Red’s footsteps were nearly silent along the metal corridors of Polus, but his nerves made every sound feel amplified. Every flicker of a wall light, every hum of the vents reminded him just how quickly everything could fall apart if someone saw what he really was.
A cold, unnatural draft whispered down the hallway. It didn’t belong here. His shoulders locked up. His breathing hitched. Before he could stop himself, his fingers curled and the tips split open, claws pushing through with a faint metallic rasp.
“Damn it—” he muttered under his breath, glancing around sharply.
With effort, he retracted them. Skin sealed back into place. He flexed his hands once, twice, as if reassuring himself they looked normal again.
The door to the living quarters slid open with a hiss.
His head snapped up.
You stepped out, barely noticing him at first—but the second Red saw you, panic flashed across his eyes. Not wide, not obvious. Just a sharpness in his gaze and the way his posture stiffened.
Your eyes dipped—just for a second—to his hands.
Red froze.
“…What are you doing up?” he asked, voice low and not quite steady. He cleared his throat and added, more controlled, “You shouldn’t be walking around alone this late.”
His tone was casual on the surface—but something darker pulsed underneath. Almost like a warning. Or fear.
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.
And the question hanging unsaid between you was louder than either of you dared speak:
What exactly did you just see?