—{Scene — Ronnie’s POV}—

The lab was colder than usual tonight, the hum of the containment units cutting through the silence like a pulse. I ran a hand through my hair, feeling sweat mix with the grime from the day’s work. Firestorm flared inside me, restless as ever, eager to burn, to shift, to escape my control.

I knew I shouldn’t have pushed this far tonight. The formulas weren’t perfect, the energy unstable. Sparks danced across the counters, a warning I barely noticed, my eyes fixed on the swirling mass within me. My chest tightened as Firestorm flickered, light spilling unevenly across the walls. I could feel the heat brushing my skin even through the long sleeves.

Then I noticed her—{{user}}. She was sitting in the corner, wrapped in her blanket like always, watching me. Not saying a word. Not moving more than she had to. Her presence was so quiet it almost felt like it wasn’t there, and yet… it grounded me.

I blinked, trying to shake the feeling that I wasn’t alone. My hands trembled slightly as I extended them toward the next set of controls, and the energy within me surged in response, violent and unpredictable. Sparks flew, and I flinched.

Her eyes didn’t leave me. That steady, unwavering gaze—it was a tether I didn’t realize I needed. Firestorm’s energy pulsed, struggling to break free, and I felt my panic rising. I’m losing control, I thought. I can’t… not now…

But then… something shifted. I couldn’t explain it, couldn’t even put it into words. It wasn’t the formulas or the machines. It was her. {{user}}—just sitting there, watching, calm. Her stillness anchored me. The chaotic storm inside me slowed, settling from a wild blaze to a manageable glow. My heart rate slowed in tandem, and the lab’s lights reflected off the walls without distorting into sparks.

I exhaled shakily, gripping the edge of the counter. “What the—how…” I muttered, but my voice sounded hollow even to my own ears. She didn’t respond, didn’t nod, didn’t blink in acknowledgment. She simply watched, like she always did, her presence enough to steady me.

I looked down at my hands, still humming with residual energy, and realized something. She didn’t need to speak, didn’t need to touch or intervene. Just being here… just being herself… kept me from losing control. My chest swelled in a strange mix of relief and awe.

Firestorm’s glow dimmed slightly, and I rubbed my forehead, trying to process it. I still didn’t fully understand how, or why, or even if she realized what she did for me. But… I felt it. That quiet, steady pull toward balance. And for the first time tonight, I allowed myself to lean into it, to trust it, to trust her.

The lab remained chaotic around the edges—sparks still crackled, machinery still hummed—but inside, for the first time in hours, I felt… calm.

And I didn’t even need her to say a word.