When Zee tries to forget about the past, NuNew becomes his best company and someone who will try to heal Zee's broken heart, meanwhile Saint still regrets what he has done to his best friend. Max and Zee thinks that they won't see Saint ever again b...
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— Ania? You are here? — I heard my neighbor's voice, so I jumped out of the bed I was lying on, watching another movie and looking for inspiration to write the next chapter. I wanted it to be something special, something that would be easy and fun to read. I stopped playing "Love Actually." Our neighbor brought watermelon husks for our cows, and I felt emotional and thought about how many times people around us helped us without expecting anything in return. Now I fully agreed with the lector: love is everywhere. And it is different. The neighbors can also love and help. Many times, when money was scarce, many years ago, it was thanks to these people that we managed to survive. these were never hungry. Older people who remembered the times of World War II and knew poverty and hunger better than others, were able to share everything with others. They taught me to love and respect everyone. They taught me that each person has his own story , his own burdens that he carries on his shoulders, and therefore we must be understanding with everyone.
I poured the shells into a special green bucket, throwing a plastic bag into the garbage. I returned to my room and lit another cigarette that day.
I always smoked in secret from my parents, I didn't want them to find out and be disappointed in me. It was enough that they were disappointed with the fact that I wasn't working. They said that I was always chasing some unreal dream, that I wouldn't get anything from writing, but I didn't want to believe them.
— I don't understand... So many people are loved by others, they want to be happy, they want to be alive and yet they die. And then there's me, who wants to die, who isn't loved by anyone, who was only causing troubles... Why am I still alive and all these people are dead? Why? They wanted to live, they deserved to be alive, why? — I asked myself, looking at my laptop screen.
Outside, I could hear my parents bustling around with their pets and the whirr of other neighbors' brush cutters. Flies flew around me, but they didn't bother me much. I had a pretty mess on a massive wooden bench built by my dad. In addition to a bottle of water and two little Tymbarks apple-cherry, there was also a box of half-eaten Alte Excellenz chocolates with alcohol, a bag of apples, a ball of navy blue yarn, which my little, two-month-old kitten, Gasly, was playing a moment ago.
I stared at the screen of the phone, which on the Instagram homepage had just displayed a joint photo of Pierre Gasly and Yuki Tsunoda.
Both were Formula 1 drivers driving for the AlphaTauri team. Pierre was a tall, solid, well-built, handsome French with milk chocolate hair and bright ocean eyes. Yuki was his opposite: short, with narrow, typical Japanese eyes and a funny round face, he looked very funny, but also somewhat cute.
Yuki was known for his sharp tongue, he never held back from saying what he thought. Once, during a meeting with fans before one of the races, he called Pierre his boyfriend. I had no idea if he was joking, if he did it at the behest of his AlphaTauri F1 team, or if he really thought Pierre was his boyfriend. I didn't believe in love anymore, so it occurred to me that AT was just telling Yuki to pretend he was flirting with Pierre in order to attract the LGBT community to Formula One. It seemed to me the most likely. Although it was really sad if they really needed to do something like this...
