安装 Steam
登录
|
语言
繁體中文（繁体中文）
日本語（日语）
한국어（韩语）
ไทย（泰语）
български（保加利亚语）
Čeština（捷克语）
Dansk（丹麦语）
Deutsch（德语）
English（英语）
Español-España（西班牙语 - 西班牙）
Español - Latinoamérica（西班牙语 - 拉丁美洲）
Ελληνικά（希腊语）
Français（法语）
Italiano（意大利语）
Bahasa Indonesia（印度尼西亚语）
Magyar（匈牙利语）
Nederlands（荷兰语）
Norsk（挪威语）
Polski（波兰语）
Português（葡萄牙语 - 葡萄牙）
Português-Brasil（葡萄牙语 - 巴西）
Română（罗马尼亚语）
Русский（俄语）
Suomi（芬兰语）
Svenska（瑞典语）
Türkçe（土耳其语）
Tiếng Việt（越南语）
Українська（乌克兰语）
报告翻译问题
Matthew and Ben climbed the fence just after midnight, laughing the whole way because Matthew nearly ripped his jeans getting over. They’d spent the entire evening driving around with no destination, sharing fries from a fast-food bag and talking about everything they usually avoided. By the time they reached the playground, the nervous tension between them had become impossible to ignore.
Ben sat on the swing beside him, dragging their shoes through the gravel.
“You know this is probably the worst possible place for a first time,” Ben said, grinning.
“Definitely top five worst,” Matthew replied.
But neither of them left.
They talked for another hour beneath the dim orange streetlights, slowly moving closer until their shoulders touched. The world felt strangely small there — just the creaking swings, the cool night air, and the feeling that they were both standing on the edge of becoming different people.
What Matthew remembered years later wasn’t the playground itself or the nervousness. It was the feeling of sitting beside someone who made the whole world disappear for a while. The rest of the night blurred together into pieces — holding hands on the slide platform, whispered jokes, the distant sound of cars passing by.
By the time they climbed back over the fence before sunrise, both of them knew they’d remember that night forever — not because it was perfect, but because it was theirs.