Guess who I am

What to do next?

Jacob didn't know how to answer.He kept going back to the bulletin board, trying to answer the letter, but he just... didn't know what to say, or couldn't say it.Indeed, he was annoyed that the whole thing was a game—and it wasn't just about him and Mr. X, it was about everyone else.But this is not the real reason for his difficulty in replying.

The truth is, he doesn't care that only one of those three needs to rent.He likes his Mr. X quite a lot, and it's okay to be a roommate.

Unless, there are other problems.Because his feeling for his Mr. X is not only "very fond of", so what about sharing a room with him?Will this change their relationship?

He stared at the blank yellow note on the small table in front of him.With 10 minutes to go before the next class starts, people flock to the learning center and Jacob watches them move, talk, laugh, hug, drink coffee, kiss...

He gripped the pen tightly, resting the nib on the paper, then sighed, packed up the paper and pen again, and took them away.

He repeated this action no less than ten times a day, and walked towards the bulletin board.

There was an extra—short—note from Mr. X, which made his pulse beat wildly.

***

J,

It's been two days.Is it over?

If yes, I can also understand.

Again, I'm really, really sorry.

***

No no no no.

Jacob took out the pen and paper again, trying not to think too much about it.just write.

***

Mr. X,

Now I... I should be angry, but I'm not.

do you know?There was a little question in that sticky note you had two days ago that's stuck in my head.you say:

What will you do next?

What a good question.I haven't been able to reply for several days, just because how do I answer this kind of question?It runs in my head all day (and all night).I went to class, and suddenly found out that get out of class was over without listening to a word.All I can think about is what you left on the bulletin board and what I want to say to you.Is it to joke with you cheekily, to scold you, or...to say something else.Like answering your question well, but I can't seem to get down to writing.

So, no, not in the end.Far from it.But what will become of us when I find out who you are?

I do not know.

***

J,

Thank goodness.You wrote back.

I miss you.

Also, sometimes a little whiskey can solve a writing bottleneck.

***

When Jacob got home, he found two things waiting for him on his porch.A bottle of whiskey, and Scott.

Scott sat on the bench, frowning at the bottle in his hand, staring at the blue label on the neck. "Who's Mr. X?" he said, looking up at Jacob.

Very good question.But not one he wanted to discuss with Scott.He took the bottle away, smiled in his heart at Mr. X's familiar scribbled handwriting, and wrote: "To help you solve your writing bottleneck, and to say sorry again."He opened the door of his house silently, put the wine in, and turned to Scott again.

"What are you doing here?" Jacob asked, but judging from the camera equipment on the bench and in the porch beside Scott, he already knew the answer.

"It's evening. The sun is down, and I think we should move on to the next part of the interview," Scott said, barely looking up at him.

As a result, he hardly dared to look at him from the time they moved the bench to the chosen spot in the garden to the time the arrangement was completed.Surrounded by red clouds on the top of the mountain in the distance, Jacob asked: "Is it possible that I could have changed something back then? So that you would never leave?"

Scott looked up suddenly, looking from his own folded hands to Jacob's face. "No!" He continued to stare at him for a moment, sighed, and glanced to the sidewalk. "I mean, it's not something you can change. Not because of anything you did. You've always been the old Jacob, the guy I fell in love with."

"So, why did you leave me? I don't understand." Jacob folded his arms and hugged himself tightly, waiting for Scott to...to come up with a plausible explanation for all of this.

"We dated when we were only 14 years old. We were too young, and we are still young. It's not that I don't love you anymore. It's just that I want to know what 'love' really is. I want to explore myself a little more, to Determine if you are the love of my life. I think, maybe I was wrong in the end, but I can't say I love you more than anyone else in the world without even a little bit of experience to prove it."

Jacob's jaw dropped.Hearing Scott say this... His tone seemed sad too. "Have you found your answer? Do you now know the true definition of love?"

"No."

"Obviously not, Scott, because at the end of the day love is like faith. You may not fully understand it, but if you want it to be true, you have to believe it."

Jacob turns off the camera. "I think I've done enough filming today."

Scott left in tears, and Jacob had just closed the door, rubbed his face with his hands, and picked up the bottle of whiskey.After hearing Scott's words, he was very sad, but he also felt indescribably... relieved.Because... because the anger he had been simmering at him all this time seemed to disappear.It seems to have been completely extinguished.Now he only feels sorry for Scott.He hoped that perhaps clearing up the misunderstandings like this would allow both Scott and Jacob to go their separate ways and move on.

