Chapter 14: 𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓡𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓤𝓷𝓼𝓪𝓲đť“
Rain began before noon.
By afternoon, the entire campus had fallen under a gray curtain of steady water, the windows blurred with droplets and the pathways shining under dim light.
Inside the lecture hall, students packed their bags quickly after class ended, eager to escape before the storm worsened.
Lu Zhen stayed seated longer than usual.
Mostly because he had nowhere urgent to be.
Partly because—
Lin Xu was still in the room.
Three rows ahead.
Calmly stacking books into his bag.
Not once looking back.
That distance again.
Always deliberate now.
Always careful.
And Lu Zhen hated how much he noticed it.
—
By the time he stepped into the corridor, most students had already left.
The rain outside had intensified, loud against the windows.
He reached into his bag for his umbrella—
and froze.
It wasn't there.
He checked again.
Nothing.
A quiet curse slipped under his breath.
"You left it in the library yesterday."
Lu Zhen turned sharply.
Lin Xu stood near the stairwell, holding a notebook in one hand.
His expression calm.
Neutral.
As though saying those words cost him nothing.
Lu Zhen stared.
"…You remembered?"
Lin Xu nodded once.
"You forgot it beside your chair."
Silence stretched between them.
The kind filled with too many things neither knew how to say.
Then Lin Xu stepped forward and held something out.
A black umbrella.
"…Take this."
Lu Zhen frowned.
"What about you?"
"I have another."
"You don't."
Lin Xu said nothing.
Which was answer enough.
Lu Zhen looked at the umbrella but didn't take it immediately.
"…You don't need to do this."
Lin Xu's voice stayed soft.
"I know."
The same answer as always.
And somehow—
that hurt more now.
Slowly, Lu Zhen accepted it.
Their fingers brushed briefly.
A small accidental touch.
Barely there.
Yet enough to make Lu Zhen pull his hand back too quickly.
Lin Xu lowered his gaze.
Not offended.
Just quiet.
"…Thanks," Lu Zhen said at last.
It came out rougher than intended.
Lin Xu nodded.
Then walked past him.
And away.
Again.
—
That evening, Zhou Kai cornered Song Yan beneath the covered walkway outside the dormitory building.
"You've been avoiding me."
Song Yan barely looked up from his phone.
"I haven't."
"You ignored three messages."
"I was studying."
"At two in the morning?"
"Yes."
"That sounds fake."
Song Yan sighed.
"…Why do you care?"
Zhou Kai's teasing expression faded slightly.
Because for once—
the question sounded real.
Not defensive.
Not irritated.
Just tired.
He stepped closer.
"…Because when something's wrong with you, I notice."
Song Yan finally looked up.
Rain reflected softly in his eyes.
"…That's your problem."
Zhou Kai smiled faintly.
"Probably."
A pause.
Then quieter:
"But I still want to know."
Song Yan's grip tightened slightly on his phone.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then:
"…My mother called."
Zhou Kai's expression softened.
"…Bad?"
Song Yan nodded once.
"She wants me to transfer back home next semester."
Silence.
The rain filled it.
Zhou Kai looked at him carefully.
"…Do you want to go?"
Song Yan answered immediately.
"No."
Too quickly.
Too honestly.
Their eyes met.
And suddenly the meaning beneath the answer felt larger than either of them wanted to say aloud.
Zhou Kai smiled—but gentler now.
"Then don't."
Song Yan looked away first.
"…You make things sound easy."
"They're not easy."
Zhou Kai's voice lowered.
"I just think some things are worth staying for."
Song Yan said nothing.
But this time—
he didn't deny it.
—
That night, Lu Zhen stayed late in the library.
Mostly to avoid going home too soon.
Mostly to avoid thinking.
But when he finally stood to leave—
he realized his notebook was missing.
His literature notes.
The ones he needed for tomorrow.
He searched twice.
Nothing.
Then remembered:
Classroom 4C.
He must have left it there.
Annoyed, he headed back across campus through the rain-dark courtyard.
By the time he reached the old academic building, most lights were off.
Only one room still glowed faintly:
4C.
He opened the door—
and stopped.
Lin Xu was inside.
Standing near the window.
Holding Lu Zhen's missing notebook.
Their eyes met across the dim room.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Lin Xu lifted the notebook slightly.
"…You forgot this."
Lu Zhen let out a slow breath.
"…Again?"
"Yes."
A faint pause.
"…You forget a lot when you're distracted."
Lu Zhen stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
Rain hammered harder against the windows now.
Thunder rolled faintly in the distance.
"…Maybe I'm distracted because someone keeps making things complicated."
Lin Xu looked at him steadily.
"…Was giving you space complicated?"
The question landed quietly.
But directly.
Lu Zhen had no immediate answer.
Because the truth was—
yes.
It had been.
Painfully so.
—
A flash of lightning lit the room briefly.
Then—
the lights went out.
Darkness swallowed everything.
The old building fell silent except for rain.
"…Power outage," Lin Xu said calmly.
Lu Zhen exhaled.
"Perfect."
Neither moved at first.
Then Lin Xu used his phone flashlight, casting soft light across the room.
The small circle of brightness felt strangely intimate in the dark.
Too close.
Too quiet.
Too honest.
Lu Zhen took the notebook from his hand.
Their fingers brushed again.
This time—
neither pulled away immediately.
—
"…Why didn't you ask me?"
Lu Zhen's voice came suddenly.
Low.
Unsteady.
Lin Xu looked at him.
"Ask what?"
"Why I said those things."
Lin Xu was silent for a moment.
Then:
"Because if you wanted to tell me, you would."
The simplicity of the answer struck harder than accusation ever could.
Lu Zhen lowered his gaze.
"…What if I didn't know how?"
Lin Xu stepped closer.
Not enough to crowd him.
Just enough to be there.
"Then start with the part you can say."
Thunder sounded again outside.
Closer this time.
Lu Zhen's fingers tightened around the notebook.
His chest felt tight.
Words rose—
then stopped.
Still trapped.
Still impossible.
So instead, he whispered the only truth he could manage:
"…It hurt when you stayed away."
Silence.
Then Lin Xu answered softly:
"It hurt to."
And in that darkened classroom,
with rain surrounding them like a wall,
the distance between them became smaller
than either of them was ready to admit.