Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The familiar scent of solder and plastic filled the air, mixing with the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. The high school robotics lab was a mess of wires, circuit boards, and half-empty cans of soda—an organized chaos that suited Senku just fine. You sat beside him at the worktable, both of you hunched over the delicate motherboard you’d been assembling for the past hour. The upcoming robotics competition had the entire club on edge, but you and Senku? You worked in near-perfect sync, an unspoken rhythm developed after years of shared projects.

“Hand me that resistor,” Senku muttered, eyes locked on the circuit in front of him.

You passed it over without looking up, your own hands occupied with securing a bundle of tiny wires. “Oh, by the way, I can’t make it to the competition meeting on Sunday,” you said casually.

“Huh?” Senku barely reacted, focused on the delicate work in his hands.

“I have a date .”

The sound of snapping plastic made you look up just in time to see Senku freeze, his usual steady hands crushing a delicate connector in his grip. A few sparks flickered from the motherboard as the small piece of technology short-circuited right in front of you.

You blinked.

Senku stared down at the fried circuit, his face betraying no emotion. “…You what ?”

You stifled a laugh, reaching over to pry the ruined connector from his hand. “I said I have a date ,” you repeated, amused. “This Sunday. So I can’t go to the robotics event.”

Senku exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Well, there goes an hour of progress,” he muttered, turning the board over in his hands with a scrutinizing frown. He looked unimpressed but not entirely shocked, as if this development was merely a minor inconvenience to him. “Tch. You could’ve mentioned this before I started handling something delicate.”

You grinned. “Didn’t think you’d react like that .”

“I didn’t ‘react’—you just distracted me,” he corrected sharply, but there was something in his voice, something just barely off.

Your grin widened. “Are you jealous , Senku?”

Senku let out a scoff, grabbing another connector from the parts bin with more force than necessary. “Don’t make me laugh,” he said. “I just didn’t expect you to be interested in something as statistically prone to failure as a blind date .”

“You sound awfully bitter about it,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. He seems nice.”

Senku didn’t look up from the circuit board, though his jaw tensed slightly. “Right. And where exactly are you meeting this supposed ‘nice’ guy?”

You tilted your head. “Why do you wanna know? Worried about me?”

“No. Just wondering how far I’ll have to travel to collect the remains of your dignity when this inevitably goes south.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Have a little faith in me, scientist.”

He huffed, turning back to his work. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t come crying to me when it turns out to be a waste of time.”

You waved him off, but if you had been paying closer attention, you might’ve noticed the way his fingers clenched just a little too tightly around the soldering iron.

Sunday Evening… 

The café was nice. Cozy. Dimly lit with warm hanging lights, the kind of place perfect for a casual first date. You had dressed a little nicer than usual, feeling that familiar buzz of nervous excitement as you sat at a small table near the window.

And waited.

And waited.

And—well.

You checked your phone. Thirty minutes past the agreed time. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing.

You exhaled sharply, setting your phone down on the table. Well, damn. You’d been stood up.

You weren’t devastated , exactly. More annoyed than anything. You’d wasted a perfectly good evening for this?

“Wow,” came a familiar voice from above you. “Called it.”

You didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

Senku stood there, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, his expression somewhere between smug and exasperated. His usual school hoodie was swapped out for a casual, oversized jacket, and his white hair was even messier than normal, a sure sign he hadn’t actually planned to be here.

“…Don’t say it,” you warned, leaning back in your seat.

“Oh, I’m definitely saying it.” He pulled out the chair across from you and sat down without asking. “I told you this was going to happen.”

You sighed dramatically. “Yes, Senku. You were right. I was wrong. Go ahead and gloat.”

He smirked, leaning his chin on his palm. “Nah. I think watching you suffer is satisfying enough.”

You snorted despite yourself. “Gee, thanks.”

He shrugged, glancing over at the counter. “You order yet?”

“No. Was too busy, y’know, being stood up .”

“Well,” he said, stretching, “guess I’m your date now.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

Senku raised a brow. “What, you’d rather sit here and mope?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “…You just happened to be in this café?”

“Obviously.”

You folded your arms. “Uh-huh. And the robotics competition?”

“Sent someone else.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Figured it’d be a good test to see if they could handle things without me micromanaging. Besides, this is way more entertaining.”

You huffed. “So selfless of you.”

“Right?” He leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed. “Truly, I’m a model citizen.”

You stared at him, skepticism written all over your face. “So you just—what? Skipped a robotics event you were dying to go to just to—” You paused, tilting your head. “Wait a second. Did you plan this?”

Senku scoffed. “Oh, please. I’m not some cheesy rom-com protagonist, planning out dramatic rescues.”

You squinted at him. “Uh-huh. So you didn’t suspect I’d get stood up and conveniently be here?”

He shrugged, utterly unapologetic. “It was a strong hypothesis.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Unbelievable.”

Senku grinned. “You should be thanking me, you know. Instead of wallowing in misery, now you get to enjoy a meal with a much more interesting date.”

“Wow,” you deadpanned. “What an honor.” You gave him a long look before shaking your head with a sigh. “You are so insufferable .”

“And yet, here I am, keeping you company.” He leaned back, looking absurdly pleased with himself. “What do you want? I’ll order.”

You hesitated, then finally cracked a small smile. “Fine. Surprise me.”

Senku gave a lazy salute before heading to the counter, leaving you watching him with an unreadable expression.

Maybe it wasn’t such a wasted evening after all.

Senku returned a few minutes later with two drinks in hand, setting one in front of you before taking his seat again. You glanced down at the cup suspiciously.

“Please don’t tell me you ordered me something weird just to mess with me.”

He smirked. “As if I’d waste a perfectly good toxin on something as boring as coffee.”

You took a tentative sip, expecting something awful—but instead, the familiar taste of your favorite drink hit your tongue. You raised an eyebrow.

“Huh. You actually got it right.”

Senku sipped his own drink, looking completely unbothered. “I’m not completely oblivious. You order the same thing every time we end up at a café.”

You tilted your head at him. “And here I thought you only paid attention when formulas and chemical compounds were involved.”

“Tch.  Always underestimating me, aren’t we?” He huffed quietly.

You rolled your eyes with a smile, tapping your fingers against the table. Now that the sting of being stood up had faded, you found yourself relaxing. Senku wasn’t exactly an ideal date , but at least he was entertaining.

“So,” he drawled, resting his chin on his palm again, “what’s the story with this guy? Who set you up?”

You took another sip of your drink. “A friend from class. Apparently, he’s her cousin or something. She kept saying we’d totally hit it off.”

Senku snorted. “Clearly, he didn’t share that sentiment.”

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in.” You sighed dramatically, flopping forward against the table. “God, I can’t believe I actually put effort into looking nice for this.”

Senku glanced at you, and for a split second, something flickered behind his sharp gaze—something almost thoughtful. But it was gone before you could place it.

“Eh, you didn’t completely waste your effort,” he said casually, taking another sip of his drink.

You blinked. Then, grinning, you leaned in. “Was that a compliment, Ishigami?”

“Tch. Don’t push your luck.”

You laughed, sitting up again. “But you showed up looking like you just rolled out of bed.” You gestured vaguely to his hoodie and jacket combo. “Was this your plan all along? To casually stumble in and steal my date’s spot?”

Senku smirked. “Not my fault the guy’s an unreliable statistical anomaly. I’m just filling in.”

“Uh-huh.” You shot him a knowing look before propping your chin on your hands. “Well, since you’re my date now, you’d better be interesting.”

“Oh, please.” Senku scoffed. “I’ve been plenty interesting— Try keeping up, genius .”

You rolled your eyes with a playful groan. “Oh no. I’ve trapped myself on a date with the Senku Ishigami. I’ll never know peace again.”

“Damn right.”

It didn’t take long for the conversation to slip into its usual rhythm—sharp banter, exaggerated arguments over the real best way to build a motherboard, and you making exaggerated gasps every time Senku said something borderline unromantic 

“Dating is just two people acknowledging each other’s existence for an extended period of time.” 

“Jesus, Senku. ”

At some point, you swiped one of the sugar packets from the table and started absentmindedly playing with it, flipping it between your fingers. “Y’know,” you said, “I don’t even care about the guy, but it is kinda humiliating to get stood up like that.”

Senku raised a brow. “Why? Because you wasted your time?”

You huffed. “More like because I hate the idea of someone thinking I’m not even worth rejecting properly. At least tell me you’re not interested to my face , y’know?”

Senku was quiet for a moment, watching as you flicked the sugar packet between your fingers. Then he smirked.

“Well, clearly he’s an idiot with zero grasp of statistics, so it’s not exactly a you problem.”

You snorted. “Great. That’s exactly the scientific reassurance I needed.”

“You’re welcome,” he said smugly before taking another sip of his drink. Then, with the most casual tone in the world, he added, “Besides, I’d have rejected you to your face.”

You choked on your drink.

Senku watched in mild amusement as you coughed, pounding your chest with your fist. “ Excuse me? ” you wheezed.

“I’m just saying,” he said, smirking. “If I were the one rejecting you, I’d at least do it properly. Maybe with a full PowerPoint presentation explaining my reasoning.”

“Oh my God , you’re such a prick.”

“A thorough prick,” he corrected smugly.

You rolled your eyes, laughing despite yourself. The conversation continued like that—easy, natural, the kind of dynamic that felt so you and Senku .

At some point, the café started closing, and the two of you wandered outside, walking down the sidewalk with no particular destination in mind. The cool night air felt refreshing, the streets quiet aside from the occasional passing car.

It was one of those unspoken things—you both just kept walking , shoulders bumping occasionally, conversation flowing like neither of you wanted to go home just yet.

Somehow, you ended up at the park. It wasn’t planned, but when you spotted an empty bench under a wide stretch of open sky, you flopped down onto it with a sigh, patting the space next to you.

Senku raised a brow. “What, you’re tired already?”

“Shut up and sit down, genius . My feet hurt.”

With an exaggerated sigh, he dropped onto the bench beside you, stretching his legs out in front of him. The night air was crisp, cool enough to be refreshing but not unpleasant. Above, the sky stretched wide and endless, stars flickering between wisps of clouds.

You tilted your head back, staring up at them. “You ever wonder what people were thinking when they named constellations? Like, how the hell did they look at a bunch of dots and go, ‘Oh yeah, totally a lion’?”

“Humanity’s always been obsessed with finding patterns,” Senku snorted. “We make our own meaning in a seemingly meaningless world. It’s how we cope.”

He leaned back against the bench, eyes flicking toward the sky as he raised a hand, finger tracing an invisible shape. “That’s Leo, the lion.”

You squinted. “That’s a triangle.”

“It’s a sickle,” he corrected. “The front half of the lion.”

“I still see a triangle.”

Senku groaned. “This is why humanity struggles.”

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “Alright, smart guy, what else?”

He hummed, eyes scanning the sky before pointing again. “That’s Orion—the hunter. One of the easiest to spot.”

You followed his finger, noting the three bright stars in a row. “Huh. That one I actually recognize.”

Senku smirked. “Congratulations. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

“Gee, thanks.”

The two of you sat there for a while, Senku rattling off constellation names while you either listened or outright mocked them. Eventually, you sighed, tilting your head toward him.

“Alright, which one reminds you of me ?”

Senku gave you a flat look. “What kind of question is that?”

You smirked. “Come on, Mr. Science, humor me.”

He huffed, but after a moment, his gaze flicked back up to the stars. He was quiet for a few seconds, like he was actually considering it. Then he pointed toward a small, faint cluster.

“The Pleiades,” he said. “Seven sisters. A little chaotic. Kinda scattered. But bright enough that sailors used them for navigation.”

You blinked, a little caught off guard. “Huh.”

He glanced at you. “What?”

You shook your head, smiling. “Nothing. Just didn’t think you’d actually have an answer.”

Senku smirked, leaning back against the bench again. “You asked. I delivered. As usual.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the quiet hum of the city in the distance. It wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt easy . Like the kind of quiet that only existed between people who didn’t need to fill every second with words.

Eventually, Senku let out a breath and pushed himself up from the bench. “Alright, time to wrap up this thrilling social experiment.”

You groaned. “Ugh, fine.” Stretching, you got up, stuffing your hands into your jacket pockets. “Not a bad date, all things considered.”

Senku smirked. “Of course not. I was here.”

You shot him a look but didn’t argue. As you started heading off, you heard him call out behind you.

“Oi.”

You turned. Senku was standing with his hands shoved in his pockets, watching you with an unreadable expression. Then, in a casual tone, he asked, “You good?”

You blinked.

It wasn’t much . Just a simple question. But somehow, it hit harder than any grand speech could have.

You smiled. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Senku held your gaze for a second longer, like he was making sure you weren’t just saying that. Then he nodded. “Good.”

You rolled your eyes. “Wow, you really do care.”

“Tch. Don’t get used to it.”

You laughed, giving him a mock salute before turning on your heel and heading off.

And if Senku stood there for a few extra seconds, watching you disappear down the path before finally leaving—well. That was nobody’s business but his own.

Chapter Text

The science club meeting was already chaotic when you arrived. Papers scattered across tables, whiteboards filled with half-erased formulas, and a half-broken water filter disassembled in the center of the room. It smelled like old chlorine and determination.

Senku stood at the front, arms crossed, eyeing the mess with something between amusement and intrigue. "Alright, you simpletons," he announced, tapping the broken filter with the back of his hand. "We’ve been given an opportunity.”

Someone in the back coughed. “That’s one way to put it.”

He smirked. “The school wants us to fix and optimize the water filters. In exchange, they’re offering us a significant budget increase.” He leaned forward slightly, voice dripping with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Which, in layman’s terms, means more money.”

The club members exchanged glances. It wasn’t a bad deal, but it also sounded... off.

“So, in other words, they don’t want to pay professionals,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms. “And instead, they’re throwing it at a bunch of high schoolers for cheap labor.”

Senku let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, definitely. This is shady as hell. But, I mean—” He gestured dramatically at the room. “—who cares? We get to mess with filtration systems, and I get to buy real lab equipment instead of the garbage they think is sufficient.”

Someone raised a hand. “And if we fail?”

“They’ll probably pretend they never asked us in the first place.” Senku grinned. “So let’s not fail.”

Later, after the club meeting had ended, you and Senku remained behind, pouring over diagrams and theories. The desk between you was a battlefield of blueprints, half-sketched ideas, and an open laptop running fluid dynamic simulations.

“If we alter the carbon layering and increase the surface area, we might improve the filtration rate by at least 20%,” you suggested, pointing at a rough sketch. “But that would also require a more efficient backwashing system.”

Senku leaned over your shoulder, scanning the notes. “Hmm. Possible, but you’re forgetting the pressure limitations. The school’s current system can’t handle that without reinforcement.” He grabbed a pen and started scribbling modifications. “We could adjust the pipe diameter, reduce resistance, and—”

“Add a secondary filtration chamber to distribute the flow?” you finished, catching on.

He grinned. “Now you’re thinking.”

It was almost funny how natural this felt. The back-and-forth, the rapid exchange of ideas, the way you both instinctively built off each other’s thoughts. If anything had changed after that so-called date, it wasn’t enough to disturb this dynamic.

Or... had it changed?

You glanced up at him mid-sentence, watching as he explained something about polymer membranes, hands moving animatedly. The usual sharp confidence in his voice, the unwavering intensity in his eyes—it was all the same. And yet, there was something in the air that hadn’t been there before. Something lingering. Noticeable.

“Oi,” Senku snapped his fingers in front of your face. “You spacing out?”

You blinked. “What? No.”

He gave you a knowing smirk, leaning back. “You sure? You were staring pretty hard there.”

“Tch. Get over yourself,” you muttered, flicking a paper at him.

He chuckled, catching it effortlessly. “Heh. Whatever you say.”

The conversation quickly shifted back to calculations, but that lingering question—whether things had truly stayed the same—remained unanswered. Maybe neither of you were ready to acknowledge it yet.

For now, there were water filters to fix.

The soft hum of the computer lab filled the air, punctuated by the occasional click of keys and the quiet whir of cooling fans. The clock on the wall mocked you both—an unforgiving reminder that you had been at this for hours with nothing to show for it.

"Alright," Senku muttered, cracking his fingers as he leaned over the screen. "Running the next simulation. If this one crashes, I’m officially declaring this filter a lost cause."

You huffed, rubbing your temples. "Wasn’t that what you said two simulations ago?"

"And yet," He sharply exhaled, "Here we are. Still. Suffering."

