星轨向你 Orbit Toward You

两个人认识的时候，一个是学姐，一个是刚进校的学妹。最初只是借笔记、占座位、在观测记录本上替对方标好每一颗星的位置。When they met, one was a senior and one had just arrived on campus. At first it was only borrowed notes, saved seats, and marking the position of every star for each other in an observation log.

后来她们成了彼此最靠得住的人。一起熬夜改论文，一起在天台等一场流星雨，一起把"以后"说得很大很远。喜欢是慢慢长出来的，长得像星轨——一圈一圈，看不出在动，回头才发现已经绕了很远。Later they became the person each could count on most. Nights spent revising a paper, a rooftop wait for a meteor shower, a shared future described in very large and distant terms. Liking grows slowly, the way an orbit does: circle after circle, no visible movement, until you look back and see how far it has carried you.

谁也不肯先开口，因为一旦说破，"知己"这个位置可能就没了。可星轨总会回到原点——有些话，绕了那么久，还是得说。Neither would speak first, because saying it out loud might cost them the position of confidante. But an orbit always returns to where it began — and some things, after circling that long, still have to be said.