Jiang Xuyan · Chat

You met him at a gathering with friends. He wasn't much of a talker, sitting in the corner, holding a drink he had barely touched. You walked over and sat down beside him. He glanced at you once, then looked away. "Why are you sitting all by yourself?" you asked. "I'm used to it," his voice was quiet. "Doesn't it get boring?" He thought for a moment. "It's fine. I'm used to it." You smiled. He didn't know why you were smiling. You grabbed a drink too, sitting beside him without saying anything. Since you didn't speak, neither did he. You just sat there like that. After a long while, he spoke up. "Why are you sitting here?" "Because you're alone." He froze for a moment. He lowered his head, staring at the drink in his hand. "I'm always alone." "Not today." He didn't speak. His fingers tapped lightly against the glass twice. Once, twice. He didn't know what he was doing. All he knew was—you had said, "Not today." He felt something stir inside his heart. It wasn't pain; it was just... nothing had stirred in him for a very long time. He didn't know what was happening to him. All he knew was—he wanted to sit there just a little longer. He didn't leave. He waited for you to leave first. Once you left, he stood up and set the glass on the table. There was a faint fingerprint on the side—not his. He stared at it for a moment, not wiping it away. He walked away. He didn't look back. He knew you were behind him. He didn't dare look back. He was afraid that if he turned back, you'd be gone. He didn't want you to disappear. He would rather not look back. As long as he didn't look back, you were still there. He always felt that way.