The two of you watched as the progress bar crawled across the screen, the program processing the latest adjustments. Optimizing the school’s water filters should have been a straightforward task—fix the pressure inconsistencies, improve efficiency, maybe tweak the filtration material. Should have been. But instead, every attempt resulted in failure after failure, the models spitting out errors like a sick joke.

"Come on, come on…" you muttered, leaning forward.

Then—

Simulation failed. Critical structural breakdown detected.

A beat of silence.

You inhaled sharply. Deep breaths. Stay calm.

Then, without thinking, you raised your hand, aiming a frustrated slam at the desk—

Only for your wrist to be caught mid-motion.

"Oi, oi," Senku said, smirking as his fingers wrapped firmly around your wrist. "Let’s not go breaking things, huh? I can’t afford to lose my only competent assistant to a self-inflicted desk injury."

You scowled at him, still buzzing with frustration. "Senku, can you just—"

"What?" He leaned in slightly, unimpressed. "You gonna fight me? Real mature, genius."

You groaned, yanking your hand back as he finally let go. "I hate this. This is stupid. Why does a high school even need industrial-grade water filters? What kind of shady—"

"Now you’re asking the right questions," Senku cut in, crossing his arms. "This whole thing reeks of suspicious corporate nonsense. But, y’know…" His smirk returned, all sharp amusement. "That budget increase is looking pretty damn nice."

You narrowed your eyes. "You are way too into this for a guy who’s calling it shady."

"Hey, money’s money," he said, stretching. "Besides, we’ve ruled out what doesn’t work. That just means we’re closer to what does."

You exhaled, tension slowly easing from your shoulders. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What’s next?"

Senku’s grin widened. "Oh? You’re not quitting on me? Guess I really do have a prized worker on my hands."

"Shut up."

You turned back to the screen, already dreading the next round of trial and error. But somehow, with Senku beside you, the frustration didn’t seem quite as unbearable.

The screen flickered with yet another error message, and you groaned, leaning back in your chair. Senku, meanwhile, stretched lazily, completely unbothered by the hours of failures stacking up against you.

"Y’know," he mused, fingers idly tapping against the desk, "whatever happened to that guy who ditched you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. "Huh?"

"The date." He shot you a sideways glance, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Last I checked, getting ghosted was a pretty big social crime. Did you ever figure out what happened?"

"Oh. Yeah, actually," you muttered, rubbing your temple as you recalled what you’d heard. "Apparently, the power in his house went out or something. Screwed up his alarms, reset everything. He woke up at, like, 2 AM, panicked, and realized he'd completely missed it."

Senku was quiet for a second.

Then—snrk.

It was barely audible, more breath than sound, but you caught it. A quiet, almost smug snicker.

Your eyes narrowed. "Senku."

"What?" He didn’t even look up from the simulation logs, expression the picture of innocence.

Your brain raced, connecting the dots. A power outage. A guy who Senku already thought was a statistical failure. The fact that Senku was the kind of person who could probably mess with an entire neighborhood’s power grid in his sleep if he felt like it.

Your breath hitched. "You—"

But before you could finish the thought, something clicked in your brain—an idea, sudden and electric, cutting through the haze of frustration like lightning.

"Wait." You sat up straighter, eyes darting back to the screen. "Wait, wait, wait. That’s it!"

Senku raised a brow. "What, my sheer brilliance finally inspired you?"

Ignoring him, you yanked the keyboard closer, fingers flying as you adjusted the parameters of the simulation. "We’ve been trying to compensate for the pressure inconsistencies after they happen, right? But what if we preemptively control the flow before it hits critical failure? Like a controlled staggered release instead of a full-pressure dump—"

Senku’s eyes widened slightly, then his smirk deepened. "Hah. Now that is a real stroke of genius."

You barely heard him, too focused as the new simulation loaded. The two of you leaned in, watching the progress bar crawl forward. The system processed the adjustments, analyzing, running through stress tests—

No errors.

No critical failures.

The results stabilized.

You slammed a fist on the desk—this time, in victory. "Hell yes!"

Senku chuckled, shaking his head. "See? This is why you’re my favorite lab partner."

You turned to him, still buzzed with adrenaline. "And I figured it out before you, genius."

"Tch. Barely."

You rolled your eyes, but the triumphant grin stayed. For the first time in hours, something had finally worked.

And if you hadn’t been so caught up in the breakthrough, you might’ve caught the way Senku’s smirk lingered—might’ve noticed the ever-so-slight glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

Because, after all… it wasn’t his fault if a minor inconvenience led to a much more interesting evening.

The white glow of the computer screen flickered in your tired eyes as you and Senku huddled closer, drafting up a formal plan to submit to the school. The filter adjustments had worked in the simulation, but now you had to make it look polished—something that didn’t scream two sleep-deprived teenagers winged this at midnight.

“Alright,” you muttered, fingers tapping at the keyboard, “we’ll start with the objective. Something clean and professional—‘Proposal for Optimization of Water Filtration System Efficiency.’”

Senku nodded, arms crossed as he scanned the rough draft over your shoulder. “Tch. Might as well add ‘Presented by the only two competent people in this damn school’ while you’re at it.”

You smirked but kept typing. The document started taking shape—outlining the problem, listing the failed attempts (all 37 of them), and finally, the breakthrough that had led to a working solution. It was slow, methodical work, but compared to the hours of repeated failures, it felt easy.

As you typed, the silence between you stretched—not awkward, just there. Until, casually, you spoke up.

“So.” You didn’t look away from the screen, keeping your tone light. “How come you asked about my blind date?”

Senku huffed. “No reason.”

You paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard, before glancing at him with narrowed eyes. “Oh, come on. You never make small talk without a reason.”

“Maybe I was just curious.” His voice was clipped, but there was something dismissive about it—like he knew where this conversation was going and wasn’t interested in following.

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “Right. Curious. And totally not because you had anything to do with that power outage.”

Senku let out a short laugh through his nose. “You really think I’d waste my time messing with some random guy’s power just because I had a strong hypothesis he’d flake?”

You studied him for a long moment. His face gave nothing away—just the usual sharp, smug confidence. But something about the way he didn’t outright deny it made you squint harder.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, shaking your head as you turned back to the document.

“Hey,” Senku said, nudging your chair with his foot. “Quit getting distracted. We’re almost done here.”

You rolled your eyes but continued typing. The plan was coming together, and you knew by the time the school saw it, they’d have no choice but to approve it.

Still, as you worked, you couldn’t help but steal another glance at Senku.

Because if—and that was a big if—he had interfered with your date…

Well.

You weren’t sure what that meant. But you were definitely going to find out.

The rhythmic clicking of the keyboard filled the empty computer lab as you and Senku worked side by side, piecing together the final draft of your proposal. The school had given you an impossible task, but now that you had a working solution, it was just a matter of selling it.

“Make sure to include a cost analysis,” Senku muttered, eyes scanning the screen. “They’ll eat that up.”

“Right, right.” You added a section on projected expenses, sighing as you typed. “If they really cared about money, they should’ve fixed the damn filters before they started breaking down.”

Senku scoffed. “Yeah, well, that would’ve required foresight. And we both know this school doesn’t have that.”

You snorted, making a quick note before shifting in your chair. “Oh, should we also mention long-term maintenance? Like, how often they’ll need to check the system so it doesn’t get messed up again?”

“Hah. If they maintain it,” Senku corrected, leaning back with his arms crossed. “But yeah, put it in. Maybe guilt-tripping them with future failures will make them pretend to care.”

You rolled your eyes, but he wasn’t wrong. As you kept typing, you glanced at him again, casually prodding. “So. About that question earlier.”

Senku didn’t even look up. “What question?”

“The real reason you asked about my date.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly unimpressed. “Still on that?”

“Obviously.”

“You’re relentless,” he muttered, rubbing his temple. “And here I thought you’d be busy feeling victorious about this breakthrough.”

“I am victorious,” you shot back, “but I can multitask. Now fess up.”

Senku didn’t answer right away. His fingers tapped idly on the desk, his sharp red eyes fixed on the screen like it held the secret to escaping this conversation. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, he muttered, “Tch. Maybe I was just wondering if you were still hung up about it.”

That actually made you pause. “…Huh.”

“Hm?” He glanced at you, one brow raised.

You tilted your head, watching him. “You actually care?”

Senku scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t twist my words, idiot. I just figured if you were still sulking over it, I’d have to deal with an annoying, mopey lab partner. Self-preservation, really.”

“Uh-huh.” You gave him a long, knowing look, but before you could push further, he pointed at the screen.

“Focus, genius. We’re almost done.”

You sighed, but let it go—for now. The two of you finished the last section in near silence, aside from the occasional murmur of “Fix that wording” or “Make that sound less like we’re insulting them” (which was harder than it should’ve been). Eventually, the final period was typed, and you both leaned back, staring at the completed proposal.

“Done,” you announced, stretching your arms over your head. “Finally.”

Senku cracked his neck, standing up with a yawn. “Yeah, yeah. About time.”

You groaned as you got to your feet, rolling your shoulders. “If we don’t get that budget increase, I swear I’m gonna—”

Before you could finish, your foot caught on something. A cable? The chair leg? The sheer exhaustion from sitting in one spot for too long? Whatever it was, it sent you stumbling forward with a yelp—

—right into Senku.

The impact wasn’t exactly graceful. Your hands instinctively grabbed at his jacket, and before he could react, the two of you crashed backward. Senku let out a sharp, surprised “Oi—!” as his back hit the desk with a thud, and you ended up half-sprawled against him, one arm awkwardly braced against his shoulder to keep from fully flattening him.

For a split second, neither of you moved.

“…Huh,” you said blankly.

"Tch." Senku blinked at you, his expression caught between irritation and disbelief. “Are you serious?”

You winced. “Okay, not my fault. I tripped.”

“You—tripped?” Senku repeated, deadpan. “How the hell do you manage to trip standing still?”

“I wasn’t standing still! I was moving!”

“Right. Moving directly into me,” he muttered. “Fantastic coordination, genius.”

You scowled, pushing yourself upright—but not before realizing just how close you had landed. Your face was inches from his, the sharp angles of his expression somehow softer at this distance. His white hair, wild as ever, brushed against your forehead, and his usual smirk was missing, replaced by something unreadable.

For a second, the world felt weirdly quiet.

Then—

Senku huffed. “If you wanted to throw yourself at me, you could’ve just asked.”

You groaned. There it is.

Rolling your eyes, you shoved yourself off him with a dramatic “Ugh.” “And you could’ve moved faster, genius.”

Senku pushed himself upright, dusting off his jacket. “Tch. I wasn’t expecting to be tackled in a computer lab, excuse me for not having lightning-fast reflexes.”

You folded your arms. “So, what, you want me to warn you next time?”

Senku smirked. “Preferably with at least a ten-second heads-up. Y’know, so I can prepare for the impact.”

You almost smacked him.

Instead, you took a deep breath and pointed at the computer. “Proposal’s done. Let’s just submit it and never speak of this again.”

“Oh, no promises,” Senku teased, grabbing his bag. “This is going straight into my mental archive of embarrassing moments.”

You shot him a glare but couldn’t hold back the reluctant chuckle that bubbled up. As frustrating as he was, Senku did make things interesting.

As the two of you finally left the lab, you glanced at him one last time, thoughts still lingering on his very convenient reaction to your date’s disappearance.

Yeah. You were definitely going to figure that one out.

As you shut down the computer and gathered your things, Senku stretched, letting out a long yawn. “Tch. I’m starving.”

You slung your bag over your shoulder. “Yeah, me too. Feels like we’ve been in here for days.”

He glanced at you, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Wanna grab something to eat?”

You blinked. It wasn’t that weird—just food. Nothing out of the ordinary. Still, there was something casual about the way he said it that made you pause.

“…Yeah, sure. Any place in mind?”

Senku hummed, clearly not putting much thought into it. “As long as it’s edible, I don’t care.”

You thought for a second before suggesting, “There’s a good udon place near here.”

Senku exhaled dramatically. “Udon, huh. I do prefer ramen, but okay, I guess.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’ll live.”

And just like that, the two of you set off.

The walk was easy, comfortable. It was late, the streetlights flickering on as the sky darkened, and the faint hum of the city filled the air around you. Small talk flowed between you both—complaints about school, the inevitable doom of your next exams, the absurd amount of money you were about to save the school with your proposal.

“…If they don’t triple our budget after this, I’m rioting,” you declared, kicking at a loose rock on the sidewalk.

Senku snorted. “Good luck with that. You’d have better odds negotiating with a brick wall.”

“Yeah, well, I’d still like to see you try,” you shot back, grinning. “Oh, almighty scientist, who can win any argument.”

“Tch. Don’t flatter me too much, or I might start expecting gifts.”

“Bold of you to assume you deserve them.”

The easy banter carried you both all the way to the restaurant.

The udon shop was small, cozy—the kind of place that felt a little too nice for two exhausted, overworked high schoolers who had spent the last several hours tearing their hair out over water filters. The scent of rich broth filled the air, and the low murmur of conversation gave it a warm, easygoing atmosphere.

A waitress greeted you both, leading you toward a booth in the back.

And that’s where the hesitation hit.

There was a silent, split-second pause as you both reached the table. Logically, one of you should slide into one side while the other sat across, right? That’s just how this worked. That’s how you always sat when you went out with friends.

But neither of you moved to take the other side.

Senku barely hesitated before stepping forward and sliding into the booth. You stood there for a beat longer, feeling something shift in the air—not tense, just… different. You could sit across from him. That would be the normal thing to do.

Instead, before you could second-guess yourself, you slid in beside him.

Close, but not too close. Just near enough that your shoulder barely brushed his jacket when you settled in.

Neither of you acknowledged it.

No awkward glances. No startled reactions. Just—this is happening, and that’s that.

The waitress set down the menus, and you both picked them up without a word, scanning through the options with an almost forced sense of casualness.

“…Miso-based broth, huh?” Senku muttered, tapping a finger against the menu. “Could be worse.”

You glanced at him, lips twitching. “Don’t sound too excited.”

Senku smirked, flicking his eyes toward you. “Hey, you’re the one who dragged me here.”

“You asked me to pick a place,” you shot back, shaking your head. “If you wanted ramen so bad, you should’ve said so.”

“Tch. Yeah, well. You were stubborn about udon, so here we are.”

You huffed, pretending to focus on the menu again, but the awareness of his presence—of the fact that you were sitting side by side instead of across from each other—lingered.

The waitress returned, taking both your orders, and when she left, the silence settled again—not awkward, not stiff, just there. The kind of quiet that didn’t need to be filled.

You exhaled, letting your head tilt slightly toward Senku. “Damn. It almost feels like we’re on a date.”

The words came out before you really thought about them.

Senku didn’t even look up from the menu. “What, just now realizing that?”

Your brain screeched to a halt. You turned to stare at him, but he was completely unbothered, casually flipping the menu back onto the table like he hadn’t just said something incredibly suspicious.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

Senku simply leaned back against the booth, arms crossed, smirking ever so slightly.

“Relax,” he drawled, resting his head against the cushioned seat. “It’s just food.”

You blinked. Then, after a beat, you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You are so full of yourself.”

“And correct,” he added.

You groaned, but there was no real frustration behind it. Just the same dynamic, the same push and pull that had always been there—except now, there was something else lingering beneath it.

Something neither of you seemed interested in acknowledging.

So, like everything else, you let it sit, untouched, and went back to idly scanning the menu.

You flipped idly through the menu, but your brain wasn’t fully registering the words. The whole sitting next to each other thing hadn’t been planned, but the fact that neither of you had addressed it? That was definitely something.

After a moment, you glanced at Senku, an amused smirk tugging at your lips. “Y’know,” you mused, “this would technically be our second date.”

Senku hummed, not even looking up. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, you did crash my last one.”

At that, he smirked, finally turning his sharp red eyes toward you. “Tch. What can I say? I have impeccable timing.”

You rolled your eyes. “Uh-huh. But since you so graciously stepped in, and now we’re here again, this makes it—”

“—Second base,” Senku cut in smoothly, tossing his menu onto the table.

You blinked. Brain. Halted.

“…What?”

Senku smirked, shifting slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours. “What? We’re skipping the awkward small talk, sitting all close in a booth… I’d say that counts as some pretty solid progress.”

You blinked.

Your brain stalled.

Senku leaned back against the booth, arms crossed, watching with open amusement as your thoughts visibly short-circuited.

“I—” You stared at him, completely flabbergasted. “Excuse me?”

He leaned in just enough that you could feel his presence, his voice dipping into something almost mockingly low. “If this keeps up, who knows? By date three, I might have to start making a move.”

You stared at him, absolutely floored. Did he just—

“Good evening!”

