Ethan Young held back his urge to punch someone and said, "This idiot in front of me named Henry Howard is the first one."

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51. Chapter Fifty-One

After Ethan Young finished speaking, Henry Howard didn't say anything for a long time.

This fool probably never expected he'd still be standing here in one piece. Usually so dramatic, now he was like a mute, just pinning him against the door and staring at him.

He didn't know that at this moment, Henry Howard was thinking to himself, Damn, these fireworks have gone off for several rounds already, why aren't they done yet.

Ethan Young's wrist was still being held by him. He couldn't help but struggle a bit: "Have you stared enough?"

""

"No."

Hearing Ethan Young's voice, Henry Howard finally snapped out of it, the corners of his mouth involuntarily curling up bit by bit, and finally he smiled, repeating, "I haven't had enough."

That sentence from Ethan Young, "You started it," was originally supposed to be followed by: If you just think it's novel, just for fun, I don't have time to play with you.

He wasn't sure what Henry Howard's feelings really counted as, so he instinctively protected himself, almost passively wanting an answer.

He even thought Henry Howard would back off.

But Henry Howard didn't.

He said he was serious, the kind of like that wanted to date him.

Ethan Young felt like he'd been infected by Henry Howard, the corners of his mouth started to rise too, and he couldn't press them down, looking completely silly. He simply turned around, opened the door, and was about to leave: "I'm heading back."

Henry Howard didn't stop him, but after he took two steps out, Henry Howard called after him: "Ethan Young."

Ethan Young opened the door, turned around and leaned against the doorframe, looking up at him.

Henry Howard wasn't done yet, calling him again.

Ethan Young was getting a bit annoyed by his calling, wanting to say, "Are you summoning a ghost or something?"

Henry Howard stood at the door across the hall—he was wearing that black jacket, the zipper only halfway up, looking all flashy, and Ethan Young just now noticed that today he had even quietly put on his earring.

Henry Howard said, "Nothing, just getting familiar with my boyfriend's name."

This sentence sounded familiar, like he'd heard it somewhere before. Before Ethan Young could remember, Henry Howard said again, "Take care of me from now on, boyfriend."

He remembered.

It was the first day of school, Henry Howard was sitting in the last row, and called him in the same way, then lazily said: Just getting familiar with my new deskmate's name, take care of me from now on, deskmate.

Now these two sentences came out of Henry Howard's mouth again, but "deskmate" had become "boyfriend."

It was a strange feeling.

Like they'd gone in a circle, and ended up here.

After Henry Howard finished, the two of them stood at the doorway, staring at each other for a long time.

It felt a bit like when a couple is on the phone, saying "Good night, I'm hanging up," but neither of them actually hangs up, just stupidly listening to each other's quiet breathing.

"You should go in," Henry Howard said, "Go to bed early."

Ethan Young turned and went inside, closing the door.

After returning to the dorm, Ethan Young took a shower, then did a few sets of practice papers. He thought he wouldn't be able to concentrate, but once he started working out problems on scratch paper, it turned out to be fine.

He picked a few questions, finished them, flipped the page, and after roughly going through all the subjects, he looked up from the sea of problems and realized it was almost eleven o'clock.

When he closed his eyes to sleep, he could feel his heartbeat still hadn't calmed down.

Before falling asleep, the last thought that floated up in Ethan Young's mind was: Shit, I'm in an early relationship.

The next day, Manager Jensen's morning broadcast was right on time, never late, never absent, waking up all the boarding students with his voice: "Students, it's a new day again, are you happy?"

As soon as Manager Jensen started, someone was already groaning under their blanket: "Ah—heavens—"

"Inhuman—"

"Why does life treat a weak and helpless child like me this way?"

Completely unaware of the misery in the dorm building, Manager Jensen was still immersed in his motivational speech.

"Midterms are coming up, are you all a little excited? This isn't just an exam, it's also the day you reap the fruits of victory. Now get up, get up! Those who want high scores!"

Ethan Young held out for a while, but really couldn't take it anymore. He stuck his hand out from under the blanket, groped around for a long time but couldn't find his earplugs, so he pulled his hand back in.

