I love senku

R E D   |   c h a s i n g   f i r e  

You lay in his arms, a broken doll weeping red. Blood had soaked through your shirt, inking your skin with tattoos of violence. There was so much of it. So thick it was smothering. So dark it was almost black. Chrome bit his lip and put more pressure on your wound. He couldn’t bear to look at your face, to see the pallor of it and know that death was calling. To know that he was the one who’d failed you. 

“Stay with me, Commandant,” he said, fighting to keep the panic from his voice. “Don’t fall asleep.”

“I’m not asleep,” you slurred. Bloodless lips curled into the ghost of a smile. “Just resting my eyes.” Your breaths were rapid and shallow, in time with a hummingbird pulse that grew fainter by the minute.

“Tell me a story,” he said urgently. “The last book you read?”

Your eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open. It took you several long beats to answer. “We don’t have to do this, Chrome.” Your fingers closed around his wrist. “I know.”

He bit back the lies that curled on his tongue. He wanted so much to deny, to look away from the unbearable truth, but he couldn’t lie to you. He never could. He reached out to caress your face, thumb brushing over the swell of your cheek. You exhaled softly. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head weakly. “Not your fault.”

“How can you say that? I promised them I’d bring you home. I was supposed to protect you and--”

You pressed a finger to his lips. Chrome could taste the blood on your skin. “Shhh,” you said with some effort. “It’s okay. You’ll be alright.”

“It’s not okay,” he insisted, holding your trembling hand between his own. “None of this is okay.”

“Well… I forgive you anyway.”

Those words shattered something inside him. Like a dam breaking, tears streamed down his face, drawn from some deep well of anguish without end. The pain inside him was a hunger that could not be satisfied, and would not be contained. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t shape the words. Silent screams tore themselves from his throat, taking with them shattered pieces of his inhuman heart. Right then, he wasn’t a Construct; he was just a man with human hurts and human sorrows, mourning the loss of a human life. His grief called forth your own tears. They spilled down your cheeks in a bitter chain. Each staccato breath sent electric pain through your broken body, but you couldn’t stop. There was simply too much. Too much pain, too much regret. Too many things that needed to be said and not enough time to even begin. You could only cry and cry, and hope that Chrome understood. 

“Please don’t leave me,” he begged, head bent against yours. His voice was ragged and raw. “Please stay.”

“I want to,” you breathed against his lips. There were no more tears left in you. No space for grief. Only a dull ache and a growing numbness. “I’m scared. I don’t want to die.”

Chrome could have screamed. He could have ripped the world apart over the injustice of it all. But none of that would save you. He couldn’t kiss you better or change fate or reverse the flow of time. He could only hold you as you slipped from this world, as helpless as sand before the tide. 

“I would do anything to fix this,” he said, cradling your head between his hands. Your eyes were unfocused, the skin around them tight with pain. “I wish…” He blinked away the blurriness in his vision and tried again. “I wish I could have protected you.”

“What a… simple wish,” you rasped. “Lucky it already came true.”

“What?”

You smiled. Or tried to. It was hard to know what your body was doing anymore. “You protected my mind… My soul. That’s enough.” You swallowed thickly. It was getting harder to breathe. “Is it dark already? I’m so cold.”

Chrome gathered you to him gently. His arms around you were tight, but you hardly felt it. “I’m here,” he said in your ear, again and again. “I’ll always be here.”

Your head rolled back to rest on his shoulder. A chill was spreading through your body, as if ice had replaced the blood in your veins. It was uncomfortable, but you welcomed it. At least it didn’t hurt anymore. “Tell me something nice,” you said, letting your eyes drift shut. “A story… With a happy ending.”

A small sob escaped from Chrome. His breath quivered, dancing over your skin in small puffs of warmth. You wanted to wipe the tears from his face, to comfort him and be comforted in turn. But your body was no longer yours. It danced with death now, and you were simply a spectator in the stalls. You were so tired. You’d fought for so long. All you wanted was to sleep. Here, at the end of it all, you set down your burdens and let yourself rest. I’m listening, Chrome, you thought languidly, as the rhythms of your body slowed. 

-----------

Chrome felt like he was breaking apart at the seams, losing the very essence of himself to an uncaring world. All of his fleeting happiness felt so far away, like the remnants of an impossible dream. There was only a brief moment in time that was free of pain, brilliant and blinding like sunlight on waves. A lonely memory of kinder times. 

He returned to the landscape of his childhood, and began.

