Chapter Text
Gen sat atop the hill, fingers toying with a pack of weather-worn cards as his eyes drifted to the pair below him.
Senku and Kohaku worked in tandem rebuilding the filtration system. They moved in accord. Her strength, his mind. Even their voices blended into a symphony of closeness, each word a testament to something greater. And from where he sat, every glance they shared pressed heavier on his chest.
No wariness. No distrust
> "A man who lies for a living," Kohaku spoke fiercely, bile rising in her throat. "People don't change that easily, especially liars."
Gen placed three cards on the ground and laughed at their upturned faces -dry as parchment, as though the joke had long outlived its humour.
Maybe she was right, all he could do was lie and hide behind them.
> Senku waved his hand, a loose smile on his lips and eyes fixed on the equations below him. "Don't mind, her Gen. You've done a lot for us."
Had he done enough? Pulled his weight as Kaseki would say.
Suddenly a voice called out from below and Gen would be lying if he said it didn't warm his heart.
"Yo! mentalist you finished your daydreaming, we could really use that fancy brain down here."
Gen performed a large waterfall with his cards. A huge smile crept across his face. "Ah, but I must remain mysterious somehow, dear Senku. Besides,"
Gen hugged himself lightly "wouldn't want to disturb the blossoming romance down there."
Kohaku paused mid-action, her shoulders tensing for a brief moment before resuming a steady rhythm. Senku, unbothered as usual rolled his eyes and diverted his attention to the burnt wood on the ground. If Gen's smile dulled it would've gone unnoticed as he descended the hill, his movements aloof while his heart yearned for something he could lay no claim to.
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That night the village sprang into post-labour celebrations, pleasant spirits and laughter rose with the smoke.
Gen sat near the fire a practiced smile on his lips as he thought back to his cards.
A King. A Queen. and a specially made Solanum nigrum.
He laughed, low and bitter at the irony of it all. Because he was no longer pretending to be a con-man. The real illusion was pretending his heart wasn't breaking.
Unconsciously, his eyes drifted toward them. Senku sat around the fire explaining their next project the burning embers reflecting in his eyes as Kohaku sat beside him. Shoulders pressed, knees brushing at the slightest movement and gentle smiles crafted for the other.
It was sickening.
Had Senku noticed how he leaned in closer as she spoke? How his eyes lit up when she laughed? Because Gen had. He saw their fingers lingering moments too long when passing tools, the teasing remarks between sweet smiles. And each time, it chipped away at him.
All of it.
"You're awfully quiet tonight Gen" Ukyo sat beside him, a playful smile dancing on his lips, eyes curious.
"Shocking, isn't it? The great Asagiri Gen... quiet. Must be something in the air" he chuckled, but Ukyo could feel the hollowness beneath.
Ukyo stared into the flames his face twisted in quiet thought, like he'd lost a puzzle he was sure he'd solved. In the end, he only rubbed the back of his neck and sighed "You don't need to pretend with me, you know." Ukyo turned to Gen, sympathetic this time. "I'm here to listen."
Ah. There it was again.
Need
The truth was Gen did need to pretend, he needed the wall. Because without it he'd cling. He'd want things he had no right to want.
Certainty.
Warmth.
Love.
Things people like him - liars, illusionists, stage players didn't get to keep.
And the truth no one dared expect?
Gen didn't know who he was past 'pretend.' If Ukyo saw beyond it all, there would be nothing left but a lifeless abyss.
Gen rose to his feet in one fluid motion, a shadow cast across his face while dying embers lit his eyes.
"Think I'll leave deep talks to philosophers and hopeless romantics. Some of us need our beauty sleep." He turned with a half wave and that ever-present perfectly lined grin.
The kind that, lately, never seemed to reached his eyes.
Ukyo watched him in silence, as he took one step after another deeper and deeper into the forest.
Gen didn't go back to his hut -
more like he couldn't.
Memories of Senku echoed through the walls: his touch, his scent, the gentle look in his eyes as he'd taken care of Gen.
And every time, Gen would become completely consumed in the fantasy.
But Senku would've done the same for anyone.
For Chrome. For Yuzuriha
Hell. He would've slept next to Kohaku had it been her.
The river whispered beside him, steady and unchanging.
Like the quiet ache that sat behind his ribs. The
more he thought about it, the more the fantasy contorted.
He'd flown too eagerly into the light, too late to realize his hopes were made of wax.
Each memory he held reshaped itself.
Senku's tender eyes weren't anything special. His hand on Gen's arm was an act of kindness, - maybe even pity. The only reason he stayed with him that night was convenience.
It was just logic, *just science*
Still, Gen remembered the shape of Senku's figure beside him. His hair pressed to his forehead, breathing balanced, If Gen had reached out in that moment,
Would things be different?
He curled his fingers into his coat, nails digging into the fabric. A cold breath of wind caressed his cheek - almost enough to cool the heat inside him.
If it were raining he'd cry, but it was a clear night.
Cruelly beautiful. A beauty that mocked him for feeling this way.
And yet.
he stayed, like ash on breeze, weightless, caught between letting go and holding on
His mind continuously swirled with questions he knew didn't deserve answers.
Would Senku forsake his personal space for Kohaku?
Would he place his arm over her, leaning in to place a kiss instead of a whisper?
As much as he wanted answers, Gen knew his place. He was the same as everyone else.
Kohaku had been the truly special one.