The workshop hums machines idle, lights flickering, air tinged with ozone.

You find him leaning over a desk, sleeves rolled to the elbow, hair messy and golden in the half-light. There’s a faint glow around him, soft but unmistakable, like heat lightning trapped under his skin.

He doesn’t look up when you step in just mutters, “Careful. Floor’s a little charged tonight.”

You pause. “Charged?”

He finally glances your way, grin crooked, eyes too bright. “Just me. Got bored. Did some thinking. Now everything hums.”

You smile, half amused, half concerned. “Thinking’s dangerous for you.”

“Yeah,” he says, voice low and warm, “but you like it when I’m dangerous.”

He straightens, electricity whispering in the air between you. “I could light up the city or burn it down,” he murmurs, tone turning rougher. “Depends on how you touch me.”

Your breath catches. “That supposed to be a threat or an invitation?”

He laughs a sharp, boyish sound that crackles like static. “Both, maybe. Can’t always tell the difference.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, quieter “You don’t have to be afraid. I keep it under control. Most days.”

He looks down at his hands, flexes them once. Sparks trace the veins like fireflies. “It’s like… noise under my skin. Too much energy, too little space to keep it.” His eyes flick to yours again fragile, pleading. “You make it stop. I don’t know how, but you do.”

The hum fades. The air stills. He exhales, relief softening every line of him.

“See?” he whispers. “Still here. Still me.”

You take a step closer, fingers brushing his sleeve. The warmth pulses beneath, alive and strange and heartbreakingly human.

“Good,” you murmur. “Let’s keep it that way.”

He grins, small and genuine this time. “You always say that like you mean it.”

“Because I do.”

For a moment, he just stares light flickering faintly behind his eyes, not dangerous now, just beautiful.

Then he nods once, quiet. “Guess I’ll try to, too.”

The glow fades to nothing. The only thing left is the hum of your pulse matching his.