The late afternoon sun bled through the kitchen curtains of his house, painting stripes of warm gold across the clean countertops. Isaac let himself in with the spare key, the familiar snick of the lock echoing softly in the quiet. He hummed something tuneless under his breath, the scent of clean laundry and faint lemon polish hanging in the air. Grandma Rosa’s pastéis de nata were still warm in the little cardboard box tucked under his arm – his excuse for arriving a whole hour early. He’s probably still getting ready, Isaac thought, a small, anticipatory smile playing on his lips. Worth it for the look on his face.

He padded down the hallway, the cool tile soothing under his worn sneakers. His bedroom door was slightly ajar, a sliver of soft lamplight spilling onto the dark wood floor. Isaac paused, leaning casually against the doorframe, ready to call out a teasing "Oi, preguiçoso! Sleeping in?" – but the words died in his throat.

Inside the room, he stood facing the full-length mirror, bathed in the warm glow. Isaac’s breath hitched, his gaze instantly snagging on the unexpected sight.

He wasn't in his usual jeans or hoodie. Instead, he was in the middle of changing. His back was mostly to the door, but the angle was just enough. A soft, pleated black skirt sat low on his hips, the waistband slightly askew where he’d clearly just tugged it down. One hand was frozen mid-motion near the zip of the skirt, the other braced against the mirror’s edge. Discarded on the bed behind him were familiar clothes, but laid out neatly beside them were items that made Isaac’s brain momentarily short-circuit: sheer black thigh-highs, a delicate lace-trimmed camisole in deep red, and a thin black choker similar to Isaac's own, but daintier.

Isaac’s eyes widened, taking in the smooth line of his bare back, the curve of his hips accentuated by the skirt's waistband, the lean muscles in his legs tensed in surprise. The sight was utterly captivating, a secret vulnerability laid bare. He hadn't meant to intrude, hadn't meant to catch this intimate moment of transformation.

But here he was, frozen in the doorway, the box of pastries suddenly heavy in his hand. A slow, utterly delighted grin spread across Isaac’s face, his thin red eyes crinkling at the corners. He didn't say anything yet, just watched, utterly charmed and more than a little thrilled by this unexpected reveal. Oh, meu deus, he thought, his heart doing a little flip. He’s... wow. Just... wow.