I have never met him personally, so it should be like this now. There are friends all around, holding a glass of wine and walking around to say hello to that person. Those who are not familiar with each other raise their wine glasses and smile, while those who are familiar with them laugh and play, that person is always the focus.
Finally, there was no one around to disturb him, and God was about to say something to that person, when the bar suddenly sounded rock and roll. The man stood up and moved closer to God's ear. Not knowing what to say, God smiled helplessly and shook his head, then turned around and disappeared.
He opened his mouth and took a few steps forward, but he didn't even know his purpose. Is it to ask them what they are talking about? In this way, that person will have a lot of psychological pressure. It is very natural for a cheerful person to show such a happy expression with his friends. Or tell the person that he really doesn't want to see that person have physical contact with other people? But even he himself felt that such behavior was too naive.
He can't do anything. He has to be calm because he is a senior. He needs to be tolerant, he needs to be gentle, he needs to smile, and he needs to restrain himself.
"Singto, you are only nineteen years old. You are just a child, you don't need to suppress yourself." Even his most beloved teacher Arthit once said this to him.
If it was normal, he would walk up to that person and pull that person into his arms. Don't bother to ask, just quietly touch the places that others have touched. Here, here, here, it's all his.
But now he doesn't even have a reason to go to that person. Because that person didn't know him at all.
God did not know when he had returned to that person's side, and handed that person a small bag. He recognized it, with a Pikachu embroidered on it, and it was the bag the man used to hold his drum sticks in. The man stuck out his tongue at God, then pulled out a pair of drumsticks, and the moment he stood up, he didn't forget to give God a hard blow, and then walked towards the stage leisurely against God's angry roar.
After witnessing all this, he couldn't help but smiled softly. He liked that person's lively smile and movements, which made people couldn't help but want to protect him. When the man jumped onto the stage, there was a burst of booing from the audience, so the man coughed lightly, put on a straight face, and suppressed the sound with his hands. He guessed that the man's expression probably imitated his brother . When the audience was quiet, he turned around and walked behind the drum kit that had already vacated the place for him.
And he, he was just one of the crowd. He looked up at the people on the stage, and suddenly found that the drum sticks in that person's hands were the pair of brown drum sticks with "Peraya" printed on them that day.
The little thought of that person is really cute. He didn't tell that person, but he always thought that person was the most charming when he was playing music. At that time, he always exuded a kind of seductive charm. Whether he was plucking the strings or beating the drum, the man's serious and focused expression and the sweat dripping from his forehead made him unable to look away. Like a strawberry Daifuku, sweet, tempting people to swallow him mouthful.
And those eyes, transparent and clear like glass marbles, there shouldn't be a trace of haze in them, they should be as bright as they are now. It shouldn't be put into a box by someone and lose the brilliance it should have.
It's all his fault. It was he who dusted the diamond. He should let that person shine.
… Really
His fingers were trembling slightly. He clenched his fists tightly, but couldn't feel his own temperature.
Only then did he realize that he was not selfless. When I still liked Arthit back then, I obviously felt sad too, but in the end I just let it go.
But now, he clearly knew that that person would be happier with his friends, and that person's sadness was all because of him... But he still didn't want to give this light to anyone.
He gritted his teeth, turned and left. He remembered that a long time ago, he seemed to have done similar things. What was he resisting at that time, and what was he avoiding? How does that feel different from now
At that time, there was intense drumming behind him. Retention, despair, pleading, he read a lot of negative emotions from the scurrying notes. But it shouldn't be like this. The music in that person's hands should be as bright and cheerful as it is now, and people can't help showing the same smile as that person's face.
will make everyone happy. Except for him who walks on the tip of the knife.
He didn't know how he got back to the dormitory, he didn't know that he still had a foothold in this unreal space.
Everything seems to be the same as his real room, the only difference is that the photo frame placed in the entrance is gone. That's right, they didn't know each other, and that person's ignorant and glowing expression when they first met was only his memory.
