When the blind date is 5t5

The shoulders were pressed, and the silver hair belonging to Gojo Satoru gently brushed against my cheeks, and suddenly there was an itchiness mixed with numbness that could not be ignored, hitting me.

The sound of the heartbeat gradually accelerated, echoing clearly in the ear like a drumbeat.

I felt like I was nestled in the arms of a big cat. It took the initiative to restrain its bad temper, lowered its proud head, and acted affectionately to me.

The wife fouled!

As a human being, how could it be possible to refuse the overtures of a big cat?

I resigned myself to depravity and asked in my heart.

Even, I want to insert/insert my fingers into that fluffy and soft hair, like rua cat, rua balds him!

Just when I was thinking like this, my body had already taken action.

The fingertips are like the wonderful touch described in the shampoo advertisement, smooth without a trace of roughness.

I suddenly came back to my senses, and glanced at him furtively. Seeing that Gojo Satoru didn't respond at all, I couldn't hold back for a while, and touched him again.

In the next second, he grabbed the bag.

Gojo Satoru pinched my ready-to-move right hand, and then pressed his thin lips against my ear.The warm breath spewed out on the earlobe, instantly igniting a series of fiery heat.

"If you provoke me again, I can't bear it anymore." He said, rubbing the slightly protruding bone on my wrist with his fingertips, the strength was not heavy.

More flirting than warning.

This sentence came to my ears clearly, and I understood its special meaning without thinking, and my brain suddenly froze.

His eyes moved to one side as if avoiding, and he didn't dare to meet his pair of blue eyes that seemed to see through everything.

Under this ambiguous movement, the body trembled silently and excitedly.

After a long silence, I choked out a sentence: "You put me down first."

Gojo Satoru didn't answer, just grabbed my waist with both hands, and turned me around in a half circle with ease.

The original face-to-face movement suddenly turned into a back against his chest.

The contact area is getting bigger and bigger!

After realizing this, I frowned, and a sense of crisis suddenly emerged in my mind.

I subconsciously supported the leather sofa with my hands, trying to jump off his lap.

However, it didn't work out.

As soon as I got up, Gojo Satoru put a ring on his hand, and quickly pulled me back.

After that, he was firmly shackled by him, unable to move at all.

The second softest part of his body hit his hard thigh, and the feeling was no different from falling directly to the ground.

I couldn't help but gasped, and then the pain was so painful that I almost burst into tears, "Can you take it easy?"

As soon as this sentence came out, I felt even more wrong.

Behind him was Gojo Gojo's hoarse and magnetic laughter, I bit my lip and gradually shut myself up, wishing I could lean forward and crash my head on the coffee table to death.

"Yes," he replied jokingly after laughing for a while, "next time I will be more careful and gentle."

No, don't think about next time.

I was thinking angrily, and I was so sad and angry that I didn't want to talk to this bastard at all.

After this encounter, I completely lost the possibility of snatching back the diary.

The hard shell of the diary collided with the coffee table, making a crisp sound.

This diary is almost as thick as half a dictionary, and it contains my memories of nearly 20 years.

Gojo Satoru opened it, and the first side that came into view were two childish oil brush paintings.

On the top is a family of three.I saw a little girl who was tied up, she was holding her parents with two hands, and her happy smile could be seen on her simple and rough face.

The bottom one is a little girl holding a little boy, surrounded by big colorful flowers.

Seeing this, I quickly covered half of my face. The exposure of the black history made me feel so embarrassed that I began to sit on pins and needles.

The atmosphere became inexplicably stagnant.

Almost 5 minutes later, the diary is still spread out on this page.

what happened to him?

Isn't it just two paintings at the level of kindergarten children? As for looking at them for so long?

I was puzzled, and turned slightly to the side, trying to peek at the man behind me from the corner of my eye.

He seemed to be possessed by an evil spirit, those blue eyes stared at the second half of the painting without blinking, as if he had seen something that surprised him beyond belief.

"Mr. Gojo?" I tried to wake him up.

Anyway, it has come to this point, stretching and shrinking is a knife, it is better to let him read it quickly, and end this embarrassing posture as soon as possible.

Gojo Satoru heard my call, he came back to his senses, and turned to look at me with complicated eyes.

"Who is the little boy pictured here?" He asked, with some expectation in his tone.

I blinked, not understanding why he was asking this question.

To be honest.

In fact, I don't know who is painting on it, and I also don't know when I painted this oil pen painting.

If it weren't for the ugly and cute painting style consistent with the above, I would even suspect that it wasn't made by me.

