Xu Nanqiu's collarbone is very beautiful, so beautiful that some people always want to leave a mark on it.
When he was fifteen years old, he smashed his painting teacher's head with a vase, and blood spattered on the unfinished sketch, like a deformed flower. The father just frowned: "Don't let anyone catch you next time."
At the age of seventeen, in the bathroom stall of a private high school, Xu Nanqiu thrust a knife into his hand, and the cold tip touched his collarbone. "Carve your name," Xu Nanqiu smiled provocatively, "Carve it and I will belong to you." He was too familiar with the rules of this game - love is pain and possession, just like a father locking the door of his stepmother's room, and just like the hands of the so-called "teachers" wandering around his easel.
Until Song Yunjin held the knife.
Xu Nanqiu thinks this person is really ridiculous. When Xu Nanqiu is irritable, he is used to hitting himself with his fists. The force is shockingly precise - it hurts to the bone, but leaves no obvious scars. It needs to be both heartbreaking and honorable.
He had seen too much violence in the name of love - the love letters stuffed into his desk ended up being poured with cold water in the toilet cubicle. Since "love" is pain, then what kind of saint is Song Yunjin pretending to be?
"Okay, just smoke with me without writing." The menthol cigarette he lit was replaced with candy.
"Then let's fight." The fist he raised was clasped on his chest with ten fingers intertwined.
"Speed racing is okay, right?" As a result, she was turned into a late-night art museum. Song Yunjin pointed at the twisted paintings on the wall and said, "Your pain is obviously crazier than the speed of the car."
Xu Nanqiu didn't know that this person who always called him "Nanqiu" with wet eyes had a black card hidden in the middle of his schoolbag that could buy the entire art street.
It's like he didn't know that when he was hiding in the studio and self-abuse, Song Yunjin had already clenched her fists outside the door, but always kept the right distance - not only giving him space to vent, but also ensuring that he would not really hurt himself.
Note: character's point of view ≠ author's point of view
1v1 double clean
It may be a short story of less than 100,000 words
Purpose: Restore hope in love
