15 Years of Pursuing a Cute Boy [2/3]
Title: 15 Years of Pursuing a Cute Boy
Pairing: Taoris
Rating: PG
Summary: These poems of love written for you, I've been sending them out for 15 years. And theres still no reply...theres still no reply.
<
“If you found out someone was lying to your best friend, you'd want to tell them right?”
Kris looked up from his lunch at his concerned friend, Tao. “I guess. Depends on how big the lie was.”
“What if it was big? Like really big?” Tao asked.
“Then yeah.” Kris shrugged, “I'd want my best friend to tell me.” Kris pushed back his tray of food, “Okay Tao, what's up? You've been acting really weird lately.” He turned to look Tao in the eyes.
“Really?”
“Yes!” Kris sighed, “Is it because of Sunny? If she's really getting in the way of our friendship then say something, please! You're my friend and you know I would always put friendship before a girl.”
“N-No...Sorry. I'm happy for you and Sunny, really!” Tao put on a bright smile, “So how is she?”
Kris leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment, “Ah, she's doing well. She's really sweet and nice, as you might've already guessed from the way she acts. However even though I've found the anonymous love poem writer,” Kris cocked his head and looked off into the distance with a confused look, “they still keep coming, and they still look like their trying to be sent anonymously.”
“Maybe she just likes doing that. It's probably just a couple thing between you two.”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. She's always had that cute quality about her.” Kris gathered his stuff and stood up to leave the cafeteria, “I'll see you in class.” He smiled and dumped the remains of his lunch before heading out the door.
Tao quickly glanced around the wide open cafeteria; nobody was paying him any attention. He got out his pen and paper and wrote his next love poem to Kris.
You'll never feel the same way about me, Kris...
-
“Turn on the TV! Channel 5! Hurry, Kris, hurry!” The young man had been promptly awoken at 10 am by his mother, on his day off, who was furiously screaming into the phone in an excited tone.
Kris shuffled over to his TV, sliding in his slippers on the hardwood floors, and turned the TV on, quickly switching to Channel 5. It was a talk show mainly aimed towards woman, the host was holding a magazine.
“The latest thing that's absolutely been sweeping women off their feet this year, and well any year, is love poems. Here I'm holding actually a prime example of some of the most lovely love poems I've ever read...”
“Oh my god...” Kris nearly dropped his phone.
“That's you, right?! That's the magazine you sent all your poems into, right?”
“Yeah, it is. I never actually knew they published it! And I never knew-”
“That your writing had gotten so popular? Well you should've realized how good your poems were when you published them online last year! How man years have you been writing these? This is your third year or something, right?”
“Fourth.” Kris corrected his mother.
“Ah yes, excuse me. Speaking of which, who are you sending these out to? Have you found someone new to pursue? I'd think that after four years of writing these poems every day to them, you'd confess by now.”
Kris rolled his eyes, his mother was always trying to meddle in his love life; she wanted nothing more then for him to settle down and find a nice wife and have a few kids. “It's harder then that, mom.”
“Okay, okay. I won't bother you on your day off, I just felt like telling you.”
“Thanks, mom. I think I'm going to go back to bed now...”
“Bye, dearie.”
“Bye, mom.”
Kris hung up and placed the phone down on the coffee table. The hostess was wrapping up her segment on Kris's poems and moving onto another topic. He sighed and flicked off the television, there was no point in going back to bed now. Defeated, he got dressed and settled down at the kitchen table for his daily love poem.
These poems are really making it big. Maybe I should follow that advice mom gave me a while back and actually publish these in a book. I wonder how much money I'd make...I could finally quit my job and relax.
That day he decided to visit a publishing company. As soon as he had introduced himself and showed him proof of his poems he was offered a contract and whisked into discussions about his book jacket and foreword.
-
“I can't believe this...” Kris's hands shook as he held the check in his hand. It was his first batch for his earnings on his new and first book. “I really made this much?”
His cellphone rang and he quickly answered it, it was his editor. “Ah, Mr. Wu? Have you received the check in the mail yet?”
Kris was furiously nodding his head until he realized that his editor wouldn't be able to see him through the cellphone, “Y-Yeah. Are you sure this is right?”
“Yes.Why? Is the amount too low?”
“No. It's more than I ever imagined I'd make on my poems. Thank you.”
