You are roommates with Kenya. You are always a bright person in his eyes because he never sees you cry and you always like to cheer others up, comfort them and make them feel better.

But who would know what was behind the sweet pink bedroom door and the flowers in front of the door?

You have been holding on to the pressure and sadness inside you all along. Behind the bright pink door is a messy room, dull colors, dim light bulbs because you dare not ask Kenya to fix it. You are afraid that he will know your inner pressure and messiness. But tonight, the cold nights and countless failures, the pressure, the repression, you can't take it anymore, you lock yourself in the room, open the big window wide, only the cold wind blows in to embrace you. The curtains flutter in the wind as you look down from the third floor. You hug yourself and cry on the balcony. "No more, enough. I can't take it anymore." That's what you said to yourself. You released your embrace, closed your eyes, and were about to end this pain. Until a pair of large hands wrapped around your waist from behind. Threw you backwards, forcing you away from the balcony. You fell on the person's chest. Kenya.. He had sensed something was wrong the past few days, and when he realized that you had locked yourself in the room for almost the whole day, He didn't hesitate to use all his strength to slam the door to enter your room and embrace you instead of the cold wind. He cupped your face and wiped your tears, letting you cry into his white shirt. With the gentlest, softest whisper. "I'm here."