The writer is a well-known web writer who falls in love with his male fans.
The fan is a college teacher, often crouching under the writer's update code long comments, a mixture of familiarity, the two through the signing will be a hasty meeting in the background.
Before parting, the writer said to him.
"I want to open a new pit, and the protagonist is me and you."
The writer is the same, and he finally found his lover.
The writer loves the teacher very much, and whenever he has time, he rubs his class and watches his lover shine on the podium. After class, he tucked the teacher into his car and kissed him, bullying people enough to be willing to leave, the teacher was very shy, and only silently accepted everything the writer gave him, including love.
Their love was finally exposed.
The writer's account was stolen, and the intimate photos that were hidden in private were left unprocessed and spread on the Internet. In this era, their love is not a rare thing, but due to the sensitive identity of the teacher, this matter is still fermenting in an irreversible direction.
The teacher who was in class was suddenly called away by the counselor, and his mobile phone rang frantically, like a hypnotic spell, but he did not have time to look at the screen before he was taken away by the accompanying counselor.
After a few hours, the teacher finally answered the phone.
The writer said in a trembling voice.
"I'm sorry... I am sorry... I will protect you, you believe me. ”
"It's all right, honey." The teacher's voice was calm.
But in fact, tens of minutes ago, the teacher was taken to the principal's room, where a group of leaders stood with solemn expressions.
The teacher stood on the stage, looking at the black pressed people below, someone had already set up a live broadcast, and there were people from the city TV station in the crowd.
"I'm sorry that happened."
The teacher cleared his throat, and the eyes below swept toward him like searchlights.
"I'm sorry, not because I fell in love with a man, but because I was a teacher, but I didn't teach people how to respect others."
When the teacher was forcibly escorted off the stage in a cry of surprise, he smiled at the TV camera, he knew the writer was watching, he wanted to tell him.
Don't worry, we work together and everything will get better.
But the writer did not see this scene, and he was taken away as soon as he arrived home.
This level is half a year.
When he came out, his beard was pulled, but his eyes were still bright, and when he saw his friend who had come to pick him up, he greeted him and asked.
What about the teacher? Didn't the teacher come?
The friend pursed his lips.
"He's gone."
The teacher simply locked himself up, and he turned a deaf ear to the wind and grass outside the door.
He was going to wait for him to come back.
Finally, one day, he hallucinated.
He saw the writer return and sat on the windowsill waving at him.
"Come, hug."
Later, the writer wrote the ending for their story, and in the book they were white-headed and full of children and grandchildren.
Outside the book, he swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills.
The writer didn't go to the man who reported him.
He went back more than twenty years, broke into a delivery room and strangled the newborn baby, and the woman on the delivery bed, who bore a slight resemblance to him, lost her voice and screamed, and then he was subdued by the crowd.
That way, they won't meet and there won't be a later story.
The teacher can be an ordinary person, get married and have children, and live a healthy life.
Thinking of this, the writer lost his voice and cried bitterly, he felt that he was floating lightly, and he was going to mix with the air around him, and the god of death stood behind him, waiting to harvest the souls of the world's likes and dislikes.
For the last time, they looked at each other and laughed.
"At least, I'm not going to kill you."