#fuggiamodaqui

“And at last, the pleasure of Miss Y/S’s company!” He announced with a cocky, magazine-cover grin as he straightened up.  

Heat rushed to your cheeks as every head in the room turned your way. A few colleagues frowned, others smirked like they’d just won the lottery. You were never late. For them, watching the professor’s favorite student stumble was better than passing an exam without studying (or receiving a large cup of coffee for free). 

You muttered an apology and slid rapidly into your chair, keeping your gaze anywhere but on him. 

Where the hell was Professor Sharn? And why was he – gossip king, girl-fainting, literal Human Torch– standing at the front of your astrophysics lecture pretending he belonged there? Pretending he could teach you anything, let alone improve your PhD dissertation?

Yet, there he was. Too young. Too arrogant. Too unfairly distracting in that navy button-down and white pants. 

And, apparently, your new professor.

“I’ll repeat myself, just for you,” he said, tossing a wink in your direction that made you want to melt into the floor and disappear forever. “I’ll be here for one semester only, to cover the things books can’t cover. Equations are great, sure, but they don’t exactly prepare you for ‘what do I do if the world’s ending and a giant alien is trying to eat the planet?’” He explained reminiscing one of the last fight the Fantastic Four have fought: the one against Galactus. You still remembered the terror everyone felt, including you. And you wished you’d never experience something like that ever again.  

You should have buried yourself in your notes. Instead, you just listened. 

“So, before Miss Y/S here graced us with her presence, I was telling your colleagues how this,” Johnny said indicating himself, “happened. Professor Sharn came to us asking for someone who could… Let’s say, spice up this subject. First, he asked Reed, but he was busy, as usual. Then Sue, but sister darling is even busier than her annoying husband. Then Ben… Well, let’s just say priorities aren’t Sharn’s strongest suit, because how could he put me last on the list?” 

The room laughed. 

“So, I went and asked him why,” he continued dramatically. “And you know what he told me? He was worried I’d flirt too much with his students. And now I really understand why, because damn, you’re all gorgeous.” 

Half the class tittered. He already won them over. 

You rolled your eyes. Exactly what you’d expected by someone so frivolous as him. You were there to become a scientist, not another headline in Johnny Storm’s tabloid résumé.

“Even you, Miss-I’m-Late,” he teased suddenly, dragging you back from your thoughts. 

You stiffened. Then, shot back before you could stop yourself.  “Well, I’m here to be a scientist, not to fall for cheap theatrics, Professor Storm.” 

For a second, his smirk faltered. Surprise flickered in his eyes. Then, the grin snapped back into place. “Nice temper, are you sure you aren’t the real Human Torch?”

Behind you, someone whispered, “Always the attention seeker.”  The words slid down your spine like ice. You clenched your jaw.

Johnny heard it too. His grin widened even more, pure fire and challenge.

“Any thoughts you want to share with us, Miss…?” 

“Miss Prinkley, Professor,” the girl answered with a small and nervous voice. 

You turned just in time to see your colleague’s cheeks blazing crimson. She’s been caught red-handed. 

Johnny’s smile turned angelic. “Well, Miss Prinkley, I’d suggest not being a prinkle in my class.” His tone was light, perfect for a man who was used to cameras and annoying interviews, but his eyes literally became burning amber while fire sparked in their depths. “Because trust me, I can be worse.” 

The effect was immediate. The whole lecture hall went dead silent. A pin could fall and everyone could easily hear that.

“Any other comments?” he asked, voice almost casual. “No? Then grab your things, we’re headed to the Baxter’s lab.” 

Chairs scraped and bags zipped as quickly as possible. No one wanted to test him further. 

You felt the cutting stares thrown your way as your colleagues rushed out. You exhaled slowly. 

One more year. Just. One. More. Year, you reminded yourself, closing your eyes for a moment before rising. 

“You okay there?” Johnny’s voice broke through your thoughts. He was still at the front desk, arms folded, watching you like he hadn’t just saved you from your awful colleagues.

You took the bag and started walking away. “Yeah. I’m used to that. No need to meddle.” 

“Well, where I’m from,” he called after you, “a ‘thanks’ is pretty standard.” 

You glanced back, a smirk tugging at your lips. “And where I’m from, I only say ‘thanks’ when I actually ask for something, Professor Storm.” 

Then turned on your heel and walked out. 

Behind you, you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter under his breath, half amused, half shocked. “Can you believe her?” 

You didn’t look back.

Days slipped into weeks.

Three times a week you found yourself in the Baxter lab with Johnny and your colleagues, and every class was as catastrophic for your focus as you’d predicted. 

As a professor, he was everything your brain hated and your nerves couldn’t ignore: unreliable, unapologetic, pure chaos wrapped in a perfect grin. The perfect embodiment of a living flame. One moment he was extremely focused, explaining cosmic radiation models he had literally survived years ago with unnerving clarity; the next, he was leaning across someone’s desk to flirt or joke: sometimes it was with a girl of your class, sometimes with some reporter who’d somehow found herself in the lab for another glossy “inside the Life of Professor Storm” feature. 

Once (and then twice… And then too many times to count), he even brought his nephew to class. 

Franklin Richards, as wide-eyes and curious as the 4-year-old son of Reed Richard and Sue Storm could be, trailed after his uncle like a shadow. To your surprise, those were the lessons you ended up liking the most. Because when Johnny bent low to show Franklin a glowing particle simulation, or ruffled his nephew’s hair, or crouched beside him to explain something with infinite patience, you caught a glimpse of a man that no magazine ever managed to capture.

It was rare, but even amongst all of your colleagues – who continuously tried to catch his attention with stupid questions – you noticed him. 

A Johnny who was capable of smiling softly. 

Who loved his nephew without performance. 

Who wasn’t pretending.

The funny part was that when someone tried to catch that glimpse of him too, he vanished again behind his perfect wall of cocky jokes and smirks. 

Sometimes, though, he caught you watching.

The first time, you looked away so fast your neck ached for the rest of the day. 

The second time you frowned, but you refused to flinch and held his gaze. 

By the third, he was already smiling when your eyes met, as if he’d been waiting for it. 

Franklin noticed too. He’d wave at you with his little hands, grinning like he knew a secret. Each time you waved back, pretending it was nothing, though a little smile always tugged at your lips. 

You told yourself it didn’t matter. That his voice dropping just slightly when he asked your opinion didn’t make your pulse spike. That his gaze lingering on you just a second too long didn’t feel like fire under your skin.

But that was exactly how your downfall started.

It wasn’t dramatic. It was slow, so slow you believed it was all in your mind. 

A random comment during class. 

A note scribbled in the margin of your essay, the worst handwriting you’d ever seen, probably because written while trying to keep Franklin from killing himself on one of the lab’s many sharp objects: 

Good thinking. Let’s talk more about this.

Sometimes it was the way he leaned too close when he looked at your notes, his hand brushing yours as he pointed at some specific detail of your analysis. The faint smell of burnt coffee and soap– mint, maybe? – clinging to him definitely sent your thoughts into a very unacademic ERROR 404: NOT FOUND more times than you wanted to admit to yourself.

Every time, you could hear the word Forbidden.

Louder and louder. 

Him stealing your pen mid-lecture, twirling it lazily between his fingers while explaining something and then, without even realizing it, chewing the cap in the exact same spot you did it before? Forbidden. 

Him leaning over your notes, close enough that you caught the warmth radiating off his skin, and when you raised your head unexpectedly, his face was right there, so close that he startled and accidentally scorched the corner of your documents in panic? Forbidden. 

That word started to live in the back of your mind. 

You repeated it to yourself when you caught your reflection in the lab window, still bent over your laptop when the afternoon light started to turn orange and everyone else had already gone home.

You whispered it when your phone lit up with another e-mail from him, professional in tone but edged with something else: 

Now I see why Sharn calls you his best. Keep going.

You told yourself it wasn’t real. Couldn’t be real. 

He was your professor. You were his student.

But Johnny Storm had never been good at boundaries.

-

The after-hours invitation came out of nowhere. 

It happened on a random Wednesday, when no class was on the schedule. 

You opened your inbox to find an e-mail from Johnny. 

