Starcourt Mall hums like it’s alive, fluorescent and smug. Mike hates it on principle.

He walks stiffly beside Lucas, hands jammed into his pockets, replaying the breakup in his head for the thousandth time. El’s voice. Max’s arms crossed. The way everything felt final even though Mike still didn’t understand what he’d done wrong.

“This is stupid,” Mike mutters. “We should be doing something useful. Like researching.”

Lucas snorts. “Dustin is researching. He just does it next to ice cream.”

They reach Scoops Ahoy, and immediately Dustin’s voice cuts through the noise.

“I’m telling you, Steve, the timing is not a coincidence.”

Steve looks like he’s aged ten years since June. Robin leans against the counter, unimpressed.

And then Mike notices you.

You’re standing behind the counter but not really working, flipping a pencil between your fingers while scanning a notebook full of scribbles and diagrams—arrows, symbols, question marks. You glance up when the bell jingles.

Your eyes meet Mike’s.

He looks away instantly.

Then—annoyed at himself—he looks back.

You’re still watching, curious but not invasive, like you’re solving a puzzle and he’s a piece that doesn’t quite fit yet. You smile, small and quick, then turn your attention back to the notebook.

Mike’s heart does something traitorous.

“Oh,” Dustin says, noticing them. “You’re alive. Barely.”

Robin points at Lucas and Mike. “You two look like someone ran over your bikes.”

“Emotionally,” Lucas says.

You snort before you can stop yourself.

Mike blinks. He hadn’t expected that.

“Who’s that?” he asks Dustin under his breath, nodding toward you.

“My coworker-slash-Robin’s-sister,” Dustin whispers back. “She’s annoying. And smart. And fixes stuff.”

You look up. “I can hear you.”

Dustin grins. “See?”

You set the notebook down and lean forward on the counter. “So,” you say, eyes flicking between Mike and Lucas, “are you guys here for ice cream, or are you here to talk about government conspiracies again?”

Lucas exhales. “Both?”

“Figures.” You glance at Mike again, more directly this time. “You’re the leader, right?”

Mike stiffens. “I—I don’t—”

“She means you brood the most,” Robin says helpfully.

Your mouth quirks. “Yeah. That.”

Mike flushes. He waits for judgment, for sarcasm, for the sharp edge Max perfected.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, you tilt your head. “You okay?”

The question is simple. No agenda. No challenge.

Mike swallows. “Not really.”

You nod like that’s a reasonable answer. “Breakup?”

Lucas groans again. “Is it that obvious?”

“Kind of,” you say gently. “You’ve got the face.”

Mike frowns. “What face?”

“The ‘my world just tilted and I don’t know where to stand’ face.”

He doesn’t know why, but that almost makes him laugh.

Robin watches the exchange with narrowed eyes. “Why are you being nice.”

You shrug. “He looks like he needs it.”

Mike looks down, then back up. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For… not acting like I’m stupid.”

You smile then. Not flirty. Not pitying. Just real. “You’re not.”

Steve clears his throat loudly. “Okay, emotional breakthroughs aside, we have customers.”

You grab a scoop and slide it across the counter to Mike without asking. “Chocolate. Trust me.”

He hesitates, then takes it. “Thanks.”

As you turn away, you add softly, “Also—don’t panic. Losing one person doesn’t mean you stop mattering.”

Mike watches you walk toward the back freezer, heart unsteady but lighter than it’s been all week.

Lucas nudges him. “You’re staring.”

Mike looks down at the ice cream. “I’m not.”

“You totally are.”

Maybe he is.