When I entered the mansion, the rain came down heavier, battering against the windows harder than before, the sound sharp and restless against the glass.
Each flash of lightning turned the room white for half a second, and I found myself counting the seconds before the thunder followed.
A violent crack of thunder split the sky. The lights flickered, and my body reacted before my mind did — pulse spiking, breath snagging in my throat.
When Harley walked into the kitchen, I instinctively ran towards him and hugged him tightly as another thunder cackled in th sky. I gripped his shirt tighter, trembling.
Harley went still for a second — just long enough for doubt to flicker across his face. Then his arms closed around me, firm and steady, his palm moving slowly against my back. The tension drained from my limbs without my permission.
"Let's watch a movie," he murmured. "It'll drown the noise out."
I nodded.
The living room was arranged with quiet precision. A flat-screen television rested above the fireplace, facing a marble coffee table and a three-seater couch positioned at its center. Two armchairs sat opposite each other on either side, completing the space.
White sheer curtains softened the tall windows, and a plush carpet spread across the floor, absorbing the rumble of thunder outside.
I took my seat on one end of the three seater couch while Harley occupied the other end.
I took a seat on one end of the three-seater couch, tucking my legs beneath me. Harley sat down on the opposite end, leaving just enough space between us to remind me we were still careful with each other.
The storm rumbled outside, lightning flashing briefly through the sheer curtains and casting restless shadows across the room. I shifted a little closer to him — close enough to feel the warmth of his body, but not so close that our shoulders touched.
I looked at him, lightning briefly illuminating his profile. "I'm glad I'm not alone tonight."
He met my eyes, his expression unreadable for a second before softening. "I'm not going anywhere."
Another flash of lightning split the sky, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. I latched onto Harley's arm and screamed when the lights flickered off, plunging the room into darkness that felt like it lasted forever.
His chest moved beneath my hands as he let out a soft laugh, trying — and failing — to hide it. I quickly let go of him, folding my arms with a small pout as the lights flickered back on.
His hand moved toward the remote on the coffee table, but I grabbed it before he could. "I'm choosing tonight."
Harley leaned back against the couch, folding his hands behind his head. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "Pick something decent."
I rolled my eyes and began scrolling through the options. When a familiar title appeared on the screen, my thumb paused before pressing play. The opening theme filled the room.
"You're kidding," Harley said flatly.
I smiled at the television. "It's a classic."
"You cried every single time."
"I did not."
"You did," he replied calmly. "Four times."
I turned to look at him, narrowing my eyes. "You kept count?"
"You made me watch it every summer," he said. "Of course I kept count."
A soft laugh escaped me as memories surfaced — the two of us sprawled on this same couch years ago, arguing over snacks and fighting about who got the bigger blanket.
"You always pretended you hated it," I said. "But you never left."
"That's because you'd sulk for hours if I did."
"I did not sulk."
He raised an eyebrow.
"…Okay, maybe a little," I admitted.
Thunder rumbled faintly outside, lightning flashing briefly through the sheer curtains. I instinctively stiffened, but I didn't move away this time.
"Remember that night the power went out while we were watching this?" I asked.
"You refused to sleep unless I sat outside your door," he said without hesitation.
"You complained the whole time."
"I did."
"But you stayed."
He didn't respond immediately. The storm softened into steady rain, the sound gentler now against the windows.
"I always stayed," he said simply.
The movie continued playing, familiar dialogue filling the room as the rain carried on outside. The space between us remained the same, but it didn't feel distant.
It felt comfortable. And for once, the past felt warm instead of heavy.
I must have dozed off halfway through the film. At some point, my body shifted on its own, seeking warmth. My head tipped slightly toward him, close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
He stiffened when my shoulder brushed his arm. For a moment, he didn't move. Then, slowly, his posture eased, as if he had decided not to pull away.
He stiffened when my shoulder brushed his arm. For a moment, he didn't move. Then, slowly, his posture eased, as if he had decided not to pull away.
The storm outside softened into steady rain, the thunder fading into distant murmurs. The television continued playing quietly in the background, but neither of us were watching anymore.
At some point, his breathing evened out.
My hand rested loosely against his sleeve, and without realizing it, I shifted closer, drawn toward the steady warmth beside me. The last thing I remembered was the sound of rain against the windows and the comforting rhythm of his breathing.
Morning arrived gently.
The rain had stopped, leaving the world outside washed clean and quiet. Pale sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, illuminating the living room in soft gold. The front door opened.
"Shh," Mrs. Huang whispered.
Mr. Huang stepped inside behind her, setting their luggage down carefully near the entrance. Their eyes immediately landed on the couch.
Harley was leaning slightly to one side, his head tilted back against the cushion. I was curled toward him, my head resting against his shoulder, one hand loosely gripping the fabric of his shirt.
Mrs. Huang clasped her hands together, her eyes lighting up. "Awe, honey," she whispered to her husband. "I told you they would make up if we gave them space."
Mr. Huang chuckled quietly, folding his newspaper under his arm. "Looks like you were right." They moved quietly through the house, careful not to wake us.
The delicious aroma of breakfast drifted through the air sometime later — eggs, bacon, something sweet. The scent reached me first, pulling me slowly from sleep.
My eyes fluttered open.
For a moment, I didn't move. I was aware of warmth beneath my cheek and the steady rise and fall beneath it. When realization hit, my breath caught. I was leaning against Harley. My hand was still curled into his shirt.
Carefully, I lifted my head and straightened, hoping he hadn't noticed. He stirred slightly but didn't wake.
The smell of food grew stronger. I slipped off the couch as quietly as possible and padded toward the kitchen.
Mrs. Huang stood by the stove, flipping pancakes with effortless grace. Mr. Huang sat at the dining table, sipping his coffee while reading his newspaper as if he had never left.
"Auntie?" I blinked. "Uncle?"
Mrs. Huang turned, her face breaking into a warm smile. "Good morning, honey."
I rushed over and hugged her tightly. "When did you get back?"
"Early this morning," she replied, patting my back. "We didn't want to wake you."
My cheeks warmed slightly. "You saw…"
She laughed softly. "Saw what?"
Mr. Huang lowered his newspaper just enough to give me a knowing look before returning to his reading. Before I could recover from my embarrassment, footsteps echoed behind me.
Harley walked into the kitchen, hair slightly tousled, shirt wrinkled from sleep. He stopped when he saw his parents.
"You're back," he said calmly, as if they had only gone out for groceries.
Mrs. Huang raised an eyebrow. "Is that all you have to say after we've been gone for weeks?"
He walked over and gave her a brief hug before nodding toward his father. "Morning."
Mr. Huang folded his newspaper. "Morning."
Harley glanced at me for half a second, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before he looked away. "What's for breakfast?"
Mrs. Huang laughed. "Sit down. Both of you."
I slid into my seat, still feeling the faint imprint of warmth on my shoulder.
Across from me, Harley pulled out his chair and sat down as if nothing had changed.
But something had and we both knew it.
The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, filling the house with warmth.
Harley reached for the coffee pot at the same time I reached for the sugar bowl, our fingers brushing briefly before pulling back.
Neither of us said anything.
But we didn't need to.