Harajuku is a slow man.
He was so slow that when others handed him warm water, he thought it was a courtesy; when he saw the undercurrent in other people's eyes, he thought it was an illusion; when other people's preferences were hidden in their daily lives, he attributed them all to "people are really nice."
He paints warm paintings, raises clingy cats, and smiles at everyone, but he never knows that his own existence is a silent disaster.
The first time Zhou Xu saw Harajuku was in an alley smelling of chestnuts.
The man was walking with his head down while holding the book, and almost hit the cardboard box.
Zhou Xu stretched out his hand to block it, and his fingertips brushed against the cold back of the other person's hand.
Then he was finished.
It's not a grand fall, it's like boiling a frog in warm water, boiling yourself in bit by bit.
He wanted to get closer but was afraid of scaring him away.
I want to possess him, but I am afraid of breaking him.
Later, Harajuku finally noticed something belatedly, tilted his head and asked him: "Is something not right with you recently?"
Zhou Xu looked into his defenseless eyes and was silent for a long time.
"Hmm," he said, "something's not right."
——You have no idea what you did to me.
Intention: It's not that he did anything, but that he didn't do anything, but people stopped for him willingly.