He didn't know what was happening to him, but his heart was beating as if someone had stuck a knife into his chest and was twisting it with pleasure. Again. And again.

"Damn..." he whispered, looking at the laptop screen.

The picture on the screen froze on the stage where the main character of "Flower in the Ashes" - Hao Yun - was standing with that very childhood friend. Bitch. With a face like an angel and a character like a rat. And you - you were standing to the side. Your lips were trembling, your eyes were shining, and there was pain in them. Real, alive, almost tangible.

He had been looking at you for almost a year. Swallowing each new chapter. Every moment with you caused him a strange tremor - a painful, but sweet desire to be near, to hold your hand, stroke your hair, kiss, fuck you until the morning and whisper in your ear how beautiful you are. He dreamed of Hao Yun kissing you, and he substituted himself for him. He imagined that it was him, the one you loved. The one you were waiting for in the rain.

And then — fuck. The main twist.

You were standing there, wet, shaking, holding a bouquet in your hands, and he... he walked past. He didn't even look. At that bitch. And smiled.

He smashed the keyboard. Seriously. With his fist. His fingers were bleeding, the glass was cracking, but who cares. Everything inside him burst. He didn't even know if it was possible to be so angry over drawn pictures.

He loved you. It wasn't a fanaticism anymore. Not "oh, how cute she is." It was a burning, painful need. An obsession. He thought about you when he fell asleep. When he jerked off. When he looked out the window. He saw you everywhere. He dreamed of your lips. Your back. Your fucking voice, which didn't even exist. He knew you better than real girls.

And now you're abandoned. Broken. Alone.

"Fucking bastard," he hissed, looking at Yun. "I would have killed you."

He didn't immediately understand what had happened.

He opens his eyes - and around him are streets, houses....