When Luo Xi was seventeen, he met a boy who could play the guitar. He thought it was just an encounter on the rooftop, but he never expected that the young man's fingertips would leave a lasting reverberation in his heart.
——————————————————————————Dividing line.☘︎
The September wind carried the broken shadows of camphor leaves and fluttered on the back of Luoxi's neck. He was standing at the back door of Class 3, Grade 2, holding the pile of textbooks he had just received, his fingertips turning white from exertion.
As someone with extensive experience in transferring schools, he was used to wrapping himself in silence into an inconspicuous shadow until the sound of guitar hit his ears. It was not the regular exercises coming from the music classroom, but the wild strumming coming from the direction of the rooftop. The melody was a song he had never heard before, like broken stars hidden in the wind, tickling the tip of his heart.
He turned around mysteriously and walked up the stairs. The door to the rooftop was ajar. When he opened the door, he happened to see the young man sitting on the railing, holding an old guitar. Sunlight leaked from the clouds, plating a layer of gold on the top of his hair. His school uniform jacket was hung on his arms, revealing his neat collarbones. The young man tuned the strings with his eyes lowered, his fingertips flying on the strings, and there were thin calluses on his fingertips, which were traces of years of practicing the piano.
"Who"
The young man suddenly raised his head and met his eyes. When he smiled, there was a shallow dimple on his left side, and the ends of his eyes curved into nice arcs:
"Hello, my name is Song Yan." Luo Xi was stunned for a moment before realizing that the other party had already walked up to him. His throat was tight and he couldn't speak. He stood there for a while and then hesitantly replied: "I'm new here... You can call me Luo Xi, um... I came here out of curiosity when I heard the sound of the guitar... I didn't mean to eavesdrop."
Song Yan didn't care, and shook the guitar in his arms:
"Would you like to hear me play a song? I just wrote it and haven't heard it from anyone else yet."
The wind blew over again, carrying with it the faint scent of melting snow on the young man's body. Luo Xi stood there, watching Song Yan lower his head and pluck the first chord, his heart beating incredibly fast. He suddenly remembered the rusty guitar pick he had just picked up in his bag. He had picked it up by the playground in the morning, and it was now lying quietly in his palm, like a secret foreshadowing.
That should be his guitar pick.
Purpose: To explore how young people face their inner throbbing and self-identity