From: [email protected] Subject: Meeting and lectures I took the liberty of mentioning your personal research to the others. They’d like to meet you. Reed also added that some of his lectures are open to PhD students — thought they might be useful to you. Your name’s already on the list. Come by at 6pm and use the usual elevator, but go on F33 instead of F31.

You stared at the message as if it might combust on your screen.  

Blinking a few times, you closed the app. Reopened it. Closed it again. By the tenth time, you decided to not close it again. The e-mail was still there and you weren’t hallucinating. 

You typed out the most professional, neutral reply you could manage with a cerebral short circuit:

Thank you for the opportunity. I’d be honored to meet them. 

Then you hit send, sat back in your bed, and wondered what, exactly, you’d just agreed to. 

-

That evening, the Baxter Building looked even more frightening than usual. 

Normally you arrived with your colleagues, and even if hardly someone talked to you, the air buzzing with their chatter was comfortable for your nerves. However, the lobby was quiet, and the guard already had your name; he waved you through with a smile that made it feel even more surreal and handed you a badge – so the others guards wouldn’t bore you. 

You thanked him and clipped it at his usual spot in the front zip of your bag, safe from any kind of accidental destruction if it had been on your actual clothes instead.

You rode the elevator to F33, heart pounding, clutching your bag with your laptop and your notes tight against your body. 

That afternoon, you’d stood in front of your closet far too long, debating what counted as appropriate. Too elegant would feel ridiculous. Too casual, disrespectful. In the end, you’d reached for your comfort outfit: a white T-shirt tucked beneath your favorite burgundy jacket and matching skirt. Clean, simple, yours. 

The elevator chimed, and you tried not to panic while the doors opened into a space you’d only ever seen in news footage: if the lab was vast, the living room was breathtaking with its glossy floors, minimal but colorful furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows to the most perfect skyline of Manhattan you’ve ever seen. 

The air carried a faint scent of ozone, and something sweet, like a woman’s perfume. Deep down a little hint of something burnt. 

“Johnny, how many times do I have to tell you to NOT touch anything while I cook?” you heard from what you thought it was the kitchen. “And how many times do I have to tell you that I can —HEY! STOP THAT!” Johnny’s voice shot back. 

At the same time, a robotic voice chimed brightly. “Correction to previous analysis. Data indicates a 90% probability of Johnny burning down the dinner if unsupervised.”

A little white-and-blue robot rolled into view, head tilting and arms moving cheerfully. You almost tripped backward when he spotted you. “Guest detected. Good evening, Miss Y/N.”

Before you could respond, a much smaller figure ran toward you. 

“Y/N!!!” a little voice screamed happily, pulling you from your thoughts.

Franklin threw himself at you, nearly knocking you off balance. One minute in there and you were almost falling disastrously to the ground two times. You crouched down quickly, laughing as he hugged your neck.

“Hi, little scientist,” you greeted warmly. “How are you?”

“Goooooooood! Uncle Johnny burnt Uncle Ben’s things again,” he announced between giggles. 

You laughed, shaking your head just as you heard. The robot even nodded, as if confirming Franklin’s report. Then, a woman’s voice from across the room.

“Franklin? Who are you talking to?” 

From the circular sofa at the center of the living room, Sue Storm stood, the soft clicking of her heels carrying her closer. She glanced at the clock on the wall and frowned. “Oh, was the appointment at six? I thought it was at seven, I’m so sorry. I was still writing a speech.”

You blinked, confused.  “Seven? I…thought it was at six.”

Sue’s eyes narrowed immediately toward the kitchen. “Johnny. Did you tell us the wrong time again?”

Johnny appeared from behind the counter, licking some tomato sauce off his thumb and looking criminally unbothered. “Nope. Always said six. Seven is Franklin’s story time. Don’t mix your things up, sis.”

Sue sighed, pinching her nose. “One of these days, Johnny…”

“Oh, well,” Johnny grinned, “Worked out, didn’t it? She’s here, you here, Reed will trot along from the lab any second, and Ben —”

“I’m right here,” came again the rocky rumble, as Ben Grimm emerged from his previous spot holding a tray of biscuits. He eyed Johnny darkly. “You will not be saved by this lady, Johnny. Dinner’s on you tonight”

Johnny grumbled. “Yeah, yeah. Takeout it is.”

“I really hope so,” Ben said while approaching. He paused mid-step, his rocky bow lifting as his eyes flicked from you to Johnny and back again. “There’s a dress code I didn’t hear about?” 

You blinked, confused, until you looked down at your outfit. Was something wrong with it? The T-shirt was still immaculate, as were the jacket and the skirt. Then you looked up, straight at Johnny. 

He was wearing his own burgundy jacket, the one you’d seen him wear sometimes in class, paired with an identical white t-shirt to yours. 

You hadn’t even noticed, but Johnny definitely had. 

His grin spread smug. “See? Told you. Beauty and brains. And amazing style too.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. “It’s pure coincidence.”

 “Uh-huh,” Ben chuckled, low. “Sure it is.”

 “Could you please stop bothering this poor girl?” Sue asked ironically, rolling her eyes.

Johnny looked wounded. “What? I was just complimenting her!”

“Oh, he’s a gentleman now,” Ben muttered, holding out the tray toward you. “Want one?” 

Still a little stunned by their casual conversation, you managed a smile. “Yeah, I’d love to, thank you.” 

Ben grinned. “I already like her.” 

Johnny darted in, snagged a biscuit of his own, and wagged a finger. “Nah-ah, I found her first. Back off, Big Guy.”

“Statement: territorial display detected,” H.E.R.B.I.E. reported. 

The oldest Storm ignored them both. “Don’t encourage him, Herbie,” she said while balancing Franklin on her hips and letting him sneak a cookie too. “Only one, darling.” 

Then, Sue turned back to you with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about the chaos. I hoped Johnny behaved in class, but the way he’s handling this meeting is… A little discouraging to say the least.”

You lifted your shoulders, more at ease than before, though your tone stayed quite formal.

“I usually ignore professor Storm’s comments. And his giggling and flirting sessions to the girls. Especially the flirting.”

Ben let out a whistle. “Professor? Damn, you really look almost serious in class, Matchstick? I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

Johnny looked scandalized. “I am a respectable professor, you rocky jerk,” he said to Ben. “And I do not flirt in class, sweetheart.”

You raised an eyebrow, letting the nickname hand between you like a challenge.

“Who’s the professor? Johnny?” 

The smooth, slightly distracted voice caught your attention. Reed Richards stepped out of the same elevator you’d taken earlier, sleeves rolled to the elbows and goggles still perched on his forehead. He looked like he’d come straight out of an experiment. He blinked at you, then at Sue. “Wait. Is it already seven?”

Sue sighed, exasperated. “Johnny.”

Reed’s brow lifted knowingly. “Ah. Johnny again.” 

Johnny threw his hands in the air. “Oh, come on!”

Ignoring him entirely, Reed offered his hand to you, his tone softening. “Reed Richards. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

You shook his hand quickly, presenting yourself. “The honor’s mine, Dr. Richards.”

Before you could stumble into more formalities, Sue gently touched your arm with her free hand. “I just realized we didn’t even introduce ourselves properly earlier. I’m Sue, of course. And they’re Ben and H.E.R.B.I.E. You already know Franklin and Johnny,” a pointed look at her brother. “Please, none of this ‘sir” or ‘ma’am’ business.”. 

Ben chimed in immediately. “Yeah, formalities are overrated. Especially when your poor brain already has to suffer through having this stickman as a professor”. 

“HEY! I’m her best professor! …Right?” Johnny asked while leaning toward you dramatically. 

You tilted your head. “Merely passable. I still miss Dr. Sharn’s lectures. But I do love when Franklin’s around.”

The boy giggled, clapping his hands, while the others broke into laughter.

“Amazing. She’s amazing. She’s able to annihilate him,” Reed murmured, almost to himself. 

Johnny clutched his chest like he’d been shot. “Ouch. That hurt, sweetheart-”

“Not a sweetheart,” you shot back automatically. 

Ben couldn’t stop laughing. “Damn, I want her on the team.” 

