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He found her fascinating. Despite her previous life of solitude, she shone like a brilliant star, piercing through the vastness of the universe, willing to share her passion with any who would listen. He had always admired tenacity, whether in his colleagues or the delicate butterflies he saw after emerging from stasis. Soon, he felt an urge to paint a portrait of her. Though he knew he was a competent painter, his specialty lay in landscapes; the only portraits he had ever done were for Herta, who insisted only a genius could capture her essence. For now, he tucked that nagging feeling away, deciding to hone his skills before attempting to immortalize her on canvas.
The only one willing to collaborate with him in this endeavor was the ever-patient veteran of the Astral Express, Mr. Welt Yang. During his session, Welt spoke enthusiastically about his previous experience working in animation, his eyes crinkled with joy as he reminisced about the first time he saw his series broadcast on television. Screwllum quietly arranged for a free day in the coming weeks to sit down and watch Welt's series, knowing it would spark a fruitful discussion. When he finished laying down the last details, he sat back and admired the finished painting. Though he didn't capture every detail of Welt’s face, he had succeeded in conveying his happiness—a far more valuable achievement, in Screwllum’s eyes.
Now confident in his skills, he decided it was finally time to address the nagging feeling. So he sent her a message.
Screwllum: Greetings, Miss Brianna, if it is not a bother, I would like to speak with you privately, preferably within the week if possible. Be assured, this is not an urgent matter, nor is it a professional request. I am sending this message as a friend asking for assistance with a personal matter.
He sent an accompanying emoji—one of the conductor Pom-Pom holding up a thumbs-up sign, wanting the message to come off as casual as possible while still maintaining professional distance. Brianna always seemed more closed-off to him than others, often averting her gaze when he was near. He wanted her to know he had no ill intentions. His worries did not subside when he saw the typing bubble appear and disappear repeatedly. He tapped rhythmically on the table, a trick he had learned to slow down his processor. 10 minutes passed, he considered rescinding his invitation, pretending he never sent it. 5 more minutes dragged by torturously; perhaps he should send an apology, he might have crossed a boundary. His tapping sped up, a band-aid on the rushing dam of his thoughts.
A loud *Ding!* ended his train of thought and he picked up his phone immediately.
Brianna: Thanks for messaging me, Screwllum, I am free right now, where would you like to meet?
Brianna: [Pom-Pom checkmark]
His fans vented slightly with relief and he sent back a reply.
Screwllum: My office please, I have attached a map of the station with its location marked, I will be waiting for your arrival.
Screwllum: [Wubbaboo Thumbs Up]
What he didn't see was her trying to calm herself down in the middle of the cafeteria, furiously typing and re-typing her message, each version either too formal or too casual. She settled on the most neutral response, triple-checking it before sending, just to make sure she didn't accidentally write a love confession. She made her way to his office, her heart pounding. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door, silently praying to the Aeons that she wouldn’t embarrass herself in front of him.
He stood up quickly, walked to the door and opened it, doing his best to contain his excitement. "Please come in, Miss Brianna." He pulled out the chair opposing his across the desk and motioned for her to sit. Noticing her visible hesitancy, he adds, "Request: please be at ease, you are my guest, and this office is merely temporary."
Screwllum sat down in his chair. "I have asked you to come here because I have a personal request to ask of you, would you be willing to model for a portrait painting?" She looked at him in disbelief, surely there must be something wrong with her hearing, but as she mulled over his request, she became confused, "Why me, though? Surely you must have better subjects to paint with than me." He predicted this response, and replied to her with an answer he prepared beforehand, "It is my wish to capture my friends' likeness in paintings, to immortalize them forever, as I consider you a friend, I am extending the invitation to you." He was sure his excuse was sufficient, but something about Brianna seemed to elude him, as if she could see right through the layers of metal comprising his outer shell, into his central processing unit.
"Okay, I can model for you... r painting," she said, her voice filled with uncertainty. "Do I need to prepare anything?"
