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Gen had been with many partners in his lifetime; dating was no new thing to him. There’d been a girlfriend his last year of junior high, a couple of male flings throughout high school when he discovered he far preferred the male body, and many a one-night stand after entering the entertainment industry. He was no stranger to knowing another person emotionally, physically, and romantically.
However, in each and every one of those instances, he’d instinctually-meticulously-voluntarily molded himself into whatever his partner at the time was looking for. Someone meek, someone strong-willed, someone worth spoiling, once even someone so vain, he made Narcissus look humble in comparison.
In short, Gen had never been in a relationship with someone as just himself.
But this time appeared as if it was going to be different. Compared to every other fling he’d given parts of himself to, this would be the first time his partner would have the opportunity of truly knowing him. The whole him.
Senku had seen him.
Had seen him at his lowest. His most vulnerable. Had seen the masks and told him he was better without them.
That he was better as just who he was; fears, apprehensions, flaws, and all.
Senku was interested in Gen.
Not Asagiri Gen.
Gen.
Or, at least, Gen had allowed himself to hope for it to be real for the first time in his life.
Even still, knowing Senku was interested in him still wasn’t enough to rid his mind of minute worries leading up to their first lunch date.
If nothing else, it amplified them.
He wasn’t used to wearing what he wanted, when he wanted. He wasn’t used to not concerning himself with a date’s styling preferences for his hair and makeup. He wasn’t used to looking at himself in the mirror and seeing himself, just as he was, before leaving the house without a meticulously crafted mask to shield himself from the eventual ‘heartbreak’ he knew to plan for, like a natural disaster foretold on the horizon.
It was terrifying.
It was vivifying.
It kind of made Gen feel like he was going to throw up rainbows.
It definitely didn’t help that three days after their initial encounter, he’d managed to arrive at their agreed upon lunch spot a little over fifteen minutes early. It was certainly made worse, however, by the fact that after having been seated at the table by himself, 25 minutes had passed since then with no sign of his date’s imminent arrival.
Gen fiddled with a short, loose thread hanging from the spine of his menu as he positioned it between his hands. He’d already read it front to back multiple times, his meal choice long since decided upon. His glass of water had been refilled once and the waiter had been by twice to ask if he was ready to order, each time sent away with the excuse that he needed a little more time.
He and Senku had planned the perfect time for their date; there were only a few other tables of people dining around him, meaning he didn’t need to worry too much about being recognized. At least, not as much as he likely would have if they’d decided to meet anywhere in public around dinner time.
The restaurant Senku suggested was nice, too. Certainly not Michelin Star worthy, but finer dining than what most people could justify on a daily basis for a simple lunch. If Senku had made the recommendation with Gen’s situation in mind, it was certainly appreciated.
Except…
It was now nearing the ten minute mark past their planned start time, and as every second ticked by, Gen struggled to convince himself that it wasn’t his fault his date appeared to have maybe, potentially, possibly… stood him up.
He needed to have faith in himself, more than Senku, that his vulnerability and honesty from their initial introduction hadn’t scared away the other man.
And yet, here he sat. Alone. Sunglasses and baseball cap attributing solely, surely, to the beads of sweat beginning to line his forehead. The Autumn sun above the restaurant’s patio seating area their culpable accomplice.
He’d texted Senku that morning to confirm the details of their date, and Senku had been adamant he’d be there. He even mentioned the night before that he was meeting with investors earlier in the morning, and that their lunch would be a good way to unwind afterward.
Perhaps a meeting had run over? If so, wouldn’t Senku have texted him to let him know? They hadn’t really texted much since the therapy session, most of Seku’s replies were simple one to two word responses to whatever Gen had sent to try starting conversations. Besides informing him of the investor meetings and confirming the details of their date, Gen would’ve believed he’d been texting a brick wall.
Looking at the time on his phone and seeing no new notifications on his lock screen, Gen folded his menu in resignation, placing it on the table in front of him as a shaky sigh slipped from between his lips. The least he could do at this point was eat something somewhat healthy so he could justify the pint of ice cream he’d make disappear after his show later that evening to ice his pride at home. As his hand raised to call over the waiter that had been watching him wearily from a couple tables away, a body practically slammed into the side of his table.
