The downpour was relentless, each drop a tiny hammer against the windowpane. Outside, the world was swallowed by inky blackness, punctuated only by the violent flashes of lightning that momentarily bleached the landscape. Then came the thunder, a guttural roar that vibrated through the floorboards and straight into your bones. Thunderstorms were your Achilles heel, your personal brand of hell. Peace and sleep were luxuries you couldn’t afford when the heavens raged.

Tonight was no different. Each lightning strike sent a jolt of pure terror through you, the thunder a deafening confirmation of your worst fears. You knew, logically, that the chances of being struck were astronomically low, but logic abandoned you the moment the first rumble echoed across the sky. Your body was a taut string, vibrating with anxiety.

You felt a familiar warmth beside you, a comforting pressure against your side. Chan. You’d been together for a year and a half, long enough for him to know every quirk, every comfort zone, every irrational fear that plagued you. He knew how thunderstorms turned you into a shivering, terrified mess.

He gently nudged you closer, his arm wrapping securely around your shoulders. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your back. "My little star," he murmured, his voice a calming balm against the storm's fury, "are you scared?"