“Woah, don't thank me.” His editor shook his head, “The only one you should be thanking is yourself, and the girl you're writing these letters to. Have you even gotten a reply from this woman yet?”
Kris smiled, “Four years, no reply.”
He heard his editor sigh over the phone, “Well you are dedicated, I don't even know why you bother. Wait, scratch that. If you stopped writing love poems to her then we wouldn't have such success. Keep doing what you're doing.”
“I'll make sure to!”
“Great. Anyway, I called to tell you that I booked you an autograph session at a local bookstore for your new book. The date of the signing is actually pretty far off in the distance, like next year. But I just thought I'd tell you.”
“Autograph? Like book signing? Really, for me?”
“Yeah, yeah, same thing. Of course I'm serious, Mr. Wu. When have I ever made a joke?”
“True. I'll talk to you later, thank you.”
Kris hung up and took another look at the check. This check, the money he had made in few months exceeded his yearly salary at his current successful job. The editor had also promised more checks were on the way, that contained even more than what he held in his hand.
Needless to say, Kris quit his job the next day.
-
“That's enough water for today. Look how big you've gotten!” Kris tied up the green hose and fanned his face. It was the heat of the summer, and he was outside taking care of Tao's tree. It was no longer a sapling, and instead had a thick brown trunk and bright green leaves exploding out of each branch.
“Mr. Wu! There you are. Why are you watering a tree in your suit? C'mon, we have another book signing.” Kris's editor dragged him inside a sleek black Lexus. The cool ac air immediately hit Kris and he fanned his face once more.
“Another book signing?”
“Yes, yes. This is your last one though this year, I promise.”
“I still don't understand how a poet like me could become so popular...”
“You're a professional poet!” His editor smiled and punched the side of his arm. “You're attracting women from all around, of all ages! But have you attracted that one girl?”
“Five years, no reply.” Kris smiled.
His editor sighed, “Well this is your second book and yet still no reply from the mystery woman! Oh, we're here. I'll meet you inside.”
Kris got out of the car and entered the book store. It was already full of young women, who squealed like teenage girls (which there were quite a few of in the crowd) when the handsome love poet stepped inside in a black suit.
Like every book signing before, Kris took his seat at the long table stacked high with both of his books and smiled as girls thrust their copy of the book at him. He would sign it with a black sharpie, smile and watch them turn a bright shade of pink before the girl behind her shoved her out of the way. He was extremely thankful when the three hour session finally came to a close and he got back into his editor's car.
Night had already fallen and Kris could barely keep his eyes open, “Hey Kris, Kris!” His editor waved his hand in front of his face.
“Huh? Wh-What?”
“You're not listening to me, huh? No matter, I was just rambling.”
“Sorry. I just dozed off a bit.”
His editor's eyes were full of concern, “Listen, I know that you're hard at work doing well...whatever but you need to take care of your body, okay? I worry about you too. I'd hate for you to end up in the hospital again.”
Kris nodded his head, “I'll take better care of my body.”
“You better! Have you been sleeping at all? Have you even been eating?” His editor had pulled off the road and was now parked right by the ocean.
“Truthfully, no.” Kris knew he could trust his editor, his editor was one of the few people aside from family he fully trusted.
“Why not?”
Kris shrugged, “I don't know. I guess I just felt like treating my body bad.”
His editor put a hand on his shoulder, “Listen. Why don't you go see this person? This person you're writing all these letters to? I'm sure seeing her will make you feel better.”
Kris made a weak nod and looked out at the ocean, “He always loved the beach...the ocean...” his voice was weak and his eyes were slowly closing.
His editor quickly drove Kris home and gave a final warning to take better care of himself, and to visit the person he loved the most before speeding off. Kris looked out his window, Tao's was open.
If only I could see you...
-
“Careful, it's very hot.” Kris's mother gently placed a hot bowl of porridge onto his ill son's blanketed lap. “I can't believe you let yourself get this bad.”
“Thanks, mom.” He blew on the porridge before consuming spoon after spoon of it. “I just wasn't thinking right, you know? Yeah.”
“Kris, just stay in bed. I'll go deliver your letter today.” Kris had a huge grin on his face and his mother sighed, “You went outside to deliver it today before I got here again, didn't you?” He nodded like a child that had successfully finished all of his chores on time.
With a firm finger, his mother pointed back at the sick boy, “Don't do it again.”
