“I like seeing you a mess like this, Will.” He turned, revealing his smile—the smile that had always been there for me. When we first met, his smile had been like ice in an ice storm: solid and unbreakable. But look at his smile now. It was so sweet to me.
“You always make me a mess, Che. And why did you leave just like that without telling me? The celebration wasn’t even over yet. And look at you, leaving in that dress? Didn’t a single person hit on you? And who was the man dancing with you earlier? And why didn’t you call me?” “Are you done with your questions?” “Huh?” He let out a small snort and looked away from me, but I held him there until I was looking into the blue beads of his eyes again. “I... I don’t know why, but it hurts so much right here.” I pointed to where my heart was, giving him a crooked smile. A tear slipped down, soaking my face for what felt like the hundredth time today. I covered it with my fingers, which were trembling faintly. Then a pair of strong arms pulled me into his embrace, and he gently stroked my head.
“Everything's never going to be okay, Will,” I stammered through the sobs enveloping both Will and me. All of this felt so heavy. All the dreams I had slowly woven with Will were fading away like snow melting in spring. Snow would return, but it would never be the same snow. All those hopes were empty and pointless. “You know I’ll always love you and be by your side, Che.”
I nodded and pulled away from his embrace. The sadness was also clearly etched into his exhausted-looking face. “I’ll always belong to you.” “That won’t be easy, Will.” Silence fell between Will and me again. I gazed at the city of London, which was always bustling, whether it was night or morning. Even in the middle of the night like this, plenty of teenagers wandered the streets, simply taking walks or getting up to other kinds of mischief. I watched the reflection of my face in the window: my makeup had been rubbed off in several places, revealing my face beneath its natural makeup; wispy strands had escaped my bun; and my swollen eyes clearly reflected my pain. I couldn’t bear to look at those eyes. The eyes were the windows to the soul, and through them I could see the hurt I was feeling right now.
“Che, we should go home.” I turned and stared at Will, my emotions boiling over. “Are you crazy? You want to take me back to the house where those two people are enjoying their first night together?” He looked startled, realizing he had made the wrong suggestion.
“Okay, okay. We’ll go to my apartment. Stop making such a big deal out of it, Che.” “I love you, Will,” I whispered softly, unsure whether Will had heard me.
Will’s black Mini Cooper tore through the streets of London at high speed. Maybe he was tired of being on the road and wanted to get some rest as soon as possible. I felt the same way, but even with Will’s jacket wrapped tightly around me, I could still feel the biting cold. Spring might have arrived, but London’s chill always made the tip of my nose turn red. After some time, we finally reached the basement, and Will opened my door. Then he gently took my hand and led me to his apartment on the fifth floor of the building in the city center.
As soon as the bedroom door opened, the nighttime view of London would delight anyone who looked out through the enormous window stretching along one side of the wall. As far as I knew, Will had chosen this room himself, and I knew a room with a view like this must have drained his wallet. But Will’s side job as a photographer could more than comfortably support his life. It would be more than enough if you also considered his mother—who was now my mother too—a private-school vice principal in London.