The tear that had been held back still fell with a plop. Ethan Clark wiped it away with the back of his hand. “But I watched for a long time. I’m not completely clueless. You all think I don’t understand.”

Hearing this, the sales assistant standing nearby couldn’t help but speak up. “It’s true. The first day the little guy came, I also thought he was just playing around, but he came three times in a row, spent a long time picking, and only paid on the last day.”

When he took the money out of his backpack, he counted it carefully three times.

The sales assistant looked at Ryan Cooper. “He was very careful about it.”

Ryan Cooper fell silent. He could never bring himself to watch Ethan Clark cry his heart out while stubbornly making decisions he thought were right, so for now, he didn’t return the gift. Ethan Clark took it as him being willing to accept the present, and happily went home with him.

That night in the room, Ryan Cooper sat at his desk. Under the desk lamp, the watch face glowed with a gentle luster. He held the price tag and examined it for a long time, planning to return it himself the next day.

Before bed, he wanted a glass of water. Halfway down the stairs, Ryan Cooper saw Ethan Clark curled up in their mother’s arms watching cartoons, a lollipop in his mouth, pointing at the commercial for the Little Genius kids’ watch on TV. “That little watch isn’t as nice as the one I gave my brother, right, Aunt Grace?”

“Of course. The one you bought is the prettiest—none of these can compare.” Grace Miller patted his head and asked, “Lele, why did you want to buy your brother a watch?”

Ryan Cooper stopped in his tracks.

Ethan Clark took the candy out of his mouth, his tone very serious, like a little grown-up. “We used to be together every day. If I went down two floors, I could find my brother to play. Now he’s in middle school, at a different school, and I miss him a lot, so I let my little watch keep him company.” He raised his empty wrist, his voice full of laughter. “When Xiaoyu-gege checks the time, he’ll think of me.”

“Our Lele is so smart.”

He never realized that behind all that crying was such a heartfelt intention. Ryan Cooper quietly turned back, sat down, and put the watch on his own wrist.

He always acted like he didn’t care, but every moment from childhood was engraved in his mind—he was the only one who still remembered.

Ryan Cooper could no longer tell, between himself and Ethan Clark, who needed whose company more.

Lost in memories, Ryan Cooper was a bit distracted. The cotton swab accidentally brushed against the gums, making Ethan Clark frown and instinctively shrink back. Ryan Cooper snapped back to attention, grabbed his chin, and pulled him forward again. Ethan Clark didn’t dare move, like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered, and just before the end, repeated his question once more: “Why won’t you wear it?”

“You ask too many questions,” said Ryan Cooper.

If you’d answered me from the start, there would have only been one question. Ethan Clark said in his heart.

Ryan Cooper’s expression was excessively calm, his gaze fixed on a single point. It reminded him of a horror movie he’d seen before, where the cannibal was just this elegant.

No, that comparison was too weird. Ethan Clark forcibly stopped his imagination and simply closed his eyes as well.

The loss of sight heightened his other senses.

He could clearly feel the damp cotton swab brushing over, very lightly, a little ticklish, the alcohol evaporating with a cool sensation. Maybe it was because he knew the person sitting across from him wasn’t a doctor that Ethan Clark felt it was different.

They were so close, he could smell the lemony scent of laundry detergent from Ryan Cooper’s collar—the same as his own—which made him instinctively feel at ease.

But the smell of alcohol was really unpleasant. Ethan Clark kept his mouth open, saliva pooling from the irritation, mixing with the medical alcohol.

So bitter.

Ryan Cooper’s hand suddenly stopped moving.

Eyes closed, Ethan Clark obediently waited for him to continue, but after a while with no movement, he opened his eyes in confusion and mumbled, “Ge,” with a questioning tone.

Ryan Cooper stuffed the alcohol and cotton swab into his hand and stood up. “There’s a mirror over there. Clean it yourself.”

Ethan Clark grabbed some tissue, spat out the bitter saliva, and responded with an “oh.” He knew it really was a troublesome thing—he should have done it himself earlier.

Taking the tools to the mirror on the wall by the window, Ethan Clark checked and found it was actually almost clean.

Amazing—so even such stubborn ink could be dissolved.

Ethan Clark was a child who couldn’t hide his emotions; his admiration for Ryan Cooper was always written all over his face.

“So cool. My school uniform always gets pen marks—can I use alcohol to clean those too?” He looked back at Ryan Cooper as if he’d discovered a new world.

Ryan Cooper’s right hand had been resting on his left wrist, but as soon as Ethan Clark looked back, he moved it away, grunted in response, and turned to leave first. “I’m going.”

“Hey… wait for me.” Ethan Clark wanted to follow Ryan Cooper, but after glancing at the used items, he hesitated, went back to tidy up, and by the time he went out, Ryan Cooper was already far ahead.

Watching his back, Ethan Clark felt a little disappointed.

He touched his own chin, pinched it, then finally kicked a small stone, his steps heavy. He didn’t go straight back to the playground, but turned to the cafeteria’s little shop and bought a bottle of Yakult.

Alcohol really is too bitter.