Pastel Colours

Day0921:00

When Song Ran woke up, it was completely dark.

The street lights of the residential area are like the dark moss attached to the foot of the tall building, casting a sporadic gleam, not illuminating the floating twelfth floor. The bedroom curtains were closed tightly, blocking any ray of light from passing through, and the whole room turned into a huge cage out of sight, tightly closed, dark and dull, and locked the people inside.

After the nightmare, the body temperature that was suppressed by the drug was out of control again.

Songran sat up with difficulty, only to feel that a ball of fire was spreading in his chest, his stomach was tumbling, and the slightest movement caused a strong nausea. A lot of sweat soaked my pajamas and hair, my skin was sticky, and my breathing was hot flashes.

He touched the edge of the bedside table, touched the cup left by Zhan Yuwen, and took a sip. The water was so cold that it dripped through the burning throat, barely letting the exhaled heat drop by a few degrees, and then jumped up again very quickly.

The bedroom was silent, and through a door, he heard laughter in the living room.

It was about Zhan Yuwen and Lin Hui playing with Bubu, a little game that you chased after me, making Bubu bounce and have fun. Songran held a water glass in his hand, sat alone with his knees bent, and lowered his head in silence.

He felt jealous and panicked.

This room is really too dark, too much like the cell in which he was imprisoned in a nightmare-the nightmare is still repeating, and he is isolated again, listening to the laughter and laughter outside, but cannot join it due to illness. Fever makes emotions more sensitive and thinking easily goes to extremes. Songran broke a glass heart and couldn't help thinking, Zhan Yuwen and Lin Hui, one is a family doctor hired by Mr. He, and the other is a kindergarten teacher who graduated from the subject class. If they perform better, would they ever be able to Boob doesn't need him anymore?

He still has so much love that he hasn't given, and Boob has changed someone to take care of, so who can his love...

He is real, really wants a child.

Just then, the familiar Pikachu march rang. Song Ran's hands trembled, and a small glass of water was spilled.

It's nine o'clock.

Mr. He called.

He heard the noise in the living room soften, and Boob picked up the phone and yelled "Pull" softly. Both sides chatted in small pieces, topics about chickenpox, dinner and games. Boob chatted happily, and Lin Hui and Zhan Yuwen next to him also interjected two sentences from time to time. The atmosphere was so relaxed, just from the tone of voice, one could imagine the picture of the living room at this time.

Light tones, clear and bright lights, with cats, flowers, and paintings. Colorful picture books are scattered around, the coffee table is decorated with his own hands, and three pairs of cotton slippers are tilted by the sofa. Bubu was resting on the adult's lap, his brows and eyes curled, everyone was smiling.

Songran put down the water glass, hugged her knees and hid in the darkness, slowly tucked up ten fingers, and wrinkled the pajamas fabric.

He knew what he was waiting for.

The heart beats fast, bang bang bang bang, ringing chaotically inside the chest cavity. The ears were occupied by the messy buzzing, the more I wanted to hear the movement in the living room, the more inaudible. As time went by, Song Ran finally couldn't wait any longer. He lifted the quilt and got out of the bed, walked to the door, and put his ear on it.

He heard the lively "Nutcracker Overture"-the call has ended, and Bubu's favorite "Cat and Mouse" is playing outside.

Songran retreated to the bed silently, got into the tortoise shell, covered his ears, and buried his face in the pillow.

Mr. He didn't remember him, he hung up the phone after chatting with Bobo. He didn't even remember Bobo carrying a small tail behind him.

It's fine to say a word, even if... even if you just call your name.

Songran smashed a pillow, softened her waist, turned over on her back, and lay flat on the bed weakly.

He thought he was somewhat different from Mr. He compared to the relationship between the employer and the nanny, and the relationship between the neighbor and the neighbor. He likes to chat with Mr. He every day, so he saves others by himself. He naively thinks that Mr. He also likes to chat with him, so that he feels that half of the love call every night is for Bobu and half is dedicated to him.

