In the greenest teenage years, they should have enjoyed spring-like pure love, but he and she were heading towards pain step by step and towards the edge of collapse. She blamed him and missed him, but she could not escape the feeling of liking him; he annoyed her, but also wanted to protect her, so that she only had eyes for him, but in the end she never had time to say sorry. Youth is always so short, so short that he and she have not learned to love each other properly, so short that he can only end the joke with guilt, so short that she can no longer continue her innocence. She always wanted to escape from the world with him, but somehow she always had to get involved helplessly; he always had a headache every time he saw her, but he always bumped into her unexpectedly. The mockery of fate, this is a joke of youth. The two of them are no match for each other. Each grieves their own grief, and finally, they throw this period of time towards death together. . . . . .