He lay down on the bed, covering his eyes lightly. In fact, there is no need to cover it up, because he cannot see the light in the first place.
The computer that had been with him for a long time turned on automatically without anyone triggering it. The drawer was gently pulled open by the air, and the hard drive inside floated in the air as if it had been given life, and connected to the computer by itself. The cursor flipped over the interface of the hard disk, but the folder with many precious photos was missing.
"Enough..." He never knew his voice could be so fragile. It's not like him at all.
The cursor moves faster and faster. But no matter how I searched, even if I went through every photo, there was still no sign of that person.
"Enough..." He buried his head in the pillow.
The sound of mouse clicking is so harsh. Crack, crack, crack, each strike felt like a piece of his heart was about to be ripped off. He couldn't bear it anymore, he took out a hard object from nowhere and threw it at the computer. The screen shattered in response, making a "sizzling" sound. He stared blankly in that direction, only to realize that what he just threw over was a camera.
It was the "same model" as that person, the first camera he ever bought.
He still remembers the man's excitement when he heard that it was the first camera he'd ever used. Only now did he realize that liking someone is such a simple thing. This small matter that is extremely boring in the eyes of others cannot be compromised in that person's heart. At that moment, that person's eyes were so bright—brighter than in front of anyone else.
He took away the light from that man. But he forgot that he himself was the one who gave that person light.
"hypocrite."
The voice of reproach. He turned his head and saw his own face. That "he" was expressionless, just looking at him straight. That gaze was too indifferent, and there was only condemnation in the gaze.
"Hypocrite." As if afraid that he hadn't heard clearly, "he" repeated it again. Like a prisoner in an interrogation room, he was forced to ask by his identical self, "What kind of feelings do you have for him?"
how is it like? I don't want to let him get hurt, I want to protect him, always protect him. If possible, I want to be the wind that wraps him. Just to see his smile.
"I was wrong, I should have asked more bluntly. Do you like him?"
I like it, of course I do. Every day, every day, I like him more than the day before.
"Is it the love for a lover?"
yes. Can answer without hesitation, yes. I want to hug him, I want to kiss him, I want to interlock my fingers with him, I want to see him show a rare expression. I don't want to see him sad, I want him to laugh, and I hate him being too close to his friends.
"Then why didn't you ever tell him?"
Because he... was too perfect, too perfect to tell him straight.
"You really don't understand what he is upset about? You are his lover, why don't you let him feel at ease?"
Why... because he wasn't happy at all. He is always wronged and cautious in front of me, that is not him at all. He can be himself in front of his friends.
"Then he is not himself who is like a child who gets sugar because he touches you?"
yes, but...
"There's nothing but." Finally, an expression appeared on "his" face. "He" raised the corners of his mouth, walked up to him and squatted down—that was a sarcastic smile, "Why do you use reason to measure love? Aren't you just obediently giving up the person you like if you think you should let him out?" For someone else's idiot?"
He lowered his head and didn't respond.
"Almost." "His" voice became softer. He raised his head abruptly, only to see a slight smile on the corner of "him"'s lips. The fundus of "his" eyes were as bright as covered with star dust, not losing the brilliance of that person in the slightest. "His" tone was light, "Have you seen this, this is the expression you have on the person you like. Do you still want to give him to someone else? It's almost time to give up thinking about 'how to do it'. Singto Prachaya, tell me, what do you want?"
want. desire. Want him to smile from the heart.
"Don't lie to me, hypocrite. I am you."
Want his smile from the heart... want the one who makes him shine, none other than Singto Prachaya.
"He" smiled, and took a step back: "Love is a desire. Showing your desire is also what you 'should do'. The person you like does not need your suppression." "He" stretched out Pointing to the piece of wreckage on the desk, "If you don't express your desire, you will only lose. In the end, you will have nothing. Then you deserve it."
He trembled slightly, but the broken screen suddenly lit up. He couldn't record the person on the screen with a camera, but it was a performance he would never forget in his life.