It takes me a moment to readjust to my surroundings. I’m in the tiny bedroom of the apartment, and now that it’s daylight, I can appreciate its details: a simple bed, a bare-bones desk, a lamp, and a floor-to-ceiling shelf filled with books. Those details fade in comparison to the one that really matters: I’m still in Levi’s arms. His body is gently draped over mine, our legs still entwined. Every inch of my skin tingles at the memory of last night. How we memorized the landscapes of each other’s bodies, connecting in an intimate way that was so many things at once. Epic. Tender. Simple, and full of laughter, the kind you only share with someone who appreciates and knows every inch of you. Snuggling in closer to him, I allow myself one more minute of bliss in his arms before I wake him. There’s something so peaceful about Levi’s expression right now, I can’t stand the idea of wrecking that. But today is the rally. The whole reason we’re here.

Levi opens his eyes slowly, yawning as he does. He kisses my shoulder lightly, like this is something we do, waking up like this, together, and I involuntarily shiver.

“Cold?” he asks, his voice low.

“How could I be? You’re like a furnace,” I tease.

Levi smiles. I’ve missed that smile, the creases around his eyes. I ache for it, even though it’s right in front of me. I ache because beneath that smile is an undercurrent of fear we’re both refusing to acknowledge. “You know I run hot. Another one of my fun attributes.” He shrugs, then kisses my cheek, pulling me in closer to him. I want to lose myself in the warmth of his chest, to think of nothing but the night we spent together, learning each other’s geometry, memorizing each other’s angles and curves.

“No matter what happens,” I say to him, echoing something I told him last year, on our trip to Castor Island. “I’ll never regret this. Our night,” I say simply. “No one can take it away from us, okay?”

“Who would?”

“I don’t know. The universe. Anyone. Just please, promise me—”

“I promise.”

“You don’t even know what you’re promising yet!”

“Sorry.” He grins impishly, and I would swat him playfully if I had a free hand.

“Promise me it’ll stay ours, no matter what else happens. To us. Or to the people we love. Promise me this will stay transcribed in our memories forever, even if…even if…”

“I promise,” he says, his voice full of a familiar longing I recognize because I feel it myself, all the time.