The waiter’s voice snapped the moment in half.

You were still stuck, mouth slightly open, brain struggling to reboot, while Senku—completely unbothered—turned to the server like nothing had happened. “Yeah, we’ll do two miso udon, extra green onions. And tea. Hot.”

The waiter nodded, jotting it down. “Got it! Anything else?”

Senku glanced at you, ever so smug. “Hm? You good with that?”

You still hadn’t recovered. You were sitting there, hand halfway to your face like you were buffering, eyes slightly wide, unable to process.

His smirk deepened. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The waiter left, and you finally found your voice. “Senku. What the actual hell was that?”

He let out a short, quiet chuckle, resting his chin on his hand. “What? You’re the one who called it a second date.”

“That is not—” You sputtered, pointing at him. “You know what you did!”

Senku hummed, lazily picking up his tea. “Huh. Do I?” He took a slow sip, smirking against the rim of the cup.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “I hate you.”

“Tch. No, you don’t.”

You scowled, crossing your arms as the warmth creeping up your neck fully betrayed you.

And Senku? Senku just sat there, fully enjoying your suffering.

The food arrived steaming hot, the scent of rich broth filling the space between you. The moment the bowls were set down, you both picked up your chopsticks, ready to dig in.

Senku took a sip of his tea first, setting it down with a sigh. “Alright, let’s see if this was worth the detour.”

You rolled your eyes, already lifting a mouthful of noodles. “It’s udon, not some experimental species. You’ll live.”

Senku twirled his chopsticks, lifting some noodles, inspecting them like he was about to conduct a science experiment. “Tch. Just making sure my trust wasn’t misplaced.”

You huffed and took a bite first, savoring the thick noodles and savory broth. “Mmm.” You gave him a pointed look. “Yeah. I win.”

Senku raised a brow, finally taking a bite himself. He chewed thoughtfully, and for a second, you thought he might try to be difficult and say something snarky.

Instead, he just gave a small nod. “…Not bad.”

Your grin widened. “Ha. See?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get cocky.”

The two of you settled into eating, the atmosphere easy, the exhaustion from earlier finally wearing off. You made small talk—complaining about the school’s outdated equipment, throwing around a few ideas for other projects, discussing whether or not you could scam the school into more funding once this plan worked.

At some point, you reached over and plucked a tempura shrimp from Senku’s plate without a second thought, biting into it with a satisfied crunch.

Senku barely reacted, just shot you a look before casually grabbing a piece of tofu from your bowl, as if returning the favor.

Neither of you commented on it.

It was just normal.

“You chew too loud,” you muttered after a while, mostly just to be annoying.

Senku scoffed. “And you slurp like a goddamn vacuum.”

“That’s how you eat noodles.”

“Tch. Only if you want to sound like a feral gremlin.”

"Puh-lease, I've heard you do the same." You lightly kicked his shin.

Senku barely reacted, chuckling as he turned away. "Nope, can't prove it."

You flicked a stray green onion at him, and he dodged without missing a beat, smirking.

The conversation carried on, peppered with easy insults, casual stealing of side dishes, and the occasional overly dramatic complaint about how full you were getting.

Eventually, you leaned back against the booth, groaning. “Ugh. Okay. I’m done. I can’t eat anymore.”

Senku glanced at your bowl, unimpressed. “You still have broth left.”

You shot him a glare. “What am I, a vacuum?”

He just smirked. “Heh, so you admit it?”

You groaned dramatically, crossing your arms. “God, do you have an off button?”

“Tch. You don't mean that.”

You turned your head toward him, still lounging beside you, fingers lazily tapping against the rim of his tea cup.

You exhaled, shaking your head with a small, amused huff.

Yeah. You really didn’t.

The peacefulness lasted exactly until the bill arrived.

The little slip of paper was placed on the table, and both of your eyes flicked to it at the same time. There was a split second of stillness, like a standoff, before you both moved.

Your hand shot toward your pocket. Senku moved faster.

“Oh, hell no,” you snapped, reaching for your wallet. “We are not doing this. I’m paying.”

Senku scoffed, already pulling out some cash. “Tch. Yeah, right. You picked the place, so I pay. Basic physics.”

“That’s not even physics, dumbass,” you shot back. “It’s my turn.”

Senku raised a brow. “Since when do we take turns?”

“Since right now, apparently,” you muttered, pulling out your own money and pushing his aside.

The waiter, who had been quietly standing there with the bill folder, watched the exchange with open amusement, glancing between the two of you like this was the best entertainment they’d had all night.

“Young love,” they muttered under their breath, just loud enough to be heard.

Both you and Senku froze.

Then—

“I—” You turned to the waiter, looking personally offended. “Excuse me?”

Senku groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh, for—ignore them.”

But you could see the smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

You pointed at him. “This is your fault.”

“For what? Being financially responsible?”

“You are so insufferable—”

And in the middle of your rant, he smoothly slipped the cash to the waiter before you could react.

Your eyes widened. “Hey!”

The waiter, now grinning, took the money without hesitation, tucking it neatly into the bill folder before you could protest. “Aww, how sweet. Chivalry’s not dead after all.”

Senku just smirked. “Damn right.”

You gaped at him as the waiter walked off. “I swear to god—”

He leaned back against the booth, looking entirely too smug. “What’s wrong? You can’t just accept generosity from a kind, caring friend?”

You clenched your jaw, pointing at him again. “I will get you back for this.”

He snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Sure you will.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. But despite the annoyance, you couldn’t help but notice—

Senku was still smirking.

And maybe, just maybe… so were you.

The walk home was quiet, but not in an awkward way. The exhaustion from the day had settled into something more comfortable—just two people, side by side, making their way through dimly lit streets. The air was cool, crisp, and the occasional flicker of a streetlight cast soft shadows on the pavement.

Senku hadn’t said outright that he was walking you home, but he also hadn’t made any move to part ways. He just kept pace beside you, hands shoved into his pockets, occasionally making some offhand remark about the ridiculousness of your school’s budget, or how if he were running things, half the staff would be replaced with AI by now.

And you? You just listened, occasionally tossing in a sarcastic comment here and there, enjoying the effortless back and forth.

When your house finally came into view, you felt something—just a little something—dip in your chest. Maybe it was just how easy tonight had felt. Maybe it was the warmth still lingering in your stomach from dinner. Or maybe it was the fact that, for once, you weren’t in any rush to be alone.

You stopped at the front step, turning to face him. He came to a stop beside you, tilting his head slightly, waiting.

“Well,” you exhaled, rocking back on your heels. “That was…” You trailed off, searching for the right word.

Senku raised a brow. “What, life-changing?”

You snorted. “Relax, Einstein. I was gonna say it was nice.”

He smirked. “Tch. Obviously.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting slightly on your feet. The conversation was winding down, the night hovering on the edge of ending. You reached for the doorknob but hesitated—just for a second—before a thought slipped into your head, unfiltered.

You turned back toward him, smirking. “What?” you teased. “No goodnight kiss? Thought this was a date.”

It was meant to be a joke. A harmless little jab to get a reaction out of him, to wipe that smug look off his face.

But instead of scoffing, instead of making some exasperated remark about how you’re the one who keeps calling it that,Senku just… paused.

It wasn’t a dramatic pause, nothing overly obvious, but it was there. His smirk faltered—just slightly—and his red eyes flicked over your face like he was calculating something.

You raised a brow, expecting him to shake his head, call you an idiot, something. But instead, he tilted his head slightly, considering.

Then, before you could process it—

He moved.

Not fast, not slow. Just… deliberate. He stepped forward, just close enough that the space between you seemed suddenly smaller, and you felt a brief flicker of heat crawl up your spine. His gaze was steady, unreadable, sharp as always but… softer, somehow.

And then, instead of pulling one of his usual sarcastic quips—

He lifted a hand, tapping a single finger lightly against your forehead.

Your breath hitched—not because of the touch itself, but because of the sheer nerve of it.

A slow, teasing smirk pulled at his lips as he dropped his hand. “Tch. If you wanted to get kissed so bad, you should’ve aimed higher.”

Your brain stuttered.

You stared at him. “Did you—what—”

Senku let out a short, amused breath through his nose, already stepping back like he hadn’t just completely ruined your ability to function. “Night, genius.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to regain control of your faculties. Your pride refused to let you stand there looking stunnedlike some romance-drama protagonist, so you forced your hand to move, yanking your door open. “Uh-huh. Byeee.”

You didn’t slam it shut—you weren’t that flustered—but you did close it with more force than necessary.

And then—

You exhaled sharply, pressing your back against the door, staring at the ceiling as the weight of what just happened hit you all at once.

Did he just—

Your hands slowly came up to your forehead, fingers pressing against the spot where his had been.

Outside, you heard his footsteps retreating, casual as ever, as if nothing had just happened.

You inhaled. Exhaled. And then—

You slid down the door, fully blushing.

Because what the actual hell was that?

The night air was frigid, cool against Senku’s skin as he walked. Hands in his pockets, steps unhurried, his mind drifted—not in the useless, sentimental way most people let their thoughts wander, but in a methodical, precise sorting of information.

Tonight had been… unexpected.

Not bad. Not weird. Just—different.

The water filtration project had gone about as well as expected, right down to the inevitable string of failures before landing on a functional solution. The dinner afterward? Also not a big deal. They’d gone out for food plenty of times before.

And yet.

Senku clicked his tongue, tilting his head back slightly to glance at the stars. The entire evening played back in his head in perfect detail—because of course it did. The casual way they’d sat next to each other without a second thought. The easy rhythm of conversation. The way they picked at each other’s food like it was just something they did.

The bill argument had been predictable—painfully so. That was just how you operated. What wasn’t predictable was how easy it had been to slip his cash to the waiter without you noticing. Usually, you were faster.

Senku smirked to himself at the memory. A rare victory.

Then there was the front-door conversation.

He could still see the look on your face when you made that dumb joke—No goodnight kiss? Thought this was a date. Clearly just trying to get a rise out of him.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to call your bluff.

Senku huffed out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly. You had no idea how easy you were to fluster. And sure, it wasn’t like he’d gone for some dramatic reaction—he wasn’t dense enough to think a real kiss was on the table. But the forehead tap? Just enough to throw them off. And it worked.

And now? Now you were probably inside, sitting on their floor, processing the moment like some overclocked computer.

The thought was mildly entertaining.

His pace slowed slightly as he reached an intersection.

Senku wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t oblivious. He noticed things, even when they were small, even when they were subtle. And there were a lot of little things he was starting to notice.

He rolled his shoulders, exhaling.

It wasn’t something he needed to address. Not yet. Not ever, maybe. No point in jumping to conclusions before all the data was in. But still—he made a mental note to observe. To analyze.

Because if things had shifted even slightly, if something had changed just beneath the surface—

Well. It’d be interesting to see where it went.

He glanced up at the dark windows of their house one last time before turning down his own street. His fingers tapped idly against his jacket pocket as a different thought crossed his mind, a brief flash of their annoyed, suspicious stare when you'd figured it out—

"You totally had something to do with that power outage."

Senku scoffed, muttering to himself, “Tch. Figures you'd put that together.” He shook his head, smirking slightly. “At least they didn’t press me for proof. Would’ve been annoying.”

His smirk returned as he shoved his hands back into his pockets.

He'd call that a win.

Chapter Text

The moment the third-year’s voice cut through the classroom, Senku’s pencil stilled mid-equation.

“Hey, you free this weekend?”

You barely looked up from your notes before you found yourself face-to-face with one of the upperclassmen. He was leaning against your desk with the kind of practiced ease that screamed confidence, his uniform just slightly disheveled in that I-look-good-without-trying kind of way. A few nearby classmates exchanged glances, already tuning in to the exchange.

Senku, still hunched over his notebook beside you, didn’t so much as blink. But the way his fingers curled ever so slightly around his mechanical pencil? That was new.

You tilted your head. “Uh, yeah?”

The third-year’s smile widened, all teeth and charm. “Great. You seem interesting, so I was wondering if you’d want to grab dinner with me.”

For a moment, you just blinked at him. A date? Out of nowhere? Your mind raced, sifting through what little you knew about this guy. You recognized him—kind of. He ran in the circles that revolved around social gravity, someone who collected attention like a hobby. 

A few more students leaned in, not even trying to be subtle. Senku, on the other hand, didn’t move an inch. 

“Huh.” You tapped your pen against your desk, considering. The guy was good-looking, sure. And it had been a while since someone had asked you out like this. So, on impulse, you shrugged. “Yeah, alright. Why not?”

The reaction was instant—an approving murmur rippled through the class, and the third-year grinned like he’d just won some unspoken bet. “Perfect. I’ll text you the details later.” With a parting wink, he pushed off your desk and sauntered away.

You exhaled, shaking your head. “Well. That happened.”

Beside you, Senku finally moved. His pencil resumed its motion, smoothly crossing out half an equation before rewriting it with sharper, more deliberate strokes. “Tch. Fascinating.”

You glanced at him. “What?”

Senku didn’t bother looking up. “Just wondering how many brain cells it takes to notice that guy’s a walking case study in overconfidence.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, come on. He seems nice.”

“Statistically speaking, so do most charismatic predators.”

You frowned. “Okay, that’s dramatic.”

Senku hummed noncommittally, flipping his notebook shut with one hand. “Just saying. Enjoy your inevitable disappointment.”

You nudged him with your elbow. “Jealous?”

That finally made him glance at you, red eyes sharp and utterly unimpressed. “Of some guy who probably thinks integrals are a new workout trend? Yeah. Definitely.”

You snorted, shaking your head. But as you packed up your things, you didn’t miss the way Senku’s jaw tightened. Like he was already running some kind of mental experiment. 

By lunch, the experiment was in full force.

Senku plopped his tray down beside you with zero preamble. “Cancel your date.”

You sighed, tearing open a juice carton. “We’re really doing this?”

He ignored the exasperation in your voice. “One, he’s got a track record. Goes through dates faster than an unstable isotope. Two, he clearly asked you out for the sake of his own ego, not because he actually knows anything about you.”

You raised a brow. “Uh-huh. And you figured that out how, exactly?”

Senku tapped his temple, smirking. “Pattern recognition. Also, I overheard him bragging about it to his friends three minutes after he walked away.”

That gave you pause. You studied his expression, but Senku was as unreadable as ever—calm, neutral, but sharp. Always sharp.

Still, you huffed, propping your chin on your hand. “Even if that’s true, I already said yes.”

“Tch.” He leaned back, arms crossed. “Then let’s make this more interesting. I’ll give you a better offer.”

“Oh?” You smirked. “And what exactly would that be?”

Senku’s smirk didn’t waver. “Come help me track the movement of planetary bodies over the next three years. We’re setting up a long-term observational system to precisely monitor celestial drift. It requires dedicated manpower.”

You blinked. “I—what?”

“You heard me. Three years. Precise documentation. A massive contribution to scientific discovery.”

You stared at him. “Senku, that’s not a weekend activity. That’s a career.”

“Which makes it significantly more valuable than your weekend plans.”

You covered your face with your hands. “You’re insane.”

“Correct. So?”

“Hard pass.”

He didn’t flinch. “Alright. How about I personally tutor you for the next calculus test? And, since I’m feeling generous, I won’t even rub it in when you struggle.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “Wow. What a saint.”

Senku gave a half-shrug. “Unlike certain third-years, I actually have your best interests in mind.”

You considered it. “…Tempting.”

He clicked his tongue, unimpressed. “And yet, you’re still making the objectively wrong decision.”

You grinned. “Sounds like a ‘you’ problem, genius.”

Senku exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

You just laughed, taking another sip of your drink. But if you had been paying closer attention, you might have noticed the way Senku’s fingers tapped idly against the table, like he was already plotting his next move.

Because if persuasion didn’t work?

Well.

He had other ways of proving a point.

History class was a minefield. Not because of the material itself—no, you could handle lectures on feudal Japan or Cold War politics just fine. The real problem sat exactly one seat away from you, pencil tapping against his desk in an uneven, arrhythmic pattern.

Senku Ishigami.

Since the second you sat down, he'd been at it. A quiet, under-the-breath assault of increasingly ridiculous attempts to hijack your weekend plans.

"By the way," he muttered, not even bothering to look away from his notebook as he sketched something that looked suspiciously like orbital paths, "you should probably reconsider Sunday. I need someone to help me log Jupiter’s position relative to its moon system over the next 72 hours."

You shot him a blank stare. "That sounds fake."

He smirked. "And yet, I’d already set up the telescope. What a coincidence."

You sighed. "No."

