Records des événements fantastiques de Barton - Chapitre 165

On Saturday morning, [Liszt Street] ushered in the enthusiasm of the resting citizens as usual. People started from [Liszt Back Street] with a nice lunch and began their leisurely journey from [Liszt Street].

Along the Charles River, the bus that went from West District to the North District was sandwiched between luxurious limousines. Après avoir passé [Fenway Stadium] dans [Back Bay], it drove toward the direction of Liszt Street.

A young man in his early twenties was sitting in his seat just like any other passenger. He hunched his shoulders with his head down, his thin gray long-sleeved jacket was pressing against his well-maintained body and a soft hood was draped over his head.

No one could see the man’s expression, but from his stiff arms on his knees, his hands that clasped together, and his shoulders that were trembling slightly, it seemed that the young man was nervous about something. His jeans-clad legs occasionally touched the paper bag underneath him so that the content in it would not fall out due to the shaking of the bus.

His attire seemed a little out of place as summer was in full swing. There was faint heat leaking out of his exposed neck and the beads of sweat formed fine marks on the skin of his neck.

“Est-ce que ça va?” The woman sitting on the young man’s side holding her child pressed her hand on the young man’s shoulder with concern.

The young man turned his head and smiled slightly, showing neat white teeth, “Merci, Je vais bien.” His blue eyes showed sincere gratitude.

The skin on the woman’s finger was not very smooth. She patted the young man’s shoulder with concern and after thinking about it for a while, she took out a jar of water from her handbag and said “You should drink some water, it’s very hot right now.”

“Merci.” The young man did not refuse. He smiled and took the water from the woman’s rough hands, unscrewed the bottle cap and started drinking from it.

He indeed felt much better after drinking the water. The young man gratefully returned the remaining half bottle to the woman, showing a somewhat apologetic smile. The woman smiled in understanding and continued to hold her child along as she waited for the bus to reach the destination.

The young man lowered his head again, he could feel that there were many kind people around him.

The fact that these people still had to use the bus to get from the West District to the North District on weekends spoke volumes about the social class they belonged to in the West District.

The bus had not yet arrived at the last drop, but the passengers had arrived at their destination. They exited the bus through the back door. The young man calmly waited till the end. He then picked up his paper bag, joined the crowd, and went out of the bus.

The morning sunshine was very beautiful, he looked toward the sky and revealed a complicated smile.

The young man tightened his grip on the paper bag. Unlike other people that were immediately attracted by the things displayed inside the store windows on both sides of the street and scattered around, the young man’s purpose seemed very clear as he walked on [Liszt Street] until he reached the middle of the street.

[Liszt Street] did not allow vehicles to enter, so there was an intersection in the middle section, which was connected to [Liszt Back Street]. The young man was standing at the intersection with the largest flow of people and happened to catch up with the flow of people who had finished lunch in the back street.

Well-dressed men and women passed by him, and occasionally someone he knew stopped in surprise, “salut! Blake! I heard you are back!”

The young man took a deep breath and nodded with a smile.

“How was the university?” The other party looked like he wanted to chat with him, “I heard that you have completed your bachelor’s degree and are applying for postgraduate research.”

Blake nodded, he didn’t know how to end this conversation.

Heureusement, the other party seemed to notice his discomfort, he smiled and waved, “Say hello to Mr. et Mme. Pierre (Blake’s last name) for me.”

Blake sighed with relief and nodded again, pressing his lips as he watched the departing acquaintance. He knew that since he had decided it, il le ferait.

The crowd remained as large as ever, joking, riant, détendu, and unburdened as they walked toward the things they had their eyes on. C'était [Liszt Street], and one would not come here if one did not have something they wanted to buy.

pourtant, there was one more thing that attracted the eyes of the crowd.

People’s eyes gradually widened. They temporarily put aside the things they wanted to buy and looked at the young man standing at the crossroads.

Blake removed his hood, revealing somewhat messy blond hairs. He unzipped his jacket, revealing a sturdy chest inside, and to everyone’s surprise, he removed the jacket hanging over his shoulder.

It was still not the end yet.

Blake’s hands unbuttoned his jeans, pencher, and took off his shoes clumsily.

Some people covered their mouths, and those who knew this young master of the Stone family nervously pulled the people around them, their mouths wide open as if saying, 'Ce qui se passe?!’

Blake, who was standing naked pressed his lips tightly as his chest undulated rapidly due to tension and his well-toned muscles shook slightly in the sun. His hands were resting uncomfortably on his side, even his own mind had gone blank, forgetting what to do next.

