The storm hit just after midnight.
Ezra lay in bed, headphones in, the sound of rain mixing with piano music. The house creaked with wind. He couldn't sleep—not since that moment in the library, Kei's hand brushing his like a secret language.
Then came the knock.
It was faint, but he heard it. A rhythm he already knew by heart.
Ezra opened the window to find Kei standing in the garden, soaked and grinning, rain dripping from his bangs.
"You're insane," Ezra whispered.
"Come with me."
"Now?"
Kei held up his phone. The screen lit up with a map. "I found this spot. An old beach cabin. I think it's abandoned."
Ezra looked behind him. His father's door was closed. His mother hadn't spoken to him in days.
He climbed out without another word.
They rode Kei's bike down back roads until the streetlights vanished behind them. The rain had lightened, but the ocean wind whipped around them, wild and cold.
The cabin was exactly what Kei said—small, broken, forgotten. But it had a roof and four walls. Inside, they lit candles Kei had stuffed in his backpack.
Ezra took off his wet hoodie. Kei tossed him a blanket.
They sat in silence, listening to thunder roll over the sea.
Then Kei said, "I think I love you."
Ezra froze.
Kei wasn't looking at him. "I've been thinking about it all week. And I know it's stupid. I know we're seventeen and none of this lasts. But I still think it."
Ezra swallowed. "I think it too."
Kei finally looked at him. And something broke open.
They kissed like it was the last night of the world.
Outside, lightning split the sky.