"Rakk." She cuts me off quietly.
I close my mouth, heart hammering against my ribs. My magic is pulling so hard toward her I can barely contain it, can barely remember why I need to keep it locked away. Every instinct screams to reach out, to understand what she's feeling, to drown in the connection I know is possible if I just let go.
But I can't. Won't. Not without permission, not without certainty that she wants it too.
The silence stretches. Rain drums against stone. Fire crackles and pops.
"No one's ever said that to me before," she says finally. Her voice is barely audible over the storm. "Not like that."
The statement breaks something in my chest. "What?"
"They've called me pleasing. Fuckable. Good breeding stock." Each word is flat, emotionless. Clinical assessment of her own worth as measured by people who saw her as property. "But no one's ever looked at me like..." She trails off, arms wrapping tighter around herself.
I want to destroy everyone who ever made her believe those were the only ways she could be seen. Want to rip apart the entire gods-damned world that taught her she was nothing more than a body to be used.
"That's wrong," I manage. "Those people were wrong."
"Were they?" She meets my eyes, vulnerability naked in her expression. "I don't know how to be anything else. Don't know what it means to be seen as more than that."
My hands clench at my sides, fighting the urge to reach for her. "You're more. You're—" Words fail. How do I articulate the thousand things I see when I look at her? The strength, the intelligence, the wary courage that keeps her surviving despite everything? The way she makes me laugh, the way she challenges me, the way she's started to trust despite having every reason not to?
"You're everything," I finish helplessly.
She's quiet for a long moment, studying me with those sharp eyes that always see too much. Then: "You make me laugh."
The non sequitur throws me. "What?"
"You make me laugh." She takes a step closer, firelight dancing across her features. "No one's ever done that before. Never sat with me just because they wanted my company. Never looked at me like I was..." She swallows hard. "Like I was beautiful instead of fuckable. Like I mattered beyond what my body could provide."
My magic surges, desperate, straining against restraints that are fraying rapidly. I want her to know that she is so much more than that.
"Serah—"
"I don't know what this is," she continues, voice shaking slightly. "Don't know how to want someone without being terrified. Don't know how to trust that kindness isn't manipulation. But you—" Another step closer. "You've never pushed. Never demanded. Just kept showing up and making me laugh and treating me like I'm worth something."
I'm trembling. Actually trembling like I'm the fragile one here. "You are worth something. You're worth everything."
"Then show me." The words are barely whispered. "Show me what it's like to feel beautiful. Worthy. Cared for. Please."
My heart stops. Restarts. Hammers so hard I can feel my pulse in my throat. "Serah, I—you don't?—"
"I want to know." She's close enough now that I can feel her body heat, can see the fine tremor in her hands. "I want to know what it feels like to choose this. To want someone who wants me back, not just my body. I want—" Her voice breaks. "I want to feel safe wanting you."
Every argument, every reason I've carefully constructed for maintaining distance, for protecting her from my magic and my feelings and the intensity of what I want—all of it crumbles.
I reach out slowly, giving her time to pull back, to change her mind. My hand cups her face, palm against her cheek, thumb brushing her jaw. Her skin is damp from rain, warm from fire, impossibly soft.
She leans into the touch, eyes closing briefly.
"You deserve this," I whisper. My voice sounds wrecked. "You deserve to be cherished. Protected. Wanted for who you are, not what you can give. You deserve—" I swallow hard. "Youdeserve everything good in this world and I want to give you all of it."
Her eyes open, meeting mine. Gold-hazel and devastating. "Show me," she breathes again.
My control fractures. My magic surges forward, desperate for connection, for understanding, for her?—
Then she rises on her toes and kisses me.
The world stops.
