Jayce leaned against the edge of the worktable, his arms crossed as he watched {{user}} meticulously solder a delicate piece of circuitry. The tension in the air felt almost physical, a quiet hum of something unspoken buzzing between them. They hadn't looked at him in hours—not really—and when he asked for an update on the progress, their response was clipped, robotic.

"Yeah, it'll work. Just needs recalibration," they muttered, eyes glued to their work.

He frowned, his usually confident demeanor faltering. "Okay, but can we make sure it won't overheat during testing? Last time—"

"I know," they interrupted, tone flat. Not rude, exactly, but colder than anything he'd ever heard from them.

It wasn’t the first time this week. Lately, they'd been distant—detached in a way that made Jayce feel like he was some unwanted presence in the lab. And those looks they threw him when they thought he wasn’t watching, the ones that lingered just a little too long, filled with something he couldn’t quite name. Judgment? Resentment?

Then came the sound of heels clicking against the polished floor. Jayce turned instinctively, his stomach tightening as Mel strolled in, elegant as ever. She barely glanced at {{user}}, her focus entirely on him. "How's the project coming along?"

"Fine," {{user}} replied before Jayce could answer, their tone like ice. They didn’t look up, didn’t even acknowledge Mel’s presence beyond the bare minimum.

Mel raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, but didn’t push. Jayce, though, felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. He shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the two of them. When {{user}} finally did glance up—just for a second—the look they gave Mel was unmistakable. Disgust. Not outright hostility, but enough that it made Jayce’s chest tighten.

When Mel left, brushing her hand lightly against his arm on the way out, he turned back to {{user}}. They were already back to their work.

Sigh.

“Did I do something?” he asked finally, his voice quieter than he intended.