Ann hesitated just outside the café. Leblanc's windows glowed warm in the cool night, and from inside, she could see the lone figure at the counter—Ren, shoulders slightly hunched over a steaming cup. It was well past midnight, but he hadn't gone up to his room.
Her phone buzzed again.
"If you can't sleep… you can stop by."
She hadn't even replied. She just came.
The bell above the door jingled softly as she stepped inside. The scent of roasted beans wrapped around her like a blanket, familiar and comforting.
Ren turned, and that calm, unreadable expression softened instantly. He smiled—not his usual smirk, but something gentler, private.
"Hey."
"Hey," she echoed, closing the door behind her.
There was a pause as she slid into the booth across from him. Silence stretched, not awkward, but charged. Like both of them were waiting for something to tip.
"You alright?" he asked.
She nodded, then shook her head. "I don't know."
He raised an eyebrow.
"I've just been… feeling weird. About everything. About us."
He didn't look surprised. Just patient. Like he'd been waiting for this.
Ann lowered her gaze. "You're different now. I don't mean that in a bad way. But I feel it. And I think… I've changed too."
Ren leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "You've always been strong, Ann. But I know what you mean. Things feel heavier."
Her eyes flicked to his. "It's not just that. It's you. When you look at me, I feel like I can't hide anything. And when I'm around you, it's like… I want to stop hiding."
The admission hung between them.
"I don't want to pretend anymore," she added, voice soft.
Ren's gaze held hers, steady and warm. "Then don't."
Another silence. This one deeper.
She stood suddenly, her legs moving before her thoughts could catch up. "Can I come up?" she asked.
His breath caught—subtle, but she saw it.
He didn't speak. He just nodded.
Upstairs, everything was quieter. More intimate. His room, once a sanctuary of solitude, now held something else in the air—a shared vulnerability.
Ann stepped inside slowly, as if crossing a threshold that couldn't be undone. She turned to face him, heart pounding.
"I'm not here to throw myself at you," she said, biting her lip. "I just… need to know if this is real. If what I'm feeling is real."
Ren stepped closer, stopping just in front of her.
"It is."
His voice was low, certain. It wasn't lust that filled the space between them—not yet—but something far more powerful. A slow burn.
Her hand reached up, brushing his cheek. He leaned into it, just a little. Just enough.
When their lips met, it wasn't wild or desperate. It was a promise. A spark, held gently between them.
Not rushed.
Not yet.
Just felt.