Turns out... Is that just a polite greeting from the employer to the nanny?

Don't want to admit it.

Because of the extra feelings poured into, so wishful thinking is so ashamed to admit.

The next second, the phone under the pillow vibrated in time.

Songran looked like he was pierced with adrenaline, opened his eyes swiftly, and took out his mobile phone with lightning speed. The screen in the dark was dazzlingly bright, and he subconsciously frowned, resisting the urge to vomit and looked at the contact's name.

He Zhiyuan.

These three words were like a rope tied around his waist, instantly pulling him out of the bottom of the abyss. Songran fell to the ground with a big rock in her heart, closed her eyes relaxedly, and the phone fell back to her pillow. The sorrow and joy fell together, and the awakened grievance was too late to dissipate, making the corners of his eyes slightly wet, his throat choked, and he did not dare to speak when he was connected.

In the silence, the heavy breathing caused by a cold was particularly pronounced.

"Song Ran?" He Zhiyuan asked in a low voice, "Are you okay?"

"..."

Song Ran silently.

He Zhiyuan paused, then asked: "Did I wake you up?"

Songran then replied in a melancholy way: "No."

"You don't sound very energetic... Is the fever still uncomfortable?"

"Neither." Listening to his caring tone, Songran felt warmth flowing over his body, unconsciously curled up the corners of his lips, hugged the bedding tightly, and said, "Mr. He, I'm fine."

After speaking, he suffocated and asked: "You called Bobu just now, why didn't you call me?"

He couldn't help thinking in his tone. When He Zhiyuan heard it, he immediately understood where the frustration had come from. He couldn't help but smiled lowly: "Are you unhappy about this?"

Songran was ashamed and resolutely denied it.

He Zhiyuan explained: "I asked Bobu, and he said that you are still sleeping, and I don't want to disturb your rest."

Song Ran was taken aback, and blinked blankly.

Is it such a logical reason? Then he burned his mind before, and he was thinking about something messy!

"No, it's not right!" He tried to find a trace of contradiction from the coma, "If so, why are you still calling me now?"

He Zhiyuan smiled: "I'm afraid you didn't actually sleep."

Song Ran: "...Huh?"

"I mean, I'm afraid you are waiting for my call. Of course, it's not just you." He Zhiyuan said warmly, "Songran, we haven't spoken for a day, haven't we?"

With a smile in his voice, he brought a little bit of intimacy, and almost opened up the ambiguity of the last layer of veil. Songran's defense was too low at this time, and he inadvertently slapped him, his bones were crisp, his cheeks were hot, and a mosquito yelled softly, like a little wife.

Too... too embarrassing.

He Zhiyuan asked him whether he was recovering well. He was a little dizzy with happiness. He rolled back and forth two laps under the bedding, and against the high fever of 38°C, he was full of nonsense. He said that he recovered extremely fast and was the fastest in the universe. , Guaranteed to run for one kilometer tomorrow.

He Zhiyuan twitched his mouth: "Don't give me a brace, Zhan Yuwen will have to see you for at least two days."

"Oh." Songran covered his face and took back the arrogant arrogance, "Then I will run again in two days."

He Zhiyuan: "..."

While chatting to the point of excitement, Song Ran suddenly remembered something, and his comfortable stretched posture froze halfway: "Mr. He, Zhan Yuwen said, you...have you checked my medical history?"

"Correct."

Songran raised her throat with a heart, and asked with a guilty conscience: "Besides chickenpox, have you seen anything else?"

He Zhiyuan looked down and answered honestly: "Yes."

He knew what Songran was referring to.

The electronic medical records of the Welfare Institute in T City are quite old-fashioned, shooting page by page, and then making pdf files in sequence. He Zhiyuan got Songran's medical record and wanted to check the chickenpox record, but he didn't expect to see a line of eye-catching words on the first page.

Severe obsessive-compulsive neurosis.