Of course, Kris did it again the next day. He did every day during his sixth year of sickly poem writing. Even though his body was a wreck, he still kept sending letters; and as every day before it, received no reply.
-
Kris published his third book in his seventh year of poem writing. With much relief to his editor, he had fully recovered and was back to writing poems as usual. And as predicted, every fan was relieved to hear of his full recovery and the book was ripped from the shelves the second it was put out.
“I think I'll compare you to something today...” Kris tapped his pen on his kitchen table. A cool spring breeze had flown through his house, and he wondered if Tao could feel it too through his open window.
“Your hands are as soft...as soft...” Kris smiled and thought about the moment Tao had changed his entire life by slipping a white envelope into his hands. Their cold hands had just barely touched at that moment, but even his gloveless freezing hands felt as soft and warm as a blanket that had been left by the fire.
His eighth year was identical to the seventh. Kris published his fourth book of poems that year, and it sold just as well as the third.
“Let's see...I think I'll talk about your gaze today...”
When your eyes meet mine, that gaze of yours, I go crazy.
How can someone have such a look to their eyes? I don't understand.
Whenever you do that, I feel soft and defenseless.
Fierce at first, but then lost like a child. No words are left to describe.
How I only wish you could look at me one more time.
-
White fluffy snow surrounded and filled every inch of sidewalk and every roof tile. Winter was Kris's favorite season.
Tao's window was shut of course. Snow was nice to look at, fun to play in, but horrible to get all over your nice apartment. The sunlight was quickly fading, and the bright moon was already beginning to shine through the dark clouds. Kris tucked his letter for Tao in his pocket and hurried out the door. If he hurried he could just make the last mail pick up.
The nearest mailbox was two blocks away from his apartment. He walked briskly through the crowds of snow covered people. His tall shadow was cast by distant streetlights, as the bright moon was fully covered by the storm clouds. As he realized the time, he began to run through the crowds, he could make it. He knew he could make it.
He stopped at the crosswalk, the mailbox was right across the street. He saw the mail car fast approaching in the distance and dashed across the street.
It was all a blur. A honk of a oncoming car, a bright flash of light, a screech and finally an impact. Face down in the cold snow, a blood stained love letter, a blood stained body. His body. Screams of others rang in Kris's ears, his whole body was numb. The driver of the car yelling to the sky believing he had killed someone. But it wasn't his fault, it was Kris's, and he knew that. He couldn't move. It wasn't until he finally heard the ambulances did his eyes turn to black.
Tao please, why are you looking at me with such pity in your eyes
It was his ninth year without a reply.
-
Kris rolled his neck and wiggled himself up, sitting up straight. His eyes were slow to adjust to his new surroundings, but his eyes quickly detected a nurse writing down on a clipboard. When she saw him, her eyes immediately lit up. “He lives! Wu Fan, how are you feeling?”
Kris looked right at her, “Who? Where am I? What happened?”
“You got hit by a car. You hit your head quite severely and have been unconscious for a few hours. The only thing you had on yourself was a cellphone and a letter. Someone delivered that by the way.”
“I don't remember getting hit by a car. Who are you?”
“My name is Jia, and your name is Wu Fan. Do you know that?”
Kris shook his head, and Jia's face quickly turned serious, “Introduce yourself.”
He shook his head, and had a distressed look on his face, “I-I can't. I-I don't know anything.”
Jia dialed a number on the hospital phone next to his bed and mumbled a few things in an urgent voice before hanging up and returning back to Kris, “Anything? Do you remember anything?”
Kris looked at her clipboard, “I do remember something...Huang Zi Tao. I know him! I know his voice, his hands, his eyes, his address...address...letters! I write poems to him every day! Oh my god, how long have I been out?”
“Just a few hours, just over night.”
“Can I have a piece of paper please? I need to write a letter to him. Can you mail it for me when I'm done?”
Jia, who was speechless that someone who couldn't even remember his own name could remember this man, “Y-Yes of course. Just give it to me when you're done and I'll mail it right away.”
“Thank you.”
Tao's tree no longer needed Kris. It was an adult now, so his absence was not noticed by anyone, even his fans were not told of his amnesia. However, Kris continued to write every day. He wished Tao would reply, he couldn't remember Tao hadn't replied the previous eight years. The only thing he could remember was his love for Tao.