Jacob looked at the bottle in his hand. Mr. X's signature.He smiled and read the note again.He has to move on, doesn't he?

He opened the whiskey bottle and got rid of his writing bottleneck too...

***

Mr. X,

That whiskey is delicious!Wow, although the alcohol is a bit strong.I only drank a little, as you suggested, but it seems like I need a half bottle before I can stumble back to school, pick up this pen, and write you back.

Hahaha, this pen is so fun, it’s all silver.

Wow, the paper is spinning a bit, I hope you can see it when the time comes.

Mr. X! ! !I miss you as well.Special thought.Whenever I close my eyes, I see a guy with no face in a "Planet Bowel" t-shirt.I wanted to look up into his eyes, but I couldn't, because that's when the picture was messed up, you know?Because, who are you?Am I supposed to be imagining Mr. Macho's high cheekbones and wanton smile?Or the charming dark brown eyes of Mr. Shy?Or Mr. Philosophy's alluring smile?It feels wrong to pick any of these because all I want to see is you, Mr. X.So I just stare at that t-shirt, and sometimes at your neck under that scarf, because that's all I can identify (visually).

You know what I want to do when I find out who my Mr. X is?I wanted to tell him I was wrong.I'm one of those "kiss it and make it up" types because that's all I want to do to you.kiss me.make it up to me.God, I need so much compensation.

Now, while I still have the guts, I'm going to staple this piece of paper.

Good dreams.

***

No sooner had Jacob stapled the note in place than the alarm bell rang, warning anyone still in the building that it was time to lock the doors for the night.With a drunken grin and a blissful mood, he left his notes and the building behind.

***

The next morning, Jacob woke up with a splitting headache and his phone vibrating.Did he set the alarm clock?Is he an idiot?

Sleepy-eyed, he rubbed his eyes and turned off the cruel wake-up call.He had just turned over, with one leg curled up in the warm blanket in the morning, when suddenly the memory of last night—especially the note he wrote—came into his mind.

He jumped out of bed and cursed.What was he thinking, getting drunk and writing that!Oh my God.He prayed that Mr. X hadn't made it to the bulletin board yet.

Putting on yesterday's jeans and a T-shirt—because they were the fastest clothes he could find—he grabbed his car keys and backpack and ran out of the house.

He quickly stopped the car, rushed to the bulletin board, and found——

***

J,

I really had a good night's dream!Thank you for your drink message.Thank goodness I got here before you sobered up and realized what you wrote.I keep this sticky note in my purse during the day and tuck it under my pillow at night.This note will be kept close to me for a long time, and I will not let it leave me for half a step.

But are you sure you want to kiss me?Even if I'm the most introverted person?Even though I love to philosophically analyze all topics?Even though I may be nothing more than pompous?

By the way, the reason your pen is silver is because you are using a pencil.

–X

***

Jacob took the note down and read it over and over.He was still blushing that Mr. X had read his note, but that embarrassment had been replaced by other emotions.Better mood, peace of mind.He uttered the truth after drinking, and even wrote it out.Now, uh, now they presumably have taken a new step.The phrase "pressed under the pillow at night" brought him a sudden pleasure, which stayed in his lower abdomen, and made him swallow hard.

Yes, he was glad that Mr. X had come before him.

He wrote back with a pen, a smile on his face.They just talked like this for a day, and he was happy all day.Until Mr. X's last message.

***

X,

I won't kiss any of them.I want to kiss you.The one who makes me happy, makes me frown, makes me sleepless, and makes me have a big smile, you who almost can't close my mouth from ear to ear.

And what will you do when I find out who you are?

***

J,

I will kiss back.

Then compensate you until we're both satisfied -- even if it takes a long time.

(And when we get to know each other well enough? You know, I'm going to keep following you. And I hope you're following me. We're going to get really good at following each other.)

–X

***

X,

Come and meet me.

(follow me!)

(Get ready, I'll be following you too!)

***

J,

Wait until you decide who you want to be your roommate.

-X

***

X,

Why wait?

***

J,

Because I love this game.

***

Jacob frowned at the note.

-TBC-