Work Text:
“Hey, congrats newbie! You even managed to ace your interview. Welcome to the team!”
Chase's voice rang through the break room, lighthearted and casual, something he’d perfected over the years. He flashed the shorter male his signature smile—one that usually got people talking—but the silence that greeted him in return felt heavy, almost unnatural in the stale air. The scent of aged coffee and microwaved meals clung to the stark white space, a mundane backdrop that somehow only emphasized the stillness between them.
The ravenette didn’t turn. He kept his back to him, staring out of the large window as if searching for something just beyond the glass. His grip on the coffee cup tightened, fingers going pale around the edges, and Chase’s smile faded, his chest tightening slightly.
This wasn't right.
He hadn’t known the guy for long, but it was hard to miss the shift—like watching a flame go out. Before, there had been fire in the shorter male. A wild, unyielding determination that had shone through every challenge he faced, each brush with death and each timeline crossed. Chase admired that resilience, seeing a reflection of something greater in the newbie’s tenacity.
But now... Now that spark was gone, replaced by something duller, heavier. Resignation.
It was like a firework, a burst of color and light designed to show such intensity for only a fleeting moment, normally giving one last celebratory spark before fizzling out and being fully absorbed into the inky night sky.
It happened sometimes, when rookies entered into the fold. Those who had to play their games, those who were unlucky enough to face their trials and succeeded, and the very rare ones who indeed passed their supervisor’s gauntlet of questions—of which he had very preferred answers—they always had another challenge to face.
The fact that the journey had only just begun. The loop neverending.
After all it was a corporate world full of cogs, of which they only spin one way, always returning to their starting point. A loop of life itself, turning until the day they can’t turn anymore.
Many—when faced with this truth—become fireworks. They burn bright, they burn fast, they burn out. Fizzling into the night and living life, monotonous, tired and defeated.
The blond’s breath hitched at the sight. He’d seen it before, more times than he liked to admit, and every instance gnawed at him. He had grown attached, hadn’t he? Stupid. It wasn’t common, most of the time he did his best not to get too close, lest he feel the sting of every death or every reprogramming. He already felt enough unease seeing potential employees as bloody smears across the floors; that feeling was more than enough.
A small part of him, one he usually buried beneath his charisma, wanted to walk away, to avoid dealing with this—because he knew how this went.
Yet here he was. Feet unmoving as if stuck to the floor. Steeling himself with determination of his own he walked toward the table.
The larger male approached slowly, like one might with a wild animal, unsure if it would bolt. It wasn’t his job to care, but damn if he wasn’t already knee-deep in this mess. His pride kept him going, even though part of him knew better. There was something about this one that pulled at him, something that made him want to stay, to figure out how to drag their newest addition out of this pit, even if it wasn’t in the job description.
Sliding into the seat across from the ravenette, he noted the dark shadows under his eyes, the weight pressing down on his slumped shoulders. Chase could see it in his form, the shorter male had burned brightly for a moment, but now he resembled a fizzling ember, barely holding on to the last vestiges of his spark, ready to be snuffed out entirely.
What was left when the fire went out? Was it worth trying to reignite it?
“Hey, newbie…”
Chase’s voice was softer this time, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure the other had heard him. The silence stretched again, thick and oppressive, before large midnight eyes flicked toward him, the irises darkened to almost black by whatever thoughts ran through his mind.
Silence still, only acknowledgment of his presence.
The detachment was palpable. Chase felt an unfamiliar discomfort settle in his chest—silence had never felt so loud before. He cleared his throat, concealing his unease with a grin. “You alright? You don’t exactly look like someone who just got the job they wanted.”
Nothing.
Just that same piercing stare, his gaze almost burning holes into the blond’s skin, though not with anger—more like apathy. It was the apathy that unnerved him the most. People cared when they were angry, but when they stopped caring?
That’s when they were lost.
The young man shifted in his seat, tapping his fingers against the table, his usual bravado slipping just slightly at the edges. He hated this. He hated silence. It reminded him of different times, ones he didn’t like to think about.
“Simon—”
“Do you remember?”
