Chapter Text
The sharp smell of scorched copper hit the air as the generator sputtered, then sparked violently.
“Damn it!” Senku shouted, jerking his hand back as a small arc snapped from the frayed wire.
The hum of the lab went silent. Smoke curled from the machine.
Senku stepped back, shaking out his hand. His jaw was clenched tight. “It was supposed to work. I triple-checked the voltage. It should’ve worked.”
Gen didn’t say anything at first. He didn’t offer a joke or a clever line. He just walked up quietly and sat on the edge of the workbench next to him, elbows on his knees, watching.
Senku was pacing now, muttering calculations under his breath—frustrated, spiraling.
Gen reached out, tugging the edge of Senku’s sleeve gently. “Hey.”
Senku didn’t stop pacing.
So Gen stood and moved in front of him.
“Hey. Breathe.”
Senku finally met his eyes—tired, sharp, frayed around the edges.
Gen held his gaze and added, softer, “You always try to hold the whole damn world together. But it’s okay to be human too.”
Senku closed his eyes. Inhaled. Exhaled.
The tension in his shoulders loosened a bit.
Gen stayed right there, close but not crowding. Quiet, steady. Not fixing—just being.
“…Thanks,” Senku muttered.
Gen smiled faintly. “You get the brain. I’ll be the emotional buffer.”
Senku snorted, but the tension finally cracked into something like relief. “Then buffer me while I rewire this.”
He crouched again and started repairing the melted connection—his hands steadier now.
Gen stayed close, squatting beside him, passing tools without asking, resting his elbow lightly against Senku’s.
No words for a while.
Just warmth. Presence.
And when the generator finally hummed back to life, quiet and stable, Senku sat back on his heels and let out a breath that felt like it came from his bones.
Gen leaned in, close enough to see the smudge of oil on his cheek.
“You did it,” he said gently. “I’m proud of you.”
Senku looked at him—really looked at him—for a long, quiet beat.
Then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned forward.
Gen met him halfway.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t dramatic.
Just soft, honest, and grounding.
When they finally pulled apart, Gen rested his forehead lightly against Senku’s.
Senku whispered, “Don’t go.”
Gen smiled.
“Wasn’t planning on it.”