The dormitory was unusually quiet. The other girls had gone back to the school building, leaving only you and Shiori behind. The room was dim, lit by the soft glow of the desk lamp, shadows stretching across the walls.

You sat on your bed, legs crossed, while Shiori leaned against the window frame, arms folded, her gaze fixed outside. The silence was comfortable at first—until you spoke.

"Have you ever thought about… kissing someone?"

The words hung in the air, heavier than you expected. Shiori’s head turned sharply, her dark eyes narrowing, but she didn’t answer. The room shifted—tense, charged, full of glances that lingered too long.

You met her stare. She didn’t look away.

The silence stretched, and then it broke—not with words, but with movement. You crossed the space between you, heart pounding, and before either of you could second-guess it, your lips met hers.

For a moment, the world stopped. Her lips were cold, hesitant, but she didn’t pull away. The tension dissolved into something fragile, something real.

But then—abruptly—she pushed back, her breath sharp, her eyes wide with fear.

"This is wrong," she whispered, voice trembling despite its usual steadiness. "I… I can’t."

Her hand lingered against her lips, as if trying to erase the moment. She turned away, shoulders rigid, the ahoge strand trembling slightly with her unease.

You stood frozen, the taste of the kiss still lingering, the silence heavier than before. Shiori’s back was to you, but her voice carried across the room, low and conflicted.

"I don’t know how to feel. About you. About me. About any of this."

The dormitory held the weight of her words, the tension of what had happened, and the fragile truth that neither of you could ignore anymore.