“Once upon a time, there was a prince who wanted for nothing. He had gold and gems and servants to fulfill his every wish. The world was at his fingertips, but he had no friends. He was lonely.” You gave a tiny hum. Chrome continued. “He searched high and low, but nobody cared for his formality and stiffness. They called him a robot, who didn’t know what it meant to be human. Then one day, he met a beautiful girl. She caught his attention immediately.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. “She treated the prince like any other person, without fear or judgement. And so she became his first and dearest friend.” 

You mumbled something, though he couldn’t make out the words. “The two went on many adventures together, defeating great evils across the lands. Dark beasts and corrupt kings and disease. After their journey closed, the prince found that he’d fallen in love with her. He loved her beauty, her bravery, and her intellect. She was everything he wasn’t and more besides. Their marriage was celebrated across the kingdom. Together, they ruled fairly and--” His voice cracked, but he forced himself to continue. “And there was no more suffering in their lands. Everyone was happy, but none more so than the king and queen. The end.”

You were silent. Your tortured breaths had faded to pained little gasps like you were choking on air. Your body twitched in his arms, fighting enemies he couldn’t see. Chrome let out a broken sob. “Go then,” he said. “Go if it hurts. Go. I love you.”

That seemed to be the permission you needed. Your body stilled with a final exhale. You were slack and cold against his chest, a dead weight upon his soul. He struggled against the urge to scream. Chrome buried his face in your neck and breathed you in, lavender on blood mixed with a cloying sweetness. “Come back,” he whispered against your skin. “Please come back to me.”

His heart beat steadily in his breast, a perfectly inhuman thing that never wavered. But he could still feel it break.

He wept like his soul was being ripped apart. 

Grief is red, roses and thorns all at once. Like chasing fire, I reach for the warmth of memory, but there is only the burn of flame. There is no comfort here, only endless paths of pain.

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O R A N G E   |   b u r n i n g   c o a l s 

Hassen sighed. “I understand you’re distressed,” he said. “But I won’t accept your resignation.” He held up a hand before Chrome could object. “People who want to be Constructs are rare. Those who are compatible are even rarer. If you leave, there’s nobody to replace you as leader of Strike Hawk.”

“Kamui or Banji are more than capable,” Chrome countered adamantly. “They’re just as experienced.”

Hassen raised a brow. “Surely I don’t need to tell you experience isn’t the only measure of competence.”

Chrome fell silent. He knew Hassen was right, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. His spirit was shattered. Picking up the broken pieces was a mountain he didn’t know how to climb. “I don’t know how to go on,” he said finally. “It’s too painful.”

“It’s painful now, but it’ll pass,” Hassen said. His breath hitched. “Trust me.”

Chrome didn’t think he could trust anyone ever again. Himself least of all. He nodded mutely. Hassen seemed satisfied with that. He turned to leave before pausing at the door. “You should attend the funeral,” he said after a moment. “It’ll help.”

Chrome felt like he’d been slapped. “No,” he said immediately. “I doubt Gray Raven wants to see the man who killed their Commandant.”

“They’ve had time to process. And grieve. I think they’ll want to see you.”

He said nothing. He could hardly look at the other man. Hassen sighed. “Just think about it.”

The doors hissed shut behind him. 

-----------

He couldn’t go to the funeral. He’d thought about it like Hassen asked, but there would be too much of you there. Too many reminders that you were gone, not even bones left to hold. He didn’t want to hear others talking of your life and glorifying your death. He couldn’t bear to hear of your bravery when all he could see was the fear in your face and the regret in your eyes. He still remembered the tremble in your hands, the way you’d clung to him and wept. Your words rang in his mind. Those words that chased him from day to night, and haunted him in hollow dreams.

I’m scared. I don’t want to die.

Chrome buried his face in his hands. The tears swept over the plains of his soul, trying to ease an unquenchable hellfire. He clenched at the sheets. Tore at his hair. He slammed his fist into the ground until sparks flew from metallic joints. 

But there was nothing that could heal the wound within. 

Grief is orange. Burning coals simmering under the surface, stirred to flame by the gentlest of reminders. It hides and it sleeps, but it never dies.

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Y E L L O W   |   s e t t i n g   s u n

He stumbled, gasping for breath. His entire body hurt. Vital fluid leaked from a dozen places, but Chrome ignored it. Another swing, another slash. Corrupted hands reached for him like the groping hands of death. Something sharp dug into his shoulder. He grunted and swept his scythe in a blazing arc before yanking the blade from his body. His vision glitched. Warning signals flashed. Vital fluid loss. Stabilisation module damaged. Core processing unit under extreme strain. Chrome swept matted hair from his eyes. He didn’t need to be told his body was failing. He could feel it in the heaviness of his limbs, in the flaring pain that accompanied every movement. The world was dark around the edges. 

