Piano, pause.
Singing, pause.
The whole concert hall sank into a heavy, suffocating silence. Dead center in that quiet, Jack Young squeezed his eyes shut. Every emotion was written on his face—jaw locked, pain twisting his features, barely able to breathe. Then he snapped his eyes open, bloodshot, staring straight at someone in the crowd.
You—you—how could you do that!
How can you be so chill, so natural, so totally unfazed when you say that?!!
How can you just pack your clothes, sort your travel suitcase, and drop that bombshell at the same time?!!
How can you, with just one throwaway line, smash all my pain, my knots, my stubbornness—how can you just rip my heart to shreds like that!!!
"I... also... like you."
Yeah, that's what I said back then. Held it in forever, finally blurted it out. My voice shook, but I said it. If I hadn't, maybe I'd never say it, ever. But in that moment, with everything swirling, I just couldn't fake it anymore—couldn't keep up the act!
"You..." The girl fumbled for words, but they weren't kids anymore, weren't students. She didn't freak out, just paused her packing, back to him, voice steady but soft: "Honestly, I thought you liked Maggie Monroe."
"She's my friend, a good friend. But with you—it's not friendship, not family, not some fuzzy border. Qi Xi, listen to me." Right now, was his heart happy? No, it was more than happiness. Way too many emotions, too much bottled-up stuff, and even if it didn't burst into tears, his voice was already shaking. He had to use every ounce of strength just to get the words out:
"I, Jack Young, as a man, like you—as a woman. From the first time I saw you, until now, always, always, I've liked you."
He saw the girl turn around.
He saw her eyes go wide.
He saw her eyes redden.
He saw tears well up in her eyes.
Why these tears? Who are they for? How much heartbreak, how much helplessness, how much... sting is in those tears?
He didn't know, and frankly, he didn't want to figure it out. For the first time, he reached out—lifting his hand, gentle, warm, and wiped away her tears. And as he brushed them away, those tears fell forever into the bottom of his heart. Like a drop of water landing on a pond, sending endless ripples, stirring up a well of memories too deep to see the bottom.
"This is the first time I've ever confessed in my life." He dropped his hand, suddenly grinned, feeling a rare bit of relief: "Turns out, it doesn't feel so bad. So, tell me—was my first love a win or a total flop?"
"Partial success, I guess." She couldn't help but laugh too, then shook her head and sighed: "So... what do we do now?"