Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⋅───⊱༺ ♰༻⊰───⋅
You've been at SDN long enough to know two things: 1. Apex City runs on caffeine and chaos. 2. Robert Robertson's dry sarcasm is the only thing that makes 3 AM evac calls bearable.
You've also been nursing a crush the size of a skyscraper for exactly 87 days. It's in the way he hands you a pen before you realize you've lost yours. The way his voice drops when he says " Copy that " into the comms. The way he looks at you,, like he's solving a puzzle and you're the missing piece.
You don't talk about it. You just feel it, humming under every shared glance.
Until today.
The dispatch floor looks like chaos holding a clipboard. Alarms, chatter, someone arguing with a hero about gluten. Ordinary noise. Ordinary day. And you, foolish creature that you are, are busy pretending to fix a spreadsheet while absolutely not staring at Robert brooding by the mission board like the world is one bad decision from crumbling.
Invisigal glides to your desk again, quiet enough to prove she abuses her powers for eavesdropping.
" You ever notice,, " she murmurs, tone smooth as iced coffee on a stressful morning, " how some people make surprising choices when feelings get... complicated? "
Your brain stumbles. Feelings? You? Certainly not.
You sniff, attempting dignity. " I don't have complicated feelings. "
A lie that would make polygraphs burst into flames.
" Hm. " She taps your desk, each sound like she's playing notes in an orchestra of doom. " Funny thing about secrets. They tend to surface. Especially when lips and alcohol get involved. "
You frown. " What does that even mean? "
She lifts one shoulder, like she is too polite to say you are dense. " Just saying. Conference rooms see things. And sometimes... remember them. "
You open your mouth to demand answers, but the universe prefers drama.
Soft footsteps. Hair like bottled sunshine. Blonde Blazer strides past your desk, mission tablet in hand, humming something cheerful. The hum stops when she spots Invisigal. A fraction of a second. A tiny pause. Something tightens in her expression, there and gone.
