Youth Love Sketch

During my freshman year military training, I would sneak off to the library to secretly sketch my crush, Bale Cox.

Halfway through one of my drawings, the sketch was snatched from my hands, and I heard a cold voice say, "Fan art? Not bad, I like it."

I was anxious. "Bale! Are you a narcissist??"

Bale replied, "Is that a problem?"

Was this something I should know?

1

As soon as the training of summer camp ended, people rushed madly towards the cafeteria.

I had the foresight to buy some bread the night before.

Instead of heading back to the dorm, I munched on my bread while making my way to the library.

I changed clothes in the restroom when no one was around.

During lunch break, the library wasn't too crowded, and I secured a good spot.

In this corner, few people would notice me.

As I looked up, I saw the aloof Bale.

Bale, my high school senior, was a year ahead of me.

His cool demeanor had enchanted me, and I eventually managed to find out which university he was attending and made the decision to go to the same university as him.

The university was prestigious, and I barely made it in.

It seemed even fate was moved by my determination.

Bale was engrossed in his book, occasionally taking notes.

I opened my sketchbook and quietly began to draw.

Such a perfect man was like a work of art himself, just waiting to be captured on my sketchbook.

The figure on the paper had lowered eyes, a white shirt half-soaked, and a lean profile that looked somewhat troubled.

As I admired my drawing, I couldn't help but blush.

A slender but muscular arms appeared in my line of sight.

Before I could react, my sketchbook was lifted.

I jumped up, ready to protest, only to meet a pair of icy eyes.

It was Bale.

I instantly deflated, clutching my shirt hem like a student caught dozing off in class by the principal.

Bale looked at the sketchbook unhurriedly, and when he saw the content, a crack appeared in his cold facade.

He probably didn't expect that while he was concentrating on his studies, someone else regarded him as a perfect role model, worthy of admiration.

I was so embarrassed I wished I could vanish.

"Does it look good?"

I couldn't decipher what he was thinking beneath his expressionless face, so I nodded cautiously.

He glanced at me, then at the sketchbook again.

He reached out to tear it, and I was so shocked I grabbed his hand. "No!"

The echo of my voice resonated in the quiet library, drawing attention from those around us.

Bale frowned and pulled his hand away.

I hung my head in defeat; my precious drawing had been confiscated.

After taking a few steps, Bale turned back. "You don't want it back?"

I was overjoyed and quickly followed him.

Bale stopped by the library's side and asked, holding the sketchbook, "What do you plan to do with this?"

"Just drawing for fun."

Bale pondered for a moment, then took a step forward.

I immediately stepped back, wary of him.

Bale's demeanor shifted from his usual aloofness to a mischievous grin.

I was taken aback, wondering if he had been possessed, when he spoke.

"Don't spread this around. Or you will definitely regret it."

His tone and expression were like those of a seasoned street thug.

I was completely flabbergasted, and after he finished speaking, Bale reverted to his familiar aloof self.

"Be careful... " Bale coldly said, "You don't want to mess up with me. Trust me."

I quickly waved my hands, realizing that his aloofness was just an act.

Watching him leave, I felt a pang of disappointment for his real nature.

But I soon came to terms with it.

What I liked was the image he presented to the public.

Strictly speaking, my "dream lover" hadn't shattered.

Bale also tacitly allowed me to occasionally sneak into the library to sketch him.

With the training coming to an end, Thanksgiving arrived.

I was well-informed and knew during the training that Bale would be performing.

I eagerly ran to the hall, hoping to secure a good spot in front of the stage.

But the performance was at seven, and by the time I arrived at half past five, all the spots were taken.

"Here to see me?"

2

I turned around to see the teasing look in Bale's eyes.

Ever since he revealed his true self to me, he liked to subtly show his real self whenever we met.

What a strange sense of humor.

I gave him a cheeky grin, holding my sketchbook. "None of your business."

He was doing it on purpose.

"Let me tell you a great viewing spot."

My instincts told me he was trying to trick me.

But if I couldn't see him, I wouldn't sleep well tonight.

I hesitated and asked, "Where?"

He raised his hand, pointing to the opposite teaching building. "The rooftop."

I knew I shouldn't trust him.

Seeing that I was about to leave, he blocked my way. "There's no one there, and you can see the stage directly. Isn't it a perfect option?"

I glanced at his earnest expression. He seemed to have a point.

Someone called Bale for rehearsal and he left.

I looked up at the teaching building, and indeed, from the top, you could see everything below.

Maybe Bale was serious this time and wasn't trying to trick me.

I turned and went to the teaching building, but the door to the rooftop was locked.

I looked at the lock, feeling disappointed.

I lamented, "Ah, my lord, if only I could get to the rooftop, I'd give up meat for a week."

As I spoke, I idly tugged at the lock, and it came undone.

I stared at the unlocked padlock, momentarily stunned.

Overjoyed, I rushed back to the dorm to grab my binoculars.

I had bought the binoculars in high school; Bale was a year ahead of me, and we had never been in the same building.

After much deliberation, I reluctantly spent my money on a telescope.