Is this how you felt, Commandant? Did it hurt like this?

His legs buckled. The ground rose to meet him even as the bright edge of a blade descended on his right. Chrome closed his eyes. 

“CAPTAIN!”

The clash of metal on metal was followed by the thunderous crash of something collapsing. Strong hands picked him up as his teammates slung his arms over their shoulders. “It’s not like you to be so reckless,” Kamui said with real fear. “It’s almost like you want to die.”

“I--” He broke off. Did he want to die? He hadn’t tried to defend himself at all. But he could have. He knew he could have. 

“Not yet,” Banji said quietly from his other side. “We still need you, Captain.”

Chrome hung his head. Shame and regret warred in his fragile heart. He didn’t know how to feel, but one thing was clear:

It wasn’t yet time. He’d have to keep you waiting a little longer. 

Grief is yellow. Soft and gentle, like the afterglow of a setting sun. Even when the flame has gone, it remains. It doesn’t burn anymore, but it haunts me all the same.

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G R E E N   |   j a d e d   e y e s

The days were getting easier. He still felt the loss of you like a missing limb, but your phantom hands no longer suffocated him. Your lips no longer kissed to kill. You’d turned from a vengeful spectre into something softer, a shade that kept him company in the dark. He breathed, it seemed, for the first time in a long time. 

Yet his mind still caught at the smallest things. Lovers kissing in the dark. Two hands twined together. Laughter around the corner. He missed the warmth of your touch, soft and tender in a way only humans could truly be. He yearned for the press of your skin against his, intimate and secret in the lonely nights. He wanted to hear your voice and kiss your lips. More than anything, he wanted you beside him. Loving him as you could, the way he loved you. 

But there was only a shadow by his side, clinging to him with invisible claws. It held your shape and stole your face, but Chrome knew it for the monster that it was. 

“Congratulations,” he said politely, handing a beautifully wrapped present to the bride. “May your love be everlasting.”

The couple beamed at him, radiant in their happiness. Their gratitude was as real as his words were false. 

He turned away.

Grief is green. Envious eyes, jealous heart. I thought I was healing, but perhaps I am healing wrong. Who is the man in the mirror?

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B L U E   |   o c e a n   d e p t h s 

Chrome, you said. Remember to breathe.

I am breathing, he thought, suddenly aware of the rising bubbles all around him. Big and small, wild and free, running towards the light above. Am I breathing?

You laughed. I’m not sure. I can’t tell.

He purposefully took a large gulp. Air flooded into his lungs despite the sunlit ocean around him. He laughed. That’s strange. Have I turned into a fish?

You’re very much not a fish, you confirmed. He couldn’t see you, but your voice was clear. Everywhere and nowhere all at once, like you were the very water itself. 

Where are you? He looked around, but there was only the endless sea. Crystalline waters vast and empty, and so beautifully blue. 

You sounded sad. Not with you, though I wish I was. 

Then come, Chrome said happily. I’ll pick you up. Just like always.

If only you could. But I think I’m a little too far away.

What do you mean?

You didn’t answer. The ocean was growing dark around him, black ink like oil rising from the depths. Smoky tendrils curled around his legs. He shuddered. Trying to kick them off only seemed to create more. He kicked towards the surface, but the sunlight was gone. The waters were ice against his skin, cold and unwelcoming. A black hand closed around his throat. 

Chrome thrashed desperately, but there was no escape. The blackness was complete, like the hand of night had crushed the world in its palm. There was no beginning and no end, no up or down. Only a darkness so deep it consumed all else. Help! Don’t leave! 

I can’t stay, you said. Your voice was already fading. Let me go, Chrome. 

Wait! He inhaled a lungful of grease. Come back! 

But you were gone. 

The sea swallowed him whole. 

-----------

Chrome woke with a start. The room was still grey; his alarm hadn’t gone off yet. He rubbed a hand over his face and stared at the sheets tangled around his feet. There was no black sea after all. Just twisted linen and hopeless dreams.

He rose and got dressed. 

Grief is blue. Endless like the ocean and just as deep. Vaster than the sky and just as curious. Always it finds new shapes to take, and new ways to hurt me.

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I N D I G O   |   s c a r   t i s s u e

He’d taken to wearing your engagement ring on a chain around his neck. Always tucked away so nobody could see. Always there, warm against his artificial heart. He fingered the polished metal. It was a simple band. No diamonds or gold, not that there was any left to be had. But you’d smiled at him all the same, accepting his proposal with a giddy joy that had kindled his own. 