Startled, Gen’s eyes widened behind his sunglasses as he took in the panting, sweating form of none other than his date as he slipped heavily into the seat across from him.
“I’m sorry I’m late, there was an issue with the train line and the conductor wouldn’t let me into the cab. I told him if he’d just let me take a look at the operator controls myself, I could get it moving again way faster, but he wouldn’t listen.” Senku’s head was bowed forward in repent as the words rushed from his lips.
And in his hands, extended towards Gen, was a train delay certificate. The kind one would bring their employer to explain their absence at the beginning of the workday should the trains rarely be to blame.
The sight, so unexpected and downright ridiculous, made Gen laugh out loud. He tried to cover his chortles behind his hand, but the first few seconds that slipped through flushed his system with incalculable relief, loud and free.
Senku, for his part, at least seemed to relax a bit at the expression of mirth.
“It’s fine,” Gen waved away the certificate, urging Senku to return it to his pocket in hesitation. “I hardly noticed the time, honestly.”
Which wasn’t honest in the slightest.
And, based on the look in Senku’s eyes, he knew it too.
Dammit.
He needed to stop doing that.
He didn’t… Gen didn’t want this relationship to be built upon lies and forced concessions. For once, he wanted to believe that he could thrive in something genuine, honest. He couldn’t do that, though, if he’d continue to catch himself fibbing here and there until those fibs became lies that eventually drowned him beneath the weight of their oppressive growth.
Gen pulled at the cream colored collar of his turtleneck as he cleared his throat, deciding to slip his arms out of his lavender peacoat to drape it comfortably over the back of his chair. He picked up his menu again, taking his attention off of Senku’s slightly disheveled state to give him a moment to compose himself.
“Have you eaten here before?” Gen asked, the first bit of small talk flowing smoothly from his lips as he dragged his gaze along the selection of fish entrées to the one that had caught his eye earlier. “I’m considering the miso-glazed Chilean seabass with parmesan-herb orzo, but is there anything you’d recommend?”
“Nah, I’ve never been here before,” Senku said simply, pushing the sleeves of his white NASA sweatshirt up his forearms as he lifted his own menu towards his face.
“Oh,” Gen responded, surprised. “When you recommended we come here, I thought it was because you had.”
“Nah. My old man has, though. He recommended it to me a while ago. Said it would be the ‘perfect place for you and that boyfriend of yours to try out’. Figured we could give it a shot.” Senku’s attention was on the menu in his hand, a look of nonchalance passively swept across his face. His pinky finger, oddly enough, shoved in his ear.
Gen watched him closely, noting the way his eyes flicked too quickly across the pages for any natural reading pace. His posture gave the deceptive air of relaxation, with his shoulders leant back against his chair, but the tension in which he gripped the menu with one hand was far too tight, belaying the truth beneath the facade.
Senku was nervous.
Likely just as nervous as Gen.
The thought somehow made him feel a little better. Just a little.
“He must care very deeply for you,” Gen said softly, closing his menu once more before leaning back in his own chair to match Senku’s posture. Perhaps if they mirrored each other enough in their nervous states, they could begin to convince themselves, as well as the other, that they weren’t as anxious as they truly felt. “Between the whole couples therapy debacle and recommending date ideas, it really does seem like he was trying to support you with the whole dating thing.”
“Yeah,” Senku sighed, closing his menu on the table and tilting his head to hang over the back of his chair. “He cares. A lot. Usually it’s just ‘Byakuya being Byakuya’, but with this whole…” Senku waved his hand in a circle in the air in Gen’s direction. “thing, it got a bit suffocating.”
Senku’s tone sounded a bit perturbed by the topic, leaving Gen unsure if he should back off from pushing it any further. His gaze was still aimed somewhere in the sky, avoiding Gen’s presence right in front of him.
“I get that.” Gen waited a moment to see if Senku would continue, but it seemed the ball had met the sudden resistance of an equal or greater force. Senku appeared to have said what he had to say about it, his hands pulling the strings of his hoodie one way, then the other like a pulley system.
Pushing forward, Gen removed his sunglasses so he could see the other man without the filter as he tried probing a bit further. “Have you thought about what you’re going to tell your friends and dad?”
Finally, Senku shifted his attention back to Gen. The intense red gaze left his stomach swooping in aerials as if he’d decided to run away with the circus as a child to become an acrobat instead of a magician.
