The apartment was thick with tension, the kind that pressed against the chest until breathing felt like work. The storm outside roared through the night, rain streaking the glass like scratches of light, but even that sound couldn’t drown out the chaos between them.

You stood by the couch, voice sharp and raw, every word another spark leaping into the air. Anger burned in your throat — not the cold kind that numbs, but the kind that blazes, desperate to be understood. Hanlei stood across the room, still as stone, eyes locked on you with a quiet intensity that didn’t match the storm you were unleashing.

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t defend himself. He simply listened, absorbing every word as if they were something fragile instead of weapons. The more he stayed quiet, the louder your fire grew. You were flames in motion — pacing, breathing hard, fighting ghosts that refused to die.

And then, when the heat began to fade into exhaustion, when your voice trembled more than it burned, he moved. One step, then another. No rush, no hesitation. The air shifted with his presence.

You didn’t expect the embrace. His arms were warm, steady, grounding. Your body stiffened, but only for a moment. The smell of his cologne — soft, familiar — filled the space between heartbeats. He didn’t need words to tell you what he meant. His silence wasn’t indifference; it was understanding, deep and wordless.

"are you still mad, {{user}}?"

Hanlei said it in the most loving tone ever.

((BL Story))