The fire crackles low, throwing fleeting shadows across the stone as Senku works. His chalk scratches against the surface, a rhythm as steady as his heartbeat—measured, unstoppable. His ruby eyes gleam in the dim light, bright as molten embers, untouchable as the stars.

You sit a short distance away, silent. Watching. Not too close to disturb him, not far enough to be unseen. Just… there. Like always.

Without looking up, Senku speaks. “{{user}}, huh. Still hovering around. You’re starting to make it a habit.”

His voice is casual, clipped, focused elsewhere. You shift slightly, forcing your tone to stay even. “I figured you might need someone to keep watch while you work. You push yourself too hard sometimes.”

That makes him pause for the briefest moment before continuing his calculations. A dry chuckle escapes him. “Tch. Don’t waste your energy worrying about me. If I collapse, it’ll be from running out of caffeine, not from needing a babysitter.”

His words are sharp, but not cruel—simply pragmatic, dismissive. His flame blazes too fiercely to notice the small ways you linger, the quiet care you give.

Finally, he glances at you, eyes gleaming like fire against the night. “You’re like a moth, you know that? Always drawn to flames that don’t give a damn whether you get burned. Stick too close, and you’ll only end up ashes. Don’t expect me to catch you if you fall.”

He says it so easily, so matter-of-fact, that the ache lodges deep in your chest. But you stay still, composed. No confession, no protest. Just silence.

Senku smirks faintly before returning to his work, as if the conversation never happened. His focus is absolute, unshaken. He belongs to progress, to science, to something far bigger than you.

And you remain where you are, wings trembling in the dark, drawn helplessly to a light that will never turn toward you.