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Youth is always like this—
Long and difficult, wild and unrestrained, spending every ounce of energy to laugh loudly and cry openly, until utterly exhausted.
Annie lifted her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to lift the corners of her tired mouth into a slight smile.
"Really?"
She wasn't confident.
A hint of a smile appeared in Anson's eyes. "You've been doing great all along, haven't you noticed?"
Annie didn't believe him.
Anson said, "I'm serious."
"Look at yourself. You're still attending school, while also beginning to think about your acting career…"
Before Anson could finish, Annie shook her head lightly. "It's too hard to balance school. I've been considering taking a break. As for my career, I haven't figured anything out yet. I'm just worrying about it for nothing."
Anson: …
Seeing Anson speechless, Annie couldn't help but chuckle, her gloomy mood slightly lifting.
Anson's mouth curved into a helpless smile. "Alright, scratch that. Let's start over."
Annie was stunned. "You can do that? Life isn't a video game where you can just load a saved file."
Anson shrugged. "If I say we can, we can. Who says we can't?"
Annie was at a loss for words.
Anson continued, his expression sincere. "What I mean is, your sensitivity, your attention to detail, your honesty, your openness—you've always been trying to take care of everyone around you, even when it's not necessary. This heightened awareness of the world is both your strength and your weakness."
"You're trying to be perfect. Whether or not you achieve that, it's the persistence and effort that matter most."
"So, you've been growing, constantly transforming, in your own way."
Suddenly, Anson's gentle yet powerful words struck Annie's heart, and the walls she'd built around it began to crumble, piece by piece.
Annie reminded herself to stay guarded, to hide her vulnerability and inner turmoil.
But she couldn't.
Her eyes, unblinking, locked onto Anson's deep, bright blue gaze, her heart racing uncontrollably. Annie swallowed hard.
"Why…" Her voice was slightly hoarse. "Why are you always so open? So honest that no one can resist."
Anson hadn't expected such a response. A smile crept onto his face, like a rainbow in the early summer afternoon—soft, faint, but still vibrant as it stretched across the sky. "I'm always trying."
"We all have too many secrets. They could be scars or pain, guilt or weakness, all carefully hidden beneath masks."
"The older we get, the more secrets we accumulate. Eventually, we become someone even we don't recognize."
"I don't want that."
"So, I'm trying."
Annie stared at Anson's eyes in a daze. "Then, do you have secrets?"
Anson shook his head gently. "No, I still have secrets. Don't get me wrong. I'm not a good person. In fact, I'm a selfish, ruthless bad guy. I'm just… trying to be honest with myself."
Pfft.
Annie couldn't hold back a laugh. "You, a bad guy?"
Anson said, "Of course. Look, I realized that the sequel to The Princess Diaries was probably going to be a disaster, so I found a way to escape, leaving behind a mess."
"Hahaha." Annie couldn't stop laughing and nodded. "Alright, I admit it. Now everyone says I was the one who kicked you out of the sequel."
Anson placed his hands over his chest. "They must've sensed my heartbreak."
"Haha." Annie couldn't hold back anymore, her smile blooming completely, without a care for how she looked—
But this time, she didn't seem to mind.
Yet, under Anson's gaze, she couldn't help feeling a bit embarrassed and toned down her smile, returning to her usual reserved demeanor.
"Wait a minute…" Anson said.
Annie's heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay calm. "What is it?"
Anson motioned to the corner of his mouth. "You've got a crumb, right here on the left side of your mouth."
Annie didn't believe him. "No way. You've already seen me drooling before, so a little chip crumb doesn't count for much."
Anson laughed, "You sure? You're okay going out like that?"
Annie's eyes widened. "You're not playing a prank, are you?"
Anson spread his hands, looking completely innocent.
Annie panicked a little, wiped her mouth, and then glanced at Anson for confirmation.
Anson motioned again to the corner of his mouth, "On your right side, at the corner."
Annie grew flustered. "Your right, or my right?"
Anson said, "Yours."
Annie wiped again, but Anson was still shaking his head, which made her suspicious again. "You're sure this isn't a prank?"
Anson raised his hands in a surrender gesture.
Annie hesitated, wiping at her mouth while looking up at Anson, seeing her own reflection in his bright blue eyes.
And then, to her surprise, she actually spotted a shadow at the corner of her mouth. Letting out a small cry, she quickly wiped it away.
It took her a moment to realize she had just been using Anson's pupils as a mirror to check her reflection, and the thought left her stiff with embarrassment.
But when Anson noticed her stiff movement, though she had wiped off the chip crumb, her hand, still greasy from the chips, smeared some oil on the corner of her mouth. Anson raised his right thumb and gently wiped it clean from her lips.
Wait, this action…
The roughness of his thumb against her soft skin created an intimate spark, like a jolt of electricity between their skin.
Instinctively, Anson tried to pull his hand away, but the static kept their skin briefly connected, leaving him momentarily stunned.
As he lifted his eyes, they collided with Annie's focused gaze, and in that moment, time seemed to freeze, with all the noise disappearing.
Like magnets, their gazes intertwined, drawing them closer and closer. Instinctively, they slowly fell into each other's eyes.
Anson's thumb, still resting near her lips, unconsciously drifted toward her lips, gently feeling the warmth and trembling they held.
Before either of them realized it, their breathing had become tangled, and the sound of their racing hearts pounded louder and louder in their ears.
Closer.
And closer.
"…I've gotten used to it. No matter what time we schedule, he'll always be late. I think he's deliberately avoiding physical therapy. Maybe he needs counseling too, or else…"
The sound of voices drifted in from the doorway.
Whoosh.
Suddenly, Anson and Annie were dragged back to reality, both quickly shifting their gazes and turning their heads away. This time, the static between Anson's fingers finally broke, and he pulled his hand back smoothly.
Both of them, like kids caught whispering in class by the teacher, sat there with innocent expressions, looking out the window, pretending nothing had happened. But their overly deliberate actions—avoiding eye contact and conversation—only made it more obvious that something had.
And that, in itself, was adorable.
Like the teacher who couldn't bring herself to scold the students, barely able to suppress a smile, it was clear to anyone watching what had just transpired.
The room seemed perfectly normal, except for the fact that there were only two people in it, and both were avoiding eye contact, as if trying too hard to hide something.
Is this what you call subtle avoidance?