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inuris/于尔目中

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After the age of 25, your friendship and love are completely dead, if they ever existed at all.
Let's not get into the rights and wrongs, whether it was the year you were blamed and being expelled from the program or the accident in your early 20s that led to you not getting your diploma.

Let's go back to the beginning.
Were you really friends, for how long?
When did you realise that there was more to you than that, and how many times did the word love make your heart sink?
You're a person who is willing to go along with things, so along that most people don't know you at all. You could even point your finger at the other person's nose and say this if you wanted to. But if this person is Olivier, then you're lying. You know all the shit that goes on with each other.
To your peers who don't have their own opinions, you look like Olivier's heel in your teens. In the eyes of those who love you, Olivier is the one who should be erased. As for what in Olivier's eyes, they were an overly pure blue. You saw the blue, so you accepted it, and it covered your crimson heart, leaving what resembled a navy blue, dirt-like scar.

Once in a while, or many times, you thought that this life of yours could be given out. At the same time you felt that the odds were that it would not even be accepted. And how much of this self-interest of yours was out of your disobedience to your human instincts?
The frightening thing is that you may be thinking the same thing today.

At the age of 20, you cut Olivier off in a text message. That phone also snapped in half one day when it landed on the lavatory floor. All you remember now is that it contained a picture of his sideways face with a slice of bread in his mouth.
You can pick up a kite that has been broken by a tree during a wretched run, even if no one says to anyone: For you, a thousand times over. Six months after you broke up, you resumed contact, still at your own initiative. After that you hardly kissed each other anymore, and the word love was no longer in your conversation.

At the age of 28 (when you hadn't seen each other for three years), Olivier came to you for help. It must have been the last time. You looked at the shocking scar on his beautiful face and suddenly felt some pity for him. Something had happened to him and he needed to get out of the country as quickly as possible. Then you "got married", in your sister's name.

On the day of the secret registration, Olivier wore a red tie and the plainest of suits. You drove that day, he and your sister in the back seat, you talking to your sister, and in the rear-view mirror he looked out of the window in a rare sight. Blue. Green. Grey.

In the orange and scarlet sunset, you leaned against the railing of the rest stop and smoked without words.
Before the sky turns dark blue, it's just the two of you. You fucked him that night, his forehead pressed against the yellowing wallpaper of the motel, without saying a word. There was no flattery to please, let alone the mischievous caprice he might have had in the past. The air in the room just seemed to hang with ghosts from the past.
As you sink into the mattress, you see the new tattoo he added to his inner thigh at some point and just cringe.

You went places that month, picking up lost words, as if you suddenly remembered that the other person actually knew you best in the world.

In the Sahara, Olivier gets down on one knee, kisses your knuckles and puts a ring on your finger.
He gets misty-eyed in the sand, then ducks down and lets you blow air into his eyes. When the discomfort is relieved he smiles, the curve of his eyes reminding you of yourself.

Golden sand, blue tears.
Navy blue scar.

Chapter Text

25岁以后,你们之间的友谊与爱就彻底死掉了,如果它们真的曾经存在过的话。
不去讲是非对错了,无论是那年你“咎由自取”地被逐出那个项目,还是20岁上下那个导致你没拿到毕业证的意外。

回到最初吧。
你们真的做过朋友吗,做过多久?
你是什么时候意识到你对他不止于此的,而爱这个字的份量多少次让你的心脏往下沉?
你是个愿意随和的人,随和到大多数人完全不了解你。如果你愿意的话,你甚至可以指着对方的鼻子说这句话。但如果这个人是奥利维耶,那么你就是在撒谎。你们知道彼此的所有烂事儿。
在那些没有主见的同龄人眼里,十几岁时的你看起来是奥利维耶的跟班。在爱你的人眼里,奥利维耶是那个应当被抹去的人。而在奥利维耶眼里的,是一片过于纯粹的蓝色。你看到的是蓝色,所以你接受了,它没过你深红的心脏,留下的是一块类似藏青色的,像污垢一样的疤痕。

曾经偶尔,或者说很多次,你想过自己的这条命可以给出去。同时你又觉得,它甚至大概率不会被接受。而你的这种自作多情又有多少是出于你对人性本能的忤逆呢?
可怕的是你也许今天也是这么想的。

20岁的时候,你在短信里向奥利维耶绝交了。那台手机某一天也啪地落在盥洗室的地上摔成两半。现在你只记得里面有一张他衔着面包片的侧脸照片。
在狼狈的奔跑中被树挂断的风筝可以拣回来,哪怕没有谁对谁说:为你,千千万万遍。绝交半年后你们恢复了联络,依然是你主动的。那之后你们几乎不再亲吻彼此,谈话间不再有爱这样的字眼。

28岁的时候(当时你们已经3年没见面了),奥利维耶来找你帮忙。应该是最后一次吧。你看着他美丽的脸上那道触目惊心的伤痕,突然有些可怜他了。他发生了一些事情,需要尽可能快的离开这个国家。然后你们“结婚了”,以你姐姐的名义。

秘密登记结婚的那天,奥利维耶打了红色的领带,穿着最普通的西装。那天是你开车,他和你姐姐坐在后座,你和你姐姐聊天,后视镜里,他罕见的看着窗外的风景。蓝色。绿色。灰色。

在橙与绯红色的夕阳里,你们靠着休息站的栏杆无言的抽烟。
天空变成深蓝色以前,只剩你们两个。那天晚上你上了他,他的额头贴在汽车旅馆发黄的墙纸上,一句话也没有说。没有献媚讨好,更没有过去他可能会有的那股顽皮任性。房间的空气里似乎只是悬着来自过去的鬼魂。
当你们陷在床垫里,你看到他大腿内侧不知道什么时候新添的纹身,只是感到恶心。

那一个月里你们去了很多地方,拣回了一些失落的话语,好像突然想起了对方其实是世界上最了解自己的人似的。

在撒哈拉,奥利维耶单膝下跪,亲吻你的指节,为你戴上戒指。
风沙中他被迷了眼睛,矮下身来由着你帮他往眼睛里吹气。不适被缓解以后他笑了,眼角的弧度让你想起你自己。

金色的沙子,蓝色的眼泪。
藏青色的疤痕。