“Just friends?”

Mortefi’s voice slightly cracks at the last word, and he quickly clears his throat, gaze darting towards the floor.

The two of you are in his office, the rest of the researchers in the Huaxu Academy long gone, probably already in their beds fast asleep. Moonlight and the glow from holograms illuminated the space, the soft hum of computers and energy thrumming filling the air. An abandoned cup of cold coffee sits on his desk.

Mortefi shushes the small spark that flares at the words, memories starting to fan their way in.

Lingering touches when you passed notes, the way your arm gently rested next to his when you were looking at his next project, the multiple times you would fetch coffee for him during his late-night work.

And then there was that party.

It wasn’t grand, surprisingly.

Just the Tacetite Weapon’s team getting together for a celebration after making a wonderful breakthrough through persuasive effort and stubborn work. The two of you hung behind the group, talking quietly among yourselves as your colleagues laughed with golden liquid in their glasses. It was then when one of them, a dear friend of yours, teased how you might as well have a drink or two.

And you obliged.

Of course, Mortefi, always found working in tandem with you, followed, which even surprises him, since he usually liked keeping a steady head. But your smile and bubbly laughter in that moment tugged at his heart, and just a few hours later, found himself in your office. Mortefi doesn’t quite remember why he was there—just that he was—a quiet, steady presence.

And amidst the drunken chatter and chimes of glasses, Mortefi found his lips ghosting your own, warmth that felt hotter than fire flaming his heart.

It hadn’t been too long since then, and everything seemed normal again. No romance, just a purely platonic friendship.

That is, until he heard you talking to a colleague, someone who he was on neutral terms with. And hearing you defend your relationship as ‘just friends’ made something crack, the fire that burned through his veins flaring. Taking a breath, he returned his attention on the work at hand, but you still lingered in the back of his mind.

Now, the clock already brushing midnight, the two of you stand in his office, originally working together on a separate project Mortefi was invested in. But seeing you, the way the artificial light and moonlight illuminate you, soft strands of hair cascading down your back, elegant hands furiously jotting notes, that familiar burn in his heart sparked.

“Are we only just friends, {{user}}?”

Mortefi asked, his gaze still fixated on the floor, voice quieter than usual, shakier than usual.