Makoto was in a cathedral.
Or something like it.
High stone walls arched overhead, painted with shifting murals of memories she couldn't quite grasp. The stained glass burned with moonlight instead of sun, casting the polished floor in slow waves of blue and violet.
She stood at the center of a vast, silent sanctuary. Alone.
Or so she thought—until the shadows shifted.
Ren stepped forward from the far side of the chamber, his footsteps echoing like a heartbeat. He wasn't dressed in his school uniform or his thief attire—but something in between: a tailored, dark coat, open at the collar. Confident. Magnetic.
Makoto's lips parted. "You're not really him," she said, her voice soft, wary.
"No," he agreed, tilting his head. "But I'm what you see when you look at him and don't let yourself admit it."
She looked away. Her pulse quickened.
"Makoto," he said, voice like a whisper just behind her ear. "You lead. You protect. You control. But you're also—"
"I'm not weak."
"No," he said gently. "You're afraid of letting go."
Her breath hitched.
He was suddenly close. Too close. His hands weren't touching her, but she could feel them—hovering just over her skin, warming the space around her arms, her hips, her throat. Her uniform had melted away, replaced with soft silks and leather belts she'd never worn, revealing more than she'd ever dared in public.
"I've seen the way you look at me when you think no one notices," Ren whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Like you're studying a puzzle you already solved… but you're afraid of what the answer means."
Makoto didn't speak. Couldn't.
Instead, she raised her eyes and met his.
"Say it," he coaxed. "You want me."
Her fists trembled at her sides. Her lips pressed shut, resisting.
But her eyes—those defiant, intelligent eyes—finally softened.
"I do."
He smiled, slow and devastating. "Then why do you always pretend otherwise?"
Because I'm afraid. Because if I fall, I won't stop.
He leaned in, and this time she didn't resist. Their kiss was heat and tension unraveling—like snapping a taut string that had stretched far too long. Her breath came hard, her body pressing to his as her armor fell away piece by piece.
In that moment, the cathedral trembled. The murals melted into fluid reflections of her fears, her wants. Her desires made manifest.
Chains crumbled.
Doors unlocked.
She gasped as his hands finally touched her skin—not roughly, not possessively, but like someone cherishing what they'd always dreamed of having close.
"Let yourself want," he whispered. "Let yourself be free."
Makoto jolted awake in her bed, sweat at her brow, her heart hammering.
But instead of shame, she felt something else.
Clarity.
And a hunger she could no longer deny.