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16、016 英文版 ...
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The rain started before dawn, light and persistent, tapping gently against the windows and turning the world outside into a blur of gray and green. It was the kind of quiet, soaking rain that made staying in bed feel not just nice, but necessary.
Shane woke slowly, warm and buried under the covers, still half-asleep. The first thing he registered was the steady sound of rain. The second was Tahir’s chest rising and falling beneath his cheek, steady and warm and alive.
He shifted slightly, nuzzling closer, and felt Tahir’s arm tighten automatically around him, still asleep. A soft, contented sound rumbled low in Tahir’s chest — that quiet, ocean-deep purr that only came out when he was completely relaxed.
Shane smiled into his skin.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered the days when waking up meant tension, meant emptiness, meant counting down until the day ended. Now waking up meant safety. meant warmth. meant him.
The rain kept falling.
The world kept quiet.
They stayed wrapped in each other.
When they finally did wake properly, it was slow, lazy, unrushed.
“Is it still raining?” Tahir mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
Shane lifted his head slightly, glancing toward the window. The glass was streaked with water, the outside world softened.
“Yeah,” he said. “All day, probably.”
Tahir’s lips curved into a faint, pleased smile.
“Good,” he said. “We can stay inside all day.”
Shane laughed softly, dropping his head back down onto Tahir’s chest.
“Works for me,” he said.
They didn’t even bother getting up for breakfast.
Shane called in a simple order to the little café downstairs — toast, scrambled eggs, warm coffee, a small side of fruit — and fifteen minutes later, there was a soft knock at the door.
Tahir got up to get it, returning a moment later with a paper bag and two cups of steam. He set everything on the nightstand, then climbed back into bed, propping himself up against the headboard, and pulled Shane gently against his side.
They ate slowly, leaning against each other, the rain still tapping outside, the room warm and quiet. No television, no music, no conversation that needed to happen. Just quiet chewing, soft sips of coffee, and occasional small, lazy kisses.
Shane took a piece of strawberry from the container and held it up to Tahir’s mouth. Tahir bit it off his fingers, his gaze darkening slightly, deliberate and warm.
“Tease,” Shane mumbled, cheeks pink.
“You started it,” Tahir returned, completely unapologetic.
After breakfast, they cleared the tray aside and pulled a thick, soft blanket over their laps. Shane had a book open in his hands — some old, quiet novel he’d been meaning to finish — and Tahir had his arm slung loosely over Shane’s shoulders, his chin resting on the top of his head.
But neither of them was really reading.
Shane’s eyes were glazed over, the words on the page not registering. He was too busy listening to Tahir’s steady breathing, too busy feeling the warmth of his body, too busy tracing the faint lines of his knuckles with his finger.
Tahir was barely looking at the text he’d claimed to be interested in. His gaze was fixed on the top of Shane’s head, on the way his hair fell softly over his forehead, on the faint silver mark peeking out from the collar of his shirt.
Every once in a while, he’d press a light kiss to Shane’s hair.
Every once in a while, Shane would lean his head back and smile up at him.
The rain kept falling.
The book stayed unread.
Neither of them cared.
By mid-afternoon, they’d moved to the sofa, still wrapped in the same blanket, still not doing anything in particular. Shane had made tea — something light and floral that he liked — and handed a mug to Tahir, who held it carefully, like he was still getting used to human comforts.
“...Do you ever miss being able to go deep underwater whenever you want?” Shane asked quietly, staring into his own mug.
Tahir thought for a moment.
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “I miss the quiet. The pressure. The way the world makes sense down there.” He paused, glancing at Shane. “But not as much as I’d miss you if I went back.”
Shane’s throat tightened. He leaned his head on Tahir’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry I keep you here,” he whispered.
Tahir’s arm tightened around him, firm and gentle.
“You don’t keep me anywhere,” he said. “I choose you. Every single day. I choose this life. I choose us. There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
Shane closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar, beloved scent of iron and salt and home.
“...I love you,” he said.
“I love you more,” Tahir returned.
When night fell, the rain didn’t stop. It just grew softer, quieter, blending into the background like a lullaby. The apartment was lit only by warm, low lamps, casting everything in gold and shadow.
They were still on the sofa, legs tangled, blanket wrapped around them, faces close. Shane was staring at Tahir’s mouth, like he was trying to memorize every line, every curve, every soft part of him.
“...What?” Tahir murmured, amused.
“Nothing,” Shane said. “Just looking.”
“Look all you want,” Tahir said. “I’m all yours.”
Something in Shane’s chest softened past the point of bearing. He lifted a hand, cupping Tahir’s jaw, and pulled him down into a slow, deep, unhurried kiss.
It wasn’t heated.
It wasn’t desperate.
It was just… sure.
I’m here.
You’re here.
We’re together.
When they pulled away, breath warm against each other’s lips, Shane whispered:
“Forever?”
Tahir’s smile was soft and endless.
“Forever,” he promised.
They fell asleep curled together on the sofa that night, too comfortable to move to the bed, the rain still falling outside, the blanket wrapped tight around them. Shane’s head was on Tahir’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling the steady thrum of their bond, safe in a way he’d never thought possible.
He thought of the storm that had brought them together.
He thought of the rain that kept them wrapped up now.
Some storms break you.
Some storms find you.
This one had kept him home.