“No.”
And… that was it.
If Gen was being honest with himself, it felt like pulling teeth just to get Senku to carry a conversation beyond basic responses. It was beginning to feel like Senku just wasn’t really interested in talking with Gen. Between the lackluster texting (which could easily be excused, because some people were just shit at texting) and the whole lack of back and forth in person now, it was becoming increasingly difficult for Gen not to feel any more self conscious than he already was.
Thankfully, his bruised ego was saved by the timely return of the waiter to take their order. He recited his choice by heart, and together Gen and the waiter both looked to Senku for his order.
“Got any ramen?”
“Uhhh… no.”
Yeah, Gen would definitely be tipping well on both their behaves after all the rigamarole this poor server had been put through with their table thus far.
“Fine, I’ll just have what he’s having.”
The waiter jotted down their orders, holding back a rather annoyed air like they’d just finished sucking on a lemon, collected their menus, and disappeared away from the cluster foxtrot this date seemed to be turning into.
Things… certainly weren’t going the way Gen had hoped they would. If he was being entirely honest with himself, he was struggling not to feel disappointed by the whole endeavor. It wasn’t crazy that he thought communicating with Senku had been much easier in the therapist’s office, right?
But, it certainly had.
Senku had been so open. With what was going on in his life and inside his own head. Even with the way he’d spoken to Gen about his own concerns and feelings.
Now, it felt like Gen was having to pull teeth just to scratch the surface with trivial small talk.
Was it—
Was Gen the problem?
Sure, he’d felt much more exposed under Shiori-san’s expert questioning, but he was trying not to keep himself completely closed off for once in a natural setting like this. Could Senku tell? Could he see how awkward Gen felt and that was why he seemed so different now than he did then?
Dammit! Gen thought, mentally trying to shake his mind clear of every doubt plaguing what little confidence he’d prepped himself with that morning. Just remember what the therapist said. Give each other grace, and communicate openly. Communicate openly…
That’s it!
Gen just needed to be more straight forward! Shiori-san’s questions were direct and probing, which was certainly in line with the only topics Gen had managed to get more of a response out of Senku with. If Gen wanted to continue to communicate with Senku like he had in that environment, he should try to be more direct in what kind of conversation he was looking for! What kind of communication he was trying to achieve with Senku.
Senku himself had said many times that he struggled with understanding people in emotional capacities, perhaps it was no different with reading between the lines with small talk.
He was likely more nervous about all of this than even Gen was. This was his first date after all… Surely, if Gen could manage to get him to relax a little—open himself up a bit beyond trivial conversation and topics that could cause him anxiety—Senku would open up to him like a beautiful, freshly budding flower.
It was decided then. Gen was going to skip the small talk and go straight for the jugular. Even more so than he already had.
And what better way to interrogate a man in order to learn who they truly were?
Get them talking about something that brings them joy.
When Gen finally took the leap to Google Senku after parting ways earlier in the week, he wasn’t surprised to learn that he was a total science protege. He’d found dozens of peer-reviewed papers with his name attached to them, a good chunk of which were even dated further back than Senku’s high school graduation.
But his most recent endeavors were what had caught Gen’s attention the most. It was fascinating, truly. He’d poured himself over the papers Senku and his partner Chrome had published about their rocket design that led to their recent award and recognition in the scientific community, astounded by the hypothetical proposition of putting together a freaking rocket puzzle in orbit of all things.
“So,” Gen started gently, easing Senku’s attention back to him. “I did a little esearch-ray into your research after the therapy session. It’s rather interesting, actually. I had no idea that the cooling agent properties of rocket fuel is different for smaller rockets, or in this case pieces of a rocket launched at separate intervals, due to higher thermal intensity from reduced surface area and restricted fluid flow in smaller engines. But what I don’t get is how you managed to account for the heat dispersion differential.”
Senku finally smiled at that; a big, prideful thing that brought the swooping feeling right back to Gen’s stomach.
Bingo.
“By developing our own patented rocket fuel, of course.”
Gen’s eyes widened, because there was no way Senku could just drop something as impressive as that so casually!
Senku leaned forward as his hands waved around, miming his words as his excitement grew with every breath.