If this were just a nighttime show on the paid TV channel, it would be a moment for some women or a few men to enjoy properly, but it was morning time at the moment. No one knew what was going on! There were already store owners, silently picking up their phones.

Blake bent over, his arm reaching into the paper bag placed aside.

He took out a piece of cardboard from it and moved the cardboard stiffly in front of him, while holding a marker in his hand.

‘What do you think the real hell is, write it on me.’

inexplicablement, time seemed to stand still for a moment.

Zach raised his sunglasses and looked at the young man. He pulled Alice’s shoulder, “Let’s go and write it.”

“Hey!” Lola panicked and pulled back Alice who was pulled forward by Zach, “N'y allez pas.” Elle a baissé la voix, looking a bit frightened, “That… that’s Mr. Stone’s grandson…”

Zach haussa les sourcils, Est-ce que ça importe? He took Alice, who was in a dilemma, and walked towards the young man. He nodded with a smile on his face and stretched out his hand.

Blake was dazed for a while, et au bout d'un moment, he handed out the pen in his hand.

Zach opened the cap with a smile, and pointed the black marker pen below Blake’s collarbone. Zach chose the most convenient place and moved his arm slightly, “Being lonely”.

Blake’s head was slightly lowered, watching the very decent gentleman in front of him writing something, he smiled gratefully at him.

Zach nodded, sourit, et dit, “Real hell, I like your choice of words.” Puis, he handed the pen to Alice.

The banshee’s eyes were the same as that of an ordinary girl, trying hard not to look at the body of the young man in front of her. She looked at Zach with a panicked expression. Zach smiled encouragingly.

Alice took a few deep breaths, stretched out her hand, and wrote a few words just below Blake’s chest, ‘Not being able to live.’

“Obéis-moi” Lola, who was pulled over by Louise, lowered her head and greeted the elder brother next door awkwardly.

After Alice finished writing, she didn’t seem to know what to do. Louise looked at what Zach had written and took the pen from Alice’s hand with a smile, “losing what I have now”.

Zach smiled and pulled over Louise, then he kissed her softly. The vampire tilted his head and smiled at the nervous Blake, 'Merci. ‘

Blake seemed to relax a bit and nodded to Zach with a smile.

Louise shook the pen in her hand in front of Lola.

Lola took the pen hesitantly and pointed to Blake’s arm, “Main!”

Blake smiled and seemed to relax completely. Il a levé le bras. Lola took the palm of this very familiar elder brother, and thought for a long time before writing, ‘Growing up’.

“If you get into any trouble, don’t drag me into it!” Lola added.

Blake smiled and shook his head, “Je ne le ferai pas.”

Lola Barton seemed to have made a good start.

Those who stood on the roadside were hesitant to believe all the things happening in front of them, but they seemed to have found their leader. Especially those who knew Lola and Blake. Although they were still nervous, they slowly approached with a trace of confusion mixed with praises in their eyes.

But when they took the pen, they temporarily put aside their thoughts about Blake and began to think about what should be left on this young man’s tender skin.

Blake smiled at everyone who finished writing

Non, Il devrait être l'inverse. People gave Blake a smile when they finished writing those sentences, as if they were being relieved of a burden.

‘When I wake up there is no one besides my pillow’.

‘My company can’t sustain’.

‘My mom’s illness is worsening’.

‘XX will stop caring about me anymore’.

…

The crowd was increasing.

It seemed that reading other people’s “l'enfer” before writing their own words had become the first thing that those who took the pen needed to do.

They drew circles on some words with a small mark of ‘+1’.

‘My children will stop loving me’.

‘Having no time to be with my family’.

‘Getting expelled’.

‘Can’t find bridesmaids’.

…

Someone started smiling at the last person who had fallen into contemplation as they took the pen, “Ne t'inquiète pas, you’ll get through it.”

“Merci.”

After a brief hug, the new handwriting was left on Blake’s skin.

‘Not getting recognized by my family’.

‘Having no friends’.

‘Graduate’.

‘Letting xx down’.

Blake lifted his leg, his skin was covered with words. But the person who took the pen didn’t mind about the need to squat on the ground and wrote down his ‘hell’.

They handed the pen to the next person and patted Blake on the shoulder.

…

The surrounding crowd was pushed aside by people wearing police uniforms, and this ‘performance art’ a finalement pris fin.

When Blake was taken away amidst the sighs of people, the flow of people soon vanished without a trace.

[Liszt Street] on Saturday was restored to what it should have been..