Another startling crash of thunder peeled through the room; his stomach twisted as his mind reeled back – back to China, back to the haunting memory of that awful thunderstorm. Back to the mess he left behind.

When he'd been the one in Katsuyuki's position, the unwilling recipient of a friend's affection, he'd handled it far less graciously. His bond with his childhood friend had soured once her feelings for him had gotten a little too strong. He tried to keep an emotional distance, not wanting to relent to her wishes. But, fearing the fallout from turning her down, his lack of a firm, incontrovertible 'no' and 'never' allowed her feelings to fester; a mistake he'd come to sorely regret.

He winced. Just don't think about it. That mess in China could stay there a little longer. No point worrying about it now...

Still, seeing first–hand the other side of an unrequited crush, he expected to reap the karma of his past mistakes; to feel the pain and frustration and false hope that he'd unwittingly caused back then. Yet somehow, he was spared that misery. Katsuyuki had the patience and kindness to withstand Yuanfei's pathetic clamoring. He wasn't kept at arm's length the way Yuanfei had done to his doting friend; no, he had the privilege to be let past the defenses of the one he longed for; to experience a little taste of that trust and intimacy. He was lucky; undeservingly so.

He looked up. Katsuyuki's intense eyes looked back at him, and he stiffened, startled.

“You can't sleep?”

“Ah, no,” Yuanfei murmured with feigned indifference.

“Storm still bothering you?”

“... I guess so, yeah.”

Katsuyuki closed his eyes again with a tired sigh and placed his arm over Yuanfei. He was pulled close in a protective embrace, his face close to Katsuyuki's chest, and a hand gently nestled into his hair to cradle the back of his head. The thumb ever so delicately caressed the nape of his neck with a slow, sweeping motion. The tentative touch was soothing, but belied a shyness. This must be far out of his comfort zone. But still, he did it for Yuanfei. His body, initially frozen, soon melted under the touch.

This is what it would be like.

For a lucky someone, some day, this could be every night with Katsuyuki: sharing a bed, in his arms, comforted and trusted. He was jealous at the thought – but, at least for tonight, he got to enjoy Katsuyuki's company for himself. He exhaled deeply.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Hm?”

“Whatever's on your mind.”

He was astute – annoyingly so at times. He could read Yuanfei like a book. “Nothing's on my mind.” He knew Katsuyuki wouldn't believe him, but he'd at least play along.

“Fair enough.”

Thick droplets of rain pelted the window. The storm was approaching. Katsuyuki strengthened his embrace and lowered his head, resting his face in Yuanfei's long hair with a tense sigh. It was a gentle, protective gesture, and was just enough to crack Yuanfei's defenses. His irreverent mask was slipping, just a little.

“I don't even know why...” Yuanfei trailed off. After a moment of contemplative silence, he continued. “It wasn't always this bad for me.”

Katsuyuki hesitated for a moment. “You said you got lost in a bad storm, right? After an argument, or something like that.”

“Yeah. I guess that must be it.” Yuanfei frowned. “I've seen bad storms before, but... that one that got to me.”

“Hm.” Katsuyuki continued to gently stroke the back of Yuanfei's head with a tentative stiffness. Something was on his mind.

“What is it?”

He was silent for another short moment. “I don't want to psychoanalyze you,” Katsuyuki spoke cautiously. “And I'm not going to pry.”

“But...?”

“Well, if you're wondering why it gets to you now... It's possible to have developed an aversion to something based solely on association. A negative experience gets imprinted onto something incidental, and from there it manifests as a phobia.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe it's not the storms themselves that makes you feel this way. Maybe it's a negative association you've built around them.” He shrugged. “I don't know what happened to you that night, but I get the feeling it bothers you more than you want to say.”

“Hm.” Yuanfei paused. His eyebrows creased as a knot of anxiety rose in his throat. Regrettable decisions had been made in his pursuit of success, and now his life hung in a precarious balance. It was all underscored that one night, under the deafening roar of the thunderstorm. His life, embroiled in a tangled web of hurt and dishonesty, was threatening to come undone – he'd made it out to America before it came to a head. He'd promised his friend he'd come back one day, talk it out, make amends. An empty promise; one of many to placate her. So there that tangled mess stayed, the threat ever looming. Yuanfei was forever looking over his shoulder, bracing for the fallout.

Don't think about it.

Looking up into Katsuyuki's eyes, confronted with a gentle look of concern, his expression loosened.

“Ah, I don't know about that.” He gave Katsuyuki a superficial smile.

“Fair enough.” Katsuyuki didn't seem convinced, but he didn't pry further.

Yuanfei wanted to tell him, he really did. The weight of the guilt crushed him. But the thought of tearing open that wound and confronting it all over again was too agonizing to bear. He hated what he'd done, using and deceiving and defrauding friends and family alike. That wasn't who he was, it was never what he'd wanted. It was an unfortunate – but unavoidable – consequence born out of necessity. The price to pay for success. Was their suffering worth it for his own gain?

He hated the answer. The guilt was bitter to swallow. It had been worth it. He really was a bad person.

“What happened that night was...” Yuanfei tensed up. “I deserved it.”

“You don't really believe that.”

“I made a lot of mistakes. I was selfish. I hurt people.”

“So has everyone.”

“This is different.”

“If you say so.” Katsuyuki shrugged. “But you've been hurt too, haven't you? Whatever happened to you that night. It hurt you too.”

“Yeah, but– it's what I get for what I've done.”

“When is it going to be enough? Don't you think you've let it hurt you enough already?” Yuanfei looked up. Katsuyuki's vibrant eyes stared down at him with an intensity. “You aren't defined by your mistakes, and suffering won't help you atone for them anyway. It just keeps you from moving on.”

“Then what will?”

“Forgiveness.”

Yuanfei winced, despairing. “What if no one forgives me?”

“I'm not talking about them.” Yuanfei's expression softened. “It's not easy, but it's necessary. Self–forgiveness. That's what you deserve, Fei.”

“But I don't--”

“You do.”

“But you don't know--”

“I don't care.”

Yuanfei huffed. “What makes you so sure?”

“I'd like to think I know you pretty well by now.” Katsuyuki glanced away. “I don't think you have it in you to be as bad of a person as you think you are. And even if I'm wrong, that isn't who you are now.” His eyes drifted back to meet Yuanfei's with a timid hesitation. “I see the good in you, even if you don't.” Yuanfei looked up at him, a sad hint of a smile wearily pulling at his lips. “Besides, if you still somehow believe there's hope for someone like me, there has to be hope for you too.” The smile grew, and he exhaled a small huff of laughter.

“Hmh.” Yuanfei bit his lip and swallowed hard to suppress the lump in his throat. “...Thank you.” His voice was weak. Katsuyuki gripped him tightly. Lightning scattered across the sky in rapid flashes, succeeded by a crushing rumble not far behind.

Yuanfei settled into his arms with a trembling sigh. He really didn't deserve someone like Katsuyuki. Under that brusque and solemn exterior, toughened by years of loneliness and hardship, was a beautiful, sensitive soul. He'd seen it from the beginning, even if no one else had; not even Katsuyuki himself.

I see the good in you too.

Katsuyuki let out a small, thoughtful hum.

“What?”

“The thunder... You didn't flinch that time.”