“Actually, despite there being less surface area on smaller rockets, there’s a higher surface-area-to-volume ratio, meaning smaller engines cool faster than bigger engines, but the fluid flow scale effects are the real issue due to fluid friction. We figured out pretty quickly that regenerative cooling was the best route to take, meaning the smaller engines needed equivalently smaller coolant channels, basically microscopic in size, running through the engines’ walls. And the best way to account for that was to develop a higher performance fuel with a more manageable viscosity and density for the smaller channels, resulting in the reduced friction we needed.”
Holy shit.
Gen’s jaw dropped open.
“You say that like it’s the most obvious answer. But, surely, there had to be simpler solutions than developing a whole new kind of rocket fuel!” Gen retorted, leaning forward as Senku’s excitement drew him in like honey on a stick.
Senku rolled his eyes, that same boyish smile still pulling his cheeks skyward. “Sure, we could have just adjusted the pump pressure or coolant channel geometry, but where’s the innovation in that?”
“Wow,” Gen breathed, smiling in bewilderment, excitement, entrancement.
Senku was amazing.
And just as quickly as it had befallen the two, the spell keeping their attention so enraptured by one another was broken as their waiter returned with their identical dishes. Gen thanked them before they departed from the table once more, shifting his attention to the gorgeous sight before him. He hadn’t realized how hungry he’d been until the smell hit him all at once, his attention having been solely cupped in Senku’s hard-working hands until then.
Taking his first bite, he moaned softly at the creamy, balanced flavors blooming across his taste buds. “This is so elicious-day,” Gen praised, hand holding his cheek in glee as he chewed, promising to himself he’d be back again to try more from their menu if the rest of it was anything like what was already in front of him.
“Yeah, it’s pretty good,” Senku agreed, slightly less enthused. “Would be better if it were ramen, though.”
Gen laughed unabashedly, Senku chuckling softly at his own comment as well.
“I Googled you too,” Senku moved on as his laugh slowly petered out.
“Wait, what?” Gen wasn’t laughing anymore.
“What what?” Senku’s head tilted to the side, like a puppy trying to understand words it’d never heard before.
“You mean, you didn’t know who I was when you asked me to attend that therapy session with you?”
Gen’s first impression of Senku hadn’t entirely been a good one. He’d thought Senku was rash and crude, jumping at the opportunity to take advantage of Gen being in a vulnerable state for his skillset and ability to put on a performance. But once they were in the actual session, it didn’t take him long to realize Senku had just been looking for a lifeline. Support for something that clearly terrified him.
He hadn’t even thought to consider an alternative after all was said and done.
An alternative where Senku had simply been a desperate man with no prior knowledge and Gen had just happened to be in the right place at the right time.
Until now.
“Nope,” Senku answered, popping the ‘p’ before taking another bite of his orzo. “I never heard of you until then. I just panicked and you were there. I’ll admit though, I was pretty surprised when you started lying off the cuff like it was your birthright during the session.”
Senku chuckled, taking another bite as his face grew more contemplative.
“I was actually surprised though that you’re way smarter in person than you appear online. Since your books sucked, and all.”
Senku stopped chewing as he flinched back at his own words.
But Gen?
Gen was delighted.
“Thank you!” he exclaimed, validation coursing through his veins as he briefly set his fork on his plate. “I hated those books, too!”
“I’m sorry, that was rude– huh?” Senku squinted at him. Gen could practically hear the gears in his head turn as he tried to understand Gen’s more than peculiar response to such a statement.
“When my manager pitched the idea of writing a book to me for the first time, I was so excited,” Gen sighed, leaning back in his seat as he picked his fork back up so he could poke at his food with it.
“I have a Master’s of Science in Psychology for heaven's sake, but he just wanted me to write personality quizzes and surface-level self-help hocus pocus and call it ‘good enough’. I wanted to do real research, case studies, collect data and evidence. Publish my indings-fay. Make a difference with it. But after writing such an abysmal first book, I didn’t even want to write another knowing I wouldn’t be proud of it either, so I made him hire a ghost writer for the second one.”
Gen had a lot of deep-rooted shame connected to the whole ordeal. He wished he hadn’t folded to his manager’s opinion on what ‘sold better’ without at least putting up more of a fight.