The question cut through the air, sharper than it should have been. Chase’s heart skipped a beat, and for a brief second, his carefree look faltered. He knew what the shorter male was asking, what he was really asking.
Of course he remembered. He always did.
But that wasn’t something he could admit. Not to the newbie, not to anyone. There were rules, unspoken ones, rules that kept this twisted machine running. No solace, no comfort, no shared burdens. Everyone had to stand on their own.
So why did this feel different?
He swallowed, letting out a chuckle that came out more strained than he intended. “Remember what? Your interview? Well, duh, newbie, I was there,” He teased, his voice just a bit too loud, the laugh following a bit too forced. He closed his eyes for a moment, using the gesture as an excuse to look away, to hide the flicker of something—guilt, maybe—that crossed his face.
When he opened them again, That intense gaze was back on the window, the rookie’s body still, his breathing shallow. For a moment, he looked more like a machine than a person; like an animatronic powering down until the next recycled interaction forced him to reboot. It was disturbing.
Chase bit his lip, his mind racing, but no words came. He didn’t know how to fix this, didn’t know if he even could. He’d put up this front plenty of times, but it rarely hit him like this. Why was this different? Why was this guy different?
And why did it feel like his next words might change things?
The blond cleared his throat again, forcing himself to speak again, to break the silence that had once again wrapped itself around them like a suffocating fog. In times like this Chase liked to share stories: some real, most fake. “Hey… you want to hear a story?”
The gaze shifted back to him, slow, deliberate. A sigh escaped the ravenette’s lips, mechanical, detached. “Sure—” He muttered. His voice was quiet, flat, devoid of the fire it once had.
Chase watched as the shorter male turned his full body toward him, trying to offer the kind of attention the blond had poised to crave. Did he crave it? At this point he wasn’t too sure. “—I mean, it’s not like I can do anything else before training, and I’m sure you’ll tell it anyway. So go ahead.”
The young man let out a small laugh that felt mechanic in itself. It lacked the usual buoyancy he prided himself on. Still, he gave his signature grin, one that concealed his uncharacteristic unease beneath layers of charm. Why was he feeling like this? Was it just the weight of the conversation? Or was it something about the shorter male that made him want to see him better? Reinvigorated? Happy? “Guess you know me too well already. I mean, my stories are worth listening to.”
The newbie raised an eyebrow, the silent acknowledgment hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge. With the end of that brief exchange, Chase began, “Back when I was young, my mom would take me to see the stars. We lived in a pretty rural part of Florida and didn’t have much money, so it was the only thing she could afford. We’d hitchhike across a deserted stretch of dirt road, and when we got there, we’d climb up trees so high that even the bears and gators couldn’t reach us.” The words tumbled out easily, but each one felt like a window into a cherished memory.
He remembered those evenings vividly—the sense of adventure, the warmth of his mother’s laughter. Moments from so long ago still fresh in his mind. “There we’d spend hours just talking, looking up as we chatted about our days. Sometimes my mom would share little facts about the stars, explaining that stars are giant balls of gas that burn bright in the solar system and rarely ever go out. I’d ask her how that was even possible, and she would always tell me that it was merely because they wanted to, so they did. That’s how they made their statements—by making their presence known. They were here, and they would never go anywhere.”
Chase paused, watching the shorter male quiet and listening intently. It was a good feeling, to have someone so engaged, yet a pang of apprehension twisted in his gut. Was he saying too much? Nevertheless, he continued, “It’s crazy how cities have a habit of making their own stars. New York, in particular, shines brighter than any other city I’ve ever visited or lived in. Lights so abundant that they could blind from space. It’s like it’s trying to make its own statement just by existing. ‘I’m here too, world, and I’m not going anywhere.’”
As he spoke, Chase’s gaze drifted to the skyscrapers beyond the glass, their towering presence and bright lights cutting off the view of the stars he yearned for. “But its statement is so loud that it comes at a price. The real stars get snuffed out from such a voice, leaving the skies barren and bleak when nighttime falls. The only things that seem to light up the night sky around here are fireworks. It’s as close to a star as we can get.” He sighed, feeling a mixture of nostalgia and sadness.
