The walk along the echoing concourse felt achingly long.

沿着回声四起的广场行走长得令人痛苦。

They faced one another idiotically, each of them unable to impress the other, each of them tremendously, achingly, bored.

他们白痴地面对着彼此， 他们个人都无法打动对方， 他们个人都非常、痛苦、无聊。

The second he steps backstage, there's a hand on his back, the achingly familiar gravity of someone else's body reentering his space before it even touches his, a clean, familiar scent light in the air between.

他一踏， 就有一只手放在了他的背上，别人的身体在接触到他的空间之前就重新入了他的空间，这种熟悉的重力在空气中弥着干净、熟悉的气味。