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Not a Psychologist

Not a Psychologist

Yet

Kiss you a thousand times

Miss the many, many kisses we shared.

On the second night we met, there was a storm. He opened up a corner of his heart that had long been untouched by light, experienced a panic attack in my arms, thinking it was a corner where no one would be willing to love him. I couldn't pack up and solve his pain, but I was willing to touch his hair and tell him I had no intention of leaving. That night, or rather in the morning, I didn't know what time he fell asleep, I only knew he drank a lot, smoked a lot, after chatting with my dad, he called his parents and friends.

The next day, I woke up after noon, and he was still asleep. I planned to go out for a walk, but he couldn't move, so he asked me with his mouth, how he tortured himself all night and still looked so energetic. I said, are you torturing yourself or me? I wrote a note for him, then went out, went to a building where artists gathered for creative work, wrote a poem while walking and sent it to him. After the walk, I went into the adjacent Uniqlo store.

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The three floors of that Uniqlo store had a lazy sofa area that was so comfortable. I called Sky, then called Su, and waited for Yuan to come find me for dinner. Soon after Yuan arrived, he finally got up and came to Uniqlo to find us. While video chatting with Su, Yuan, and me, he bought the Heattech thermal underwear he had been wanting. Then the three of us went to dinner, with Yuan leading the way, holding my hand from behind, showing that we were close friends who could hold hands tightly.

After dinner, it started raining, he took off his jacket and gave it to me to shield from the rain, and we roamed the night in Paris. Later, when the rain stopped, I was still wearing his jacket, we revisited midnight Paris. Holding hands all the way, telling a lot of silly jokes, sharing freshly fried fries at a kebab shop, singing "Don't look back in anger" from the background music. We only held hands, no kisses, but looking back, it felt like he was already breathing in my heart.

On the fourth day, we had Hainan chicken rice for lunch. When asked "separate bills or together?" at checkout, I secretly felt happy, our intimacy was so hidden and rich. We went out, held hands, went to see the exhibition he had been wanting to see, and I forgot which street it was, we started kissing. We had an unspoken agreement, kissing outside of "home" would only be gentle lip kisses, lasting less than a second. There was no specific trigger for the kisses, sometimes just talking about random things, then suddenly looking at each other and wanting to kiss.

Our kisses were scattered, unevenly distributed in every moment we shared. They weren't filled with too much desire, but rather represented acceptance and affirmation, making me live mindfully in the moment. When we parted ways at the subway station, he kissed me, and I kissed him back, that was our way of saying goodbye. I knew we would continue to coexist, with warmth in our hearts, no pain.

Two days have passed in the blink of an eye, I find myself thinking of him at many inexplicable moments, my brain commands: now he would kiss you. Then I can't help but raise a smile.

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