The hours became shorter and the minutes longer. The deadline was coming soon. In fact, there were only a few days left. A few days to put everything in order. Whether in the presentation of the assignment, in the arrangement of their thoughts or in the knowledge of their relationship. While they had only the re-reading of the assignment and a complementary file to provide with the latter, their hearts didn't tighten to the anxiety of this task. Syntax and spelling were nothing in the face of the ordeal that was unfolding before their eyes and ravaging their beings. Nothing they were doing will be as painful and powerful as watching helplessly as life continues to go by, unable to press a button with «STOP» written on it. None of the movements they were doing: taking a pen, moving a piece of paper, opening or closing an object, bringing a cup of coffee to the lips, in the sink or to someone, was as exhausting as breathing, moving a limb or thinking. Any common and simple action of everyday life had become the feat of a lifetime.

Then the picture facing Ashil no longer looked like a painting by a great painter. The young man sitting in front of him no longer had his features traced in a delicate and precise way. Everything had become grotesque and not to be done. The sketch had become a vulgar child's drawing. The boy he had tried to know was slowly withdrawing into himself in front of his eyes, without him being able to do anything. As the doors of a new world opened up to them, as the light began to bathe the clearing in which they were, everything disappeared like the waves slowly retreating from the warm sand of a beach.

So he thought he could do something about the flow of life. While he thought that he was the master of his existence or simply that he had the control of this one, sitting on this same chair, in front of this same table, under this same golden light breathing this same stuffy air with coffee scents, staring expressionless at the boy whom silently working in front of him, he realized that he had spent all this month staring at an illusion. He had spent a month trying to prove the opposite of his well-founded doubts. He had tried to get around what he couldn't avoid. And even if he was only at the beginning of fulfilling his desire, he hadn't had time to go to the other side of this new door that it had disappeared before his eyes. From now on, only emptiness was facing him. Only the harsh truth was established.

And Ashil didn't know what he had to do. He didn't know how he could stop the time. But could he only do it? Could he stop in the middle of the road and turn back? Could he close a door that he hadn't decided to open? How could he regain control of the situation when it wasn't established by his own means? How to become the master of something when you didn't call it? «Well... that's pretty interesting...» Ashil thought. Everything he had hated at the beginning was now a source of life. All he had wanted to leave behind the curtain, he could now only stare at it. This small door that had imposed itself on him, he now wanted to hold it with all his strength. He didn't want to let go. He didn't want to see it close.

Unfortunately, their agreement was anchored in the air like an indelible ink. It couldn't be recovered or erased. It just had to be accomplished. So it was with a bitter taste in his mouth that Ashil kept looking at Oahn being busy on his laptop, the heavy atmosphere covering their shoulders. He was silent, and letting his heart and soul angrily expressed their discontent, that he was facing the wall of their agreement. Today it was still made of bricks. If a few days ago, Ashil was still far from it, tonight, he had never been so close to it. If he reached out to it, he knew he would touch the coldness of its stones. He knew that reality would eventually materialize.

What a mistake he had made...

What mistake had he made to accept...

What a mistake had he made to open his heart...

What a mistake had he made to take a look through this door...

So that was the life he had promised himself to live? So that was the existence he wanted to discover? The monotony of a big city? The routine of student life? The tasteless and without sweetness joy of new friendships? The relentless pain of an unknown meeting? Was that why he decided to leave his country? To say goodbye to his landmarks and his father? To close the door of his past? Was it to live so poorly that he had accepted the gift of a friend? That he had hidden deep inside himself the tears of his childhood? Had he done all this to just continue to suffer?

Will he never stop being so innocent?

Ashil jumped up from his chair, turning away from Oahn. The latter, surprised by the noise, looked up from his laptop screen and stared at Ashil's back.

"Everything's alright?" Oahn asked him anxiously.

Ashil, withdrawn into silence, couldn't ignore the voices of his heart and soul. They hurt him. Atrociously. All these opposing thoughts gave him a headache. There was no place for the reason. He felt like he was going crazy. Why had he decided to be fearless? Why had he decided to step out of his comfort zone? Had he not been able to enjoy the simplicity of his life? Of his second by second routine? Of the monotony of his existence?

"Hinata?"

A sudden heat source on his shoulder made Ashil jump, which made him turn around abruptly. He moved away from Oahn, taken aback at the situation.

"We're done for today," Ashil said with difficulty, his voice being as audible as a whisper.

Oahn frowned. Ashil's behavior was really strange. It was true that today he was particularly silent, but that didn't really change from the other times. All their tutoring hours were similar. Silence accompanied them more than the sound of their own voices. But why did Oahn feel Ashil withdraw into himself? Why was he running away from him suddenly?

"Let's finish what we have to do at the end of the week," Ashil added with the same low voice.

Disconcerted by this behavior, Oahn didn't know how to react. He could only accept the request of his comrade.

"Then see you this weekend."

Oahn stared at Ashil for a few more seconds before returning to the table. He tidied his belongings and put them in his bag. Closing the latter, his gaze was lost on Ashil. Seeing the latter as far from reality, his eyes lost on an invisible point in space, frowning so strongly that his eyebrows almost met, leaving only a big wrinkle separating them, and the preoccupied air accentuating the thin features of his face, it made him sick. He saw that something was wrong with Ashil and he couldn't do anything to try to understand what was troubling him. Or just knowing this trouble. In fact, if he wanted to, he could discover the secret that made Ashil push him away, but there was a line between them that he couldn't cross. No, he wasn't allowed to cross it. A promise was a promise and he had to keep it.

Passing the strap of his bag around his neck and placing the bag against his hip, Oahn added in a sad tone that was trying to be warm, not to aggravate the situation:

"Don't think about it too much."

As if his words were an electroshock, Ashil looked up to stare at Oahn. The latter had a weak reassuring smile, as if this fatality was a sweet downpour that would stop eventually, leaving the sun to take its worthy place. And the unique image of that smile allowed Ashil to calm down a bit. To slow down the flow of his thoughts. To soothe the pain that was beginning to wash over his body. That single smile managed to disperse the faint fog that was slowly appearing in front of his eyes.

Oahn's smile widened, allowing Ashil to catch a glimpse of sadness behind it. Then, without further ado, Oahn left the cafe by ringing the shop bell, letting its sound break the heavy atmosphere of the cafe. Letting its melody to accompany the loneliness that came to cover Ashil again.

As the door closed slowly, Oahn's silhouette completely disappearing in the darkness of the night, Ashil collapsed on the floor, his strength suddenly leaving him.

He was not ready to write the point of this story.

He was not ready to turn his back on that door.

He was not ready to let go of this boy's hand.

No. He did not want and could not let go of this boy's hand.