Age at diagnosis: six years old.

For the first few seconds, he was really stunned, failed to connect these eight characters with Song Ran, and turned back to confirm the cover. The child's name on the cover is clear, it is Songran.

The description of the condition is very perfunctory and scribbled, which can be regarded as irresponsible. The effect is that this child is extremely sensitive to consecutive numbers. Whether he hears or sees it, he is prone to stress reactions, and will go along without eating or drinking or sleeping. After the count, no one could persuade him until he was exhausted and fell into a coma. If the number is wrong in the middle, it will easily lead to severe anxiety, emotional breakdown, and often crying and twitching all over the body.

He Zhiyuan paid special attention to the fact that the date of diagnosis of obsessive-compulsive disorder was only a few days away from the date Songran entered the orphanage, which means that when Songran was admitted to the hospital, his mental state was already very unstable.

He remembered the way this big boy laughed, his teeth were white, his dimples were deep, and his eyes were always shining like the dawn of six o'clock, without a trace of haze.

Unlike in the medical record.

He Zhiyuan understands that what is recorded in the medical record is Songran's 17 years ago, which seems to be completely separated from the present, and his sensitivity, irritability, and unwarranted inferiority are the cause and effect of that childhood experience. .

He found the answer and wanted to trace Song Ran's growth.

"Songran, I saw the first page of the medical record. It said that you had obsessive-compulsive disorder when you were a child." He Zhiyuan changed a slightly relaxed attitude and comforted him, "Obsessive-compulsive disorder is not a serious disease, many people have it. Some of the friends I know like to clean up the room, some like to step on the grid when walking, and some must eat fries at intervals. Everyone..."

"I'm different, I'm different from others." Songran interrupted him aloud, smiled bitterly, and said very softly, "Mr. He, you haven't seen me sick. It's scary, really Yes, I won't lie to you."

He looked at the dark and boundless ceiling, with his fingers hanging in the air, his fingertips trembling slightly unconsciously, and he drew an Arabic numeral in the air, then quickly clenched his fist, clenched his five fingers, pinched them into the flesh, and prevented it from moving.

Not possible.

There is no end, you know there is no end.

Faintly, a large number of out-of-order numbers popped up again, and they came to mind, densely packed, like giant schools of scales shimmering from the waves during the migration season. They were arrogantly lined up in a row, collectively screaming sharply, at first it was just a vague shadow, and then it became clear, trying to arouse his long-suffering desire.

Thinking of counting the past one by one, from the beginning, counting to the end of infinity, as if the promise he made in his childhood could still be fulfilled, the man he had waited for seventeen years was still somewhere far away, ready to turn back at any time.

"Mr. He, if you are not busy, let me tell you a story. About me, and my illness, it's very short."

Songran stretched out his hand, fumbled for the rabbit doll he gave to Bubu, and took it into his arms. The rabbit is chubby, with soft and warm fur, and light chestnut color. You can use raw brown to add ample amount of water and paint on a large area, or you can use a No. 0 pen to refine it one by one.

Color, shape, temperature, texture... He likes all sensual things, because they have nothing to do with numbers, so they are safe.

He hugged the rabbit doll tightly, until the figures that invaded his mind were driven out by the patron saint, he whispered: "I have always wanted to find someone to talk to, but I can't find it. I don’t have anyone close to me, I think Yes, but not...for more than ten years, I can't forget it, and it can't be cured. If I don't say it, I will be suffocated..."

He was talking slowly, his voice was light and without tears, but it was like a layer of rain, which was heartbreaking.

He Zhiyuan wanted to give him a hug and give him some practical comfort besides words. It was only 10,000 kilometers apart. He could do nothing, only relying on his voice.

"Say it, I'll listen." He Zhiyuan said, "Just as if I'm by your side, holding you from behind."

"it is good."

Song Ran nodded, folded his arms in front of his chest, stroked his shoulders, and gradually tightened, as if he was really being hugged from behind.