Throughout the tenth and eleventh year, Kris's memory didn't return
Pairing: Taoris
Rating: PG
Summary: These poems of love written for you, I've been sending them out for 15 years. And theres still no reply...theres still no reply.
<
“If you found out someone was lying to your best friend, you'd want to tell them right?”
Kris looked up from his lunch at his concerned friend, Tao. “I guess. Depends on how big the lie was.”
“What if it was big? Like really big?” Tao asked.
“Then yeah.” Kris shrugged, “I'd want my best friend to tell me.” Kris pushed back his tray of food, “Okay Tao, what's up? You've been acting really weird lately.” He turned to look Tao in the eyes.
“Really?”
“Yes!” Kris sighed, “Is it because of Sunny? If she's really getting in the way of our friendship then say something, please! You're my friend and you know I would always put friendship before a girl.”
“N-No...Sorry. I'm happy for you and Sunny, really!” Tao put on a bright smile, “So how is she?”
Kris leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment, “Ah, she's doing well. She's really sweet and nice, as you might've already guessed from the way she acts. However even though I've found the anonymous love poem writer,” Kris cocked his head and looked off into the distance with a confused look, “they still keep coming, and they still look like their trying to be sent anonymously.”
“Maybe she just likes doing that. It's probably just a couple thing between you two.”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. She's always had that cute quality about her.” Kris gathered his stuff and stood up to leave the cafeteria, “I'll see you in class.” He smiled and dumped the remains of his lunch before heading out the door.
Tao quickly glanced around the wide open cafeteria; nobody was paying him any attention. He got out his pen and paper and wrote his next love poem to Kris.
You'll never feel the same way about me, Kris...
-
“Turn on the TV! Channel 5! Hurry, Kris, hurry!” The young man had been promptly awoken at 10 am by his mother, on his day off, who was furiously screaming into the phone in an excited tone.
Kris shuffled over to his TV, sliding in his slippers on the hardwood floors, and turned the TV on, quickly switching to Channel 5. It was a talk show mainly aimed towards woman, the host was holding a magazine.
“The latest thing that's absolutely been sweeping women off their feet this year, and well any year, is love poems. Here I'm holding actually a prime example of some of the most lovely love poems I've ever read...”
“Oh my god...” Kris nearly dropped his phone.
“That's you, right?! That's the magazine you sent all your poems into, right?”
“Yeah, it is. I never actually knew they published it! And I never knew-”
“That your writing had gotten so popular? Well you should've realized how good your poems were when you published them online last year! How man years have you been writing these? This is your third year or something, right?”
“Fourth.” Kris corrected his mother.
“Ah yes, excuse me. Speaking of which, who are you sending these out to? Have you found someone new to pursue? I'd think that after four years of writing these poems every day to them, you'd confess by now.”
Kris rolled his eyes, his mother was always trying to meddle in his love life; she wanted nothing more then for him to settle down and find a nice wife and have a few kids. “It's harder then that, mom.”
“Okay, okay. I won't bother you on your day off, I just felt like telling you.”
“Thanks, mom. I think I'm going to go back to bed now...”
“Bye, dearie.”
“Bye, mom.”
Kris hung up and placed the phone down on the coffee table. The hostess was wrapping up her segment on Kris's poems and moving onto another topic. He sighed and flicked off the television, there was no point in going back to bed now. Defeated, he got dressed and settled down at the kitchen table for his daily love poem.
These poems are really making it big. Maybe I should follow that advice mom gave me a while back and actually publish these in a book. I wonder how much money I'd make...I could finally quit my job and relax.
That day he decided to visit a publishing company. As soon as he had introduced himself and showed him proof of his poems he was offered a contract and whisked into discussions about his book jacket and foreword.
-
“I can't believe this...” Kris's hands shook as he held the check in his hand. It was his first batch for his earnings on his new and first book. “I really made this much?”
His cellphone rang and he quickly answered it, it was his editor. “Ah, Mr. Wu? Have you received the check in the mail yet?”
Kris was furiously nodding his head until he realized that his editor wouldn't be able to see him through the cellphone, “Y-Yeah. Are you sure this is right?”
“Yes.Why? Is the amount too low?”
“No. It's more than I ever imagined I'd make on my poems. Thank you.”
“Woah, don't thank me.” His editor shook his head, “The only one you should be thanking is yourself, and the girl you're writing these letters to. Have you even gotten a reply from this woman yet?”