Before Johnny could fire back, H.E.R.B.I.E. interrupted again. “Miss Y/N achieves 89% effectiveness in neutralizing Johnny’s ego. Current data predicts this percentage will increase.”

While you almost chocked on your own laugh, Sue shook her head, smiling. “That is quite interesting.” 

Johnny spun toward the robot. “Whose side are you, dude?”

Before H.E.R.B.I.E. could answer, Sue took charge. “Now, now. No need to blame Herbie for something we all see. And Y/N, please don’t let my brother bother you too much.”

You gave a small laugh, smoothing the moment. “Well, I’ll do my best. Thank you for letting me be here.”

“It’s our pleasure, dear,” Sue said warmly, while directing everybody towards the circular sofa. Settling Franklin on her lap, she continued. “Johnny mentioned your project to us, the one for your dissertation. It sounded fascinating. We thought we’d love hear about it directly from you.”

You pulse jumped as you carefully set your bag down and sat down too. 

Johnny vaunted on the couch beside Sue in one easy move, as if he usually launched himself there instead of just sitting as a normal person. 

You looked at him. Again, he was not performing. He was just a funny uncle, a brother, someone whose laugh softened when Franklin pulled at his sleeve. 

You found yourself staring, but managed to caught yourself before the moment stretched too much. Sue noticed, of course, but said nothing, though her smile curved knowingly. 

“I read the note you wrote in the margin of your last analysis,” Reed added suddenly with curiosity. “The one about the variable shift in the cosmic model. I probably shouldn’t have, but I found the document in the lab. At first, I thought it was one of Sue’s, dragged around by Franklin. You two have a similar handwriting.” 

Oh. That document. 

The one you’d searched desperately for days, convinced it was lost forever.

You forced a calm breath. “Well, I’m happy it ended up in the right hands and not in a random café,” you said. “It started as a pattern recognition last year…”

And as their eyes fixed on you, even more curious and encouraging, you began to explain. 

Johnny never looked away from you for a second. 

From that meeting, one visit turned into another. And then another. 

Soon, you weren’t just a three-times a week guest with your colleagues at the Baxter Building, but a new addition to the team.   

When professor Sharn heard about the idea of you working with Reed, he sounded relieved. He formally agreed to let him act as a co-tutor for your dissertation. Johnny, unsurprisingly, slipped himself into the arrangement too, under the guise of “assisting his best student”.

Working with Reed was overwhelming in the best way possible. His mind raced ten time faster than anyone you’ve ever collaborated with. Yet, he was patient, attentive, and listened to your analysis providing you additional perspective that elevated your work without overshadowing it. 

Johnny, on the other hand, made his presence impossible to ignore. Sometimes he leaned casually against Reed’s whiteboards, pretending to be bored, only to drop a surprisingly sharp observation that Reed actually nodded in approval. Other times, he lingered at your desk under the excuse of “checking your notes”, but more often than not, he’d place something small deliberately: a steaming cup of your favorite tea, a new pen when yours stopped working, a notebook opened to the page he knew you’d be needing. And then, he disappeared before you could even thank him. 

It was like he was trying to keep his status as your professor, but at the same time, daring you to acknowledge his little gestures.

One evening, as you were working late on a particularly difficult section of your dissertation, you heard Johnny’s familiar, teasing voice, followed by the metallic whir of H.E.R.B.I.E..

“You’re here late again. Trying to impress me?” he asked, while the robot placed a plate full of snacks beside you.

“Oh, thanks Herbie,” you said, scratching the robot’s head, an action you had definitely started copying from Johnny himself. 

“Well, it was my idea too,” the man interjected, stepping closer, eyes glinting with amusement. 

You let out a small sigh. “Thank you too, Johnny,” you said deliberately emphasizing his name in order to mock him. Your gaze lingered on his figure for just a heartbeat longer than you intended. How did he manage to look good even in his hero’s suit and a streak of dirt across his jaw? He surely had to handle something before coming there.

Before you could address his state to him, H.E.R.B.I.E. talked again. “You’ve been staring at Johnny for 25.3 seconds. Do you require medical attention?” the robot asked, making you nearly jumping out of the chair. 

“WHAT!?”

Johnny smirked, clearly delighted. “Ohhh, finally, Herbs's on my side.”

 “I wasn’t…!” you protested, but H.E.R.B.I.E. interrupted you again. “Correction: 30.6 seconds.”

By then, you were practically screaming at the robot about reprogramming it. Johnny’s laughter filled the lab even after they both left.

Moments later, he returned alone. He crouched beside your chair, just enough to ruffle your hair in that familiar, gentle gesture he’d started doing whenever he was around and you two were alone. 

“You know,” he said softly, his voice low and teasing, “you could save some of that energy yelling at poor Herbs and just admit you like having me here.”

You froze, caught off-guard, fingers still hovering over your keyboard. 

Johnny leaned back, a satisfied grin playing at his lips. He was still watching you with a sparkle in his eyes. “Yep. That’s the look. Don’t fight it too hard, trouble,” he murmured before disappearing as quietly as he had arrived.

It wasn’t until hours later, when you were finally at home, that you realized you hadn’t answered him… Or even shoved him away.

- When Reed’s proposal came, you nearly dropped your pen. 

Quiet, matter-of-fact, like he was asking you to call H.E.R.B.I.E. from the other room.

“After your PhD, we’d like you to stay. We could use someone with your kind of thinking here.”

You accepted before you could second-guess yourself. 

Reed gave you a simple, approving nod, and returned to his work as if nothing so monumental had just happened.

After a moment, though, he paused again, his gaze flickering back to you. 

“Do you want to tell someone? Family, maybe?” He asked, the question simple, genuine. 

You shrugged, eyes dropping to your notebook. “There’s no one, thank you.”

For once, Reed didn’t have a reply. He only gave another nod and remained silent. 

That evening, you were invited to stay for dinner. 

“To celebrate,” Sue told you warmly, her smile radiating pride. She congratulated you again, while Ben clapped you on the shoulder hard enough that you almost toppled over, laughter spilling from both of you.

And Johnny…

He actually didn’t speak much to everyone’s surprise, but you noticed the way his eyes lingered on you, quietly sparkling as he lifted his glass during the toast made in your honor. 

At some point during the dinner, he silently passed you a folded napkin under the table, a little doodle scribbled in the corner, something only the two of you would understand. You bit back a laugh, and he winked before turning his attention back to Franklin.  

It was as if you’d just made his day instead or your own. 

Of course, not everyone was happy about your growing presence at the Baxter Building. 

At first, it was subtle.

More sideways glance than before, some barely audible whispers that died down the moment you walked through the lecture halls. Then the more prominent whispers in the hallways, and even in the lab when Johnny was not around. 

Snippets of venom thrown at you in casual tones: 

“Did you see the way she smiled at the professor?” 

“Looks like she’s winning through flirting.” 

“Always told you she’s a total —” 

You always caught enough of their conversations to know what they were implying. 

The word slut hung over your head like a second name. 

You tried to ignore it. 

You buried yourself in work, on the countless simulation, on Johnny’s lectures and then, when everybody left the lab, on Reed’s questions and notes. 

But the whispers only grew.

Johnny found out one evening, when he saw you sitting at your desk with your notes untouched, staring blankly into space. He walked in as if he hadn’t noticed your expression, holding out his box of cereal like it was some kind of ‘don’t think about useless stuff’ offering.

“Don’t let idiots ruin your work,” he said casually, but you could see he was worried. “They may be PhD students too, but trust me, they’re not worth the brain cells.” 

You shook your head at the cereals, forcing a whisper. “I know. It’s just…Tiring.”

He crouched down to your level, forcing your gaze back from the void. “I can always set them on fire and call it an incident.” 

A little smile cracked through you. “Not necessary,” you said, then added, softer. “But thank you anyway, Johnny.”

His smile faltered into something gentler, almost sad, like your voice had landed into his mind more than he thought it would. He didn’t push. Instead, he just dropped his cereal box on the desk beside yours and pulled up a chair. 

No grand gesture. Just him staying with you, shoulder to shoulder, quietly arguing together about some simulations until the weight on your chest eased enough to breathe again.  