But everything had transpired just as he was beginning to move a bit away from the magic aspect of his career and more into mentalism. He had so much else to focus his time and attention on, like developing new acts and segments for the show he’d just booked. In the grand scheme of things, writing a shitty book or two never seemed quite as important as every other responsibility he’d been juggling at once, but knowing that still wasn’t enough to dispel the disappointment he’d internalized ever since.
“What did you originally want to write about?” Senku asked, vermillion eyes locked on his with determination and understanding so resolute in their gaze.
Senku understood.
It was obvious in the way his frown pulled down at the corners of his lips and the way his brows pinched together in familiarity and bedevilment.
The heavy weight pushing down on Gen’s shoulders he’d learned to depend on, like a symbiotic extra limb, felt slightly less suffocating for once as he smiled gently.
“Cybernetic psychology,” he answered, taking another bite of his delicious meal.
“As in feedback loops, right?” Senku clarified, his focus locked on Gen as if he were the most interesting thing in the world.
Gen would be lying if he said he’d ever felt this acknowledged a day in his life before now. That having Senku’s astounding mind so engrossed in his words and feelings wasn’t the most flattering thing he’d ever experienced.
It was a fucking breath of fresh air in the industry usually so surface-level and artificial that Gen had found himself a part of.
“Exactly!” Gen exclaimed, smiling in astonishment at the man across from him. “I wanted to focus on TOTE cycles, specifically. Especially in instances where it can lead to anxiety and hypervigilance as a trauma response. I wanted to help people with my research, not match what kind of people a person should date based on their personality.”
“So, then, why don’t you just do it now?” Senku asked, brows still furrowed. His focus was no longer on Gen, but rather the plate in front of him.
Gen shook his head in dismay, sighing resolutely. “If only it were that simple. Remember before when I mentioned I have very little control over my schedule between touring dates? Yeah, well, let’s just say it was an iracle-may I was even able to find a day to have this lunch with you.”
Silence fell over the table as they both returned their focus to the dishes before them. Gen’s hands had begun to sweat at some point, his throat growing dry the longer the silence between them stretched after he’d worked so hard to keep the conversation flowing before. Reaching out to grab his water glass, he took a sip to steel his nerves.
“That’s why I’m in therapy,” he confessed, placing his water glass back on the table.
He kept his fingers wrapped around the glass though, his thumb playing with the condensation on the smooth surface as he avoided looking back at the man that was still technically kind of a stranger.
“I’m burnt out. Have been for a long time, I think. I’ve been working with my therapist to try to thin out my schedule more, set more boundaries with my manager about work-life balance and whatnot. It’s helped immensely, but there’s still a lot of growth I’m hoping to do. Two steps forward, one step back, and all that jazz, you know?”
“Yeah,” Senku softly acknowledged.
Then there was a hand on his.
It wrapped soothingly around his own, still clasped around the cool glass of water.
It may have been callused and just as warm and sweaty as Gen’s were, but it was comforting. Grounding. Simple, and yet so impactful, in a way Gen had never experienced with another partner in the past.
“We…” Senku started, now rubbing his thumb on the back of Gen’s hand while simultaneously stilling Gen’s own thumb in the process. “We don’t have to do this if it will cause you more stress than you’re already under. I know what it’s like to try to push yourself to meet other’s expectations at the expense of your career and passions. I would never want to put you in the same position. If now isn’t a good time for a relationship, I’ll understand.”
It was so selfless. The offer. It was so horribly cruel, too, because Gen knew his answer would never be the obvious, healthy choice.
Gen wanted to be selfish, even at his own expense. At the expense of his career and passions. Because, despite having spent his entire childhood knowing he wanted to become a magician and mentalist, he now knew without a shadow of a doubt that he wanted Senku just as desperately.
“I want this,” Gen confessed quickly, releasing his grasp around the water glass and quickly flipping his hand to hold Senku’s before he could even think to pull away his comforting touch. “I want this so badly. Part of me doesn’t even fully understand why, but the rest of me knows that if I let this chance pass me by, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. You’re amazing, Senku. Kind, considerate, intelligent beyond my wildest dreams with breathtaking beauty to oot-bay, and far more respectful than I think you’re even aware. I know this is new for you too, and you’re definitely way more out of your element with all of this than I am, but–”
Gen wasn’t sure what else there was for him to say. Hell, he wasn’t even sure how he was going to make a long-term relationship work with everything going on with his career at the moment, but he refused to not at least try.
