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I cocoon ‘round your shoulders,
When you’re half-cut and you’re frozen,
And you’ve got that visible breathing,
You’re depending on me again.
Though hesitant to admit it, Gen could acquiesce to himself that Senku had been right. Tsukasa’s empire couldn’t hold a candle to the kingdom of science.
And that was a literal assessment, because no matter the meagre warmth he garnered huddled like a pack animal around one of the several blazing bonfires which dotted Tsukasa’s domain, it couldn’t compare to the warmth that had burnt him from the inside out when Senku made those magnets, built that generator, created a sun.
Gen’s knees chattered against his ribs where they were pulled as tight against his body as he could comfortably manage. His breath appeared in front of him through the air, blending into the smoke of the fire. His instinctual methods to preserve heat; he made no attempt to stop any of them, no matter how it affected his dignity in that moment. Nothing could overtake the voice in his head which reminded him of the oncoming winter months. He feared, honestly feared, he wouldn’t live through it. And though the thought of surviving 3,700 years of petrification only to die months later rubbed against him unpleasantly, the true, overbearing shame would be losing the opportunity to see Senku’s genius plans come to fruition.
If he’d had the brilliant light of Senku’s science with him in that moment, he could’ve seen how blue his fingers were. Senku, if he’d known, might have tried to spin it into a positive, claiming that it was a relief then, that Gen couldn’t see the damage being done. He would’ve sworn emphatically that a brave, famous mentalist like Gen could stand a little coldness. He would’ve laid out neatly the scientific reasons why prolonged exposure to the cold would affect his dexterity and how Senku could whip up some easy cure in moments.
All Gen really wanted was for Senku to be there. Maybe that miracle cure would be his breath, body heat or something equally nostalgic.
Though distant and hazy, those thoughts were why he was there. Gen was not a scientist, but he had something to preserve. Somewhere through the forest, there was a bottle of coke waiting for him, framed beautifully by the self-satisfied grin of a scientist.
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I remember when we swapped names and I thought maybe,
You’d stay and try and outdrink me,
Your friends all hated it,
But fuck it if they talk,
Fuck it if they try and get to us,
‘Cause I’d rather go blind than let you down.
“When I was in Tsukasa’s camp,” Gen said, without looking at Senku, “I couldn’t stop thinking about your light.” Months and months had passed since those days, but nevertheless they stuck with him.
Both of them were leant over the edge of Senku’s observatory. Gen’s fingers plucked at the sleeves of his attire, and from the corner of his eye he could tell that Senku was looking at him, but he couldn’t rip his eyes from the light which emanated from the huts below. Inside, he knew there were villagers cosied around hearths, hard at work or sleeping away their effort. He could practically feel the heat from where he stood.
“I told you I could be convincing,” Senku returned. “I may not be a mentalist, but—”
“No, I know,” Gen sighed out. His breath came out in a plume of vapour. “I know you must have taken one look at me and known exactly what it was that I wanted. You must’ve seen right through me, but that wasn’t what I was talking about.”
When he looked over, finally, he was smiling. He couldn’t help it, even if his nerves were raw and his face hurt from this daily exertion he went through. Something about the warmth made him so loose and malleable, effortlessly dragging his muscles around.
“Then what are you talking about?” Senku asked.
Gen turned back, but this time instead of the light below he affixed his gaze on the stars. “There were nights where I would wedge myself between two large, muscley Tsukasa empire soldiers in front of a bonfire and hope to share in just a little bit of warmth.”
“Tsk,” Senku scoffed, then with arms folded across his chest murmured derisively, “You were having the time of your life, I’m sure.”
“Oh, did my phrasing spark jealousy in you? Would you rather I had sought comfort in the arms of beautiful women instead? Or are you wishing you were the one in my place?” his usual mirth coloured the words. “Stop fussing, it wasn’t fun. It was simply that after spending their days wasting time sparring or lifting heavy things or whatever muscle people do,” Senku snorted a laugh, “they all practically radiated heat. Unfortunately, they smelt disgusting.”
“So, you were missing my… soap?”
“I was missing you,” Gen chuckled. “I missed the things you would say that sounded like fairy tales, like ‘I’m going to build a generator’ or ‘I can make you coke’, and I missed watching you just… just do those things. I was longing for the light you made with your generator because it made me feel so incredible; those bonfires couldn’t get me even close to that feeling. I kept seeing these people Tsukasa had freed from the stone every day and thinking ‘isn’t it amazing that they’re free, even if they’re being freed into this war’. And I thought about how none of them had seen what I’d seen, and how your kingdom of science would make them warm. And I missed your stupid smile, and the weird clothes you wear and yes okay I missed the soap.”
Senku’s arms were still folded, but they were loosening. It seemed as though they weren’t so much being held there and remaining in place by the friction of Senku’s clothing and skin. His mouth was just slightly ajar, eyes not like saucers but wide enough for Gen to know.
“Are you honestly surprised?” Gen prompted, but to no response. “Wait, did you honestly not know?”
“Know… what?” Senku’s face never dropped from its shocked state.
“That I’m in love with you?”
“Ah,” his mouth didn’t move. “…Hah?”
“Oh my God,” Gen snorted, and laughed, and laid his head into his hands. His shoulders shook and tears formed in his eyes, but not in sadness, rather the result of his uncontrollable glee. This was so funny to him. “Senku, you’re so stupid.”
“Since when!?” Senku exclaimed. He seemed to snap out of his reverie but only to spark Gen’s laughter anew with his disbelief and franticness. “Hey, come on! Since when!”
“Oh, really now, Senku. What bad manners, I give you this valuable information and you don’t even have the decency to give me a response?” The hurt that his cheeks would feel the next morning, after all the work and all this smiling, didn’t remotely register.
“Wha—yes, obviously I love you! Answer my question!” Senku’s feet were practically stomping against the floor. Gen worried he’d dislocate an arm with how emphatically he swung them around.
“Why thank you, my dear, how kind! But honestly, I don’t know. I just realised, one day, I’d sort of been in love with you this whole time. It wasn’t difficult, I think anyone could fall in love with what you do. The real time-consumer was figuring out that somehow my love for that and my love for you were two separate things.”
“Okay well when did you figure that out?” Senku demanded.
“Oh, I don’t know… a few months ago maybe?”
“Months?! When were you planning on telling me, huh?!”
“Right now, I suppose,” Gen shrugged. “It seems to have worked out.”
“But after the huts were built? The villagers spent days trying to figure out how to allocate the huts to the right number of people, why didn’t you just tell me before they did that? Now they’re going to have to do it again and we’re probably gonna have a spare. Days of work, wasted!” Senku griped and groaned and sighed as his back hit the window ledge of the observatory and a vapour stream left him. His eyes slipped closed, whilst the vapour faded.
Gen wandered closer to where he leant. His hand left the relative warmth of his sleeve to comb through Senku’s untameable hair. “An empty hut just means more storage space, my dear.”
One of Senku’s eyes cracked open. With a loud, exaggerated sigh he said, “I guess that’s not so bad.”
“Honestly, what do you take me for?”
Senku straightened, dislodging Gen’s hand from his head, and came to face the other. Jovial, and with an expression that Gen had seen before in the moments when Senku had just solved a problem, when a world of potential lay before him, Senku said, “I think you know.”