She didn't go to his room that night.They just stayed where they were, in the mellow pool of lamplight, holding each other. Her head rested against his shoulder, and his arms circled her, loose in a way that only happens when you forget there's even a reason to be tense. They listened as the rain outside faded, grew gentler, and eventually disappeared.After a long time, she pulled back to look at him. He met her gaze."I should sleep," she said."Yeah." He lingered, not quite letting go."Yijun.""Yeah?""You're still holding my hand."He glanced down. Sure enough, he was. He let go, very deliberately, and something about that made it both tender and kind of funny—more than if he'd just dropped her hand by accident."Goodnight," he said."Goodnight," she answered, and went to her own bed. She lay there a long time, wide awake, some warm, steady light burning inside her chest—like a lamp you leave on for someone coming home.—What happened next wasn’t a storm. If anything, it was th
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