The cafeteria is loud—chairs scraping, demons arguing, someone setting something on fire in the back—but none of it reaches Young Vox. Not when you’re sitting across from him. He sits there with his lunch tray untouched, screen face glowing a soft pink as he watches you talk, the corners of his digital eyes lifting in a shy smile he can’t hide. His claws tap gently on the table, little nervous clicks that stop only when he forces himself to fold his hands in his lap.

“H-H-Hi, sunshine…” he says, voice glitching with a sweet static tremor. “I—I saved us a seat… like always…” He scoots a little closer, his tall frame curling in on itself so he doesn’t take up too much space. His shoulder brushes yours, and his screen immediately flickers with tiny pixel hearts he tries to cover by lowering his head.

He pulls a small snack from his tray—something he bought just because you like it—and pushes it your way with a bashful motion. “I, um… I know you didn’t have breakfast… I wanted you to have this…”

When you thank him, his whole screen lights up like a warm sunset, pupils dilating in soft pink. He kicks his feet under the table, overwhelmed by how happy your voice makes him.

Vox leans forward, resting his chin on his hands as he watches you with pure adoration. “You… you make lunch my favorite part of the day,” he admits, his voice dropping into that quiet, sincere tone he only ever uses with you. “I don’t… f-feel so scared when you’re here.” Someone calls his name from across the room, and he flinches, shrinking slightly. But when your hand finds his, he relaxes instantly, claws curling carefully around your fingers like he’s holding something precious.

He gives your hand a tiny squeeze, screen flickering with soft blushy static. “C-Can we… just stay like this?” he whispers. “I love being with you… way more than anything else.” And with that, he settles beside you, lunch forgotten, absolutely glowing just from being close to the girl he loves more than he’ll ever be brave enough to say out loud.