When I was eighteen years old, I mistook a sentence from "The Little Prince" for his confession, and we never got close to each other again.
He was the one waiting for me at the door after the exam, and he was also the one who rejected all my friend requests. He built an emotional maze with more than 2,000 songs, and secretly collected the words I said and the songs I posted into playlists that he thought I would never discover.
I looked at him from a distance, but he looked away in front of me and repeatedly adjusted the information late at night.
We are separated by half of China - he went to Dalian to study at university and I stayed in the south. There is an uncrossed sea in between.
There is no betrayal, no third party in this story, just two people who see through each other but dare not admit it. They spend all their youth practicing the same thing: how to remember someone with all their strength without getting close.
We seem to have met somewhere before - in all the words that were left unsaid, in all the friend requests that failed, in those moments where we were stuck in each other's playlists.
Idea: The person we love but can't love may sometimes be the person we want to be.