Kris smiled, “Four years, no reply.”
He heard his editor sigh over the phone, “Well you are dedicated, I don't even know why you bother. Wait, scratch that. If you stopped writing love poems to her then we wouldn't have such success. Keep doing what you're doing.”
“I'll make sure to!”
“Great. Anyway, I called to tell you that I booked you an autograph session at a local bookstore for your new book. The date of the signing is actually pretty far off in the distance, like next year. But I just thought I'd tell you.”
“Autograph? Like book signing? Really, for me?”
“Yeah, yeah, same thing. Of course I'm serious, Mr. Wu. When have I ever made a joke?”
“True. I'll talk to you later, thank you.”
Kris hung up and took another look at the check. This check, the money he had made in few months exceeded his yearly salary at his current successful job. The editor had also promised more checks were on the way, that contained even more than what he held in his hand.
Needless to say, Kris quit his job the next day.
-
“That's enough water for today. Look how big you've gotten!” Kris tied up the green hose and fanned his face. It was the heat of the summer, and he was outside taking care of Tao's tree. It was no longer a sapling, and instead had a thick brown trunk and bright green leaves exploding out of each branch.
“Mr. Wu! There you are. Why are you watering a tree in your suit? C'mon, we have another book signing.” Kris's editor dragged him inside a sleek black Lexus. The cool ac air immediately hit Kris and he fanned his face once more.
“Another book signing?”
“Yes, yes. This is your last one though this year, I promise.”
“I still don't understand how a poet like me could become so popular...”
“You're a professional poet!” His editor smiled and punched the side of his arm. “You're attracting women from all around, of all ages! But have you attracted that one girl?”
“Five years, no reply.” Kris smiled.
His editor sighed, “Well this is your second book and yet still no reply from the mystery woman! Oh, we're here. I'll meet you inside.”
Kris got out of the car and entered the book store. It was already full of young women, who squealed like teenage girls (which there were quite a few of in the crowd) when the handsome love poet stepped inside in a black suit.
Like every book signing before, Kris took his seat at the long table stacked high with both of his books and smiled as girls thrust their copy of the book at him. He would sign it with a black sharpie, smile and watch them turn a bright shade of pink before the girl behind her shoved her out of the way. He was extremely thankful when the three hour session finally came to a close and he got back into his editor's car.
Night had already fallen and Kris could barely keep his eyes open, “Hey Kris, Kris!” His editor waved his hand in front of his face.
“Huh? Wh-What?”
“You're not listening to me, huh? No matter, I was just rambling.”
“Sorry. I just dozed off a bit.”
His editor's eyes were full of concern, “Listen, I know that you're hard at work doing well...whatever but you need to take care of your body, okay? I worry about you too. I'd hate for you to end up in the hospital again.”
Kris nodded his head, “I'll take better care of my body.”
“You better! Have you been sleeping at all? Have you even been eating?” His editor had pulled off the road and was now parked right by the ocean.
“Truthfully, no.” Kris knew he could trust his editor, his editor was one of the few people aside from family he fully trusted.
“Why not?”
Kris shrugged, “I don't know. I guess I just felt like treating my body bad.”
His editor put a hand on his shoulder, “Listen. Why don't you go see this person? This person you're writing all these letters to? I'm sure seeing her will make you feel better.”
Kris made a weak nod and looked out at the ocean, “He always loved the beach...the ocean...” his voice was weak and his eyes were slowly closing.
His editor quickly drove Kris home and gave a final warning to take better care of himself, and to visit the person he loved the most before speeding off. Kris looked out his window, Tao's was open.
If only I could see you...
-
“Careful, it's very hot.” Kris's mother gently placed a hot bowl of porridge onto his ill son's blanketed lap. “I can't believe you let yourself get this bad.”
“Thanks, mom.” He blew on the porridge before consuming spoon after spoon of it. “I just wasn't thinking right, you know? Yeah.”
“Kris, just stay in bed. I'll go deliver your letter today.” Kris had a huge grin on his face and his mother sighed, “You went outside to deliver it today before I got here again, didn't you?” He nodded like a child that had successfully finished all of his chores on time.
With a firm finger, his mother pointed back at the sick boy, “Don't do it again.”
