The morning started with the old wooden door of the cafeteria being pushed open.
The bread was still steaming, and the water glass was placed on the corner of the table in the third row by the window, with the rim facing left. Someone put down their schoolbag very lightly, as if they were afraid of disturbing something. Some people lower their heads to turn the pages of a book and press the corners of the pages with their thumbs first - not deliberately, just out of habit.
"I bought more for you to eat."
"Keep it for yourself."
That sentence was later remembered. Not because it was said so many times, but because the person who said it brought new bread the next day. And the person who said "keep it for myself" later placed a bottle of warm water with the cap loosened on the library table.
Three pairs of CP slowly approached each other in the same classroom.
Some are chasing and some are hiding. Some people are scolding and some are tolerating it. Someone said nothing, just slowed down in the corridor, waiting for the other person to catch up.
Bread, warm water, notes, and the wind by the river. All the heartbeats are hidden in those unfinished words - hidden in the force of the bread hitting the table, hidden in the habit of pointing the rim of the cup to the left, hidden in the extra pause when turning the book. It took them the entire second year of high school to go from "Who likes you?" To "I like you."
This is not a story about "being together." This is a story about "how to come together".
——"Are you coming tomorrow?"
——"Come. Sit next to me and I'll come."
Intention: When you like someone, it's not the words you finally say, it starts from the first time you want to hand something to them.