“I want to give this a try, too,” Senku said, cheeks blooming a vibrant, radiant red that could have rivaled his eyes as he squeezed Gen’s hand in his. “I can’t promise you anything more than that, though. While we’re hunting down more investors to move past the theoretical stages of our plans, I’ll likely be in the office day and night trying to pull everything together. I’ll probably be just as busy as you are right now…”
Gen gulped, a lump of uncertainty bulging at the bottom of his throat like it usually did right before that natural disaster from off on the horizon hit with little more warning than that.
“But if you’d be willing to take this slow, then I really do want you to be in my life, Mentalist.”
Gen’s mind swarmed with endorphins, a dopey smile quickly rushing to take over his face. He was inundated with undeniable exhilaration between the prospect of this thing eventually going somewhere and the nickname that came from way out of left field, smacking him on the back of the head until stars and little leeks were dancing around the edges of his vision in a way he hoped would never disappear.
It was only fair Gen returned the favor.
“Then it’s settled, Senku-chan~! We’ll take this slow, and see where it goes. No pressure and no outright expectations while we’re both figuring our shit out. Nothing in the world would make me happier.”
Senku’s sharp beauty somehow blossomed into something even more handsome as he processed Gen’s answer.
And then his phone was ringing.
Senku jumped back, nearly tipping his chair over as he rushed to pat down each of his copious pockets until the device was located. “Shit, sorry, I thought I put it on silent on the train. Dammit, it’s Chrome. I gotta take this. Gimme a minute.”
“No orries-way, take your time, Senku-chan!” Gen smiled, trying to assuage the guilt now marring his beautiful face.
Senku nodded, before standing from the table and walking back toward the interior of the restaurant as he put the phone to his ear.
If Gen was being honest with himself, the moment of personal reprieve was extremely appreciated. His heart was beating so quickly it felt like it was going to jump out from behind his ribs at any moment, and he hadn’t even realized it was doing so until he was alone again at the table.
He couldn’t seem to wipe the smile away from his face. Not that he would have wanted to, even if he could. The outcome of their date may not have been the one he was expecting, but it was certainly better than he had anticipated it going. And, even if he was slightly disappointed by the reality of their situations, it was certainly the best they could possibly have hoped for with something so fragile and new.
Gen leaned forward over the table, resting his chin on his folded hands as he balanced over his elbows on either side of his now empty plate. Tilting his head slightly to the side, he could see Senku just inside the restaurant’s windows, talking a mile a minute to Chrome on the other end of the line.
But Senku wasn’t smiling.
In fact, he was frowning so deeply, Gen could’ve sworn he looked close to tears. Pure, unfiltered distress was etched into every sharp line of his face as his hand raked back through his unique hair, pushing the two strands that hung loose over his face back with it.
Gen was suddenly worried, but wasn’t able to stew in it for long before their waiter swung by to drop the check book at their table. Gen wasn’t sure how long Senku would be on the phone yet, especially considering it appeared he was discussing a serious issue with the scientist on the other end, and he didn’t want to keep their waiter waiting too long to turn over their table before the dinner rush began.
Gen didn’t hesitate, pulling his wallet from the pocket of his jacket where it still rested over the back of his chair. He placed his card in the little slot inside the book and smiled at the waiter when they returned to collect his payment.
As the waiter walked away Gen turned his attention back to Senku through the window, seeing his look of distress was only growing as he’d begun pacing at some point. At this rate, the poor man might be bald by the time he returned to the table from how tightly it appeared he was gripping his hair.
Gen’s worry was only growing worse, watching as Senku finally released his hair, dropping his hand to hang limply at his side. He stared off into space like a statue, and Gen wasn’t sure if it was because Chrome was now responding on the other end or because there simply was just nothing left to be said.
He looked broken.
Like his whole world had just collapsed in on itself.
Then the phone was dropped from his ear, now hanging just as limply as his other hand. His gaze dropped to his shoes, his shoulders tense and shaking as he struggled to keep his breathing steady.