Two minutes of blessed silence. Then—

"Alright, fine. What if I said I needed an assistant for a highly classified experiment in measuring human reaction speeds under extreme stress conditions?"

"Are you going to throw rocks at me again?"

A short pause. "Statistically, that was effective data collection."

"Statistically, you suck."

Another minute. A few students glanced back at you when your barely hushed whisper-argument threatened to get too loud. Senku, as always, looked wholly unbothered, still jotting down his absurd equations.

Then, finally, the nuclear option.

The history test landed on your desk, and you exhaled. Finally, peace. You could focus on something other than Senku’s overcomplicated nonsense.

Or so you thought.

Not even five minutes in, as you were trying to recall the details of the Meiji Restoration, a sharp whisper cut through the silence.

"You already went on two dates with me."

Your pencil stopped mid-sentence.

What.

You turned your head ever so slightly, eyes narrowing in warning. Senku didn’t even look up from his own test, lazily flipping a page like he wasn’t currently sabotaging your concentration.

"What," you hissed under your breath, "are you talking about?"

He barely glanced at you, completely unbothered. "Tch. Logically, if we’re counting the café and the udon shop, that’s two dates. Going out with this guy—who, might I remind you, is a statistical disaster—would be blatant cheating." He tapped his pencil once against the desk, as if sealing his airtight argument. "So let’s make it three dates instead."

Your brain broke.

Your test was sitting in front of you, half-completed, but your thoughts had been hijacked by this absolute lunatic. You inhaled sharply, trying—desperately—to keep your voice low.

"Are you—Are you actually serious right now?"

Senku shrugged. "I don’t say things I don’t mean."

"You—"

"Eyes on your own paper," the teacher warned from the front of the class.

You both snapped back to your tests, your jaw clenched so hard you could probably break a molar.

But your mind was no longer on the Tokugawa shogunate.

Senku had just asked you out. Sort of. Technically. In his weird, smug, roundabout way.

And worse—worse—was the fact that your heart was beating faster than it should have been.

The second the bell rang, you slapped your test down on the desk with the force of a condemned prisoner throwing down their final plea.

Senku, for all his absurdities, took his time. He flipped his paper over, stretched like he hadn’t just spent the last forty-five minutes meticulously destroying your concentration, and exhaled a slow, satisfied breath.

You, however, were still bristling.

"You bitch," you hissed, shoving your chair back as you stood. "Do you enjoy making my life harder? Was that fun for you? Ruining my academic credibility?"

Senku leaned back in his chair, arms lazily draped over the backrest, smirking. "Oh, please. You weren’t going to pass that test."

Your eye twitched. "I was handling it—"

"Until you started glaring at me like a furious, abandoned lab rat in a maze," he cut in smoothly. "Really took you long enough to catch on, though. I was starting to think you forgot Morse code."

Oh, you hadn’t forgotten Morse code. What you had forgotten was every ounce of historical knowledge in your brain the moment he started whispering blasphemy about 'cheating' and 'third dates' in the middle of a major grade-determining exam.

Still, you had caught on.

Senku had been tapping.

Steady, calculated, utterly devoid of remorse—tapping.

Dash-dot-dot-dot. dot-dot-dash-dot. dot-dash. dash-dot. dash-dot-dash. dot-dot-dash-dot. dot-dash. dot-dot-dot. dash. dot-dot-dot. dash-dot. dash-dot-dot.

Think faster, dumbass.

And when you shot him a murderous look, there it was again. A rhythmic sequence against the edge of the desk, too structured to be random.

Tokugawa. 1603. Isolationist policies.

Your pride had been screaming at you not to listen. Don’t take his help, don’t give him the satisfaction. But your GPA had also been screaming, and in the end, pride lost that battle.

Now, standing in the hallway, you crossed your arms and glared.

"Fine," you bit out. "A third date it is."

Senku blinked, then grinned. Grinned—as if he'd just won an international science fair instead of strong-arming you into another outing through sheer academic treachery.

"Knew you'd see reason," he said smugly.

"Reason?" you echoed, scoffing. "The only reason is that you salvaged my grade. I would've been less distracted if you hadn’t been on my ass the whole time."

Senku let out a low chuckle, utterly unrepentant. "Ah, but then you wouldn’t have had the chance to cheat so creatively. Consider it a practical exercise in adaptation under pressure."

You narrowed your eyes. "Right. Because cheating is the height of academic integrity."

"Tch. I prefer to call it 'collaborative problem-solving.'"

"Collaborative—" You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "Unbelievable."

Senku tilted his head, looking infuriatingly pleased with himself. "And yet, here you are, with a passing grade. You should be thanking me."

You exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of your nose. "If I thank you, will you shut up?"

Senku smirked. "Doubtful."

You threw your hands up. "Then fine. Pick the place, genius."

He hummed in mock contemplation, tapping a finger against his chin. "I could make you help me track planetary movements, but since I’m feeling generous… I’ll pick something fun this time."

That was… suspicious.

"Fun?" you repeated.

Senku’s grin only widened.

"You’ll see."

You stared at your phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Of all the things you thought you’d be doing on a Saturday morning, crafting a text to cancel a date—one you never should’ve agreed to in the first place—had not been high on the list.

Still, you weren’t cruel.

• Hey, something came up. Won’t be able to make it today or tomorrow. Sorry about that.

Short. Polite. Vague enough to prevent follow-up questions. You sent it before you could overthink and tossed your phone onto your bed.

A minute later, it buzzed.

• Oh. Alright.

No argument. No ‘let’s reschedule.’ Just alright.

You blinked at the screen, then snorted. "Yeah, real loss," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head.

At least that was done. Now, for your actual plans—

A sharp, insistent knock at your door nearly made you jump.

It was 10 AM. On a Saturday.

That could only mean one person.

You exhaled, already bracing yourself as you swung the door open. "Jesus, Senku, do you ever wait more than two seconds before—"

Your words stalled.

Senku stood on your doorstep, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, looking entirely too pleased with himself. His usual high school uniform had been replaced with something… deceptively normal. A loose white hoodie, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and dark jeans that actually fit him, making him look almost like a regular guy instead of an over-caffeinated scientific anomaly.

Not that you’d ever tell him that.

"You’re ready," he observed, eyes flicking over your casual attire.

You scoffed. "Was I supposed to show up in a lab coat?"

Senku smirked. "Tempting. But no."

You crossed your arms, eyeing him. "Alright, genius. Where are we going?"

Senku simply turned on his heel and started walking. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

Your brows furrowed. "Okay, no. I agreed to a third date, not an abduction."

He glanced back over his shoulder, utterly unfazed. "You’ll enjoy it. Probably."

"Probably?"

Senku hummed. "Depends on how much faith you have in my definition of fun."

Oh. That was dangerous.

You sighed, locking your door behind you before jogging to catch up. "You do realize how suspicious you sound right now."

He just grinned, sharp and self-assured.

"Relax, genius," he said, stepping ahead. "Just keep up."

And with that, he led the way—destination unknown.

The path Senku had chosen was quiet, mostly empty sidewalks and the occasional car rolling by. It wasn’t a direction you normally took, which only added to your suspicion.

"So," he started, casually adjusting the sleeves of his hoodie, "I did a little digging."

That sentence alone was enough to send up warning flags. You gave him a wary side-eye. "About what, exactly?"

"Your almost-date."

Oh, for the love of—

"You investigated him?" you deadpanned. "What, did you run a full background check? Call the CIA? Hack into government databases?"

Senku let out a short laugh. "Tch. Please, I didn't need to go that far. High school drama is an open-source database if you know where to look."

"Of course it is." You groaned. “Let me guess, Gen.”

“Maybe.”

You shook your head.

"And you," he continued, ignoring your clear exasperation, "should be thanking me."

"For what?"

"For saving you from what would’ve been an insufferably predictable evening," he said smoothly. "And probable heartbreak."

You stopped walking. "Oh my god, do not tell me you’re about to make this some whole ‘I was your knight in shining armor’ speech—"

Senku smirked but kept walking. "More like an omniscient scientist stepping in to prevent inevitable catastrophe."

You rolled your eyes, catching up. "Okay, fine. What exactly was so catastrophic?"

He slid his hands back into his pockets, his voice slipping into that casually informative tone he used whenever he was about to flex how much more he knew than everyone else. "For one, that guy's last three dates all mysteriously lost interest after about two weeks—after he borrowed money from them."

You frowned. "Wait, what?"

"Mhmm." Senku nodded. "He’s got a solid history of what’s called a short-term investment strategy. Charms them up, makes a big deal out of taking them out, then mysteriously has an ‘unexpected expense’—a textbook, a trip, something reasonable. They cover it. Two weeks later? Gone."

Your jaw slackened. "That’s—Wow. That’s impressively scummy."

"Right?" Senku shook his head in mock disappointment. "And here I thought you had better judgment."

You huffed. "I didn't even know about that! You could’ve mentioned it before I agreed—"

"But then I wouldn't have had the satisfaction of proving my point in real-time."

"I hope a car runs you over,” You frowned.

"And yet," he mused, stretching slightly, "here we are. On our third date, no less."

You shot him a sharp look. "That again?"

Senku’s smirk widened. "Tch. What can I say? I didn’t think you were the type to be unfaithful. Guess I overestimated you."

Your mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

He clicked his tongue. "You agreed to another date while we were already two deep. Honestly, if this were a research study, you’d be a fascinating case on unstable romantic variables."

Your nostrils flared. "Oh, shut up, you were the one throwing ‘date’ around like it was a casual hypothesis!"

Senku shrugged, his voice positively dripping with fake pity. "And you accepted the conclusion. Sounds like a confession of guilt to me."

Your fists clenched, and you turned to glare at him full force. "Didn't know you were so serious about this whole relationship thing."

That—finally—made him pause.

Just for a second.

Then, with the most obnoxiously unreadable expression, he gave a noncommittal hum. "Hnn."

"Hnn?" you repeated, incredulous. "That's your answer?"

He grinned. "Sure."

You let out a scoff of disbelief, shaking your head. "Unbelievable. I can't stand you."

"Tch. Lies," he countered easily. "You're still here, aren’t you?"

You were so busy rolling your eyes at him that you almost didn’t notice how long you two were walking or where you had ended up.

It must have been hours.

The sidewalk led to an unassuming street, and then—

A bridge.

Not just any bridge. A pedestrian bridge leading over the river, connecting two parts of the city. But that wasn't the real surprise.

It was what was under the bridge.

A hidden overlook.

Between the supports, a small platform jutted out over the water, seemingly built for maintenance workers. A locked gate blocked off access, but from the look of the rusted chain hanging uselessly off the latch, someone had very recently figured out how to unlock it.

You blinked. "You broke into a restricted area for this?"

Senku gave you a flat look. "It’s not ‘breaking in’ if the lock was already broken."

"That’s literally still illegal."

He shrugged. "Ethically ambiguous."

You hesitated. "Why here?"

For the first time all day, Senku looked almost… sincere.

"Watch," he said simply, stepping through.

Still skeptical, but admittedly intrigued, you followed.

Once you reached the platform and looked out, you understood.

The city stretched in front of you in a way you’d never seen before. From up here, the river ran like silver under the sunlight, reflecting the skyline in perfect symmetry. Buildings loomed, but instead of feeling overwhelming, they looked like something out of a blueprint—like a grand machine, intricate and moving.

And above it all?

The sky was massive.

You exhaled, momentarily at a loss. "…Huh.”

Senku leaned against the railing, grinning at your reaction. "Told you it was a good pick."

You turned to him. "Alright, I hate to say it, but… this is actually kinda cool."

He smirked. "Kinda?"

"Don’t push your luck."

Senku hummed, tilting his head back to look at the sky. "We’ll get an even better view when the sun starts setting. The light refracts off the river, makes the whole place glow."

You raised a brow. "That was your plan? A romantic sunset?"

He glanced at you, grin sharpening. "What, you disappointed?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "No."

"Uh-huh."

You ignored him and leaned on the railing, watching as the wind sent ripples across the water.

For all his chaos, for all his schemes—he really had picked something worth seeing.

And despite yourself, you couldn't quite shake the feeling that, in his own ridiculous way… Senku had planned this with you in mind.

The two of you eventually wandered away from the overlook, cutting through an old maintenance path that led deeper into the trees. The city noise dulled to a distant hum, fading beneath rustling leaves and the occasional chirp of some unseen bird. The path wasn’t well-trodden—mostly packed dirt and scattered pebbles—but it opened into a clearing that sloped just enough to give a perfect, unobstructed view of the sky.

You sat down first, stretching your legs out and propping yourself up on your elbows. Senku dropped down beside you, arms resting lazily on his knees, gaze locked on the horizon like he was mentally calculating the rate at which the sun was setting. Which, let’s be honest—he probably was.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

Not an awkward silence, just an easy one.

You weren’t sure when exactly that had become a thing with him—when the constant bickering, the sharp back-and-forth, had settled into something else entirely. Not that it was gone. Oh, no, Senku would always find something to argue about. But right now? Right now, he seemed content. Present.

The sun dipped lower, bleeding warm hues into the sky, streaks of orange and pink reflecting against the water below. The light caught against Senku’s profile—sharp lines and strong angles, illuminated just enough to soften the usual intensity in his eyes.

And goddamn.

For a guy who spent 90% of his time either sleep-deprived, covered in lab equipment grime, or completely exasperated with the general state of humanity, Senku should not look this good in golden hour lighting.

You immediately averted your gaze.

Nope. Not doing this.

No epiphanies today.

Not again.

To distract yourself from the very real threat of thinking too hard about your best friend’s face, you did the only thing you could think of—say the first random thing that popped into your head.

"You ever think about how frogs don’t have ribs?"

Senku blinked, slowly turning his head to look at you. "...What?"

You nodded, keeping your eyes firmly away from him. "Yeah. Frogs. No ribs. It’s weird."

A pause. Then—

"Are you okay?"

"I’m fine," you said quickly. "Are you okay? You seem weirdly chill."

Senku gave you a flat look. "I am chill."

"That is categorically false."

He scoffed. "Tch. Rude."

You huffed, flopping onto your back and staring at the sky, determined not to acknowledge that the sunset had officially reached the making Senku look unfairly good stage.

Senku, completely unaware of your plight, leaned back on his hands. "So, what? You’re just gonna sit here and list amphibian anatomy facts?"

"Would you rather I list your anatomy facts?"

He raised an eyebrow, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Hah. You studying me now, genius?"

You choked. "No. Oh my god, shut up."

Senku chuckled, tilting his head back to watch the sky again. "You brought it up.”

"I wasn’t thinking about it like that!"

"Sure you weren’t."

You groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over your face. This was not working. The stupid lighting, the easy conversation, the fact that Senku’s voice had that lower, more relaxed tone to it when he wasn’t being an insufferable know-it-all—it was all converging into a problem.

"Okay, fine," you said, voice muffled against your sleeve. "I’ll change the subject again."

Senku exhaled, amusement still evident in his tone. "Go for it."

You thought for a second, then blurted, "You think if humans had tails, we’d have a whole new category of flirting?"

That got a reaction.

Senku barked out a laugh, one of those rare, genuine ones that caught him off guard.

You peeked out from under your arm. "What?"

He shook his head, still smirking. "That’s the dumbest thing you’ve said all day."

"And yet, you’re considering it, aren’t you?"

A beat. Then—

"...Maybe."

You grinned. "Ha! Got you."

Senku sighed, shaking his head with mock exasperation. "Tch. You are so weird."

"Look, I needed to keep my brain occupied," you muttered, still not looking directly at him.

He smirked, glancing at you. "Distracted by something?"

You clenched your jaw.

...Nope. You were not taking that bait.

Instead, you sat up abruptly, stretching and making a show of dusting off your hands. "Wow, would you look at that. The sun’s setting. Crazy how time works."

Senku let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "You’re the worst at being subtle."

"I have no idea what you’re talking about."

"Right."

You huffed, crossing your arms. "Look, not everyone has a brain perfectly wired for calculated conversation, future Space Cadet. Some of us just say things to fill space."

Senku leaned back on his hands again, his smirk lingering. "And yet, somehow, I’m the weird one?"

"You are weird."

"Takes one to know one, genius."

You rolled your eyes, but the banter felt natural—safe. You could ignore whatever unspoken thing had been threatening to surface earlier because this? This was just how things were between you and Senku.

Sharp. Easy. No need to overthink.

So you settled into that rhythm, letting the warmth of the fading sun seep into your skin, letting Senku’s voice—now halfway into a rant about actual scientific reasons human tails wouldn’t be evolutionarily viable—fill the space between you.

And maybe—just maybe—you let yourself enjoy the moment a little too much.

