double autumn

When I arrived at the auditorium at dusk, although the hall was empty, there were already several people on the stage, several speakers were placed in a mess, and the sockets and wires on the floor were in a mess.In a moment of silence, someone called my name, so I walked over, and the sound of plucking the strings resumed its original state and sounded again.

The person waiting for me stood in the corner, and behind him stood a few plastic stools and a strong drum with a broken skin in the corner by the window.She took off the scarf and piled it up, put it on the stool, then took her backpack from me, and the meal I brought for her.She seemed to think I should just buy her a bucket of instant noodles, but she said nothing.She told me to wait here for her a while, and then went straight behind the unrolled curtain on one side of the stage.

I had never been in an auditorium at this time, so as I endured the hazy darkness, I couldn't help but wonder when the lights would be on.At the same time I was fascinated by the people on stage—but not so much the people as the plugged-in guitars and drum kits.Those people should be second-year students, and I should be called seniors.But they didn't talk to me, didn't even notice me, so I didn't think it was necessary to make a sound, so I hid under the stage, on the edge of the stage, and looked up at them quietly.

They turned on the flashlights of their mobile phones to illuminate the speakers on the ground, and plucked the strings to tune.On the side of the stage, an old teacher was also cleaning and adjusting the piano with a flashlight, and occasionally made a few piano sounds that were not in harmony with the strings.I didn't see the number of those seniors clearly, there were about seven or eight, and some of them didn't hold musical instruments in their hands.I stood under the stage for a long time, and noticed that there was a special figure among them—thin but tall, stretched straight from the shoulders to the neck and back, the trouser legs were tucked into black short boots, and the coat was knee-length (The version is tough), and a light-colored scarf is wrapped around the neck, which is the thin kind.Hair is longer than normal boys.

He may be someone I've heard of, someone I've seen, but I don't know him.My eyes were drawn to him, and I couldn't look away.Maybe it's the kind of guy I always find in crowds, maybe he reminds me of someone—but then I'm sure he's just attracted to me, I just can't take my eyes off it.I have an intuition that he will be a look that satisfies me and comforts my curiosity and vision, and is "the sum of beauty and art in the world".I looked at him, but it was too dark.

Suddenly he raised his hand and tied his hair back.I hoped that other people's lights would shine on his face, but their lights kept sweeping in our direction.The glare pierced my eyes, and the darkness nearly blinded me, but I kept looking at him, always looking at him.I can only see him alone.

"Su Mo."

She didn't know when she jumped down from the back of the stage, holding a box in her hand, "Is this the box you left at my place last time? I haven't touched it, it's been there all the time. Look, is there any?" Something is missing."

"Later, don't worry. Put it away first." I answered her absent-mindedly, took the box, turned around and put it against the corner of the wall.It contains some very important things, including my handwritten poems and sketches from three years ago.But it doesn't matter now, sitting in a corner like an abandoned child.

Suddenly, the moment I turned around, the hands of the watch jumped to six o'clock, the lights on the stage suddenly lit up, the first drumbeat fell, and then everything opened up: the lights on the roof of the auditorium turned on one by one, the strings of the guitar When the sound is swept out, it is no longer the music of unsatisfactory fragments when tuning, but the complete piece of music.

So I turned around in a hurry, ran to the edge of the stage, and tried to find his face. "I didn't catch the moment when the stage lights up to see him..." He was blocked by a guitarist, but occasionally his profile was revealed.I saw that he is indeed the sum of "worldly beauty and art", but it is different from my imagination. He seems to be more special and different than the face I expected, with some more prominent features.His eyebrows are raised, his eyes are slender and attractive, the protruding part of his nose is slightly curved, his lips are very thin, and the corners of his mouth are so sharp that they can be drawn into a line. The line of his jaw is clearly exposed from the scarf, and there is a black mark on his ear bone. hoop earrings.I have worn that kind of stud earrings, but I was very uncomfortable when I first put them on. Because they are dropped, they will hit the skin when I walk.

He cuts in at an appropriate drumbeat, hands in his pockets, eyes intently on the drummer.The music was too loud, and I couldn't hear what he sang, but his expression was indifferent, like frost in late autumn outside the auditorium.He raised his forefoot and stepped on the wooden floor of the stage.After a gap, he took his hand out of his pocket, put it next to his face, and took a deep breath.