Gen was about to leave the table, prepared to fully abandon his card and just order a new one later that week if it meant he could get to Senku sooner to comfort him with whatever news he’d just received. Then Senku looked up and made eye contact with him through the window, eyes wide and startled as he realized Gen had been watching the whole time.
He swallowed—and Gen found himself copying the motion—before he walked back towards the door at his side that led out to the patio section. He waited a moment at the door, handle in hand, before finally opening it and stepping out onto the patio. Slow, restrained steps carried him closer to their table, but Senku looked numb. Like he’d needed that extra moment before exiting the restaurant to close himself away like he’d probably done a thousand times in his life, if he was anything at all like Gen himself.
He silently slid back into his chair, eyes downcast and face meticulously blank as his very own mask settled fully into place.
“Senku, is ev—“
“Sorry about that, it was an emergency.”
And then the waiter was there. Again. Like some both blessed and cursed plot device used by whatever beings may be out there to slice their way through the moments of tension during their first date. The waiter dropped off the check book one last time, thanking them for dining and wishing them a good evening, before stepping away to refill waters a couple tables over.
Before Gen could get another word out, Senku had taken hold of the check book, slipping his wallet out of one of the many pockets in his cargo shorts, only to stop in his motions upon opening the billfold. Because there, tucked into the small slot at the top of the check book, was already Gen’s card. And beneath it, a restaurant copy and a customer copy of the receipt.
“But– I thought I was paying for lunch. To thank you. It was the least I could do…”
Based solely on Senku’s words and tone of voice, Gen would have thought the man was still close to tears. But the furrowed twinge of his brows and the crease in his scrunched nose made him look more angry than anything else.
“You looked upset,” Gen tried to explain, slowly, carefully, sliding the check book out of Senku’s hands so he could write in a 50% tip on the restaurant’s copy of the receipt before signing it. He then placed his card back in his wallet, returning the whole thing to his coat pocket behind him. “I didn’t want you to have to worry about it when you came back to the table.”
Senku had been silent all the while, and Gen, for once in his life, was at a loss for words. Whatever he’d witnessed take place inside the restaurant should have been a private moment, especially considering the fear in Senku’s eyes when he’d realized Gen had been privy to his breakdown.
But Gen didn’t want this to be the end of their date…
It had been going so well, and they’d reached a point where they’d both felt comfortable enough being honest with themselves and with each other, free of any and all masks. Gen had been hopeful that things would slowly, surely, progress from there moving forward. But after witnessing the complete 180° shift in Senku’s demeanor…
Gen didn’t know what would happen anymore…
…
Nah.
Scratch that.
Gen knew exactly what to say.
After all, they were words from a professional.
“Senku, you can confide in me. You’re hiding behind that wall you’re building in your head right now that’s telling you whatever happened is your problem and your problem alone. But that’s not true.” Gen’s voice was soft, reassuring as he desperately tried to break through the other’s defenses. “I want you to feel safe openly communicating with me, Senku. I won’t force you to tell me what happened, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to discuss something difficult under duress, but if we really do want to try moving orward-fay with something between us, then we need to be open and honest with each other.”
Senku deflated like a wacky waving inflatable flailing arm tube man one might see outside a car dealership after a particularly slow final sales week of the month. His upper body slumped back in his chair as his shoulders hunched inward. His hands both came up to cover his face as it fell forward into their waiting embrace.
He took a deep breath.
Then another.
And a third for good luck.
“Chrome… he– he said our main investor, the one who’s currently– had pledged over 60% of our budget, just backed out at the last minute. Apparently, he gave some weak ass excuse of having found something more inline with his company’s values, or whatever the fuck corporate bullshit like that.”
Two more shaky breaths, then those hands dropped lifelessly to his lap, revealing a wet sheen over scarlet eyes.
“At best, this might set our timeline back another year. Maybe even two. Depends on how fast we can secure more investors… but… but that means that I’ll be just as busy for so much longer than I thought I would. I– I don’t know when I’ll be able to start investing more time with you now…”
Oh.
That was what Senku was most upset about…?
What that look through the window had been for?
He wasn’t more upset about the fact that they’d just lost a majority of their promised funding; the very thing he needed in order to make his dreams come true?
But rather more upset about the prospect of losing his chance with Gen, than watching as his dreams slipped through his fingers.
Gen was now closer to crying than Senku.
