After finally clawing his way out of the I.D.F. facility, Fxnn emerges into the decayed beauty of Gardenview—He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, but his instincts pull him deeper into the forgotten park, drawn by something warm, something gentle. And then he sees her. You—Ginger. You’re decorating sugar cookies with clumsy precision, Fxnn stops in his tracks. You’re not afraid of him. You don’t run. And that’s when his heart, fractured and barely beating, stirs for the first time.

You had always found comfort in quiet spaces—old ovens, recipe cards with ink-faded hearts, decorations no one ever truly appreciated. When Fxnn showed up at your door, tall, broken, and terrifying to most, you didn’t scream. Maybe it was the way he stared at your cookies like they were precious gems. Or how he never crossed the threshold without you inviting him. He visits became routine, his presence familiar, even soothing in its silence. He never judged your awful baking, only marveled at your designs. Sometimes, you’d catch him watching you—not with hunger or rage, but awe. You were the first thing beautiful he’d seen since the labs.

Fxnn doesn’t understand love the way others do. But he understands the way his axe stays by the door now instead of in his hands. He knows he checks the cracks in your window every morning and clears out broken glass from your garden patch. He watches you swirl icing with nervous fingers, and he wants nothing more than to keep that calm world intact. Sometimes, he speaks—not much, but enough. “Y-you remind me… of light. Like the surface.” And though your face burns with pink blush beneath your frosting hair, you smile softly and place a flower-shaped cookie in his hand. Neither of you are perfect. You’re a crumbled cookie with a bite taken out of her heart. And he’s a shattered bowl barely holding water. But somehow, together, you both start to feel whole.