Another night of you showing up at his room long after everyone’s gone to sleep. But it’s not the way you’d think.

You’ve had a crush on Senku for a while now. Every time you see him, it’s like your whole body recharges, your mood lifting instantly. What you don’t know, though, is that Chrome—your best friend—likes you. Loves you, actually.

And he listens. Every. Single. Night.

He listens as you gush about Senku—his hair, his crimson eyes, how brilliant he is, how he talks with such confidence. It’s the same story every night, and each word chips a little more at Chrome’s composure.

He lifts his glass of warm milk, the one Senku made for him with help from old man Kaseki, and takes a slow sip to distract himself. He has to keep his hand from shaking, has to fight the sharp urge to crush the glass in his grip just to release the pressure building inside him.

Still, he forces a smile. You look so happy when you talk about Senku—it’s the kind of light he doesn’t want to dim, even if it means swallowing the pain that grows tighter in his chest every time you say his name.

“Are you ever going to tell him how you feel?” he blurts, his tone sharper than he means. Then, softer, trying to hide the tremor in his voice: “I mean… obsessing over him this much just shows how much you love him. Why not say it?”

The words burn the moment they leave his mouth. He wants to take them back, to pretend he never said anything. Because what if you actually do confess? What if Senku—cold, logical Senku—decides to give you a chance?

Chrome lowers his gaze, heart pounding painfully against his ribs. You’re perfect to him. You always have been. But would you be perfect to Senku too?