Thinking of this, I honestly shook my head and replied: "I don't know, I don't remember either, maybe it's a playmate I knew when I was young."

Hearing this reply, I keenly caught the flash of disappointment on his face and the sound of his breathing getting thicker.

After a moment of silence, he raised the corners of his mouth, and his expression returned to his previous laziness.

"Okay." He said, flipping the slightly yellowed paper with his fingers.

From the second page onwards, there is a long paragraph of beautiful fonts.

It doesn't look like what I wrote.

[February 1996, 4, sunny.

Today is Xiao Feiniao's third birthday, and I bought her favorite strawberry cream cake.

As soon as I got home, this little guy ran over and stared eagerly at the cake box in my hand, very cute.

Today's dinner is this cake, I hope she won't wake up hungry at night.

After making a wish and blowing out the candles, Xiao Feiniao looked up at her immature cheek that was very similar to yours, and asked me in a childish voice: Where is Dad?Why not come and see her?

I fell silent.

How should I tell her that you have fallen.

Chunhe, I miss you. ]

Gojo Satoru turned over calmly.

The following dozens of pages were filled with my mother's handwriting, and she recorded every bit of what happened to me from the age of three to five in a gentle tone.

Of course, it includes bedwetting, falling down on a wooden horse, crying and crying after not eating strawberries, and so on.

And this part of the content, I have read it countless times, and I can almost recite them.

I looked at Gojo Satoru with a wooden face.

In the end, it turned out that he was watching with gusto.

From the next page, the diary is filled with crooked fonts, and the content is nothing more than what mom bought for food today, what new Barbie dolls do you want mom to buy, what animations you want to watch...

Until April 4, the joy between the lines disappeared.

[January 1999, 4, overcast.

When I got home, my mother looked at me a little strangely. ]

[April 1999, 4, Xiaoyu.

My mother asked me to treat a strange uncle, but I didn't know how to do it.

The first time my mother scolded me, she was very fierce.

I cried all night, and she didn't come to me either.

I decided to hate mom for a day. ]

[April 1999, 4, moderate rain.

My mother asked me to treat that uncle again, but I still couldn't.

Mom became so terrified that she locked me in the room alone.

Very hungry and dark, my stomach is growling. ]

[April 1999, 4, moderate rain.

In the morning, my mother suddenly beat me with a wooden stick.

Back hurts, hurts, hurts.

What the hell happened to mom?Give me back my original mother. ]

[April 1999, 4, heavy rain.

I finally learned to treat it, but my stomach still hurts.

My mother told me that when I grow up, I want to be like my father.

But I have never seen my father. ]

Gojo Satoru turned the pages faster and faster, his brows seemed to be covered with a thick layer of frost, and even the temperature in the air dropped a lot.

Is he angry?

I thought in confusion.

[April 1999, 7, heavy rain.

I was scolded by my mother again.

She said that I was a waste, that I killed my father when I was born, and she should not have conceived me if she knew it.

Oh, it turned out that I killed Dad. ]

[April 1999, 11, heavy rain.

Mother became addicted to smoking.

The room was always filled with smoke, and I couldn't help coughing.

I shouldn't have made a sound, my arm was burned by cigarettes again, and there was a smell of burning barbecue. ]

When I turned to this page, I suddenly found that his fingers holding the diary were trembling, and there were a few more wrinkles on the yellowed paper.

This scene fell into his eyes, and suddenly some unknown emotion began to flood in his heart.

As if someone could finally hear the grievances for many years, my throat gradually choked, and I stretched out my hand, and slowly pressed it against the back of his ice-like hand.

It was astonishingly cold.

Gojo Satoru held me with his backhand, as if he was afraid of breaking me, even the strength of the hug was much lighter.

"Does your arm still hurt?" He rarely asked seriously.

"It doesn't hurt." I replied softly, but I still didn't dispel his desire to see my arm.

The sleeves were pulled up bit by bit, and the fair skin was exposed to the slightly cold air, and the arms were clean without a trace of scars.

Only a simple seven-pointed star is printed near the shoulder.The lines are clear, three are black like ink, and the other four are silvery white.

I looked down at it, and a thought quietly flashed in my mind.

Another black.

After examining the arm, we return our eyes to the journal.

Later, it was discovered that the diary time jumped directly to 1999 from December 12, 31.

A full year was lost during this period.

Gojo Satoru rubbed the joint of the diary, then asked thoughtfully, "Did someone tear this place?"