Winston bit down hard on his lip; tears kept streaming from his eyes, falling onto his arm.
He seemed determined not to make a sound–his jaw clenched tightly, his silence unbroken.
If Dalton hadn’t looked down, he probably wouldn’t have noticed that Winston’s face was soaked with
tears.
He could feel the grief radiating from Winston’s body;
It was thick, heavy in the air, dragging his own mood down with it. Dalton stopped talking; suddenly, he didn’t want to ask anything anymore.
He didn’t want to ask what Winston had gone through, or why he was crying.
He just sat quietly beside him–just stayed there.
Pretending not to notice he was crying.
In the end, Dalton sat with Winston in that park all night long.
From evening until morning.
He called his parents himself and said he’d be sleeping over at an old friend’s place; that was how he covered it up. Of course, he’d already arranged things with the friend.
He also threatened the bodyguards, warning them not to say a word about what happened that night.
Maybe it was because Dalton had sat outside with him like a fool through the whole night-
That this cold, distant guy named Winston actually spoke to him on his own.
“You should head home,” Winston said quietly in the early morning, turning his head to look at him.
There were still dried tear stains on his face; his eyes were like cold moonlight, filled with a sharp, icy detachment.
“What about you?” Dalton softly asked.
“Of course I want to go home,” he answered calmly. “But I was worried about you… That’s why I stayed here…”
Winston pressed his thin lips together and said nothing more; he stared into Dalton’s eyes, deep and unreadable.
After a while, he spoke again, cool and indifferent. “I’m going home too.”
Dalton’s eyes lit up instantly. “Really?”
Winston nodded without emotion. He added, almost with a trace of irony, “Where else can I go… other
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