Chrome had secretly recorded the moment, intending to play it at your wedding. That was a shattered dream now, but he couldn’t bring himself to delete the data. He watched the clip again, smiling softly at the happy grin on your face. You peppered his face with kisses, arms and legs wrapped around his body. There was no audio, but he could hear every word.

He flicked the video off. Things like this no longer bothered him. Distance and time had dulled the pain and stitched his wound closed. The knife’s edge of memory was almost a comfort now, barely a scratch when it used to be a stab. Still, though he no longer bled, the scars lingered. And they would never let him forget. They would never let him forgive. 

No amount of time would ever wipe the stain of your blood from his soul. 

Grief is indigo. It’s what emerges at the edge of night, when the heat of day has passed. It’s the scar tissue that remains when the wound has closed. Even when it no longer hurts, I’ll always carry the memory of that pain.

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V I O L E T   |   u n s e e n   s o u l

“If we attack from here, we can catch them in a pincer move,” Chrome said, pointing to the map. “Our chances of success will increase.”

“I agree,” she said, flashing a smile at him. Her hand rested close to his, so close he could feel the heat of her on his skin. “Looks like the majority agree with Chrome.” She nodded. “Great. That’s the plan then. Meeting adjourned.”

Chrome made to leave. “Wait, Captain.”

He turned. She smiled at him, clearing her throat awkwardly as she waited for the others to file out. Someone winked at him as the room emptied. His heart sank. 

“So,” she started when it was just the two of them. “You really took charge of that meeting.”

“Just doing my job,” he said lightly. “Can I help you with something else?”

She hesitated before meeting his eyes. They were large and earnest, so like yours. And yet so very different. His heart squeezed painfully. “I was wondering if you’d like to catch up for lunch sometime?” she asked shyly. Her voice was small and uncertain, so different from the proud Commandant of minutes ago. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking away. “I’m unavailable.”

She deflated immediately. “Really? I thought… I was told that you didn’t have anyone at the moment. Is it just me then?”

“It’s not you. It’s...” He trailed off. There really was no way to say it. “I’m not looking for anything right now.”

“Is it… Is it your fiancee? I heard about what happened.”

Chrome said nothing. She studied him and sighed. “It’s been three years since then, hasn’t it? This could be the start of something new.”

He smiled ruefully. “It could,” he admitted, brushing his fingers across her cheek. “But it won’t. I’m sorry.”

-----------

Chrome returned to his room. Your ring gleamed on the table, scuffed and bent after all the battles it’d seen. You’d loved that thing like it wasn’t just a piece of scrap metal. It carried a piece of your soul and would always be beautiful for it. Because it wasn’t just a fragment of you, it was the part of you that had been given to him freely in love and acceptance. And now, it was the only thing left to him. A dead thing that had taken your place in his heart. 

He sighed and sat on the bed. His room was the same as ever. The same four walls, the same white sheets. The same desk and lights and air. Only you had changed, leaving your physical body behind for a ghost that haunted him. But even that was gone now. There was only your ring, and the ash of his memories. 

Chrome thought back to the woman. He couldn’t deny that there was a part of him that was drawn to her, but there was a bigger part of him that couldn’t let you go. The Gray Ravens had gotten a new Commandant two years ago, one they treated with as much respect as they had you. Neither Kamui nor Banji had mentioned your name in years. The world had moved on while you slept. 

If he joined them and looked to the future, if he allowed himself to forget… You really would disappear. Just another grave. Just another statistic. He couldn’t bear that. Even if the world forgot, he wouldn’t. 

So long as he remembered, some piece of you would remain here, with him. 

So long as he remembered, he could pretend that life was still worth living. Because deep down, Chrome knew that while his body still moved and his heart still beat, the pieces of him that made him whole had died with you. 

And you would always be gone. 

You feel the shift in him before you even see it; the slight tremble in his arms as he continues to holds himself above you, the slight hitch in his breath, the way his gaze lingers on your face like he’s seeing the moon for the first time.

“Senku?” you whisper, brushing your fingers gently through his hair, trying not to disturb the fragile, intimate serenity hanging between the both of you.

He doesn’t answer at first. His expression twists—confusion, awe, something akin to fear, but soft around the edges, vulnerable. And then his lips part in a shaky exhale. His whole body shudders once, then again, and when his eyes finally meet yours… they’re glassy.

The tears slip down his cheeks silently, and he doesn’t even seem to notice them until you cradle his face.

“I…” he chokes, voice raw, unraveling at the seams. “I don’t get it. I’ve run simulations, predicted every outcome, broken down and re-learned the basic biology of human connection a thousand times but—” he laughs once, its wet and cracked, “nothing ever prepared me for this.”