Hazel eyes flicked back toward the ravenette, who sat there with an expression of pure confusion, waiting for a punchline that never came. The pause felt heavy, stretching between them like a taut string. He could almost see the gears turning in the newbie’s mind as he mustered the courage to ask, “So, why are you telling me this?”
Chase couldn’t help but smile again, a little more genuine this time. “Because back at the elevator, you brought me back to that time. Your drive to push through, despite… Everything.”
Onyx eyes widened a tad, the blond knew he was saying a lot, too much even. The rules were being bent, but he didn’t mind taking the risk here. “Your strength, your presence… You reminded me of a star.”
There it was—the sparkle that had once been lost, a soft flush coloring the newbie’s tan skin. He watched as the ravenette crossed his arms, curiosity mingling with skepticism. “What’s that even supposed to mean?” The rookie’s brow furrowed slightly, his lips twitching as if holding back another question. His eyes flickered with a mixture of curiosity and guardedness.
Chase chuckled, amused by the mixture of confusion and vulnerability flickering across the shorter male’s face. Cute, he thought, a warmth spreading through his chest. “The way you handled every obstacle with initial apprehension before solving it regardless. Answering our supervisor’s questions after everything with little trouble. It was admirable, watching you.”
The ravenette tilted his head, silence falling as he processed the compliment. The blond hoped he would not articulate whatever realization struck him, but to his relief, the other simply broke into a small smile. “You tell this to everyone who’s unfortunate enough to end up here?”
Chase shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but inside, he felt the truth tugging at him. “Not really…” His head turned away, his hazel eyes searching the sunny skies again, as if the clouds held some elusive truth. “It’s actually the first time I’ve ever told it.”
A lump formed in his throat as he swallowed hard, torn between vulnerability and self-preservation. “Your eyes, when you’re very determined… They have a sparkle to them, like a dark sky filled with stars.” He paused, savoring the moment, but the heaviness in his chest returned as he continued, “I was kind of worried, you know? I had a feeling you would get through the floors, but the interview—“
The ravenette interjected, “Trust me, I know.”
The blond let out a mirthless laugh, the sound tinged with bitterness. “That’s right, of course you would know.” He leaned back toward the table, resting his chin in his hands as he looked at him, but his thoughts began to spiral. There’s a timeline out there, a timeline where he says the wrong things, makes enemies with the wrong person, and pays the price; and Chase had to witness it all.
His voice faltered as his brain struggled to piece together the threads of that memory, frayed and faded. He hated how the worst part of it infiltrated his mind. “Your eyes, everything in that memory eludes me, but your eyes…” He trailed off, haunted by the idea of lost stars, gone like so many memories, leaving nothing but a void behind.
The touch of the newbie’s hand broke the larger man from his spiraling thoughts, and he looked back to find a sympathetic smile directed at him. “Hey, I’m here. We’re here in this timeline. And me and my eyes aren’t going anywhere.”
Chase focused on that gaze, feeling something shift within him as the rookie’s eyes crinkled softly at the corners, reflecting the light filtering through the city’s towering structures, his irises mellowing into a dusky indigo. And in them, he could see it—flecks of gold, bits of white light beautifully contrasted against the darker depths. They reminded him of the stars he missed so much.
It was the same way his mother’s eyes would reflect the stars. A flicker of hope ignited within him. He is here, and he isn’t going anywhere. Chase could only hope that’s the truth.
Hearing the screech of a chair against the linoleum flooring jolted the blond from his reverie. He looked back at the newbie, whose smile illuminated the room with a brightness he hadn’t expected. “Work won’t wait for anyone, right? And your words—maybe they inspired me; maybe they even helped me.” Hazel eyes watched him as a tan hand extended, the amber sun casting a golden glow around the shorter male. “We can head out together; looks like neither of us will be clocking out any time soon.”
Chase smirked, taking his hand, warmth flooding through him. “Of course, Simon, I’d be happy to.”
As they walked out together, Chase stole a glance at the ravenette, his mind wandering. The warmth radiated to his cheeks, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had stumbled upon something precious. In a field full of fireworks, it was refreshing to see such a beautiful star.