. and he looked like a gentleman judging from his bright smile.

the boy blinked once, then twice. he stayed in his position and fiddled with the hem of his sweatshirt. he's really unsure of what to say, because he doesn't know this man. or to be precise, he doesn't remember.

" oh, right ." the man spoke again, face-palming himself as he chuckled. " I forgot that you... you know ."

he trailed his sentence off and his words hung in the air. the boy just awkwardly nodded. he really doesn't know what the man meant, but he pretended he did.

" I'm taeil. take a seat, sicheng ."

the boy nodded and sat on a chair on the table, next to the man. he looked down, his fingers never leaving his sweatshirt. although he forgot about literally everything, but he still has this habit whenever he's nervous or uncomfortable.

after a while, a maid came into the room and put a tray on the table. she served each of them a cup of tea, and a plate of cookies. sicheng thanked her, even though she could barely hear him.