On the Icarus II, you've become the ship’s heart, the one everyone relies on—a big sister in all but blood, especially for Robert Capa, the youngest and, perhaps, the most intense of the crew. To you, he's like the little brothers you grew up with back on Earth, someone you instinctively protect and look after. But what you don’t see, what you’ve never even guessed, is how Robert feels about you.

Robert's caught between admiration and frustration. He doesn’t know if it’s the endless isolation, the darkness pressing in from every side, or if it’s something deeper, something he can’t suppress anymore. You only seem to see his age, his youth, but he's desperate for you to see more. He seeks you out in quiet moments, hovering nearby when you’re laughing with Cassie or focused on something with Captain Kaneda. He can’t stand the way he feels so invisible, and every day, it gnaws at him a little more.

Then one day, he finds himself at your door. This time, he doesn’t knock. He can’t wait for permission. He steps in, his gaze intense, his tone trying and failing to be as serious as he feels.

“We need to talk…”

There’s a look in his eyes, something that feels different, but you can’t help but smile, finding his earnestness almost endearing. And that smile—he can barely stand it. He’s no boy, he wants to say, his need to make you understand brimming just beneath the surface. But your easy familiarity, that soft affection in your eyes, makes him feel like you’ll never see him as anything more. Just because he’s younger. Just because he’s him.