_

Reed, bless his soul, noticed a little bit later. 

You’d stepped out for a short break, leaving your things scattered across your station. He was going through documents when a folded note fell out.

He took it, and after reading it, he slipped it quietly into his pocket before you could see it.

When you returned from your pause, he was back at his desk, already concentrated on something. Only his voice betrayed him. 

“Personal attacks have no place here. And if anyone believes they can undermine another person’s contribution, they will answer to me, Johnny, or professor Sharn. In proper terms.”

He never looked up, but the air in the lab shifted.

You remained frozen at the center of the room, your throat tightening. “Thank you,” you whispered. 

_ 

That night, after Franklin was tucked into bed, Reed unfolded the note and placed it on the living room’s table. His voice was measured, quiet. 

“It’s not just harmless gossip. Whoever wrote this wanted to unsettle her, make her doubt her own position as a scientist. It’s harassment.”

The only person missing there was you. You’d politely declined Sue’s invitation to dinner, saying you still had too much to finish in the lab, but they all knew better.

Reading the note without taking it, Sue’s arms crossed tightly over her chest. “We’ve all dealt with academy envy, but this?” She shook her head, eyes flicking briefly toward the baby monitor. “Nobody thrives if they’re forced to live under that every single day.”

When Johnny took the note, his expression went from blank to pure anger. He stared at it, jaw tight, before he slowly crumpled the paper and slipped it into the pocked of his jacket.  

“She’s still in the lab?” 

“I hope not,” Reed answered, glancing at the clock. “She was there earlier, but I hope she’s home now. I can check if she’s still logged into the system.”

Johnny was already rising from the sofa, his face unreadable. “Don’t bother. I’ll check myself.” His tone left no room for argument and he was going down with the elevator before Reed could say another word.

Once he got out, Ben let a long, gravelly sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I don’t want to say it, but….”

Sue’s gaze lingered on the elevator Johnny had just walked through, lips pressed into a thin line.  “I know,” she said finally, her voice carrying concern.

_

The lab was awfully quiet.

You usually liked the peace it came when everyone left, but lately the silence felt heavier, pressing in on you, dragging your thoughts to things you didn’t want to think about.

Nevertheless, you stayed late, trying to finish some calculations, pretending the glow of the monitor could anchor you to reality. 

“Still here?” 

The voice cut through the quiet like a match striking in the dark. 

Your head snapped up. Johnny leaned in the doorway, his burgundy jacket, the almost-twin to yours, over a black shirt, hair mussed from running a hand through it. Day after day he looked less like a professor and more like someone who cared too much. 

It was disarming.

“I’m finishing this data set,” you said, forcing your eyes back to the screen. “Some of us actually work in the lab.”

His laugh was low, quite amused. Footsteps carried him closer. “Careful. You keep talking like that and I might start thinking you don’t find me inspiring.”

“I don’t,” you shot back too fast.

“Liar.”

You finally looked at him, ready to roll your eyes, but he wasn’t smirking. Not fully. He was studying you—serious, curious, almost… impressed.

The silence stretched. Your heartbeat was too loud in your ears.

He broke it first, leaning over your desk to glance at your notes. His sleeve brushed your arm, warm where it grazed your skin. “You spotted this variable shift?” His finger traced the margin, as usual dangerously close to your hand. “That’s sharp. Reed himself missed that the first time we ran the model.”

You swallowed hard. “It’s basic pattern recognition.”

“Don’t downplay it,” his voice softened. “You see things. That’s rare.”

You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath. “What are you doing here?” 

Johnny straightened, the casual grin gone, replaced by something more serious, even protective. 

“I came to check on you,” he tilted his head toward the window. “Reed found a note today. You colleagues are crap. Sue was pissed – well, she didn’t say it outright, but she’s Sue. She’s a diplomat. Always trying not to set fire to someone.”

A small, unwilling chuckle slipped from you. “It’s fine. I can handle it. Always have.”

“No.” His reply came fast, firm, his gaze again on you. “You don’t handle it alone. Not anymore.”

The air shifted. You sat frozen, staring at him, every nerve in your body humming from his closeness.  For once, there was no playfulness in his voice, no teasing. Just quiet intensity.  

“Why do you do that?” you asked, voice thinner than you meant, betraying you.

“Easy. We care,” he answered steady. Then, his eyes softened. “I care.” 

The silence afterward was deafening.

And that was the moment you realized: the line, the invisible one you’d kept carefully drawn between you and him, had shifted. Permanently.

He looked at you with unnerving focus, like you were the only person he wanted to understand. “Care to join me on the rooftop?” He asked last, his voice quieter. “I’ll have H.E.R.B.I.E. preparing something for dinner.”

You blinked. “Dinner?”

“Yeah,” he leaned even more toward you, his eyes never wavering. “Don’t look at me like that. I know you skipped Sue’s invite. And judging by the way you were glued to that screen, you’d probably skip eating.”

Your instinct was to argue, to tell him you’ll go home and have something there, but his offer was so simple, so gentle that you hesitated. 

“Johnny, this isn’t…”

“Worsening things?” He finished for you, soft but pointed while he started to walk back toward the door. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just a way to fix things in your head. To have a peaceful night and think about anything else.”

Your breath caught. He didn’t push, he just waited for your reply. 

Finally, you exhaled, closing your laptop. “Fine,” you said, standing before you could think better of it. “Lead the way.”

“Lead the way, she says,” he echoed, but the gleam in his eyes suggested he was having fun.

He let you go into the elevator first, a little bow with his hand, exaggerated enough to dissolve the previous tension. You rolled your eyes, but it didn’t erase the way your pulse quickened as you stepped past him.

_

The elevator ride felt so short that you almost asked Johnny why you hadn’t taken the stairs. 

When you stepped onto the rooftop, the city lights sprawled below like a scattering of stars. The breeze tugged at your hair, and Johnny quickened his pace to go and lean against the railing, almost relaxed. 

“Do you have preferences for dinner?” He asked, fingers tapping at the screen of his wristband, eyes fixed on you in waiting. 

You shrugged, a faint smile tugging at your lips while you looked at the city. You leaned against the railing too, Johnny standing so close you could almost touch him. “Nothing fancy. I’d just… Like something warm.”

He glanced back at the screen, then smirked. “H.E.R.B.I.E. will handle that.” 

“That’s… Nice,” you said, eyes still locked over the landscape.

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “What? The dinner or the rooftop?” he asked. “Well, dinner hasn’t arrived yet, so telling me that dinner is nice would be cheating.”

You laughed. “The rooftop. The quiet. It’s nice here.”

He exhaled. “Yeah. I always come here when I want to clear my mind,” he admitted. 

“Happens often?” You asked, still avoiding his gaze, though you could feel the weight of it. 

“More than I’d like to admit,” he replied. “And now, apparently, I come here when I need to check on someone who works too hard and wants to forget things.”

You finally turned your head slightly, finally letting your eyes meet his. “Oh? Someone’s trying to disturb the peace of the mythical matchstick?”

Johnny’s smirk deepened, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Someone here is trying to keep up with my sarcasm I see.”

You tried to look annoyed, but the corners of your mouth lifted a little. “Careful, I might take that as a challenge.”

“Please, do,” he said, leaning a little closer to you, elbows resting on the railing next to your hands. “It’s rare I find someone who doesn’t immediately fold under the pressure of the amazing Human Torch.”

You laughed softly, the sound carried away by the breeze. “I surely don’t fold. I may bend to your strange lectures, try not to fall asleep or tormenting you in the lab for flirting with everyone and losing my precious time, but I don’t fold.”

Johnny chuckled, a low, amused sound. “Noted. Being my amazing self in class torments you. I’ll try to improve my muchness, thank you.”

A pause fell between you, comfortable now. 

“By the way…,” he started. “Birthdays. Do you usually celebrate them, or are you one of those people who pretend it’s just another day?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “I usually celebrate them. I buy a small cake, maybe a book or two. Nothing too dramatic.”

“Books, huh? So, your idea of a wild birthday is eating cake while surrounded by dusty shelves?”

“Exactly. Very thrilling.”

“Quiet, smart, a little mysterious. Definitely a party,” he pointed.

