While writing this story, I kept thinking about a question:
What is the cruelest way to love someone?
Not hate. Hate is hot, has temperature, and has direction, which at least means that the heart is still moving.
Not leaving. Leaving is clean, a clean break, and the pain has an end.
The cruelest way is silence.
I love you obviously, but I can't say it out loud. He obviously wanted to stay, but he pushed the other party away with his own hands. It uses all the withdrawal to prove deep love, but makes the loved one live like an isolated island during the long waiting.
Purpose: Relive youth and look back on the past