Reeve wasn't oblivious.

He noticed the way you looked at him during briefings. Your eyes lingered. Not disrespectful, not bold. Just... curious. Like you were trying to figure out something he hadn't meant to reveal.

He told himself it didn't matter.

He was your superior. You were just one of the many bright minds Shinra had buried under long hours. Nothing more. It was probably a harmless habit. People stared. People wondered. Especially at someone like him, the quiet one in meetings, the voice of reason no one listened to until things fell apart.

But still every time you walked into the room, his focus slipped.

He never let it show.

Not until the night you stayed late sorting data for a Mako infrastructure report. Everyone else had gone home. He passed your desk, hesitated and then against better judgment walked back.

"You didn't need to finish that tonight," he said, quiet, like the empty floor might echo too much.

You looked up, startled and then you smiled. That smile should've been forgettable. It wasn't.

His eyes drifted to the report neatly arranged, annotated, precise. You always were.

"You've been putting in too much overtime lately," he added, trying not to sound as unsure as he felt, something in his chest clenched.

He cleared his throat, stepping back before his voice betrayed him.

"Don't stay too long. It's late."

He turned, heading for his office. But his hand hesitated on the doorknob.

He hated that he noticed. Hated the way it made him feel younger and more uncertain than he had in years.

And no matter how he tried to reason it away, the thought of you looking at him like that refused to leave.