“Should I consider it as a compliment or an insult?” 

“Both?” He said with a smirk. “I want to see it myself. Your birthday, I mean. Consider it… Research.”

You shook your head. “Research, huh?”

“The most dangerous kind,” he replied, tone teasing but eyes warm.

For a moment, the teasing was tempered by something warmer. 

“December twelfth,” you offered, almost reluctantly. 

He froze for a fraction of a second, eyes widening slightly. “WAIT. That was yesterday.”

Your lips twitched. “Exactly. Twenty-eight candles already off. Your research might be a day late.”

He groaned, letting his head falling between his arms on the railing, a low and exaggerated sigh that somehow made the moment lighter instead of awkward. 

“You already lost your progress on your research, huh?” you teased, glancing at him.

Johnny peeked at you, annoyed. “Ah, yes. The elusive birthday scientist ritual. How could I ever forget it? Reed’s the same.”

A faint mechanical whir cut through the quiet, as H.E.R.B.I.E. arrived, carefully balancing a small tray between his mechanical arms. Johnny immediately reached out to take it from him, scratching his head. “Thanks, Herbs,” he thanked the little robot as it retreated back inside.

Turning back to you, he raised the tray. “Dinner’s arrived for the late-birthday-scientist!” He said simply. “Consider this part of my research. Data collection No. 1: how good food and rooftops views affect the subject’s happiness at late-birthday parties.”

“Amazing, you’ve already traded in the professor’s clothes for the researcher’s ones, I see. Admirable, Storm.”

Johnny laughed. “What can I say? I am amazing and so it is my wardrobe.” He set the tray down careful on the floor. “This dinner is so gloriously unprofessional that if magazines saw it, they’d definitely toss one of my dozens of ‘perfect bachelor’ interviews straight in the trash.”

You settled down cross-legged on the floor, the cool rooftop concrete biting pleasantly at your legs after hours in the warm lab. “Don’t worry,” you said, smirking. “There will always be some girl who drools not so secretly behind your back.” 

Johnny’s grin widened as he plopped down opposite you, leaving just enough space not to be too close. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to focus on the company of the only one that doesn’t do that tonight.” He glanced at you, teasing. “Shall we start this groundbreaking research?”

The two of you shared a quiet laugh before digging in the pizzas H.E.R.B.I.E. menaged to get you. 

“So,” he started, “do late-birthday scientists usually conduct experiments with food and amazing company too, or is this a special case?”

You snorted. “Special case. Most of the time it’s just me, the cake, and a mountain of books. An extra cup of hot tea if I’m feeling fancy.”

“How the hell do you survive without coffee?” He asked abruptly. “I always see you drinking tea.”

“Never liked the savor of it,” you admitted. “But I like the smell. I know it sounds strange.”

Johnny looked at you, shaking his head. “Not to taste, but to smell. You’re ridiculous. I couldn’t function without at least three cups of large coffee in the lab.”

“That’s because you’re weak and old. You need to get a catch on your low hyperactivity through caffeine.”

He looked at you offended. “Excuse yourself? I am definitely not weak or old.” 

“Just what an old, cranky man would answer…”

Johnny shoved you a little and started to laugh. A rich, unrestrained sound that made the city around you quieter. “Old AND cranky? Oh, I see how it is. You’re hiding your old age with tea-snob insults now?”

You grinned, stealing a slice of his pizza. “Absolutely. Someone has to keep your ego in check.”

“Dangerous, dangerous game,” he warned, leaning a little closer with a smile. “You keep teasing me like that, and I might start thinking you actually enjoy my company.”

“Worse,” you say dryly. “I’m studying you. As a human being, not as a headline. For science, obviously”

He leaned back, pretending to scribble notes in the air between you. “Hmm… Observation No.2: the subject shows sign of possible attraction, with attempts at plausible deniability. Noted.”

You rolled your eyes. “You wish, Storm.”

The teasing between you had shifted: it was warmer now, a quiet intimacy built brick by brick. And if that night felt calm and almost funny, you couldn’t imagine what it would be like on the tenth or the hundredth night. 

…But you let the thought slip.

It was a dangerous path.

“Careful, careful, my not sweetheart. See, notice how I didn’t actually call you that,” his voice lower now, “your ‘research’ might be backfiring. I’m dangerously engaged in the experiment.”

You told yourself that was you felt was all about science. Your body just reacted at the way he talked to you. Your pulse quickened at the way he looked at you. His voice brushed your senses in a way that was too endearing. You even convinced yourself for a moment. 

But the more you sat with him, the more you questioned the boundaries: where the almost-gone formalities ended, where a possible friendship was possible… Where something more began. 

So, you pushed them. 

You tilted your head, studying him carefully. “Okay, professor Storm,” you started, voice playful, “if you’re going to observe me, it’s only fair I return the favor, isn’t it? Tell me. All geniuses and awful professors obliged by Dr. Sharn have messy hair after thinking too hard, or is that just you?”

Johnny looked mock-offended. “Messy hair? That’s called ‘perfectly styled hair’. And no, only one genius can carry them as well as I do.”

You smirked. “Incredibly modest and absolutely not just messy. Noted. Are your hobbies messy too?”

He kept the teasing glint in his eyes. “Oh, is this a student being good in her professor’s class? What is it, Johnny’s Personal Life 101?” 

“Maybe,” you mused, pretending to write down more notes. “So, what is it? Saving good girls and asking kisses as thanks? Awfully black coffees and sad notes without color in them?” 

He shocked his head. “First of all, I do not ask for kisses around,” he began, shrugging. 

Your eyebrow shot up so high it practically touched your hairline – not for real, but the feeling was the same. Johnny laughed. 

“Okay, okay. I went on… a few dates. To remain PG-14. Perhaps when you’re of age, I’ll tell you more. Or show more,” he teased leaning so close you had to literally shove him away.

“Ew, go away, attention-seeker. You’re a disgrace for poor introverted people like me.”

“Could’ve sworn you were an introvert,” he countered with a grin, “you gave me the scariest aura the first time I saw you, and especially the first time you annihilated me in class.”

“Storm is scared of actually stormy personalities, noted,” you shot back. “Also, notice what clever wordplay I put in there. So, hobbies?” 

Johnny pretended to think. “Beside setting myself on fire and tormenting brilliant scientists? Cars, building and dismantling any object I can get my hands on, music. Oh, and the most exclusive one: annoying my sister until she threatens to throw me out the window.”

“Well, first of all, good you said ‘dismantling objects,’ because I was ready to say that if you meant people, that’d look really bad on your curriculum,” you started. “Second, typical sibling love. That’s relatable.”

You could literally see his curiosity emerging. “Having an older sister too?”

“Nope. Younger brother. Much younger.” You smiled warmly at the thought. “I adore him, but if I don’t prank him, who would? Strangers? No way.”

He nodded, understanding fully. “See him often?”

Your smile faltered a little. “Not much. Twice a year if I’m lucky.”

The air shifted a little. He caught it immediately: his eyes softened and he didn’t push, didn’t ask. He just let the moment breathe, and you were quietly grateful for it. 

“I remember when Sue first went to college,” he said after a beat, changing slightly the subject. “Things were quite horrible at home after mom died, and Sue… Well, she basically became my mother. When she left, it was difficult not having her around 24/7. I hated it. I tried to act cool, but to be honest? I used to sneak into her room and steal her notebooks so I could read them. I thought that if I crammed hard enough, I’d suddenly be smart enough to skip grades and follow her there.”

You blinked at him. “That’s definitely in-between sweet, nerdy, and creepy.”

“Hey,” he protested, a faint grin tugging at his mouth as he tilted his head toward the stars. “It was my coping strategy! And I never did it again once she caught me. Sue yelling? Way scarier than anything I’ve always fought as the Human Torch.” 

That pulled a laugh out of you, soft but real. The heaviness in your mind loosened, and your breathing felt easy again. 

Johnny glanced sideways at you. “See? Amazing night with the better Storm sibling you can put your hands on, and the brooding’s go away.”

“Better Storm sibling? And you really just said ‘put your hands on’ ?Excuse me? Never, thank you.”

