That year, dust was flying in the sunshine in the library. My mischievous hand was clasped by his well-jointed and exceptionally clean fingers. The moment I looked up, I fell into a pool of deep blue water. His name is Lin Yu, and he is an isolated island hanging at the top of the report card. I am a stubborn rock sunk at the bottom of the mud. A ridiculous "help plan" pinned us to opposite ends of the same desk.
Honey.
The tip of my tongue rolled over this rusty word.
It turns out that the heart-burning love when I was young ended up burning more than just my youth.
We gnawed at each other in the blood, rust and muddy tears, thinking that we could prove that we were alive, but we only carved deeper and more painful marks of decay on each other.
And growing up is to watch the moss swallow up the young man who once fell in love with you in the dust of the library.
Eternal decay is the only eternity we have learned.
Intention: Beautiful love??