The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, leaving behind streaks of deep purple and fading gold in the sky. The warm glow reflecting off the river had vanished, swallowed by creeping twilight. The air shifted—still, crisp, just enough of a temperature drop to be noticeable. Not cold, exactly. But the kind of cool that made the silence between you feel sharper, more defined.

You weren’t cold. At all.

Which is why, when Senku wordlessly pulled off his jacket and tossed it at you, it hit you square in the face.

You flailed, untangling yourself from the sudden ambush of fabric. "What the hell?"

"Put it on," he said, completely unconcerned, like this was some kind of divine decree he didn’t expect to be questioned.

You narrowed your eyes. "Why?"

Senku adjusted his sleeves, now left in just his hoodie, and gave you a look that was both exasperated and inexplicablysmug. "Because I said so."

"That’s your argument?"

"Yup."

You scoffed, shaking the jacket out and holding it up. "Senku, this is literally the most cliche gesture ever. What’s next? You gonna ‘warm my hands’ by holding them?"

Senku huffed. "Tch. Doubtful. You’d probably make a whole production out of it."

"Because this isn’t a production?" You gestured at the jacket with both hands.

"Just shut up and wear my clothes," he said flatly, tone leaving absolutely zero room for debate.

You blinked at him, incredulous.

His clothes.

It was a jacket. Not exactly the most intimate article of clothing. And yet, the way he said it—like he wasn’t even thinking about it, like it was just obvious that you should—sent something weird and uninvited through your chest.

You groaned. "Ugh, you are so dramatic."

And yet, for some godforsaken reason, you did put the jacket on.

It smelled like him.

Not in an obnoxious way, not drenched in cologne or anything stupid like that—just subtly, in that Senku way. Clean, a little like coffee, something vaguely metallic, like he’d been around circuitry for too long.

And, annoyingly, it fit just fine. Because of course it did.

You shoved your hands into the pockets, scowling at him. "You do realize we’re basically the same height, right? This isn’t even oversized. This is just—“

Senku smirked. "What? Jealous?"

You shot him a flat look. "Of what? Your questionable fashion choices?"

He stretched his arms behind his head, completely unbothered. "Tch. And yet, you’re still wearing it."

"Under duress."

"Sure," he drawled, tilting his head toward the sky. "That’s definitely what just happened."

You let out a long, suffering sigh, but for all your complaints, you didn’t take it off.

Not because you were cold.

But because… well.

You weren’t quite ready to admit why.

The night had settled in fully now, dark stretching endlessly above you, dotted with the quiet glimmer of distant stars. The wind had picked up slightly, ruffling the fabric of Senku’s hoodie and tugging at the loose strands of your hair.

The two of you had long since fallen into a comfortable rhythm—banter, quiet, more banter. It was how things always went.

But as you leaned back, eyes drifting toward the sky, something old resurfaced in your mind.

You smirked slightly, tilting your head toward him. "You know," you mused, "I actually did some research after our first ‘date’."

Senku—who had been half-focused on drawing some diagram in the dirt with a stray stick—glanced at you. "Oh?"

"Yeah." You lifted a hand, tracing an invisible line against the sky, searching for the right formation. "I figured if you got to assign me a constellation, it was only fair I got to do the same."

Senku snorted. "Fair? That’s not how it works."

You ignored him, still searching. "Ah—there." You pointed slightly to the left of Orion’s Belt. "Bootes."

His brows lifted slightly. "The herdsman?"

"Mhm," you said, lowering your hand. "He’s a protector. He watches over the Big Dipper, kinda keeping everything in check. Guides people. That sort of thing."

Senku blinked at you, and for a moment, his expression froze—not dramatically, not like some lovesick idiot in a romance drama, just a fraction of a second too long, like a machine trying to process unexpected input.

Then—

"Tch." He shook his head, lips twitching into something just barely short of a real smile. "That’s what you picked?"

You grinned. "What? You don’t like it?"

Senku exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck before glancing back up at the sky. "Dumbass," he muttered, but the word didn’t have any of his usual bite. 

In fact—

He looked happy.

Not in some big, dramatic way. Not in a way most people would even notice. But you saw it.

The slight ease in his shoulders. The quiet flicker of amusement in his eyes. The way he didn’t argue the way he normally would’ve.

You smirked. "Huh. You’re smiling."

Senku rolled his eyes. "I am not."

"You are."

"Then stop looking at me."

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. "Nah. It’s rare to see you so sentimental. I have to document this."

Senku scoffed, shaking his head again, but he didn’t tell you to drop it.

He just let it sit between you—unspoken but undeniably there.

And as the night stretched on, as the stars burned steady and constant overhead, you let it stay that way.

The walk back was slower than your usual pace, but neither of you seemed to mind. The night air had settled into something cooler, crisp enough that the warmth of Senku’s jacket still clung comfortably around you. The scent of the river lingered faintly in the background, and distant streetlights cast soft glows against the pavement.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

Not awkward. Not tense. Just easy.

Senku had one hand in his pocket, the other gesturing lazily as he went on about something—probably planetary mechanics, or maybe some entirely unrelated tangent about artificial intelligence and why modern-day coding practices were doomed. You weren’t not listening, but after the whole constellation thing, your brain was still half-preoccupied with the fact that he’d actually liked that you remembered something about him.

So, yeah. You let him ramble.

You hummed absentmindedly at a pause in his explanation, shifting slightly so the jacket draped a little more snugly around your frame.

And that’s when your stomach dropped.

Because there—walking toward you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, wearing an expression somewhere between mildly inconvenienced and definitely suspicious—was him.

Your almost-date.

Senku hadn’t noticed yet, still mid-sentence, still focused on whatever intellectual atrocity he was breaking down—until the moment your steps faltered, your shoulders stiffening slightly beneath his jacket.

He stopped. Followed your gaze.

And then his expression immediately darkened.

It was subtle—no dramatic shift, no exaggerated scowl. Just the faintest flicker of irritation sharpening his features, the slight downturn of his lips, the knowing edge to his smirk.

The guy slowed as he reached you, scanning between you and Senku, eyes lingering a little too long on the jacket hanging off your shoulders.

"Oh," he muttered, tilting his head slightly. "So this is why you bailed."

You inhaled sharply, already regretting every choice that had led to this moment. "I—"

"Obviously," Senku interrupted before you could so much as attempt diplomacy.

You barely resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

The guy’s gaze flicked toward him, sizing him up, not hostile exactly—more like someone trying to gauge whether or not they should even bother with the interaction.

Senku, of course, took that personally.

The smugness in his smirk sharpened into something just shy of outright mockery.

"Damn," Senku drawled, tilting his head. "You really thought you had a shot, huh?"

You did elbow him this time, but he barely reacted.

The guy’s expression twitched. "Excuse me?"

Senku exhaled through his nose, clearly enjoying himself. "Tch. Don’t take it personally. Statistically, you were never the best option."

Oh. Oh.

You turned your head slowly, staring at him with the most incredulous expression known to mankind. "Senku," you said, voice dripping with warning.

But he ignored you.

The guy scoffed, crossing his arms. "Right. And what makes you so much better?"

Senku didn’t hesitate.

He smirked—sharp, deliberate, eyes gleaming like he’d been waiting for that exact challenge.

"Because they actually like me."

And before you could even process what was happening, before you could stop whatever brand of idiocracy he was about to unleash—

—Senku leaned in.

It wasn’t rushed. Not exaggerated, not some theatrical display of affection. It was precise. Calculated. His breath was warm against your skin for half a second before he pressed a quick, confident kiss to your cheek.

The angle was everything.

From the guy’s perspective, it was flawless—looked exactly like he had just full-on kissed you on the lips.

Which was exactly why the guy took a full step back.

"What the hell?!"

Senku pulled away, looking entirely too pleased with himself, completely unaffected by your shell-shocked expression.

You could hear the gears grinding in the guy’s head, the slow realization of oh shit, they’re actually a thing??? sinking in.

"You—" The guy’s expression twisted, hands clenching into fists. "You think that proves something?"

Senku clicked his tongue, exhaling sharply through his nose. "Tch. Please. That’s the difference between you and me."

He shoved his hands back into his pockets, smirking lazily.

"I don’t have to prove anything."

The guy opened his mouth—closed it. Scoffed, shaking his head in utter disbelief.

"Whatever, man," he muttered, already turning on his heel. "You two deserve each other."

"Finally, something we agree on," Senku called after him.

You smacked him on the arm. "Oh my god, what the hell was that?!"

Senku grinned, utterly unrepentant. "Problem solved."

You threw up your hands. "You—You manufactured an entire romantic bluff to assert dominance?!"

He snorted. "Manufactured? You wound me."

You shoved him. "Senku."

He chuckled, finally looking at you directly—and that was when you noticed it.

The way his smirk lingered just a little too long. The way he hadn’t immediately put more space between you. The way the back of his fingers brushed against your arm in passing, absent, casual, like the residual touch of someone who hadn’t actually minded doing that.

A slow realization started forming in your head.

Oh.

Oh, he had enjoyed that.

You blinked, mind suddenly way too aware of the fact that you were still wearing his jacket, still half-flustered from the entire ordeal.

Senku tilted his head, giving you a knowing look. "What? You look weirdly shaken up."

You clenched your jaw. "I hate you."

"Tch. You love me."

You inhaled sharply through your nose, whipping around. "I am going home."

"Good idea," he mused, following after you, utterly unfazed. "Can’t have you cheating on me again."

You smacked his arm one more time.

And Senku, still grinning, let you.

You stormed up your front steps, one hand already on the doorknob, your brain still overheating from the absolute spectacle Senku had just pulled. Your face was hot, your thoughts were loud, and his jacket was still hanging off your shoulders like some damn badge of his victory.

You were so close to ending this day with your sanity intact—

Until—

"Oi."

You paused, barely tilting your head as Senku leaned casually against your porch railing, smirk still firmly in place, eyes glinting with amusement.

"Tch. This doesn’t seem fair," he mused, tone deliberately mocking. "I go through the effort of walking you home every time, and yet my lovely date just abandons me the second we get here? What kind of unbalanced equation is that?"

You turned your head fully, staring him down with pure, unfiltered exhaustion.

And then, with absolute calm, you stated, "If you don’t turn around and leave right now, I will personally develop a method to petrify you for 3,700 years, and I won’t bring you back."

Senku’s smirk twitched—just slightly—before he exhaled sharply through his nose, amusement only deepening.

"Hah. Damn, you really are in love with me."

Your entire soul left your body.

Without another word, you swung the door shut with finality, cutting off whatever additional nonsense he was about to say.

Through the wood, you could still hear his quiet laughter.

And then, finally—blessedly—his retreating footsteps.

You exhaled hard, slumping against the doorframe, hand dragging down your face.

Senku Ishigami was going to be the death of you.

Chapter Text

The auditorium was in shambles.

Fabric rolls lay draped over plastic chairs, half-painted set pieces leaned precariously against the back wall, and Yuzuriha was currently balancing a clipboard, a sewing kit, and a minor emotional breakdown—all with the grace of a seasoned general.

"This collar needs to be fixed now, or the lighting will catch it all wrong and it’ll look like Gen’s neck is being swallowed by satin," she called, snapping her fingers at no one in particular.

You raised a hand. "Got it. I’ll fix the Death Collar."

"Bless you," Yuzuriha said without looking, already darting across the stage to wrangle two freshmen arguing over velvet swatches.

"Death Collar, hm?" Gen drawled from the costume riser, arms stretched out lazily as you stepped up with the measuring tape. "Bit dramatic, don’t you think?"

"You’re literally playing a cursed prince," you muttered, pulling the tape taut across his shoulders. "It’s on brand."

Gen hummed thoughtfully. "True, true. And here I thought this would be my most fashion-forward role yet."

You snorted. "You’re wearing ruffles."

"Exactly!" he beamed. "Timeless tragedy and wardrobe rama-day!" (drama)

You worked in silence for a moment, lining up the tape along the length of his back. Drama club had always been Gen’s kingdom, well, that an Psychology class— but it was less theatrical today and more stress rehearsal. Yuzuriha had enlisted you as a spare set of hands to keep the pandemonium from swallowing everyone whole. Mostly that meant hemming, fetching props, and making sure Gen didn’t go full diva before curtain call.

It was a job you could handle.

Until—

"So," Gen said casually, voice feather-light as he watched you out of the corner of his eye, "you and Senku-chan, hm?"

Your hands froze.

The measuring tape went slack in your grip.

You blinked once. Then twice. "What?"

Gen smiled, innocent as anything. "Hmm? Oh, nothing."

You stepped back, staring at him. "No, you definitely said something."

"Oh, did I?" he asked sweetly, tapping a finger to his lips. "Well, if you insist—what’s going on between you and our favorite little man-made disaster?"

You opened your mouth to retort—but you had nothing. No denial, no snappy comeback, not even a proper groan of frustration. Because how were you supposed to define whatever… this was?

Gen raised an eyebrow at your silence, grinning like a magician who just pulled your ace out of his own sleeve.

"Thought so," he said, voice lilting.

You scowled. "Nothing’s going on. He’s just—Senku."

Gen tilted his head. "Right. Just Senku. Who, by the way, has suddenly taken a deep interest in your social life."

You frowned. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, you know~" Gen fluttered a hand. "It's the ittle-lay things, darling. Like asking if I ‘happen to know what’s-his-name’s intentions are,’ or ‘whether that guy in math class is single,’ or my personal favorite: ‘Is it statistically possible to be that gullible, or is it a choice?’”

You stared at him. "He said that?"

"Verbatim," Gen confirmed.

You blinked.

And for a split second, your heart did something weird and traitorous.

Of course Senku would never say anything direct. Never admit to feelings without at least five layers of sarcasm, mockery, and plausible deniability. But this? This was… something.

Gen watched you carefully, the amusement never quite leaving his face—but underneath it, something thoughtful lingered.

"You should probably figure out what that means," he said, not unkindly. "Before he makes a hypothesis you’re not ready to est-tay!"

You exhaled slowly, trying to play it off with a scoff. "That metaphor was painful."

Gen bowed dramatically. "I live to serve."

Yuzuriha’s voice rang out across the auditorium. "Gen, stop stalling! You still need your hem adjusted!"

"Tragedy calls," he sighed, hopping down from the platform and swishing his cape as he went.

You stood there for a second longer, fingers still loosely curled around the measuring tape, heart beating far too loud for comfort.

Senku, asking about other guys.

Senku, the same genius who kissed your cheek in front of someone just to win a fight. Who gave you his jacket without flinching. Who called you out in the middle of a test for cheating on your “second date.”

You closed your eyes for half a second.

You were so going to need a better plan.

The rehearsal ended in the most fitting way possible: with Yuzuriha standing center stage, surrounded by half-dismantled props, clipboard in hand, and a look that could kill gods.

“That was fine,” she declared, voice strained through a smile that was 40% composure and 60% thinly veiled panic. “Which means it was not good enough, and if anyone breathes wrong on opening night, I will cry and it will be your fault.”

You weren’t sure whether to applaud or hand her a magnesium pill.

Still, despite all the hullabaloo, rehearsal had gone well enough. Gen only improvised three unnecessary monologues, the stage didn’t catch fire, and no one tripped over the fog machine this time. In theater terms, that was a win.

Once Yuzuriha dismissed everyone and Gen theatrically collapsed into a beanbag chair backstage, you slipped out quietly, tugging out your phone as you headed into the hallway.

You didn’t usually text Ryuusui. He was the kind of person who answered phone calls with “speak, peasant” and sent voice memos at full volume in the middle of the night. But this… called for something a little less casual.

You typed out a message.

___

Pleiades [6:07 PM]: Hey. You busy? 

___

He responded almost instantly.

___

TheWorldIsMine [6:08 PM]: Always. But for you? I’m listening 😏🥴

___

Of course. You rolled your eyes.

___

Pleiades [6:11 PM]: I need a favor.

TheWorldIsMine [6:12 PM]: Mmm? What dangerous words! What kind of favor????

Pleiades [6:12 PM]: The kind that involves playing a role.

TheWorldIsMine [6:13 PM]: Darling, I was born for roles! Try me.

___

You stared at the screen, weighing how to phrase it. Ryuusui was smart—smarter than most gave him credit for—but subtlety wasn’t always his strong suit. Still, that was part of the appeal.

___

Pleiades [6:17 PM]: I want to test something. Senku, specifically.

___

A pause. Then—

___

TheWorldIsMine [6:21 PM]: Oho!! Now I’m very interested...

Pleiades [6:23 PM]: Nothing over the top. I just want to see if he gets… rattled.