At this moment, I had the urge to take off his scarf, touch his throat with my cold fingers, kiss him, on the side of his neck.I think if he smiles at me, he will only smile at me alone.When I asked him, he would tell me everything about his past life.

And the practice of a song ended soon, and they started again in a very tacit understanding.I also touched the strings of the guitar, and thought how romantic and romantic it would be to form a band, but I gave up later because I lacked perseverance.I still looked at him, my eyes swept over every inch of his face ambiguously.

He is indeed "the sum of beauty and art in the world". I think he is beautiful because he reminds me of something that I have forgotten or buried deep in my heart.And because of this, I think he is art.Such beauty is rare.I just hoped to have an appearance in line with my imagination, but his eyes rolled down the stage, with a chill, like a clear spring, which brought me even more unexpected happiness.

They only practiced a full three times before being interrupted by her.The time that belongs to them tonight is less than before. I wonder if they will practice here in other nights, and how much will they practice?She jumped onto the stage and waved to me.I looked over her shoulder as he rolled up his sleeves and joined forces to move the speakers backstage.There was a horrible scar on his left forearm. I recognized it at a glance, it was scratched by a knife.So I smiled, smiled at her, nodded and said:

"let's start."

But right now I have only one thought left: I want to kiss that scar with my lips.Gently, reverently touch his skin.

During the campus singer competition, I sat in the first row and quietly got a program list from the judges and teachers in the front row.I don't know who those names are, but I have a hunch he's coming.

Someone danced, and when they stood upside down, the hem of their clothes fell down, exposing the muscles of their abdomen.Someone had changed into a dress and put on makeup, and I seemed to have seen her before, but I couldn't recognize her at this time.I should have seen all of these people, but I never had the impression.I sometimes feel like I'm living too much of myself.The people on stage are already familiar to the audience.

Then he came on, bowed, and said his name.I heard his voice for the first time, but I couldn't catch what he said.So I lowered my head to look for the program list and compared them one by one, and finally confirmed his name after hesitation.He starts singing.It's also the first time I know his singing voice.Like his eyes, his singing is like a mountain spring, like the bright moon shining on the rocks among pine trees.Under the spotlight, his appearance is clearer. He is wearing a well-regulated school uniform, buttoned to the last button, his shoulders are strong, his wrists are exposed from the cuffs, and his hand is holding the microphone, as if holding me and tightening my hand. heart.So every time he sang a word, my heart would tremble heavily.

"If it was an accident, would you come?"

His eyes fell to my body, but for a moment, I almost lost my life.

"If this is another kind of injury, do you want to come?"

"want."

Before I could think, I spit out the word softly without thinking.Immediately afterwards, cheers like a wave gradually overwhelmed me from back to front.Countless answers came from people's hearts, even though they, like me, never knew his name.

I just realized he wasn't looking at me.He held up his hand, and I caught a glimpse of a small tattoo on his wrist.I think, if it hurts, I will come too.Even if it hurts, I will go to his side regardless of everything.

I knew that the moment I knew his name, there were countless ways to know him.Turn on your mobile phone, go to the alumni group to ask, you can get his social account immediately, and then send him a sentence "Hello, I like your singing very much", he will politely answer you "Thank you", and then ask who you are.If he doesn't know him, stop here.I think there will be many people who will introduce their names to him, or maybe none.I don't want to gamble.I wonder about his past, but don't want to offend.I know that after this, I will have nothing to do with him, I will choose someone at random, and all the beauty and art I think will bear his shadow.

But I believe in destiny, even if I can't forget him, I will always be thousands of miles away from him.He didn't know I existed, he didn't know that someone in the crowd was over before it started.In the future, there will be countless people around him, and I will withdraw from those people.

After the game, she came up from the back row to find me. "Let's go," she said.I looked back at the screen, No.3, Qi Yan.It suddenly occurred to me that he was the person who was reported and criticized when I first entered school. In order to protect a strange girl who was bullied in the same school, he fought in a small bar across the street from the school gate. hospital.So I turned around and smiled at her and said let's go.

What the world considers "beauty" is harmony and purity.That kind of beauty is too much, and he, only I realize it, he is an art that belongs to me alone.De Botton wrote: "The things we find beautiful are just another version of the people we love." He will always remain in my heart with his beauty.And I will also use him as a blueprint to shape my perception of beauty.

But my love can only be broken, I deeply love everything that is as gloomy as him, so I can only keep silent.