Johnny puffed a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Big words from the same one who stares at me in the lab or when I’m with Franklin.”

“Not my fault your nephew is the cutest child on the planet,” you pouted. “And by the way, now the brooding is your trademark? Damn, Storm. You could at least leave something to us poor mortals with nothing but a studio apartment and a desperate dream of a Nobel Prize.”

His eyes narrowed playfully. “A Nobel, huh? Quite ambitious this scientist here. So, when you accept it, should I expect to be thanked in your speech? You know, something like ‘to the majestic Johnny Storm, for the pizza-fueled rooftop dinners that made it all possible and his amazing charm that enlightened my days’”. 

You gave him a deadpanned look. “More like, ‘to Johnny Storm, who annoyed me so much I hid in science for mental relief’”. 

He clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch. Wounded. That’s going in my memoir.”

“Memoir?” you scoffed. “What would it even be called? Hotshot 101: How to Pretend To Be Humble’?”

“Hotshot, huh?” he laughed. “Jokes aside, if I ever write a memoir, Franklin’s quotes like ‘Uncle Johnny burnt the tv again’ would be in the front page. That kid thinks I’m a superhero even when I burn popcorn or his dinner.” His voice softened, almost unconsciously. “That little guy makes everything feel lighter. Even on the worst days.”

The sudden warmth in his tone lingered, and you reciprocated the warm smile. “You really are a different person around your family,” you started. “It’s… Refreshing. And seeing you loving Franklin so much? I think Sue’s heart is full.”

“Well, he’s got Sue wrapped around his finger. Reed’s brain already in his genes. Then there’s me to teach him how to do dumb tricks and Ben who keeps him alive and gives him cookies whenever he can – you didn’t hear the last part, mind you,” he stated. “Poor kid doesn’t stand a chance.”

You smiled, small but genuine. “Sounds like he’s lucky.”

Johnny tilted his head toward you. “Guess we’ll see what he thinks when he grows up. And by the way, he mentions you a lot.”

“What? Me?”

Johnny chuckled, savoring your surprise. “Didn’t notice the way he runs toward you every time? Apparently, you’re ‘the smart girl who explains stars better than Uncle Johnny’.” He lifted a hand, pointing at his heart. “Do you have any idea how humiliating and awful for my heart that is? I literally am the star of his life. I literally went into space and returned as a hot superhero!”

You laughed. “Well, maybe he just prefers people who don’t set their explanations about the planetary system on fire.”

“Damn. Betrayed by my own family,” he said dramatically. “No, really, he adores you. Every time you’ve been over, he talks about you for days. Kinda makes me wonder what exactly you’re telling him.”

“It’s a secret,” you teased. “If you want to know, you’ll have to bribe me, maybe.”

“Oh, bribes I can do,” Johnny said instantly, counting them off on his fingers. “Pizza, rooftop dinners, cups of hot tea delivered on demand. Just say the word.”

You shook your head, amused. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You already told me that.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re ridiculously ridiculous. Double the trouble.”

“Nope. I may say… Ridiculously effective,” he shot back with a lazy grin.

As the night lapsed into a softer silence again, the hum of the city below filled the space. 

The boundaries you tried to kept up in your head were beginning to blur.

And maybe, judging by the way Johnny’s gaze lingered on you, in his mind too. 

The following morning, you were the first to arrive at the lab. 

You’d gone in early on purpose, to set your things up and starting the day slowly. In reality, you needed the quiet before your colleagues arrived. The memories of the previous night, before Johnny accompanied you at your apartment, were still fresh in your mind.  

It had been strange – a good kind of strange – knowing all those aspects of him. At last, the way he insisted to accompany you home made you smile. He walked next to you with his hands shoved in his pockets, as if was trying not to touch yours. He even gave you a teasing smile and a remark when you fumbled for your keys and then, he didn’t leave until your front door clicked shut and you were safe inside.

When you approached to your desk, you froze. 

A cup of steaming tea sat neatly there, faint curls of steam rising as if it had been placed there only minutes before. Next to it there was a small note full of words in Johnny’s unmistakably and messy handwriting. 

For the scientist who insists tea is better than coffee. Data collection No.3: happiness levels when caffeinated (you way, not mine).

You stared at it for a long moment. It was ridiculous, childish even. And yet, your chest ached with warmth. You couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Picking up the cup, you let the heath soak into your hands. One sip was enough to recognized the perfect formula: two spoons of sugar, steeped five minutes. Exactly how you liked it.

“Woah, special service?”

You nearly chocked. One of your colleagues leaned over your desk, eyebrows raised, gaze already locked onto the cup and then, inevitably, sliding toward the note. 

You slid your hand over it, quick but not enough.

“Wait,” he grinned, triumphant, “is that Professor Storm’s handwriting?” 

Yor jaw tightened. “No. Just my business. Minding yours when?”

That only emboldened him. He leaned closer, his voice dropping into a mock-whisper. “Oh, come on. Don’t lie. Everyone sees it. Bet this is why you’re always working afterhours.”

Your face stayed stoic. “You’re imagining things.”

He smirked, ready to push harder on the subject.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t do that.”

The voice from the doorway cut clean through the room. Sue stood there, arms crossed. Her voice was calm but carried a weight that instantly made your colleague stiffen.

She stepped closer, looking directly into his eyes. “And for the record, she’s working here afterhours because Dr. Richards is her co-tutor. Not that it’s any of your business.” Her tone sharpened like broken glass. “But if you’d prefer, I can inform Dr. Sharn you’re spending your hours harassing your peers instead of working.”

He stammered something inaudible, possibly an excuse, before slinking to the far end of the lab.

You let out a slow breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Sue didn’t look at you right away. She only glanced at the note on your desk, murmured under her breath, “he’s an idiot”, and then began arranging her own things. 

By the time everyone arrived, it was as though nothing had happened, with the exception of the lingering thrum in your chest and the silent knowledge that Sue had seen and chosen to protect you.

“Alright, today I’ll be lecturing. We’ll discuss on diplomacy and ethics in space exploration.”

The words felt almost pointed, but you shoved the thought aside. Still, as the lesson stretched on, you could feel the glances from your colleagues.

Sue noticed too. Halfway through, her patience snapped.

“If you’re not interested,” she said suddenly, still looking at the board, “you are invited to leave. Immediately.” 

The whole room immediately silenced. No one dared to move.

“As I thought,” she said as a matter of fact.

By the time the lecture ended, the others scattered quickly, whispering low among themselves but careful not to linger. You were gathering your things when Sue approached, her steps light.

“You okay?” She asked softly.

You nodded, guilty. “Yeah, thanks. Sorry for the disturbance.”

Her gaze softened. “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault.” She hesitated, her eyes flicking briefly toward your desk and then back. “And I know Johnny didn’t mean harm. But…”

“He isn’t exactly helping”, you admitted quietly. 

She gave a small, grave nod. “Come on. Let’s get out of here for a while.”

You hesitated. “I should let Reed know…”

“Already did,” she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Told him you’d with me if he didn’t see you arriving on time.”

The tightness in your chest loosened a little. “Thanks, Sue. Really.”

As the two of you entered a café, you settled into a corner booth. The clink of cups, the low murmur of strangers… Everything felt softer there, like a pocket of calm during a storm. 

“Black coffee for me,” Sue told the waiter, then tilted her head toward you with a knowing curve of her lips. “And a tea for her.”

You blinked, surprised. “How’d you…”

Her smile deepened. “You’ve been living in that lab for months. I noticed there was never a cup of coffee on your desk, only ones with teabags inside. And Johnny… Well, he’s been trying to make your cups during the day, hoping you wouldn’t notice. Until today.”

Heat pricked at the back of your neck. “Wait. Seriously?”

She hummed, stirring her coffee. Her tone was serious, but you could definitely perceive a hint of teasing in it. “He’s persistent. And an idiot, sometimes. But he’s also the person I’d destroy the world for if something ever happened to him. And he’d do the same for the people he cares about.” Her gaze held yours, steady and protective. “Whatever’s happening between you two, I don’t mind. In fact, I am glad. I’ve never seen him soften for anyone like this… Except for Franklin, of course. But be careful. He’s still your professor. And the way this looks to others? It could go wrong fast. You’ve worked too hard to risk everything.”