"No, Miss Brianna, please come as you are, a subject like you is rare to come by." She flushed at the compliment and he took note of it. Perhaps their feelings were more mutual than he previously assumed. "Are you free tomorrow perhaps? I would like to start on the portrait as soon as possible." His LEDs flickered rapidly, his code was filled with excitement and anticipation.
"Yes I'm free tomorrow, it is my honor to be captured by a genius. After all, who else can say a genius personally asked to paint them?" She was actually occupied the next day, but those plans could be wait, her heart might burst if she delayed this any longer. The impulsive Trailblazer had told her before to seize her opportunities as they waggled their eyebrows teasingly after seeing her awkwardly trying to navigate a conversation with Screwllum. Plans be damned, those can be rearranged, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance the Aeons have gifted to her and she's not letting it go to waste.
"I am honored you think of me so highly, Miss Brianna. You are the one doing me a favor, I am in your debt. and I am deeply grateful you have agreed to my request." He moves his hand to lay in front of his chest, to emphasize his emotion. "It is settled then, we will meet here after breakfast tomorrow, do not worry about anything else, as the artist, it is my responsibility to set up everything."
She nodded and said quietly, "Thank you, I promise I won't be late." She stands up and walks out the door, thankful her knees still supported her body, despite how weak they were earlier when she heard those sweet words from him. Brianna was sure she felt his gaze on her even as she turned her back and walked away. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to fall asleep that night. Anticipation, excitement, and anxiousness coursed through her veins—it was all simply too much for one day.
---
"Miss Brianna, please hold still." She shuffled uncomfortably in her seat and offered Screwllum a sheepish smile, "Sorry, it's just... I've never done this before."
"Please do not apologize, you have not committed any transgressions. It was my mistake." His voice softened. "In my excitement, I failed to consider your wellbeing, it was inconsiderate of me to expect an organic being to stay still for so long." He paused, studying her downcast expression, it seems his words have failed to put her at ease. He hung his brush on a hook on the easel. "Affirmation: Staying still is also a difficult task for inorganics."
She looked up in surprise. "Really? I thought it was only us organics who suffered from aching muscles," she replied, her tone lightening as a small smile crept up on her face. "The struggle is not physical but mental. Boredom is something we all wrestle with, Miss Brianna." His gaze lingered on her, a faint warmth in his otherwise measured tone. "Though, I find such concerns rarely arise when I am in your company."
She blushed at that, "I didn't expect you to think that... often people seem bored when I talk to them. Maybe something about my manners or way of speaking puts them off..." Her expression turned sullen, recalling a bitter memory from her life before the Space Station. "I am saying this with utmost sincerity: in my long existence, you are one of the most interesting conversation partners I have ever had the pleasure to discuss with." He sees her move to rebut his point, and quickly adds, "Trust me, Miss Brianna. As an aristocrat, conversation is a vital aspect of my life. And as a genius, I see things as they are. I do not give compliments lightly. You are my friend, therefore my conclusion is: those who disregarded you before were simply ignorant of how bright you shine." She smiles softly at his words, a light dusting of pink on her cheeks. He picked up his brush quickly and resumed his progress. He feared if he hesitated, this beautiful moment would be lost to him forever—even as he knew, logically, that such a thing was impossible.
"Please... ", she hesitated, then decided to continue, "please just call me Bri, that's what all my friends call me." Her blush deepened as the words came out of her mouth, and Screwllum contemplated inventing a new pigment, for no paint on his palette is sufficient to capture it. His fans vented slightly to cool down his heating frame and he prays to Nous she didn't notice. "...Affirmation: I will refer to you as Bri from now on." He returns his attention to the canvas, he knows what expression he wants to capture now. "Request: please tell me more about different music throughout the galaxy. I am only well-acquainted with certain classical genres, but I want to expand my knowledge."