Of course, Kris did it again the next day. He did every day during his sixth year of sickly poem writing. Even though his body was a wreck, he still kept sending letters; and as every day before it, received no reply.
-
Kris published his third book in his seventh year of poem writing. With much relief to his editor, he had fully recovered and was back to writing poems as usual. And as predicted, every fan was relieved to hear of his full recovery and the book was ripped from the shelves the second it was put out.
“I think I'll compare you to something today...” Kris tapped his pen on his kitchen table. A cool spring breeze had flown through his house, and he wondered if Tao could feel it too through his open window.
“Your hands are as soft...as soft...” Kris smiled and thought about the moment Tao had changed his entire life by slipping a white envelope into his hands. Their cold hands had just barely touched at that moment, but even his gloveless freezing hands felt as soft and warm as a blanket that had been left by the fire.
His eighth year was identical to the seventh. Kris published his fourth book of poems that year, and it sold just as well as the third.
“Let's see...I think I'll talk about your gaze today...”
When your eyes meet mine, that gaze of yours, I go crazy.
How can someone have such a look to their eyes? I don't understand.
Whenever you do that, I feel soft and defenseless.
Fierce at first, but then lost like a child. No words are left to describe.
How I only wish you could look at me one more time.
-
White fluffy snow surrounded and filled every inch of sidewalk and every roof tile. Winter was Kris's favorite season.
Tao's window was shut of course. Snow was nice to look at, fun to play in, but horrible to get all over your nice apartment. The sunlight was quickly fading, and the bright moon was already beginning to shine through the dark clouds. Kris tucked his letter for Tao in his pocket and hurried out the door. If he hurried he could just make the last mail pick up.
The nearest mailbox was two blocks away from his apartment. He walked briskly through the crowds of snow covered people. His tall shadow was cast by distant streetlights, as the bright moon was fully covered by the storm clouds. As he realized the time, he began to run through the crowds, he could make it. He knew he could make it.
He stopped at the crosswalk, the mailbox was right across the street. He saw the mail car fast approaching in the distance and dashed across the street.
It was all a blur. A honk of a oncoming car, a bright flash of light, a screech and finally an impact. Face down in the cold snow, a blood stained love letter, a blood stained body. His body. Screams of others rang in Kris's ears, his whole body was numb. The driver of the car yelling to the sky believing he had killed someone. But it wasn't his fault, it was Kris's, and he knew that. He couldn't move. It wasn't until he finally heard the ambulances did his eyes turn to black.
Tao please, why are you looking at me with such pity in your eyes
It was his ninth year without a reply.
-
Kris rolled his neck and wiggled himself up, sitting up straight. His eyes were slow to adjust to his new surroundings, but his eyes quickly detected a nurse writing down on a clipboard. When she saw him, her eyes immediately lit up. “He lives! Wu Fan, how are you feeling?”
Kris looked right at her, “Who? Where am I? What happened?”
“You got hit by a car. You hit your head quite severely and have been unconscious for a few hours. The only thing you had on yourself was a cellphone and a letter. Someone delivered that by the way.”
“I don't remember getting hit by a car. Who are you?”
“My name is Jia, and your name is Wu Fan. Do you know that?”
Kris shook his head, and Jia's face quickly turned serious, “Introduce yourself.”
He shook his head, and had a distressed look on his face, “I-I can't. I-I don't know anything.”
Jia dialed a number on the hospital phone next to his bed and mumbled a few things in an urgent voice before hanging up and returning back to Kris, “Anything? Do you remember anything?”
Kris looked at her clipboard, “I do remember something...Huang Zi Tao. I know him! I know his voice, his hands, his eyes, his address...address...letters! I write poems to him every day! Oh my god, how long have I been out?”
“Just a few hours, just over night.”
“Can I have a piece of paper please? I need to write a letter to him. Can you mail it for me when I'm done?”
Jia, who was speechless that someone who couldn't even remember his own name could remember this man, “Y-Yes of course. Just give it to me when you're done and I'll mail it right away.”
“Thank you.”
Tao's tree no longer needed Kris. It was an adult now, so his absence was not noticed by anyone, even his fans were not told of his amnesia. However, Kris continued to write every day. He wished Tao would reply, he couldn't remember Tao hadn't replied the previous eight years. The only thing he could remember was his love for Tao.
Throughout the tenth and eleventh year, Kris's memory didn't return