Her words landed heavy in your chest. “I know. I’m being careful. And…” You hesitated “We’re just friends, I guess.”

Sue’s expression softened further. “We’ll see that. Right now, I just don’t want to see your career ruined because of someone else’s jealousy. You’re becoming family to us. To Johnny. To Franklin.” 

Your throat tightened at that. “Thank you, Sue. I… I really appreciate that. You all watching out for me. It means the world. I’m not really used to it, I see my own family so little I usually feel like I don’t have one anymore.”

She reached across the table, wrapping her hand around yours. “No need to explain, darling. You’ve got us now. Drink your tea before it gets cold, and keep your head in the game, scientist. Even if Mr. Persistent is a walking distraction.”

A laugh slipped out before you could stop it, the tension finally loosening. “Noted, mentor.”

Sue smirked, eyes twinkling. “Good. Now, tell me… What chaos is the lab brewing these days? I’m in the mood for gossip.”  

And just like that, with Sue’s warmth wrapped around you like a shield, the world felt a little steadier again. 

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged. 

Later that evening, you slipped back into the lab to grab a notebook you’d forgotten. 

The corridors were quiet, as most of the team had already left.

Except one.

Johnny was leaning against your desk, as if he’d been waiting for you. The sight startled you: the way he looked at ease there, his fingers skimming your analysis, putting notes everywhere he could.

“Hey, doc,” he said without looking up. “You left your tea unfinished,” he gestured toward the cup.“Kinda rude, after the effort I put in.”

You arched a brow, pulse already betraying you. “That tea practically brewed itself.”

“Nah,” he grinned, boyish, easy. He finally looked up and stepped closer. “Timing, sugar ratios, water temperature… Perfectly calibrated for a perfect scientist.”

You fought a smile. “Or you’re just trying way too hard to impress your own student.”

That earned you a mock-wounded gasp. “Brutal.” The grin slipped into something softer. “You liked it, though?”

You left a tired breath. “Johnny…”

His voice lowered. “Sue told me about today.” His eyes searched yours. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The question landed like a punch. Your lips parted, but nothing came out before you whispered. “I didn’t want to make things worse.” 

Johnny’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Worse? You really think me knowing what’s happening to you would make things worse?”

Your gaze dropped at the floor. “It already has. The stares, the whispers. People are talking, Johnny. Even though we know there’s nothing to say, they talk. And… In a way, you’re making this situation more visible,” you said with a cracked voice. 

For a long beat, he said nothing. His expression shifted, edges softening into something raw. “I thought I was making you less alone,” he admitted quietly. 

“I never asked you for that.”

The hurt in his eyes was so unguarded that it made your chest ache. His hand lifted slightly, hesitant, as if reaching you was something he couldn’t do. “You didn’t,” he murmured. “But you looked like you needed it.” 

You shook your head, voice sharper than you meant. “You do not know me as much as you think you do, Johnny.”

That stopped him cold. His eyes widened for a second, then the flicker of hope behind them blew out. His arm dropped heavily at his side. An empty chuckle escaped him. “Yeah. Maybe I really don’t,” he said, voice now bitter. “But I thought… I thought I was finally starting to.”

The silence pressed hard between you. It was thick, suffocating. Neither of you moved. 

And then, he turned away. He didn’t try again. “Good night,” he said before disappearing. 

You stayed frozen until the echo of his steps faded completely. Only then you collapsed into the chair, the weight of the air pressing against your ribs making difficult for you to breathe. 

When you finally lifted your head, your gaze fell on the same notebook you intended to take before. On the page, a crooked scrawl in a yellow post-it stared back at you, small and almost shy in its simplicity:

Can we talk? I want to do better.

Your vision blurred. You didn’t realize the tears had started slipping until one smudged the ink on the paper. You pressed your hand against your mouth. You tought you could hold everything inside, but the ache only grew heavier. You tried to fix the note, but you failed. It rested crumpled in your hand.

Then, a warmth hand settled on your shoulder. A firm, but gentle pressure that made you shiver.

“It’s okay,” a voice murmured softly. Calm, familiar. 

Sue. 

Your shoulders gave in, relief and surprise colliding. You hadn’t even realized how tired you were until now. 

“I… I’m fine,” you whispered, though you could feel the lie in your words. 

“I know,” she said, tone steady, unshakable. “Johnny called me. Said he didn’t want you to be alone right now.”

You blinked, trying to process. “He… He shouldn’t…”

“He cares,” Sue interrupted, simple as fact. “And you don’t have to face it all by yourself.”

That night, you let her lead you to the guest room. Too exhausted to argue, you collapsed onto the bed, still clutching the crumpled note in your hand. 

_

The following days, you moved through the lab like a shadow. 

No more smiles. No more steaming cups waiting on your desks. No more stupid notes scrawled in messy handwriting that used to make you laugh when no one was watching. 

Each morning, Johnny came in the same: loud for everyone else, but for you, only silence. A single glance, quick and pained, before he looked away. Even afterhours, when the lab was nearly empty, he’d pass behind you and Reed without a word, the distance between you louder than anything.

Your colleagues seemed to notice too. Their laughter grew sharper. The comments heavier, as if they noticed the sudden coldness and were waiting for the cracks to show.

One time, you caught a group of your colleagues by the elevator. Their voices dropped the second they saw you, but one, braver or dumber than the rest, muttered just loud enough for you to hear. “Guess sleeping with the professor had its perks.”

The words froze your steps. Your grip on the papers tightened until the edges dug into your skin. You wanted to snap back, but your throat refused to cooperate.

The air shifted behind you. 

“Funny,” Johnny’s voice cut through, deceptively light. His smile was easy, but his eyes weren’t. “Because last time I checked, I’m the professor here. And unless I didn’t know about that, I do not talk about my private life with any of you. And, last time I checked, your grade isn’t determined by whatever garbage you’re spouting.”

The group stiffened, laughter dying on their lips.

Johnny strolled closer. “Here’s the deal. You want to fail my and Dr. Sharn class right before you should finish your PhD? Fine by me. I’ll even make it entertaining. But you don’t,” his voice dropped, heat shimmering in the air, “get to touch any of the other students in my class with your cheap little rumors. You understand me?”

No one answered.

“Good. Because the next time I hear something like that,” he snapped his fingers, a spark igniting in midair and dancing dangerously close to the coward’s sleeve. The student flinched back, wide-eyed. “I’ll be less polite.”

The group scattered in silence, leaving you alone with him in the hallway.

Johnny turned back, already ignoring you again.  

You finally found your voice, though it cracked on the way out. “You didn’t have to…”

“Yeah, I did,” he interrupted. He looked at you briefly, then disappeared into the corridors.  

_

By the afternoon on the tenth day, you couldn’t stand the suffocation anymore. You slipped outside into the biting air, settling onto a bench near the building. The sky above was streaked with fading light, clouds drifting lazily. 

You were staring at that when you felt it: the subtle shift in the air, that unmistakable warmth creeping closer. 

“You’re ignoring me,” you whispered, eyes still on the clouds. 

He didn’t sit. Didn’t even step close enough to touch. He just lingered behind you. He drew in a breath before answering quietly.

“You are too.”

Your throat tightened. When you turned, the sight of him struck you. He looked different. Stripped down, tired. 

“Well, I’m not the one in the position to do something, am I?” 

Johnny’s gaze flickered, wounded but steady. “You’re in the position to do everything. And I wouldn’t say a damn word against you, if you could just see that.” His voice was low, raw, as if each word costed him too much. “You were the one who stepped back without real explanations. You didn’t give me the chance to fix it. So, I did the only thing left: backed off. Kept my distance. Tried not to make it worse.”

Your chest ached. “I didn’t…” You faltered, words slipping through the cracks in your defense. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”

Something sparked in his eyes: anger, hurt, the weight of something left unsaid. “Yeah, well. That makes two of us.”

You stood slowly, your pulse loud in your ears. He stepped a little closer to you, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, like it was the only way he could keep them steady. “I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want. Just… Say it. Say the word, and just like I told you that night on the rooftop, I’d do the thing.”

