Crimson Threads Unraveled
The rooftop felt colder than usual. Naarah's hair fluttered in the wind as she stood beneath the starlit sky, her heart drumming with a rhythm she couldn't understand. The city lights glimmered far below, a false constellation of steel and glass. Somewhere in the labyrinth below, Peter's world was unraveling. And she was tangled in it.
Peter stood a few paces away, hands in his pockets, his coat hanging open despite the breeze. His jaw was clenched, his expression unreadable—typical Peter. But tonight, his silence felt louder.
Naarah finally turned toward him. "You've been avoiding me."
Peter's gaze met hers. Calm. Cold. Controlled. But the flicker in his eyes betrayed him. "I've been… protecting you."
"From what?"
He stepped forward. "From myself."
The words landed heavy between them. For a moment, neither of them moved. Peter looked at her as if she were something fragile—and something dangerous all at once. "You think I'm some kind of savior, Naarah. But I'm not. I've done things... I've lost things."
"You mean your friends."
He flinched. Not visibly, but enough for her to feel it.
"You never talk about them."
"They're dead," he said flatly. "Because of him. Because of my past."
Naarah stepped closer, her voice softer. "And your ex? The one who betrayed you?"
Peter's eyes darkened, shadows creeping in. "She wasn't just an ex. She was someone I trusted with my life. And she gave it away—for money, for power. For him."
Naarah swallowed hard. "Your rival."
He nodded. "He used her to get to me. She fed him everything—my moves, my weaknesses. I thought I was invincible. I was wrong."
There was something raw in his voice, something human.
"And now?" she asked. "Do you still feel weak?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, Peter turned toward her, and for once, there was no mask. No coldness. Just him.
"You confuse me," he said, voice low. "You're the first person who's ever made me want to change. To heal. But that also makes you dangerous. Because if I lose you, I don't know who I'll become."
Naarah reached for his hand. "Then don't lose me."
The moment stretched. Their fingers touched. Electricity surged through them—unspoken emotions, years of pain, and newfound hope colliding in one simple contact.
Peter leaned in slowly, hesitant at first. "I kissed you once… out of curiosity."
She nodded.
"But now I want to kiss you because I need to."
He did.
Their lips met, gentle at first. Then deeper. Fiercer. But beneath the passion was something tender. It wasn't just a kiss—it was a promise.
He pulled away, forehead resting against hers. "I'm going to finish this. End him. For good."
Naarah nodded. "I know."
"But before I go into that final battle, I needed this."
Their fingers intertwined, and for the first time, Peter allowed himself to fall—completely—into her warmth. His barriers crumbled. The man beneath the cold exterior emerged—scarred, shaken, but finally honest.
"I love you," she whispered.
Peter closed his eyes. "And I've loved you longer than I've admitted to myself."
The night sky bore silent witness to a love no longer restrained by fear.
Tomorrow, war would rage.
But tonight, their hearts finally beat as one.