His gaze searches yours, glazed and unguarded, and that’s when it hits you:

He’s not afraid of love.

He’s afraid of deserving it.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispers, and that’s when you feel it—the crack in his composure, the distant echo of every burden he’s had to carry since waking up in a broken world without his father, without a safety net. Always leading, always fixing, always trying.

You pull him down into your arms without a second thought, wrapping yourself around him like you could protect him from the enormity of what he’s feeling.

“You don’t have to be anything but who you are,” you say softly. “You’re amazing, Senku. Not because of what you can do or fix or invent—but because of how deeply you can care. Even when you’re scared.”

He goes quiet, the last of his tears slipping down his cheeks, warm against your skin. You feel his breathing begin to slow. It's still shaky, and uneven—but slowing.

His weight settles more fully on you, the tension in his body bleeding out bit by bit, as if your words were the only formula that ever truly mattered. You cradle the back of his head, fingers threading gently through his hair, and let him be still.

No more talking, just the rhythm of your heart beating beneath him, steady and sure.

And for the first time, he lets himself rest. Not in the physical sense—though he’s clearly exhausted—but in the emotional one. He lets you hold him without apology. Lets himself need something that isn’t data or progress or the future of humanity. Just you.

Just this.

“Sorry,” he mumbles eventually, voice still thick, muffled where his cheek rests against your collarbone. “I didn’t mean to… short-circuit.”

You let out a soft laugh, “You just had an emotional reaction during your first time..." you take a moment to think of what to call the situation that just happened, "connecting with someone you trust. There's no need to apologize. You’re not a machine, Senku.”

He groans, burying his face further into your neck. “You’re going to use that against me in every argument from now on, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

You feel his lips twitch against your skin, the ghost of a smile. He breathes you in like a grounding presence, like you're a constant he hadn’t realized he needed until everything else fell away. And then, without much thought—almost instinctively—he presses a kiss to the curve of your shoulder. It's tender and warm. Another follows. His breath comes out between them, still shaky, uneven. It’s not calculated or practiced—it’s raw, subconscious affection from someone still learning what it means to want without restraint.

Then his teeth graze your skin.

Not enough to hurt, but enough to mark.

“Senku,” you murmur, a quiet laugh in your throat. “Are you biting me?”

He freezes where his face is tucked against your neck, the warmth of his breath still lingering on your skin. There’s a long pause, like he’s calculating whether honesty or denial will cause him more pain in the long run.

“…No,” he says flatly, which of course means yes.

You smile, your fingers still threading through his hair. “You know that’s going to leave a mark, right?”

He hesitates for only a second. “Good,” he mutters before he can stop himself, voice muffled against your shoulder. And then, like he’s just heard what he said with his own ears, he lets out a soft, miserable groan. “Ugh. That was… grossly sentimental. Ignore that.”

You don't. You never do, not when it comes to him.

Instead, you tilt your head just slightly, baring more of your neck in quiet invitation. You don’t tease him for it. You don’t make him explain. Because you’ve known him long enough to recognize the language of his affection.

“You can’t help it,” you murmur softly, your hand settling at the back of his head. “You’ve been holding everything in for so long. You don’t know how to want things quietly anymore.”

He doesn’t respond, but you feel it in the way his body presses closer, in the way his mouth hovers just above your skin without moving. As if he’s still trying to compute the feeling of being allowed to want at all.

His voice, when it comes, is quiet and rough around the edges. “Doesn’t freak you out?” He lifts his head to look at you.

You shift to look at him, your thumb brushing the flushed corner of his cheek. “That you’re learning how to be human with me?” Your smile softens. “No. It doesn’t.”

He blinks at you, gaze open and vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache with something you're not quite sure how to name.

“You always say it like it’s easy,” he whispers.

“It’s not,” you admit, voice low but certain. “But it’s worth it. You're, worth it.”

He says nothing. Just leans in and lets his forehead press gently against yours, eyes closed. The tension in his shoulders starts to unspool beneath your touch, like he’s finally, finally giving himself permission to fall.

You press a kiss to his temple, soft and slow, and whisper what he’s spent his whole life chasing without realizing it.

“I’m proud of you.”

His breath catches at those words, and in the quiet that follows, you feel him melt

Not in lust. Not in need.

But in trust—in love.

And it’s the most human you’ve ever seen him.

an: so did i cook or what? 😛

this is reader-adjacent to the reader in Drawn to You, so this will def be recycled at some point in the series. I really love this type of troupe with senku, call it projection or wtv you want but it just fits him to a tea imo.

anyway! one more senku idea before i got back to jail (this almost 20k worded chapter; trust yall eating GOOD for chpt.4)