Take you out BL

I spent eight years groveling for Harlan Baxter's love.

Just when I finally woke up and decided to stop loving him, he started chasing after me.

When I loved him the most, Harlan poured a bottle of red wine over my head. The crimson liquid stained my world. He smirked coldly and said, "Claire Griffiths, you are just so shameless."

Later, Harlan cried and begged me to love him again. I didn't even spare him a glance. "Kneel and beg me. Then I might consider making you my backup."

1

Harlan had known me for a long time. He got close to me and dated me because he wanted to kill me and ruin everything I had. But he didn't expect to fall in love with me.

Everyone knew that Harlan had a loyal follower, a girl who acted like a servile doormat, never fighting back or talking back.

Unfortunately, it was me.

"Claire, Harlan is playing basketball. Aren't you going to watch him?" A classmate called out to me and seemed to be watching a good show.

I simply smiled gently and raised the bottle of water in my hand. "I'm going. Thanks."

"I told you she would surely go. She's so devoted."

"That's right. Honestly, what's wrong with Claire? She's such a nice girl."

I ignored the whisper around me. When I arrived, Harlan was taking a break. I handed the bottle of water to him.

He swatted the bottle out of my hand and sent it flying to the ground. Then he gave me a cold glance and a mocking smile. "I don't drink water from you. Can you stop wasting your time?"

Seeing his indifferent and disdainful smile, I frowned slightly and whispered, "Don't smile like that."

I crouched down and picked up the bottle. Then I unscrewed the cap and silently handed it to him again.

He took the bottle and threw it into the trash can. Then he looked back at me while raising his eyebrows. "You're just like this bottle of water, completely worthless to me."

I held back the tears welling up in my eyes. Harlan humiliated me, and I could see the hatred in his gaze.

Why did he hate me?

2

I met Harlan for the first time during a snowy winter. There was no heating in the classroom, and I curled up in my seat as it was freezing.

I put my head on the desk and felt like I had caught a cold. My head throbbed painfully, and my teeth chattered uncontrollably from the cold.

Then Harlan handed me a cup of warm water.

Through the rising steam, I looked up at him. He was tall, and his hair contrasted with his delicate skin. His lips were pale, which gave him an air of aloofness.

He was good-looking. His lowered eyes were cold. But they softened by the gentle allure of his long lashes. My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly averted my gaze and said "Thank you" in a low voice.

I knew he was Harlan.

Like something straight out of a cliché romance novel, I ran into him again the next day when I stumbled along an icy path.

I was careful, but I still slipped and fell.

I was not used to the slippery road, so I held onto the nearby wall to steady myself. But before I could fully stand, I fell again.

I was frustrated and gave up, sitting on the ground directly.

When I was thinking angrily of quitting school, I heard a voice. "Isn't the ground cold? You still have a cold."

The voice was pleasant, tinged with a faint chill. I looked up and saw Harlan through the fog. He was crouching in front of me, and his clean, slender fingers were offered to me.

The fog was thick, but I could clearly see the gentle warmth in his eyes and the faint smile on his lips.

There was something deep in his gaze, but I couldn't quite figure it out. I chose to interpret it as tender affection.

He was like the moon. I once vowed that I wouldn't chase after the moon and that I wanted the moon to come to me.

But the truth was that the moonlight shone on me while I struggled in the mud, desperately seeking its glow. The moon remained indifferent.

Harlan took my hand before I could respond and slowly helped me up.

He was tall. Later, he told me that I had been so obedient back then that he felt like holding a kid's hand.

I had forgotten many details about what happened back then. Now I only remembered his dry, cool palm and the frantic beating of my heart.

I was young at that time.

Maybe because of the small warmth in an unfamiliar environment or Harlan's beautiful, gentle eyes, I fell for him in the tender years when I was a teenager with a crush.

That year, my parents divorced. My mother took me and left Brightmoor, the city where I had stayed since I was a little girl. We moved to Jadehaven.

I was spoiled and delicate. So it was hard for me to accept the sudden changes— transferring schools, the unfamiliar surroundings, and the unfamiliar accents.

Harlan was the only one who warmed me after I went there.

Because of that tiny bit of warmth, I loved him for eight years.

From seventeen to twenty-five, I poured all my love into him. He consumed my entire youth.

3

He patiently helped me with math problems that I cannot solve. He tapped my head and calls me a fool.

He bought me warm water in the winter, fills my hand warmer, and made sure my water bottle is never empty. He let me sit on the back of his bike. He rode along the riverbank in the evening breeze to take me home.

I always thought Harlan liked me, even just a little. But I forgot that I asked him about the math problems.

I ignored the impatience in his eyes. I filled his water bottle and charged his hand warmer. I said I was upset and asked him to take me to the riverbank for a ride.

He saw my love as a burden. He hated me, but I naively believed that he must like me, even just a little.

I thought he was kind-hearted. He was too kind to reject me, as he was afraid of embarrassing me. So he said yes when I confessed my love for him for the third time.

But I overlooked one thing: a normal guy wouldn't agree to date me if he didn't love me.

At that moment, I was ecstatic, like a gambler who had just won the lottery.

I shared the news with everyone that I had caught the moon. I had my moon alone.

Looking back now, I could only think I must have been out of my mind, or maybe he had some hold over me.