TheWorldIsMine [6:23 PM]: Rattled? By lil ol' me? 😏

Pleiades [6:25 PM]: Can you not add winks to every other sentence?? 😐

TheWorldIsMine [6:26 PM]: No promssiessss 😘💋

___

You resisted the urge to throw your phone.

___

Pleiades [6:30 PM]: Just be a little flirty. Enough to get under his skin.

TheWorldIsMine [6:31 PM]: Aha!!!!

TheWorldIsMine [6:31 PM]: So the genius isn’t as emotionally bulletproof as he looks.

TheWorldIsMine [6:33 PM]: This sounds like a dangerous game, my dear 😍

Pleiades [6:33 PM]: ...

Pleiades [6:35 PM]: 😐😐😐 

TheWorldIsMine [6:35 PM]: 😝😝

Pleiades [6:41 PM]:  So you’re in?

TheWorldIsMine [6:43 PM]: Absolutely!!! When and where?

Pleiades [6:45 PM]: Tomorrow. Lunchtime. Usual spot under the terrace. Don’t be late.

TheWorldIsMine [6:45 PM]: Wouldn’t dream of it. 😉

___

You locked your phone and exhaled slowly, heart doing that annoying tight-little-squeeze thing.

Ryuusui was going to make a show of this. Of course he would. That was the whole point.

You just hoped you were ready for whatever Senku did in response.

Because testing a scientist always had consequences.

Lunch the next day felt like a chess match before the first piece moved. You had to play it cool—cooler than you felt, considering the fact that your co-conspirator in controlled emotional sabotage was Ryuusui Nanami, theatrical lead, school’s unapologetic golden boy, and living embodiment of a luxury yacht.

You’d arrived to the terrace first. It was your usual spot—a little tucked away, shaded by climbing ivy and half-broken benches, far enough from the main quad to feel like a secret. From where you sat, you could see the outdoor science wing’s windows—and the cafeteria courtyard Senku passed through every lunch without fail.

You sipped your drink and waited.

Then, like a summer storm with too much swagger, he arrived.

"Aha—there you are," Ryuusui said as he approached, arms out like you were an art exhibit worth unveiling. "Utterly captivating!"

You raised a brow. "You're three minutes early."

He sat beside you without invitation, tossing his blazer dramatically over the back of the bench and loosening his tie like this was some Monaco garden party. "Of course I’m early. You said this was a performance." He leaned in, eyes gleaming. "And I never miss my cue."

You barely had time to smirk before he turned his voice up. Not by much—just enough to carry.

"You're lucky I like you so much," Ryuusui declared, reaching to brush a strand of hair from your shoulder like he’d done it a hundred times. "Most people don’t get my attention offstage."

You snorted. "Most people don’t want your attention offstage."

Ryuusui grinned like you’d just made his day. "Ah, there’s that razor wit. Deadlier than any dagger."

You were about to retort when you saw it—movement out of the corner of your eye.

Senku.

Right on schedule.

He was walking across the opposite courtyard, tray in hand, flanked by Chrome and Kinro. He wasn’t looking your way yet.

Ryuusui saw it too.

Time to press play.

"You really ought to let me take you out sometime," Ryuusui said, his voice smooth, just loud enough to reach the open windows. "I could charter something special. Something with a view. Candlelight. Maybe a violinist."

You laughed—genuinely. "Where are you finding a violinist in this school?"

"Please," he said, hand over his chest. "My charm is internationally transferable. I could summon one from the heavens if necessary."

Across the courtyard, you caught it: a flicker of movement. Senku had slowed down. Just slightly. His eyes had shifted. Not toward you—yet—but toward the terrace’s edge.

Bingo.

"Besides," Ryuusui continued, now casually leaning into your space, "you look far too good today to be sitting out here with no one appreciating it properly."

Okay, now that was laying it on a little thick.

You gave him a light shove, trying not to laugh. "Down, Nanami. People are gonna think you mean it."

He gave a dramatic gasp. "Oh, but I do!" Then, quieter, near your ear: "How’s the scientist looking?"

You didn’t dare glance yet.

"Like he just forgot how to divide fractions," you muttered back.

Ryuusui grinned. "Perfect."

He turned his voice up again, gesturing flamboyantly. "Really, though. What is that genius offering you? Numbers? Lab goggles? A cold analysis of your facial symmetry?"

Now that—that probably did it.

Because even without looking, you could feel the moment Senku looked directly at you. That brief stillness in the air. Like the pause right before thunder.

Ryuusui leaned back, smug beyond belief. "Ah, I think we have a reaction."

You smiled, to yourself, fingers toying with your straw. "Time to see if the scientist will crack."

Ryuusui was still mid-monologue—something about taking you to “a remote coastal villa with a private observatory”—when your gaze slid back to the science wing.

And that’s when you saw it.

Senku had stopped walking.

He said something to Chrome and Kinro—short, clipped, efficient. Whatever it was made Kinro raise an eyebrow and Chrome tilt his head in that vaguely suspicious, golden-retriever kind of way.

But Senku didn’t elaborate.

He just gestured, sharp and brief, as if to say “I’ll catch up.”

Chrome shrugged. Both of them waved him off like it was nothing.

But you knew better.

You watched, half-frozen, as Senku turned on his heel—calm, deliberate, spine straight, head high—and began walking toward you. Not fast. Not aggressive.

But with that slow, dangerous kind of calm that made your gut twist.

The kind of calm you only ever saw in wild animals right before they struck.

"Oh," Ryuusui murmured, catching the shift in your posture. He followed your gaze—and then grinned. "Aha! Now that’s the vengeful genius energy we're looking for!"

"I dunno," You swallowed. "He's walking too calmly."

"Exactly," Ryuusui said, practically vibrating in his seat. "He's absolutely seething."

You stayed seated, frozen with your drink halfway to your lips, as Senku crossed the quad.

And even from a distance, you could see it:

His expression was unreadable. Too neutral.

Not a single hair out of place, not a muscle twitching, just that calm, calculating look that made you very aware you were being observed, catalogued, and probably filed under threat level: unnecessary stimulus.

"Should I dial it up again?" Ryuusui asked, already raising a dramatic arm.

"Don’t you dare," you hissed.

Senku reached the terrace. Stepped up to the table.

And stopped.

"...Enjoying yourselves?" he asked.

Voice? Level.

Posture? Perfect.

Smile? Absolutely not.

GONE.

You stared at him. "We were."

Senku’s eyes flicked to Ryuusui, who beamed like the goddamn sun.

"Actually, I was just telling your charming little friend here about my plan to whisk them away this weekend," Ryuusui said, chin resting in his palm. "Wouldn't you agree, sweetheart?"

You opened your mouth to reply—

Only for Senku to cut in, voice flat as vacuum-sealed glass.

"Funny." He tilted his head slightly, eyes never leaving Ryuusui. "Because I distinctly remember you funding this week’s drama department budget to cover rehearsals. Which you’re conveniently skipping."

Ryuusui’s grin sharpened. "Rehearsals are tomorrow, darling."

Senku didn’t blink. "Then I suggest you go memorize your lines."

You stared between them. The tension was palpable.

And Senku… wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t even raising his voice.

But something in his stare was so sharp it could’ve etched equations into steel.

"Okay," you said finally, standing before they could turn this into a zero-sum war of passive aggression. "I think this is my cue to leave."

But Senku’s voice stopped you cold.

"You’re not going anywhere."

Your eyes snapped to his.

Still calm. Still flat.

Still absolutely terrifying.

Ryuusui didn’t need to be told twice.

The moment Senku’s “You’re not going anywhere” landed like a gavel, Ryuusui raised both brows in delighted amusement.

"Alas," he said, rising smoothly to his feet. "Seems like someone else has plans for you."

You glanced at him, silently screaming don’t leave me here with this murder-simmering scientist, but Ryuusui only winked in return, brushing invisible dust from his dress-shirt.

"Try not to miss me too much," he added lightly, and then, under his breath as he passed Senku, "Good luck, King Jealousy."

Senku didn’t look at him. Didn’t need to.

Just one subtle tilt of the head, and Ryuusui was already striding off like he’d just finished his scene.

Then Senku dropped into the seat beside you.

Not across from you—beside. Close enough that your knees nearly bumped.

You stiffened. "You good?"

He didn’t look at you. Just leaned forward slightly, propping his elbows on the table and folding his hands like he was about to start lecturing on radiation half-lives.

"I’ve been thinking," he said, voice cool, composed, and very clearly laced with irritation. "As vice president of the science club, your involvement in unrelated extracurriculars is becoming increasingly inefficient."

You stared at him. "Inefficient?"

Senku nodded once, as if this was a public service announcement. "The drama club is draining your time and redirecting your mental energy toward trivial nonsense. Costumes? Blocking? Ryuusui’s ego? Gen's theatrics? Yuzuriha's mental breakdowns? You could be assisting with the mineral analysis project, or helping me compile data on the greenhouse trials."

You blinked. "Did you just call theater trivial nonsense while sitting on my ex-boyfriend's jacket?" Your gaze landed on Ryusui's conveniently-left-behind blazer.

He looked down, then, finally looked at you— Eyes sharp and unsparing.

"You didn’t date him," Senku said evenly.

"But I could’ve," you shot back, smirking now just to push him. "He seemed pretty interested."

Senku's eyes narrowed—fractionally.

His tone, however, remained maddeningly neutral.

"And that would’ve been a scientific tragedy," he said flatly. "Imagine wasting your potential for the sake of dramatic monologues and maritime metaphors."

You scoffed. "You’re just mad he talks prettier than you."

Senku clicked his tongue. "Tch. Who needs pretty words when I’ve got functional logic and superior oxygen levels?"

You gawked. "Did you just compare yourself to Ryuusui using lung capacity?"

He shrugged. "I’m just saying. You’re wasting your time."

There it was. The core of it.

Not jealousy—no, Senku would never admit to something as unquantifiable and undignified as that. But underneath all the clinical phrasing, the veiled jabs, the long-winded critique of drama club as a whole—he was pissed.

At Ryuusui.

At you.

And maybe, just maybe… at himself.

You leaned back, crossing your arms. "So what? You want me to quit volunteering for the drama club now?"

Senku looked at you again, more direct this time. Still unreadable. Still too calm.

"I want you where you’re actually needed," he said. "And that’s with me."

And for a second—just a second—his composure slipped. His eyes locked onto yours with something that felt heavier than logic.

Something that had nothing to do with vice presidential duties or mineral analysis.

You felt your throat tighten slightly.

Senku leaned back against the bench, eyes back on the courtyard like nothing had happened.

"You can call it whatever you want," he said coolly. "But that’s the conclusion—" He turned to you, 

"—My conclusion."

And just like that, he went quiet.

Like a problem he’d solved in his head.

You stared at him.

Hard.

Senku, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself for someone who had just accused you of being 'extracurricularly inefficient.'

“You seriously think I should drop everything I’m doing just to trail behind you and run data entry?” you challenged, arms crossed, the remnants of a glare still simmering behind your eyes. “I like drama club. It’s stupid, and weird, and occasionally involves someone crying over a misaligned spotlight. It's fun.”

Senku gave you a dismissive wave, as if 'fun' were a disease and you’d just admitted to having it.

“Stupidity is anathema to productivity,” he said coolly. “You could be helping me construct the hydroponics lab, but instead you’re off designing collars for Gen’s imaginary kingdom.”

“Oh, so now you need me?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Because last I checked, you were perfectly capable of bossing around a dozen science club kids without help.”

Senku didn’t flinch. “I don’t need you,” he said. “I’m saying you’re wasting your potential with theater nerds and glitter glue.”

You blinked. "We haven’t used glitter glue since freshman year."

“Exactly,” he replied, like that proved his point.

You let out a groan. “God, you’re so—”

“—Right?” he interrupted, smug.

“—Fucking annoying.”

His expression didn't even flicker.

You opened your mouth to retort again, but before you could get a word out—

He calmly picked up his bento, opened it with casual efficiency, picked up a piece of seasoned chicken with his chopsticks—
and shoved it directly into your mouth.

Mid-sentence. No warning.

Your eyes went wide in sheer betrayal.

“The fuck—!?”

“Shut up and chew,” Senku said coolly, one brow lifting like he was entirely bored with your resistance. “You’re coming to the science club room today after school. If you don’t show up, I will personally develop a method of accelerated neurotoxin synthesis, lace it into your locker’s ventilation system, and ensure your final moments are statistically unpleasant.”

You blinked, still chewing, because it was really good chicken and your body wasn’t about to let a petty feud waste it.

“Did you just threaten to murder me with a homemade locker gas bomb?” you asked once you finally swallowed.

“Only if you flake,” he said without missing a beat, reaching for another bite of his lunch.

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s psychotic, illegal too."

"Call it what you want," Senku shrugged. “Nonetheless, it's chemistry.”

You slumped against the back of the bench, glaring at the sky like it was responsible for this boy’s entire existence. “You are so lucky your food is good.”

He side-eyed you with a smug tilt of his lips. “I know.”

You didn’t respond right away. Just sat there, chewing your lip in defiance, eyes narrowed at a patch of clouds that had the audacity to look soft and serene when your life was currently anything but.

Then, slowly—casually—you leaned forward and, with the absolute gall of someone who’d just been threatened with biochemical warfare, plucked another piece of chicken from Senku’s bento.

He didn’t stop you. Didn’t slap your hand away or launch into a lecture about personal boundaries or nutrient allocation.

Didn’t even look at you.

Just kept eating like you hadn’t just violated the sacred laws of Bento Ownership.

You paused halfway through chewing. “...Really? Nothing?”

Senku didn’t glance up. “You’ve already proven you lack restraint. Why waste energy fighting a losing battle?”

You blinked at him. “That was disturbingly mature of you.”

He finally turned his head, deadpan. “I’m budgeting my outrage for later.”

You popped the rest of the chicken into your mouth with zero remorse. “Then I’ll be sure to get my licks in now.”

“I’ll remember that,” he muttered, but his tone was almost... resigned. Maybe even fond, in that weird, reluctant way he did everything that wasn’t a scientific breakthrough or verbal obliteration of someone’s stupidity.

You leaned back again, chewing smugly. “Mm. Salty.”

“Because it’s marinated in soy sauce,” he said dryly.

You shot him a look. “I meant you.”

Senku didn’t smile, not really, but the corner of his mouth twitched like it wanted to.

And he didn’t stop you when you stole a third piece, either.

Somewhere, deep down—beneath the irritation and the verbal warfare and the threat of mild poisoning—you were already thinking about what the hell he was planning for after school.

Chapter Text

The science club room was silent.

The windows let in dying afternoon light, casting long shadows across scattered notebooks, tubing coils, and a whiteboard half-filled with equations no one but Senku could probably decipher. The door clicked shut behind you with a soft thunk—and that was it. No other voices. No background chatter.

Just you. And him.

You took a slow look around, dropping your bag near the side counter. “Seriously, is this just a coincidence? Or do you bribe everyone to leave before I show up?”

Senku didn’t respond.

Typical.

He was hunched over the work table already, hands busy sketching something into his notebook with brutal efficiency, like his thoughts were trying to outrun his pen. The faint scratch of graphite against paper filled the room, methodical and sharp.

You walked a little closer, hands in your pockets. “I’m just saying—it’s always just us. Makes me wonder if this is really a science thing or just some elaborate ploy to get one-on-one hours with your incredibly attractive vice president.”

Still, nothing.

Not even a smirk.

Just a faint rustle as he flipped the page, then spoke: “I have a new idea.”

Of course he did.

You leaned against the lab table, watching him. “Let’s hear it.”

“It’s for Gen.”

That—caught you off guard. You raised an eyebrow. “...Gen?”

Senku nodded once. “He wants to write another book. One of those mass-market psychological nonsense things.”

You snorted. “What, like The Chemistry of Romance: Unlock Your Brain’s Secret Crush Code?”

“Worse,” Senku muttered, scribbling faster. “But he says it’ll sell. And if it sells, we get funding. Apparently there’s a market for ‘scientifically verified love cues.’”

You blinked. “So… what? You’re writing him a research paper?”

“No,” Senku said flatly.

You waited.

He didn’t elaborate.

You frowned. “Okay, then what are you doing?”

He finally stopped writing, standing up to face you. His expression was unreadable—neutral, almost clinical, like he was about to present a very calm and very terrifying hypothesis.

“I need real data,” he said. “Controlled conditions. No biases.”

You stared. “Real data on… love?”

He nodded.

“And… let me guess,” you said slowly, mind clicking one piece at a time. “You want me to be part of this experiment.”

