The silence between them was not empty—it pulsed with shared breath, tentative glances, and the closeness of something new neither of them had quite named.
Rain still tapped gently against the windows of Leblanc. Outside, the world was muted by gray. Inside, in the stillness of the attic, Ryuji stood close—arms loosely looped around Ren's waist, her head resting against his chest.
"I keep thinking I'll wake up," she murmured. "That this is some messed-up dream."
Ren's hand moved slowly across her back, fingers tracing light circles through the fabric of her damp shirt. "I don't think dreams feel this real."
She laughed softly—half a breath, half a sigh. "You're too calm about this. You're not even freaking out that your best friend is… not your best bro anymore."
"You're still you," Ren said simply. "Different… but not gone."
Ryuji pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. Her cheeks were pink, but her gaze held steady, even as uncertainty flickered in the corners. "Do you mean that?"
Ren reached up, brushing her wet bangs away from her face. "I mean every word."
Her shoulders relaxed. Some of the tension melted away, replaced by a quiet curiosity—about herself, about them.
"I'm scared," she whispered. "Not just about… all this body stuff. But what I'm feeling right now. About you."
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he let the silence speak, holding her close again. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, steady.
"I've always felt something between us," he said. "Even before this. But maybe neither of us had the words."
Ryuji swallowed hard. "And now…?"
"Now," Ren said, brushing his thumb across her knuckles, "I want to understand what this is. With you. No pressure. No expectations. Just us."
She looked at their hands entwined, then back to him. The uncertainty in her eyes was still there—but so was something else. A quiet, blossoming hope.
"Okay," she whispered. "Let's figure it out. Together."
Ren smiled, and for a moment, the room warmed despite the chill outside. He leaned in again, pressing a kiss to her temple. This time, Ryuji didn't flinch or pull away. She leaned into it, letting herself be held.
No longer friends navigating awkward chaos.
But something more.
Something neither of them needed to rush.
Just the slow rhythm of trust building between heartbeats.