Thanks to this telescope, half of the sketches in my drawing book were made during that time.

The performance started soon.

The music was loud, and the crowd was dense.

I sat cross-legged on the ground, leaning against the wall, finishing a sketch I hadn't completed before.

My sketch model was lying on a desk, sunlight casting a golden glow on one side of his face.

I realized it was just his looks that captivated me; I didn't care what kind of person Bale was.

It was not like we were dating; as long as he wasn't breaking the law, it didn't matter.

I admired the handsome figure, delightedly imagining that in my next life, I wanted to be such a handsome guy as well.

Then I would gaze at myself in the mirror every day, utterly smitten.

The noisy music gradually ceased, turning into something softer.

The host's voice rang out, calling Bale's name.

I immediately perked up, grabbing the telescope beside me.

Bale appeared on stage under the host's introduction.

He wore a white shirt, exuding a frosty demeanor like a prince, dazzlingly bright.

Even though I knew his face was strikingly attractive, I couldn't help but be mesmerized.

Bale walked to the center of the stage, gracefully picked up a violin, and as he moved, beautiful music flowed out.

The vast campus was filled only with the sound of the fiddle.

My gaze was glued to Bale.

Suddenly, he looked up, a slight, unintentional smile on his lips.

Caught off guard, I met his gaze, my hand trembling, nearly dropping the telescope.

When I came to, through the telescope, I saw Bale looking ahead, giving a slight bow before leaving the stage.

It was as if I had imagined the whole thing.

I sat down, clutching my sketchbook, wondering if I had really imagined it all.

I hadn't drawn a single line, even though I'd watched the whole performance.

The moon was full and bright tonight, and even without lights, it wasn't too dark.

I squinted, sitting on the ground, and began to sketch.

Recalling the scenes in my mind, I quickly drafted a sketch.

Halfway through, the iron door to the rooftop opened.

My pencil accidentally left a noticeable mark on the paper, and I stood up angrily.

Once again, I was stunned by the presence of the person before me.

Bale was still in his shirt, but unlike on stage, his collar was slightly open, revealing a slender collarbone.

I was taken aback, overwhelmed by his charm.

"Finished drawing?" he asked.

3

I hugged my sketchbook. "Not yet."

"May I see?"

I shook my head firmly. Last time, he accidentally saw it, and that was a mistake.

I loved drawing, but I didn't like showing it to others; it was too embarrassing.

Tonight, Bale seemed determined to have a look.

Despite my refusal, he stepped forward, trying to take it from me.

I held on tightly, exclaiming, "This is my personal property! You're invading my privacy!"

He raised an eyebrow, smiling happily. "You know about privacy rights? Do you know you're violating my right to privacy?"

I faltered, my confidence waning. "I haven't shown it to anyone else."

Bale just looked at me, as if asking, "So what then?"

I loosened my grip, conceding, "Fine. But you can only look for a moment."

Last time, he saw a few of my recent drawings.

As long as he didn't look at the earlier ones, everything would be fine.

He took the sketchbook, looking at it for a while, then said, "You can see my beauty spot from that far?"

I nodded shyly.

He had a very discreet mole on the side of his neck, not visible unless you looked closely.

I had seen it in high school; it was impossible to see with a telescope.

He looked for a while, then started flipping through the pages.

He didn't turn them one by one but flipped through many at once.

I immediately protested, "No more looking!"

I reached to grab my poor sketchbook.

Bale raised his hand, easily dodged the attack, and asked curiously, "What's so secretive up ahead?"

I was anxious. "You promised you'd only look for a moment."

Bale smiled with a mischievous look on his face. "That was your condition. I didn't promise anything in return."

I was so angry that I almost went ballistic because of his shamelessness.

Without saying another word, I tried to snatch the sketchbook from him.

Bale clearly didn't expect me to act so directly. He staggered back a couple of steps, his back hitting the wall.

His hand loosened, and the sketchbook fell.

My mind went blank as I watched it drop into the bushes below.

Bale's indifferent voice came from beside me, "Is it worth it? It's just a book."

"You!" I was too angry to speak, looking at his nonchalant expression, my eyes instantly reddened.

"Really? Are you going to cry?" he asked.

"You're so annoying, " I retorted, leaving him behind as I headed downstairs.

It was already ten o'clock, and everyone was heading back to the dorms.

The path from the playground to the dorms passed by here, so many people curiously watched me.

I kept my head down, embarrassed, searching for my sketchbook.

After searching for a long time but still not finding it, I squatted in the bushes, feeling aggrieved.

Several streetlights had gone out, and it wouldn't be long before it was completely dark here.

If I didn't find it today, it might be mistaken for trash and cleaned up tomorrow.

Unwilling to give up, I clenched my fists, using my phone's flashlight to continue searching the bushes.

Footsteps approached from behind, but I didn't turn around.

Let them laughed if they wanted; what was so funny about someone else's misfortune?

A soft laugh reached my ears, carrying an indescribable emotion.

It was as if the one who had laughed just now was trying to ease my sorrow.

I turned around and saw the face I both loved and hated.

He looked down at me, "Am I not as good as the drawing version of me?"