“Senku-chan…” Gen breathed softly, reaching his hands out toward him, flat against the table and palms up in invitation. Senku wasted no time in grasping Gen’s softer hands, clutching at them like a lifeline. “Whether it takes a year, two, maybe even three, I’ll be right here. I meant it when I said I wanted this. So, we start as friends, if not just a little more, and we stay by each other’s side until things just make more sense. Okay?”
Gen smiled softly, and Senku returned the gesture, albeit slightly more wobbly than Gen’s.
Grace.
Giving each other grace when things didn’t always make the most sense.
That was the advice they’d been given upon their initial meeting, and Gen would be damned if he ever tried to push Senku for more than that.
He was already being so brave, putting himself through a situation in which he had no prior experience, and even worse association due to past external pressures. The last thing Gen ever wanted was to become one of those pressures. Sure, it was going to be difficult to fully wrap his own unreasonable emotions around the space between them while they waited for things to make more sense… but for Senku?
For Senku, Gen was quickly learning he would claim the stars in the night sky one by one, just for the other man if only he could.
In the meantime though, there was at least one thing he could do for him.
“Senku-chan, have you ever heard of the Nanami conglomerate?”
Senku’s brows pinched in confusion at the unexpected shift in conversation, head tilting to the side in a gesture Gen was quickly learning was the cutest quirk the other man seemed to possess. “Uh, yeah, of course. They practically own half of Japan. Maybe even half of the continent. Why?”
“Well~” Gen drew the word out sweetly before his smile grew more mischievous in a way that sent visible shivers down the other man’s spine. “My best friend just so happens to be dating one Namami Ryusui.”
Senku’s eyes widened in realization, his breath growing shallow as his hands still squeezed Gen’s in their hold.
“And it just so happens that dear ol’ Ryusui owes me a favor and would probably love to learn about your rocket design. In reality, he’s more of a sailing guy than a science guy, but I just know he’d get excited by the prospect of flying through space.”
“You can’t be serious, Gen… There’s no way in 10 billion years I could ever ask that of you.” Senku’s voice was raw, deep, breathless, like he’d just run a marathon.
“Then it’s a good thing I’m offering, Senku, dear.” Gen winked.
Senku chuckled awkwardly, but the awkwardness didn’t last long as it grew to full-body cackles from the earth shattering wonderment Gen had left him in.
“You’re exhilarating, Mentalist.” He said it as he shook his head, eyes wild and cackles simmering down to a crazed grin.
“And don’t you ever forget it, Senku-chan!” Gen smiled, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the side the same way Senku would.
“Never.”
And just like that, end of date pleasantries were exchanged and articles of clothing were gathered before the two of them reentered the restaurant long enough to walk out the front door together, side by side.
Gen offered to give Senku a ride back to his office, gesturing to his car in the parking lot, before he himself headed to the theater for his show later that evening. Senku thanked him, but told him he’d be okay and that the walk back was probably for the best so he’d have time to mentally work through the next steps him and Chrome would have to take to adjust to their new predicament.
Gen promised he’d follow up with him later in the week once he’d had a chance to speak to the conglomerate heir about his research, and Senku had thanked him profusely, even going so far as to bow so low to him in gratitude that Gen was worried he’d fold himself until he snapped in half at the waist.
Instead, Gen pulled him back up, much to the other’s confusion, before pulling him into a warm embrace. Senku’s arms were stiff at his sides at first. Then, slowly, they wrapped around Gen’s waist before one slid up to weave through the bi-colored locks at the back of his head as Gen turned his face to the side against his chest. He could hear the thump tha thump tha thump so fast behind the other man’s ribs, making him giggle a little at the cuteness of the other’s nerves.
Eventually, pulling apart was bittersweet, and left both with barely held back grimaces at the distance now physically put between them.
But Gen knew it wasn’t forever.
When his life felt more manageable and Senku’s dreams of reaching the stars had been realized, he knew they’d have this every day, whenever either of them wanted.
Even if it meant waiting 3,700 years for Senku, Gen would do it. He would do it for him.
For this.
For them.
They would make it work.
And Gen would never regret his decision to do so.
Because Senku was extraordinary and together they would be an unstoppable force.
And maybe, sooner than either of them expected, they’d be even more.