On that winter night in my senior year, the fried chicken that we shared became the sweetest and most bittersweet chapter in our story. Now, time has made her my ex, but the memory of that night remains the most precious treasure in my heart.
At that time, we had already chosen different courses and had few opportunities to sit together in the same room. Although we were assigned to adjacent classrooms, my longing for her was everywhere, like the morning mist. I remember it was winter in 2021, bitterly cold. Although we both stayed overnight at school, she secretly brought her phone to school, just to bring a little surprise and happiness to these peaceful days.
One evening during self-study, she quietly came to my classroom and asked me with that look that belonged only to us if I desired a taste of the "extraordinary". Surprised and excited, I quickly nodded in agreement. She left with an elusive smile, without saying a word. Later, I found out that she had actually sneaked into the restroom and ordered takeout using her phone.
That night, when the bell rang, we sneaked into the darkness of the school like two sneaky cats, avoiding the gaze of the duty teacher. In the cold wind, we laughed and played, and even the biting cold of winter couldn't hide the joy in our hearts. Finally, we arrived at the designated delivery location with trembling hands. However, fate loves to play tricks, and we happened to encounter a patrol car just as we were about to pick up the food. Carefully, we avoided the security guard on patrol, pretending to stroll casually until the guard left, and then finally turned back and got the box of hope.
After getting the takeout, neither of us dared to stay any longer, afraid of encountering the security guard again and afraid of catching a cold. We hurriedly returned to the teaching building and found an empty classroom where we hid in the darkness. Because we were afraid of being discovered, we didn't even dare to turn on the lights in the classroom. In the dim space, we carefully opened the bag, only to find a pair of gloves inside. I wanted to split them evenly so that we could each wear one while eating, but she politely refused. "A single layer of gloves may not be able to prevent the oil from seeping through. Just wear both gloves on one hand!" she whispered to me, her warm breath caressing my slightly reddened face in the cold and quiet classroom. With this arrangement, I put on the gloves, picked up a piece of fried chicken, and carefully searched for her lips in the blurry light, delivering the first bite to her. In the darkness, I tried my best to recognize her face and gently brought the fried chicken to her mouth. That gesture may have seemed clumsy and full of tenderness to her. Whenever I think back to that scene, my heart is filled with mixed emotions, wondering how she felt.
Although I tried to accurately deliver the fried chicken to her mouth, the environment was too dim, and her cheeks were occasionally unintentionally smeared with sauce by me. Of course, she didn't suffer any losses either. My hand was often accidentally bitten by her, causing me pain, but at that moment, this pain was mixed with a hint of warmth. Putting aside all the sentimental words, this may be because my fingers were slightly swollen from being bitten by her teeth.
That fried chicken gave us both stomachaches the next day. As we accompanied each other on the way to the infirmary, we decided to leave a negative review for that takeout restaurant. To be honest, the taste of that fried chicken was nothing special. The greasy sauce was too thick, and for me, it was almost a burden. From placing the order to its arrival, it took a long time, and those tens of minutes of waiting, in the cold night wind of the northern country, had already caused the fried chicken to lose its original warmth, let alone become warm.
However, in my memory, it is still the best fried chicken I have ever eaten in my short twenty years of life. After all, it was a small taste of freedom that we secretly pursued during the stressful days of our senior year. It was not just a simple fried chicken dinner, but a period of youthful years that we shared, filled with small rebellions and secret sweetness. Hand in hand, in a dark classroom, we shared a secret dinner. At that moment, even though she accidentally bit my hand, the pain in my heart transformed into an indescribable sweetness.
Today, even though she has become my ex, the memory of that night remains as clear as yesterday. In the journey of youth, we accompanied and shared with each other, even though we eventually went in different directions. The memory of that night will forever warm my heart.
This article is synchronized and updated to xLog by Mix Space.
The original link is https://nishikori.tech/notes/3