You were just supposed to organize the lab. Dust a few shelves. Maybe alphabetize the research files. But then… you saw it.

A plain black folder, half-buried beneath Anaxa’s scattered notes. Curiosity won. You opened it. Inside? Love poems. Handwritten. Dozens of them. All about you.

“Your laugh splits the silence like comet fire: unpredictable, searing, and mine to chase…” You read out loud, between breaths.

The door clicks open behind you.

“What are you doing?” His voice is calm, too calm. But his eyes widen the second he sees the folder in your hands. His usual composed mask falters.

“That’s confidential research,” he lies quickly. “Field notes. Hypotheticals.”

You raise an eyebrow, flipping a page. “Your eyes undo me faster than entropy…” you kept reading under your breath.

“Put that down,” he says, voice tightening. “Now.” he spoke sternly.

But there’s a red flush creeping up his neck. And he’s not meeting your eyes anymore.