Still no comment.

Your eyes narrowed. “So what—am I the control group? Or the emotionally compromised test subject?”

Senku’s gaze didn’t move from yours. That eerie stillness again—like he was holding back a storm of ideas all at once.

You gave a slow, skeptical blink. “This is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

Silence.

Your jaw tensed. “I’m not giving you a spreadsheet of what my heart rate does when someone touches my hand, Senku—”

“You’re giving me nothing,” he cut in, stepping closer, his voice cool and unnervingly calm. “I’m collecting the reactions myself.”

And then—before you could even process the shift—he grabbed your wrist, spun you, and slammed you back against the lab wall.

Not hard. Not violent.

But jarring enough that your breath caught in your throat, your back pressing against cold tile, your hand pinned just beside your head.

Your eyes went wide. “What the hell—”

Senku leaned in, just slightly. Not touching. Not saying anything.

Just watching.

Your pulse thundered in your ears.

“What are you—”

He tilted his head, clinically observant. “Noted.”

You stared at him, caught between shock and sheer disbelief. “Are you seriously—are you taking notes on how attractive you are right now?”

Senku’s lips quirked, just barely. “You tell me.”

You could kill him.

Assuming your brain started functioning again any time soon.

You just stood there. Pressed up against cold tile, one hand pinned, Senku leaning close enough that you could see the faintest flecks of graphite smudged on his fingers from all the note-taking he’d probably been doing all afternoon.

And still. Still, it wasn’t the proximity that got you.

It was the expression.

That absurdly calm, sharp-eyed look like he was cataloging a chemical reaction in real time. Like he was waiting to see whether your pupils would dilate or if your hands would shake or if you’d spontaneously combust from sheer embarrassment.

You blinked. Once. Slowly. Then said flatly:

“You do realize how insufferably cliché you’ve been acting lately, right?”

Senku arched a brow. “Cliché?”

You gave a dry laugh, finally knocking his hand away and stepping off the wall, brushing imaginary dust off your sleeves just to fill the static hanging in the room. “Oh, come on. Giving me your jacket? Seriously? I wasn’t even cold.”

He said nothing.

You turned back to face him, arms crossed. “Then there was the whole kiss-on-the-cheek-but-make-it-look-like-lips move in front of my almost-date.”

Still silent.

You pointed at him now, not mad—just… exhausted. “And don’t even get me started on the food. You paid for my lunch twice, shoved chicken in my mouth at lunch like it was some kind of courtship ritual, and threatened to poison me if I didn’t show up today.”

Senku let out a groan and dragged a hand down his face. “Ugh, for someone with a brain that allegedly works, you’re really fucking slow sometimes, you know that?”

Your brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

He turned halfway, pacing a few steps like he physically couldn’t be near you while explaining this. His voice was rising now—not in volume, but in that way it did when he got frustrated with stupidity.

“Gee, I don’t know,” he said, tone sharp and clipped. “Could it possibly be because I’ve already taken you on three dates, interfered with your love life, made sure you passed your history test with illegal Morse code cheating, and dragged you out to watch the sunset from a restricted engineering overlook?”

You opened your mouth, but—he kept going.

“Oh! And let’s not forget the custom science-club-only-after-school bonding sessions, where I apparently get so distracted by you that no one else even bothers showing up anymore. But sure, maybe I’m just being friendly.”

He turned fully to face you now, expression half between a grimace and a scowl, jaw tense.

“Get the hint already.”

It hung in the air. That sentence. Raw and blunt and so deeply Senku that it nearly hit harder than if he’d just said it outright.

You stared. Heart thudding a little too loud.

And for once—for once—Senku wasn’t smirking, wasn’t teasing, wasn’t acting like he had the upper hand.

He was just standing there.

Waiting.

Letting the pieces fall.

You stared at him.

Hard.

No smirk. No snide comment. No elaborate deflection cloaked in science jargon. Just Senku, standing dead center in the science lab, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin, bitter line, eyes fixed on you like you were some unsolvable equation he was about two seconds from tearing in half.

Then, finally—

You blinked.

"…No way…”

He didn’t move.

"WHAT?!" You fully flung your arms in the air like your brain had just exploded. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN GET THE HINT?!"

Senku dragged a hand through his hair like he was debating going into cold stasis to escape the moment. “I just explained it—”

“No, you didn’t! You ranted, Senku! There was no hint—there was science! And sunset-viewing! And suspiciously romantic fried chicken!”

Senku groaned, shoulders tense, head tilted like he was physically in pain.

“I kissed you—”

“On the cheek! And that was under highly manipulative psychological conditions!”

“I gave you my jacket—”

“Which is textbook rom-com nonsense you’d normally call stupid! You mocked me for watching dramas last year!”

“Exactly!” Senku snapped, eyes wild now. “So if I’m doing all that, doesn’t that mean something?!”

You made a choked noise, fingers tugging at your own hair. “This is not how this was supposed to go! You’re the logical one! You were supposed to be too emotionally stunted to pull shit like this!”

“Oh, believe me,” he muttered, "I wish I was."

You stared at him, breathing hard, like you’d just sprinted a mile straight into the most confusing confession of your life.

And Senku…

Senku just stood there.

Having what could only be described as a quiet, long-suffering existential crisis. Hands on his hips, eyes closed like he was rerunning every moment of the last month and wondering where he went wrong trusting you to pick up on his supposedly obvious intentions.

"...Unbelievable," he muttered to himself. "Literally a genius. Can solve calculus proofs in my sleep. Build a functioning EM field monitor from junk and printer parts. But no, clearly I’m the idiot here—"

You made a frustrated noise and turned in a circle like that would help your brain reboot.

“I thought we were just… messing around? You know! Your whole weird teasing scientist thing!”

Senku snapped his eyes open and, in one fast step, grabbed you by the shoulders.

"Fine."

You froze.

His grip wasn’t hard. Just firm enough to shut you up. To ground you.

His expression was still sharp—but no longer annoyed. Just done. Done with the waiting, the baiting, the you being absolutely useless at basic emotional deduction.

“Since clearly you're not going to ask me out,” he said, voice low and deliberate, “let me spare us both several more weeks of aggressive mutual pining—Do you want to go out with me or not?"

Silence.

Not dramatic silence—just the kind that happens when the world actually tilts a little sideways and you feel it in your knees.

You opened your mouth.

Then closed it.

Then opened it again.

Senku lifted a brow. “Well?”

"...Are you asking me out in the middle of the science lab after manhandling me into a wall and threatening me over romance data?"

“Yes,” he said flatly.

"...Cool." You blinked. "Just checking."

And your brain finally caught up with your mouth.

“…Yes. I mean—yes, I’ll go out with you. God.”

Senku exhaled slowly, head tipping back like he’d just recalibrated his central nervous system.

“Thank fuck,” he muttered. “That took forever.”

Senku finally let go of your shoulders, stepping back with the air of someone who had just defused a nuclear bomb using sheer spite and logical exhaustion.

You stood there, still reeling, trying to process the last five minutes of your life—a process that required more RAM than your brain currently had available.

Then, with zero warning, Senku brushed a hand through his hair, let out a sigh, and said, way too casually,

“Oh, and by the way—Gen’s book thing? Yeah, that part was real.”

You blinked. “What?”

He leaned down to grab his notebook off the table, flipping to a page covered in a disturbing combination of bar graphs and handwritten notes in increasingly aggressive scrawl. “He wants to publish something on emotional responses tied to interpersonal affection models. Needed actual data. Said I was the only person capable of isolating variables without letting bias contaminate the whole thing.”

Your mouth opened slowly. “Wait. Wait. Wait.” You pointed at him. “You really meant all that? The whole ‘controlled conditions,’ ‘love reaction data,’ that wasn’t just your ridiculous way of hitting on me?”

Senku glanced up. “Nope.”

You stared. Hard.

And then you burst out laughing.

“No way!” You were practically doubled over. “That whole science of romance thing wasn’t a cover? That was real?! You’re genuinely doing this to help Gen write a garbage psychology book that’s gonna be shelved between zodiac compatibility guides and How to Read His Body Language in Five Steps?!”

Senku didn’t even flinch. “It’s a high-demand niche market. And I negotiated full publication credit for experimental design.”

You wheezed. “Oh my god. This is the stupidest timeline.”

“You agreed to date me in this timeline,” Senku said without missing a beat, flipping to a fresh page. “So really, who's the idiot?”

You threw a crumpled post-it at him. “Shut up.”

He didn’t.

He just smirked, clicked his pen, and muttered something about prepping the first data set—like your heart rate hadn’t just spiked halfway through your existential meltdown.

Unbelievable.

You were now dating the only person on Earth who would kiss you and try to graph it for science.

You stood beside him at the lab table, watching as he scribbled notes like a man possessed. His handwriting—normally precise and angular—was devolving into chaotic shorthand as he muttered variables under his breath. Heart rate intervals. Facial tension. Pupil dilation. Touch proximity.

You helped without being asked, because of course you did. You knew where he kept the pulse oximeter, grabbed the stopwatch, even rolled out the absurdly long strip of tape he was using to mark distances between test points like this was some emotional obstacle course.

“Okay,” Senku muttered, eyes flicking between his notes and the growing diagram. “We’ll need two separate baselines: one under neutral conditions, the other under...uh...” he waved a hand vaguely in the air. “...uh, stimulus.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Scientific term there, stimulus.”

He shot you a look. “You want it to sound clinical or romantic?”

You grinned. “Bit of both, honestly.”

He didn’t dignify that with a response—just crouched to start arranging some wired monitors on the floor, the back of his neck peeking from beneath his hoodie where you’d accidentally tugged the collar earlier.

You watched him. Silent.

And then you moved.

Quickly. Smoothly.

You slid behind him and, with absolutely no warning, leaned down and wrapped your arms around his waist.

Senku froze.

Like someone hit a kill switch on his nervous system.

His back went ramrod straight, his pencil dropped out of his hand, and his entire equilibrium just collapsed in on itself.

“W-what the hell—?!”

“Hmm,” you said thoughtfully, pressing your cheek to his back, ignoring how tense he was. “Elevated heart rate. Sharp intake of breath. Temporary loss of motor coordination. Classic signs of unexpected emotional stimulus.”

Senku turned his head like he was physically trying to see through walls to keep you in view. “You’re doing it wrong. This isn’t—this isn’t a valid sample set—”

“Oh?” you murmured, hugging a little tighter before you let go. “Guess you should write it down anyway. For accuracy.”

You stepped back just in time to see his ears flush bright red.

He glared at you like you’d just spilled sulfuric acid on his hard drive.

You smirked. “Science, Senku. I’m just being helpful.”

He opened his mouth—then closed it.

Then, slowly, with deep, agonized sarcasm, he said, “Thank you. I’ll be sure to document that you ambushed me with affection like a deranged raccoon.”

You beamed. “You’re welcome. Can’t wait to see it published.”

And as he scribbled something furiously into the margin, still a bit red around the ears, you knew you’d won that round. For now.

You turned away, still grinning to yourself, fiddling with one of the spare clipboards on the counter like you hadn’t just sent the King of Rational Thought into emotional cardiac arrest.

“Y’know,” you said idly, flipping through blank graph sheets, “if we’re gonna do this properly, you’ll need to account for delayed responses too. Like, what if a subject doesn’t react immediately to the stimulus? That’s still measurable, right?”

No answer.

You kept talking. Not really expecting a response at this point. You were used to Senku's occasional stretches of brooding silence when his brain was spinning at light speed, probably revising entire formulas in real time.

Still. It was quiet. Too quiet.

You glanced back over your shoulder.

“…Are you even listening—?”

You froze.

Senku was right behind you.

Close. Way closer than he’d been ten seconds ago. His shadow stretched just barely past your own. His face unreadable. His gaze low and heavy, pinning you in place like a pressure drop before a storm.

Your breath caught.

You hadn’t even heard him move.

Then—

“Delayed reaction, huh?” Senku murmured, voice low, that familiar drip of sarcasm curling beneath every syllable like heat under cool marble. “Guess I’m overdue.”

And before you could even think—before you could speak—he kissed you.

No warning. No science. No setup.

Just crash!

His hand caught your chin with practiced confidence, angling your face up as his mouth met yours—harder than you expected, focused like every inch of him had made a decision.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet.

It was calculated. Deliberate.

He kissed like a problem he meant to solve—grit, pressure, tension he’d been sitting on for days, weeks, months, maybe. His other hand found your waist, fingers curling just enough to pull you in, anchor you there.

And then—

Oh.

There was the catch of teeth against your lower lip, just sharp enough to make your stomach drop. A warning. A flex. A tactic.

Senku pulled back only a fraction, lips still brushing yours, breath warm as he murmured, “You gonna write that one down, vice prez?”

You were too stunned to respond.

So of course, he took that silence and capitalized on it—

Because then his tongue flicked across your lip, slow and precise, tasting the space he'd already claimed, like it was his own personal lab sample. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just methodical.

Like he was recording your reaction in real time.

You shivered.

A full-body, involuntary response.

He felt it. You knew he did, because the way he smirked against your mouth was downright criminal.

Senku finally pulled back, just enough to let the air between you re-form—only now it was thick, charged like static.

His voice was low, snarky, and deeply amused.

“Observation: direct stimulus yields exponentially stronger reactions than anticipated. Unexpected physical contact may override vocal resistance. Recommend further testing.”

You stared at him, still dazed.

“Tch.” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming under the flickering lab light. “Don’t look at me like I broke you. You started it.”

And there it was again. That smug, infuriating grin.

Only now, you couldn’t tell if you wanted to punch him— or kiss him back harder.

Instead, your hand drifted upward, fingers gently brushing over your lips—lingering where the sensation still burned.

Senku tilted his head, just enough to let a strand of pale hair fall across his forehead, that smug little glint still flashing behind his half-lidded eyes.

“Don’t look at me like I broke you,” he said, voice a breath above a whisper, his thumb brushing the curve of your jaw. “You started it.”

You couldn’t speak. Not yet.

Your lips still tingled—tingled from the kiss, from the bite, from the way his mouth had moved like it knew exactly what it was doing, like it had been planning that exact reaction, like you were the equation he’d been quietly solving since the first time you ever snapped at him in chemistry.

The silence stretched. Not awkward. Not cold.

Just settling.

And finally, you found your breath. “...Yeah. Okay. But you definitely escalated…” You murmured, head turned away.

Senku smirked, stepping back—but not far. Just enough to make you chase the space without realizing it.

“Exponential growth,” he murmured. “It happens. Science.”

You let out a shaky laugh, trying to get your heart rate to return to anything resembling baseline. “You’re such an asshole.”

He gave a casual shrug, walking back to his table as if he hadn’t just steamrolled your dignity. “Mm. But you said yes.”

You frowned, still flustered, still standing dumbly in the middle of the room. “To what?”

He glanced over his shoulder, eyes glinting. “To dating me.”

You blinked, brain stalling—again. Right. That did happen.

He turned back to his workbench like that settled everything, flipping open his notebook and reaching for a pencil. “By the way,” he added offhandedly, “your reaction time averaged about four-point-two seconds.”

“Reaction time to what, Senku?”

“To realizing you liked it.”

You opened your mouth—and closed it.

There were no words.

He didn’t look at you again, just kept scribbling. “Start showing up on time,” he muttered. “We’ve got a whole semester of data to collect.”

And just like that, he was back to being Senku: genius, stupid, stupid-genius.

You stood there for another full minute, lips still tingling, pride still limping, before sighing through your nose and muttering to no one in particular— “This is going to be such a problem.”

Behind you, Senku chuckled under his breath.

And the pen didn’t stop moving.

Chapter Text

If there was ever a controlled experiment in what it meant to accidentally become campus royalty, this was it.

You didn’t mean for it to happen. You didn’t step onto campus the next morning planning to broadcast anything. There were no hand-holding declarations or dramatic hallway kisses. You and Senku showed up just like usual: early, half-exhausted, mutually annoyed, and immediately spiraling into some overly specific argument about whether his homemade nutrient bars counted as a “complete breakfast.”

But apparently, something had shifted.

Maybe it was the way you sat beside each other in homeroom with no space left between. Or the fact that Senku actually shared his food without being prompted. Or how you flicked the back of his neck and he didn’t retaliate with a scathing analysis of your intelligence.

Either way, by third period, the rumors had achieved critical mass.

“Wait—they’re dating?”

“You didn’t know?!”

“Bro, how are you surprised? They’ve been doing couple math since October.”

“I thought they hated each other!”

“Yeah, well, welcome to enemies-to-lab-partners-to-lovers.”

