“Love me,” he said. Silence. Loud music around them, but at the moment, it felt as if no one was there. Just them. “Love me,” he repeated in a lower tone, holding a tear ready to slide down his cheek. The others surrounding them continued with their party vibe, holding their drink, sipping alcohol as a mandatory rule for being alive on a Saturday night. He had a drink as well, and a shaking hand was holding the glass cup strongly. He wanted to be quite. “Please, I beg you. Love me.” He kept saying, “love me,” chanting for what he couldn’t feel. He demanded to be loved, unable to understand how to feel loved. He couldn’t hear a word besides the pounding “love me” that was coming from his mouth. Silence, complete silence, no response, not a single word to comfort him. People continued to sing, dance, and drink around him. They maintained distant from them. A guy screaming for his friend walked in the middle of them. He woke up from his trance. He noticed where he was; he noticed no one was paying attention to his pain, to his eyes that didn’t cry. They looked at each other. The gaze lasted for hours, for a second. Time was completely irrelevant. “I beg you to love me, ” but this time only the inside of his head could hear the words. The space between them just got bigger. It was time to leave. The crowded place made it difficult to reach the exit. He took the lead, strolling through the happy people, his legs felt heavy. His whole body was in a state of shock. The words revealed nothing; he said nothing he wanted to say. It certainly didn’t fell right. His eyes met the eyes of a girl waiting in line to order a drink. She smiled at him, desperately in need of a drink. His blank expression said something to her. She could feel it. A stranger could understand him better than anyone else there. Without making a sound, she asked: “Are you ok?” He just nodded his head. Without saying a word, he said: “Thank You.” He was relieved, not for the sympathetic gesture of a stranger, but for being able to say something different than “love me.” The crowded exit forced them to hold hands, to not lose each other, such a senseless reaction. When he felt the touch of the hand, his body reacted. He wanted to let it go but felt childish to do that. He just wanted to reach the exit. As they finally crossed the door, someone said, “Have a goodnight.” He turned his head with anger to have to respond an automatic gesture of politeness. They were finally out, heading to the car. Their hands were away from each other. There was no sound inside the car. His mind had finally calmed down. They got home. Silence. He heard, “we should go to bed.” He didn’t say anything, undressed, he finally cried.