The hallway was starting to get lively.

Amidst the commotion, several voices called out "Bro Henry," Henry Howard greeted everyone, walked to the door across the hall, and knocked: "Old Young, are you up?"

His answer was Ethan Young flinging his alarm clock at the door, which bounced off and rolled on the floor twice.

Henry Howard: ""

Someone nearby saw it—mainly because this scene played out almost every day—and even more bizarre, Henry Howard never got mad, always squatting at the door in a good mood, waiting for the guy inside to get over his morning grumpiness and open the door for him. So they couldn't help but ask, "Bro Henry, does Ethan Young in the west dorm always have such a bad temper every morning?"

"Yeah," Henry Howard smiled, "Isn't he cute?"

That person left, doubting whether he'd heard wrong. Did Bro Henry say "cute"? Or does he just not know what "cute" means?

After about two minutes, Ethan Young finally got up to open the door for Henry Howard.

Henry Howard hadn't slept all night. After Ethan Young went back last night, he first deleted the string of "ah ah ah" from his signature, then didn't know what to write, so he typed another string of "ah"s.

Then he stared at the ceiling until two or three in the morning.

All he could think was: Ethan Young is his now, his little one.

As soon as Henry Howard came in, he flopped onto the bed. Ethan Young leaned against the door, watching, not knowing what was wrong with this guy—he had his own bed but insisted on coming over to take his: "Didn't sleep last night?"

"Went to bed after three," Henry Howard half-opened his eyes, then asked, "Are you still sleeping?"

Ethan Young said, "You took my bed, how am I supposed to sleep?"

"Boyfriend," Henry Howard scooted over, making some space, "Come up."

Ethan Young bent down, picked up the alarm clock, and threw it at Henry Howard again.

On the radio, Manager Jensen was still going: "Getting up early is a really good habit. Take me for example, I like to get up at five thirty, breathe the air outside the window, and you'll find life is so beautiful at this time."

""

Before opening the door, Ethan Young had hesitated for a while. They'd just confirmed their relationship, and he hadn't gotten used to it yet—this brand new relationship, this person, this idiot, from today on, was no longer just someone else.

Something had changed, but it also felt like nothing had.

He didn't know how other people dated, and those anti-examples from Ray Jones didn't count.

He'd thought it might be awkward, weird, or uncomfortable, but as soon as this person showed up, all those thoughts disappeared.

Henry Howard, the eternal latecomer, for once wasn't late.

First period Chinese class in the morning, Thomas Thompson gave praise, hoping Henry Howard would keep it up, then called out Wanda: "What's up with you, why are you late today?"

Wanda drank too much last night, woke up with a headache and really couldn't get up, but he definitely couldn't say it was because of a hangover—if he did, his parents might get called in. So he racked his brains, trying to remember how Henry Howard usually made up excuses for being late, and finally blurted out, "It's like this, teacher, this morning, classmate Sean Parker from Class 8 had another episode."

Henry Howard: ""

Ethan Young: ""

Everyone who went to the birthday party yesterday: ""

And the absent Sean Parker from Class 8: ""

"His, uh, that illness," Wanda forgot what it was called—the name was so long, who could remember—so he got stuck halfway, "that stomach—"

Henry Howard prompted from the back: "Chronic non-atrophic gastritis."

Wanda nodded repeatedly: "Yeah, yeah, that's it."

Thomas Thompson trusted his students, especially since Wanda usually behaved well and had never been late before. As for Sean Parker, that illness really had flared up many times, so he said, "You did well, you should help classmates in need. But really, that little classmate in Class 8 needs to take care of his health, why is he always being sent to the infirmary every few days—"

Cold sweat broke out on Wanda's forehead, but he sat down, disaster averted.

Luke Carter and the others buried their heads in their arms, stifling their laughter.

Just then the bell rang for the end of class. When Old Tang left, they burst out laughing, getting more and more over the top: "Hahahahahaha, Class 8's Sean Parker, awesome, Wanda, you're really something."