Her face lit up with excitement, but it quickly faded as she said, "I can definitely tell you about my favorite music... but it's hard to just talk about music. It is meant to be listened to after all." Seeing her disappointment, he said, "There is a speaker system in this office, I had it installed to listen to music when I am perusing through research papers. Conjecture: you can connect to the system and we can listen together." She giggled a bit, he is far too thoughtful and prepared, but it's what she loved about him. So she stood up, fiddled around with the panels next to the door until she found the connection point for the speaker system. She queued up a playlist containing her favorite songs on her phone and walked back to her seat, maintaining her previous position.
They stayed like that for the next few hours. The faint hum of the speaker system and the soft scratch of Screwllum’s brush against the canvas filled the room, creating a serene atmosphere. Bri's voice was warm as she shared factoids about the current song playing. Occasionally, she would hum along, her voice blending with the melodies, and Screwllum found himself captivated by the sound. He allowed himself to indulge in the moment, her voice, her music, the elated look on her face. It was a rare and fleeting harmony, and he was determined to preserve it, cementing every detail on the canvas.
Regrettably, all good things must end, he offered Brianna a grateful nod as he began to pack up his materials, "Thank you for being patient with me, Bri. I still need to finalize the details, hypothesis: I will complete this by next week. I greatly anticipate your opinion on the piece." From her place next to the panels, she huffed in amusement, "You don't need my opinion, I'm sure it will turn out amazing, everything you do is perfect." Screwllum's frame heated up a bit more at her words, it was unusual of him to be this affected by a simple compliment, but everything about Brianna is unorthodox, so it's only logical he would react differently to her. "I appreciate the compliment. Have a good evening, Bri." He tipped his hat in her direction.
"Have a good evening, Screwllum." Her gaze lingered on him for a beat too long, and she walked out, leaving Screwllum in his solitude to rearrange the office and mull everything over, contentment buzzing in his system.
---
Screwllum felt a flicker of déjà vu as he sat at his desk, his fingers drumming restlessly on the armrest. Once again, he was waiting for Brianna. The finished portrait stood on its easel beside him, shrouded in a white sheet. He was proud of his work, but her opinion was the only one that mattered.
Knock knock knock
He opened the door faster than he thought possible, and there she was—Brianna, her eyes wide with surprise. "Woah! Hi there," she said, a smile tugging at her lips as she chuckled at his eagerness.
"Hello, Bri," he replied, stepping aside to let her in. After closing the door, he turned to find her gazing up at him, her expression brimming with anticipation. "Well, I should not keep you waiting," he said, his voice steady despite the nervous hum in his systems. With a careful motion, he pulled the sheet away, revealing the painting.
She gasped. "Is this how you see me, Screwllum?"
A wave of dread washed over him. "Question: Is the portrait not to your liking?"
Brianna shook her head, her voice soft. "No... no... it's... beautiful. I can't believe this is me."
The painting was simple yet striking. It captured her mid-smile, her cheeks flushed, her eyes alight with warmth. But he had painted her as if she were the only thing that mattered—ethereal, radiant, alive. The way he saw her.
He extended his left hand, waiting until her fingers curled around his before speaking. "In the past week, as I worked on your portrait, I imagined this moment countless times. Yet now, standing before you, I find myself at a loss for words." His voice softened, his gaze steady. "There is one thing I know with certainty: my affection for you." He cupped her face gently with his other hand. "Please, stop me if I am overstepping. But would you consider being in a relationship with me?"
Tears welled in her eyes, and for a moment, she was speechless. "Yes," she finally whispered, her voice trembling. "Of course, Screwllum. A million times, yes." She tugged him down by his cravat and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His fans whirred loudly, and his vents released a puff of steam. She laughed, the sound light and joyful. "Remind me not to be affectionate with you in public. I don’t want to embarrass you in front of everyone."
"Correction: Any amount of embarrassment is worth it when I'm with you." He said, his voice warm with amusement, as she pulled him down again for another kiss.