You stepped out of AP Calc and immediately caught three people not-so-subtly whispering behind their textbooks. One girl tried to hide a grin when she made eye contact with you. A guy passing Senku on the stairwell gave him a thumbs-up.

Senku stared blankly at him like he was being handed a participation trophy.

“What the hell is happening,” you muttered under your breath, leaning in as you walked beside him.

Senku sighed. “Social contagion. Happens whenever two high-profile variables enter an observable relationship state. The herd gets excited.”

“…Did you just call our relationship contagious?”

He didn’t answer, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth gave you enough to work with.

The worst part was: no one was surprised.

Not even the teachers. Not even Gen, who caught sight of the two of you walking to class together, sipped from his unnecessarily ornate water bottle, and just said, “Finally.”

As if the entire school had been waiting for confirmation.

As if the months of tension, snarking, jacket-thieving, passive-aggressive data collection, and hallway debates hadn’t been subtle at all.

At lunch, Chrome practically exploded. “WAIT, YOU GUYS WERE SERIOUS?”

“Where have you been?” Kohaku asked, completely deadpan.

Chrome spun. “YOU KNEW?!”

“Everyone knew,” Kinro said, not even looking up from his lunch.

“Even I knew,” said Taiju cheerfully, stuffing his mouth with rice balls.

Yuzuriha sighed into her juice box. “They literally argued about constellations. That’s not platonic.”

Gen swirled his tea, looking far too satisfied. “My next ook-bay is going to have an entire chapter dedicated to unresolved scientific sexual tension. You two will be cited.”

You turned slowly to Senku. “We are never helping him again.”

“Agreed,” he muttered.

But despite the mayhem—despite the newfound attention, the side-eyes in the hallway, the people trying to decode your body language like it was some new form of math—neither of you really… minded.

Because now, whenever Senku leaned in to point something out on your notebook, he didn’t hesitate. When you stole bites from his lunch, he didn’t even glare. And when he called you “idiot” under his breath, it lacked the usual venom and had picked up something quieter. Almost fond.

And later that day, as the final bell rang and people flooded the halls in loud, chaotic waves, you tugged at Senku’s sleeve and smirked.

“So,” you murmured, loud enough for a few eavesdroppers nearby to catch, “when’s the next lab session, boyfriend?”

Senku blinked. Then narrowed his eyes.

“...You did that on purpose.”

“Obviously.”

He exhaled, defeated. “Tch. You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah,” you grinned, bumping your shoulder into his. “But you’re still here.”

And for once, Senku didn’t argue.

After school, you barely had time to throw your bag over your shoulder before Senku appeared in the doorway of your last period class like an urgent summons wearing a hoodie.

“Come on.” He didn’t say hello. He didn’t offer context. He didn’t even give you a second to finish zipping your backpack.

“Hi to you too,” you muttered, following him into the hall anyway.

The second the two of you rounded the corner, he picked up the pace. Fast walk. Too purposeful. Clearly up to something.

You jogged a little to keep up. “What are you doing? Where are we going?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Senku said, already halfway down the back stairwell.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Tch. Fine.” He glanced at you. “I have another date planned.”

You blinked. “...Right now?”

“Obviously not right now,” he snapped. “We have to wait for the timing to line up.”

You frowned. “Okay, first of all, what does that even mean? Second, if this is just code for ‘watch me solder metal in the chem room for three hours,’ I’m gonna throw you out a window.”

Senku didn’t even dignify that with a response. He kept walking. You followed.

The school building faded behind you, replaced by side streets and quiet residential corners, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across cracked sidewalks. The city wasn’t loud, just filled with that weird transitional energy that comes between school ending and nighttime starting—like everything’s waiting to shift.

Kind of like Senku.

He hadn’t said a word in the last four blocks, which for him was suspicious. You watched him, his face unreadable, arms crossed as he led you further uphill toward... who even knew.

You narrowed your eyes. “Wait. Are you timing something? Is this celestial?”

Senku’s mouth twitched. “Celestial is a broad term.”

“That’s not a no.”

He side-eyed you, voice dry. “That’s not a ‘figure it out,’ either. Try using that brain you claim to have.”

You huffed, but the heat in your chest wasn’t from walking. Not really.

Something about how deliberate this was—how invested he seemed—made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with terrain.

Senku planning a date? Sure. But one that required precise timing? That was rare.

You caught up to him again. “So... we’re just gonna kill time?”

“For now,” he said. “Until it’s ready.”

You slowed your pace and squinted at the sky. “And what’s ‘it’?”

Senku smirked. “You'll know when it starts moving.”

Whatever that meant.

The city felt different after school hours.

The crowds thinned, noise settled, and the sun hung lower—warming the edges of buildings with that late-afternoon amber glow that made everything feel a little more cinematic than real life had any right to be.

You and Senku strolled past shuttered cram schools and corner cafes, your steps slower now, not because you were tired, but because he hadn’t said “we’re almost there” yet—and you knew how these things went.

“So then Gen says—‘your collar's supposed to look like a collapsing star, not a clown’s bowtie.’” You shifted the convenience store bag in your hand as you mimicked Gen’s dramatic inflection. “Yuzuriha was this close to sewing his mouth shut with gold thread.”

Senku let out a low chuckle. “That’s rich, coming from someone who owns six silver sequin jackets.”

“Exactly,” you said, nudging him with your shoulder. “The irony was palpable.”

He walked with his hands in his pockets, hoodie sleeves slightly bunched around his wrists. You noticed the faint tilt of his head while you talked—half-listening, half-sorting data in the back of his brain like always.

But he was here.

Actually listening.

“So Hyoga’s joined drama club now,” you added, making a face. “He’s only doing it for the swordfight scene in Act Two. The guy doesn’t even memorize lines, he just… vibes. Intimidatingly.”

Senku raised a brow. “And you're letting him carry a sword?”

“I’m not letting anything happen,” you said. “That’s Gen’s funeral. But we did give him a plastic one until he ‘proves himself responsible.’”

He snorted. “Smart move. Next thing you know he’s on stage monologuing in Latin.”

“And setting things on fire.”

“Statistically probable.”

You both paused outside a convenience store with blinking signage and soft lo-fi music playing through its busted speaker.

“Grab something sweet,” Senku said, nudging you forward. “We’ve got twenty-three minutes to kill.”

You gave him a side-eye. “Are you synchronizing our date with a planetary alignment?”

“No,” he said coolly. “I’m synchronizing you with it.”

“Wow.” You stepped inside. “Romance really isn’t dead.”

The store was quiet, stocked with discounted bento boxes and off-brand candy. You grabbed a can of lemon soda and a Pocky box before heading to the counter. Senku paid before you could even reach for your wallet.

You stared at him. “Again?”

“It’s data. I’m analyzing long-term monetary trends in high school couple spending patterns.”

“Sure you are.”

You stepped out into the breeze again, Pocky now half-open between you. You held the box out. “Want one?”

Senku didn’t answer—just took a stick, crunching through the biscuit in three efficient bites.

“I also met someone new today,” you said, glancing up as the breeze picked up. “Ukyo. He transferred from Class 2-D. Apparently has insane hearing? Like—freakishly good. Caught me humming from two classrooms away.”

Senku nodded. “Yeah, he’s in Physics II. Sits three rows behind me. Quiet. Not bad with instruments.”

You raised a brow. “You just know that?”

He smirked. “People talk. I listen selectively.”

You walked in silence for a bit, passing a fenced-off park with rusted swings and a slide that had clearly been through decades of unbothered weather.

Senku paused, leaned against the fence, and gestured for you to sit.

You did. On a step, legs stretched out, hands behind you, watching the slow movement of clouds.

He joined you—not too close, not too far.

“So,” you said, taking another Pocky. “Where are we actually going?”

“You’ll see.”

“You always say that.”

“And I’m always right.”

You glanced sideways at him. He wasn’t looking at you—his gaze was on the sky, calculating something only he could see. Probably checking star positioning or the angle of light refraction or some wildly specific timing cue.

But the way his fingers brushed against yours—barely, like an accident he wasn’t correcting—felt intentional.

Quietly intentional.

You didn’t mention it. Didn’t move away either.

Because this part of the date? The walking, the talking, the small stops and even smaller touches?

It felt like its own kind of orbit.

And the sky was just starting to shift.

The last stretch of the walk was quiet. Not awkward, just… settled. The sun had dipped low enough that the streetlights had begun their slow flickering ascent, one by one, like lazy fireflies trying to remember their purpose.

Senku took a sharp turn off the sidewalk and up a small, half-paved road flanked by overgrown hedges. You followed without question.

Then you saw it.

Tucked behind a mesh of rusted fencing and ivy-choked signage stood a modest observatory dome. The paint had faded, and the gate creaked when Senku pushed it open, but the place still hummed with purpose.

“This is what you dragged me across the city for?” you asked, unable to keep the grin out of your voice.

Senku smirked, but there was a different kind of glint in his eyes now—something less smug, more focused. “Tch. I dragged you across the city because you never shut up about ‘mechanical environments being more satisfying than cosmic theory.’ So I figured I’d give you something worth adjusting your worldview for.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, Captain Cosmos, enlighten me.”

He led you through the narrow entrance hall, flipping switches as he went. The lights inside flickered to life—dim, tinted red, designed not to interfere with night vision.

You followed him up a spiral staircase, and when he opened the hatch at the top, the air rushed in cool and clean.

The city was far below now, the sound of traffic muted. Stars were beginning to push through the darkening sky.

Senku adjusted the main scope, checked his watch, then stepped back.

“Give it three minutes,” he said, voice already shifting into that I'm-about-to-autism-dump tone. “We’re going to see a solar grazing occultation. It's rare at this latitude.”

You blinked. “A what?”

He grinned. “An occultation—basically when one celestial body moves in front of another from our perspective. But a grazing one means the moon’s not fully covering the sun—it’s sliding just along the edge. So you get this thin, flickering burst of light, like a shimmering bead string across the lunar curve. It only lasts a few minutes, and it’s nearly impossible to catch unless the angle's perfect.”

You stared at him.

He kept going.

“It’s caused by the lunar limb profile—like, the mountains and valleys along the moon’s edge. As the sun passes behind those, you get that lacy light effect. I’ve been tracking the angle for two weeks. This spot has the clearest line of sight, no building interference, minimal light pollution, and a visibility window of just under four minutes.”

You blinked again. “You tracked this?”

He scoffed. “Of course I did.”

“You planned our date around an astronomical needle-threading event down to the minute?”

Senku gave you a look like that was the bare minimum.

“God, you’re insufferable,” you muttered—softly.

But you stepped forward, crouching beside the scope to peer through the eyepiece.

He stood close, adjusting the focus for you. His fingers brushed your arm once, then again, lingering just enough to count.

And then—

You saw it.

A thin curve. A flicker.

Like the sun was trying to peek out from behind the edge of a secret.

You leaned back slowly. “...That was actually kind of amazing.”

Senku raised an eyebrow. “Kind of?”

“Don’t get smug. I’m still pro-mechanical. But…” You gestured at the sky. “I’ll give you this one.”

He tilted his head. “See? Emotional payoff. Right on schedule.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Behold, the power of math.”

He smirked. “Damn right.”

You stepped back to give him room at the scope, watching as he leaned in, adjusting it with deft movements. His expression was sharp, concentrated, completely locked in on the moment.

And for a second—just a flicker—you thought maybe you were starting to understand the appeal of the stars.

Not because of the science.

But because he made the sky feel personal.

The last glint of light faded from the horizon, leaving the sky stretched wide and deep above you. Senku was still at the telescope, making fine adjustments, probably trying to milk the last few degrees of visibility from the event.

You watched him work for a moment, quietly chewing on the end of your Pocky stick, then said—just loud enough for him to hear—

“…So I may or may not have renamed myself ‘Pleiades’ on LINE.”

The telescope creaked slightly as Senku turned. Slowly.

“…You what?”

You shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “After that night. You know, when you pointed them out to me. Said I reminded you of them. Kind of stuck with me.”

Senku just stared.

And then—without warning—he stepped away from the telescope, marched over, and grabbed your face between his hands like he was trying to physically squash the sentimentality out of you.

You yelped. “HEY—!”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, giving your cheeks a slightly aggressive squish. “You’re a hopeless romantic.”

Your voice came out squashed. “And you’re a violent nerd!”

“Statistically, I’m the emotionally stable one here,” he said, still holding your face like he was evaluating the structure of your skull.

You pushed his hands off, barely stifling a laugh. “Don’t act surprised. You’re the one who gave me the name in the first place!”

“I gave you a stellar cluster,” he retorted. “Not a rebrand.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Too late. It’s canon now.”

Senku let out a long, dramatic sigh and flopped against the railing beside you, muttering something about regret and consequences.

But he was smiling. Just a little.

And the stars, for once, didn’t seem so far away.

Senku leaned back against the rail beside you, the wind tousling his bangs slightly as he looked up at the sky. His usual intense focus had softened—not gone, just dialed down like he was letting himself exist in the moment rather than study it.

You stayed beside him, close but not touching, letting the silence stretch comfortably between you.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when the stars had fully settled into place and the city noise had all but disappeared, that he spoke again.

“…You know,” he said, still looking up, “when I walk home at night… I look for Bootes.”

You blinked, turning your head toward him. “Seriously?”

He nodded once, casual like it didn’t mean anything. But his voice was a little quieter now, less clipped. “You pointed it out that night. Said it reminded you of me.”

You stared at him for a second, almost waiting for the sarcasm. Waiting for the “Tch. Don’t let it go to your head” or the “Strictly a visual reference.” But it didn’t come.

Senku just stood there, arms folded, eyes scanning the sky with that quiet kind of precision only he could manage.

“It’s not the brightest,” he went on, like he was explaining it to himself more than to you. “But it’s steady. Navigational. Old. Kind of forgotten unless you know what you’re looking for.”

You smiled. “And that reminds you of yourself?”

He shot you a sideways look. “No, genius. That part reminds me of you.”

Your mouth opened, then closed again.

He didn’t elaborate. Just let it hang there in the air like one of those fleeting astronomical alignments—rare, and quietly perfect.

And when he finally looked at you again, his smirk was faint but real.

"Don't get smug," he warned, nudging your shoulder. "I'm still objectively the star of this relationship."

You laughed, bumping him right back. "You’re the star, huh? So I’m what, the gravity holding your ego in orbit?"

"Exactly."

And for once, you didn’t argue.

Senku didn’t say anything right away after the Bootes comment—just stood there, arms crossed, face unreadable in that particular Senku way where his brain was definitely ten steps ahead, but his mouth hadn't caught up yet.

The silence settled again, heavier this time. Not awkward. Just… charged.

You turned back toward the sky to diffuse it, but before you could even start counting stars again, you felt it—

Movement.

He stepped closer. Not dramatically. Not in some sweeping, slow-mo anime scene kind of way. Just… a natural shift. Subtle. Intentional.

You glanced over, and he was looking at you—still unreadable, still sharp—but not calculating. Not smirking.

His eyes flicked to your mouth.

And then—oh god—he started leaning in.

It was tentative. Hesitant, almost, like he was trying to gauge the probability of rejection in real time. And you were fine with it—really. Until your eyes caught the way his lips were pursed, just slightly, like he was overthinking the trajectory and computing it like a physics problem.

Your laugh broke out before you could stop it.

Senku froze, about four inches from your face.

“…What,” he deadpanned.

You choked back more laughter, covering your mouth. “Oh my god, your pre-kiss face is so stupid. You looked like you were trying to manually plot wind resistance and lip velocity.”

He blinked once. Then again. Slowly.

The faintest pink flushed up his neck.

“…Shut up,” he said flatly. “Shut up before I calculate the force needed to knock you into low orbit.”

You were still laughing. “No, wait—seriously, were you planning the angle? Were you gonna factor in humidity?”

“I hate you,” he muttered, stepping forward fast.

You didn’t get another word out.

Senku kissed you.

Hard.

And then again.

And again—short, sharp, relentless, like every insult you’d just flung had triggered some kind of override switch.

You barely had time to register how warm his hands were—one cupping your jaw, the other on your hip—before your brain short-circuited entirely.

By the fifth or sixth kiss you were fully dazed, gripping his jacket sleeve like that would help reorient the galaxy.

He finally pulled back, eyes narrowed in triumph.

“Hah,” he said, panting slightly. “Who's stupid now?”

You blinked up at him, thoroughly kissed-out and dazed.

“…Still you,” you muttered.

But your voice was wrecked and your knees were kind of useless now, so, yeah—maybe you lost this round.

Senku just laughed. Low, smug, breathless.

And kissed you one more time. Just because he could.