“I can’t,” you admitted, voice breaking. “But at the same time…”

“You would like to,” he finished softly. You nodded. 

His lips curved in the faintest smile. “There’s no need to say anything...”

You gave him a puzzled look as he closed the distance between you. Only inches were separating you now.  

His head tilted, lowering toward yours. 

“It’s messy, Johnny,” you whispered, panic and longing tangled in your chest. “I don’t want to ruin everything. The lab. Our work. Your reputation. My career.”

He exhaled, so close you could feel the warmth of it. “It won’t ruin anything if we’re careful. I’ll step back… Or, if you don’t want that, we’ll hide it until the right time arrives.”

Your words failed. Instead, your eyes locked with his. A single tear slipped down your cheek, and he caught it with his hand, cupping your face as though you might break.  

Then, his lips met yours. 

Slow at first, tentative, as if he was testing the fragile boundaries neither of you had dared to cross until that moment. Then it deepened, urgent yet gentle, the perfect balance of longing and restrain. Your hands slid up the back of his neck, pulling him closer and closer, terrified he might vanish.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, your foreheads stayed pressed together, noses brushing. 

“Johnny…,” you whispered, trembling. “I know,” he murmured. “I don’t want to ruin everything either. But I also can’t ignore this anymore. I won’t.”

Fear tightened your heart. “You’re sure we’ll figure it out?” 

He chuckled softly, a sound that made your heart jump. God, you had missed it.  “Figure it out? Please. Am I or not the only reckless researcher dumb enough to run experiments on this troublesome, future-Nobel-Prize-winning scientist?”

You let out a laugh, half exasperation, half relief. You shoved his shoulder lightly, only to immediately pull him back again by the neck.

“You’re just impossible. A menace. The only guy capable of burning poor Franklin’s toys.”

Johnny blinked, scandalized. “What?! He told you that? It happened one time! One!”  “Yeah, you impossible hotshot,” you teased, grinning now.

He groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “Great. Just great. I finally kiss the girl I’m desperately in love with, and my prize is getting mocked for a science experiment gone wrong.”

You froze, his words twirling around your mind. 

Desperately in love with. 

Desperately in love with. 

Desperately in love with. 

“Johnny…,” your pulse spiked. The words still wrapped around your chest like fire. 

He lifted his head, eyes steady, a small, crooked smile tugging at his lips. “What, you really think I’ve been sneaking tea and scribbling notes everywhere just for the fun of it?”

You rolled your eyes, but your voice came softer. “Could’ve fooled me. I thought it was just part of your research’s method.”

“Mm, a scientist never reveals his techniques to the case-study,” he countered, brushing his nose against yours. “Observation No.5: subject’s happy when teased. Conclusion: subject’s into me.”

You laughed, breathless. “Your data analysis sucks. Where’s Observation No.4?”

He smirked, kissing you again. “Oh, well. That’s the best one so far. Observation No.4: the subject holds me tighter every time I kiss her. Conclusion: the subject loves being kissed by me.” He stated, grin widened. “And the correlative hypothesis stands stronger every second.”

“And what’s that?” 

“That you’re stuck with me from now on,” he said simply. 

You shook your head, smiling helplessly. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible and yours,” Johnny added, stealing another kiss. 

The sound of footsteps broke the spell, pulling you both back into reality. You moved apart, still smiling. 

Johnny’s fingers lingered at your wrist for one heartbeat longer before finally slipping away. 

“We should…” You murmured, eyes darting nervously toward the building. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “You first.”

You nodded, already moving. From time to time, your gaze turned back over your shoulder. Every time, you found Johnny there, already grinning like he knew exactly what was going on in your head. “Can’t take your eyes off me, huh?” He teased.  

You snorted. “Oh, please. I was just making sure you don’t burst into flames.”

Johnny chuckled under his breath, closing the distance in one easy stride. His fingers brushed against yours. If anyone looked at you, they would see it as an accidental gesture. 

You didn’t pull away and neither did he. 

By the time you reached the doors, Johnny’s eyes slid to yours. “So,” he drawled. “Do you want to keep this quiet for now? Or do you wish to tell the others?”

You hesitated, Sue’s words echoing in the back of your mind. “We can… See how it goes,” you started, carefully. “Then, we’ll tell them. Of course, we don’t have much of a choice for the rest. Not now at least.”

Johnny tilted his head, studying you like he was absorbing every word. “Fine by me,” he said, voice lowering until it was meant only for you. “We’ll play it cool. But just so you know…” His grin widened, “I’m gonna be insufferable in private. Seeing you and not being able to kiss the soul out of you in public? Holding your hand whenever I damn want? Not screaming at the world how much of a genius you are? Simple torture.” 

You chuckled. “We’ll see.”

He leaned closer, just a bit in order not to look strange for the guards. “Oh, we’ll more than see, trouble. You have no idea what you’ve signed up for.”

At first, you and Johnny thought you were being subtle about hiding your relationship. 

Exceptional, even. 

Just a glance here, a brush of fingers when nobody was looking there… Nothing too obvious. 

But of course, you should’ve known better.

After all, living and working with geniuses had its perks… And its drawbacks.

Sue had been the first to notice. 

She caught you one evening in the lab, her gaze lingering a little too long as Johnny leaned over your shoulder closer than necessary, whispering something that made you laugh. Then, just briefly, you rose your head and kissed him. 

She definitely didn’t miss a thing, especially the blissful, frozen expression on her brother’s face as he watched you, utterly captivated.

Later, as you gathered things while Johnny was already waiting for you at the exit of the building, Sue slid beside you, lips quirking with amusement. 

“I’m not saying anything,” she said, voice light. “But try not to fry his last remaining neuron with a single kiss, okay?”

You froze. “I…”

She squeezed your arm, warm and knowing. “As I said, I am happy for you. Just remember: be careful.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving you flushed and utterly embarrassed. 

_ 

Reed was next, though he never said it out loud. 

He noticed the patterns, the way Johnny’s focus and energy spiked whenever you were around, and H.E.R.B.I.E., in its cheerful, precise way, confirmed from time to time the correlations.

One afternoon, he entered the lab and just… Stared. 

“Interesting,” he muttered. 

“What?” You asked, trying to keep your pulse at ease. 

“The actual correlation,” he said distractedly, thinking aloud about H.E.R.B.I.E.. “Whenever you’re in the room, Johnny’s productivity goes up for real by 60%. Statistically improbable unless…” He paused, glancing at your flushed faces. “Fascinating.” 

Then, as if that was all he wanted to say, he returned to his equations. 

You wished the floor would swallow you whole. Johnny, meanwhile, couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped past his lips and left a small kiss in the crown of your head. 

_ 

Ben catching you had been a total accident too.

It was late, the Baxter Building already quiet. Everyone else had gone to bed… Or so you thought.  You were supposed to be already in the guest room by then, sleeping. Instead, you found yourself in the kitchen, dressed in nothing but one of Johnny’s shirts, the navy one you secretly adored. 

The evening hadn’t exactly gone as planned. You’d spent hours buried in analysis, trying to fix a stubborn error in your data. Of course, Johnny had also insisted on helping.

“Helping”, in his definition, meant ignoring your warnings and running the damn test anyway, which naturally ended with you being blasted from head to toe in the powdery residue of a failed compound.

He had laughed. Hard. Doubled over, clutching his stomach, almost falling into the floor as he couldn’t stop looking at you, all dirty with gray powder and a shocked expression. 

You smacked him on the head. It only served to make him laugh even harder.

It was until you threatened to strangle him that he finally sobered, just enough to shut you up with a kiss before dragging you off.

He shoved you into his bathroom, told you to shower, and disappeared with your ruined clothes. 

By the time you stepped back out, hair damp, swallowed in his shirt that hung loose against your thighs, there was no sign of him. 

So, you left his room padding barefoot into the quiet living room, hoping you’d find him there. 

Johnny was there. Or better, you caught him in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, a mug filled with tea steaming faintly in front of him. 

“Hey,” you called when you were near, making him turning at the sound of your voice. “Already finish—”, he started to say, only to froze instantly. 

The spoon slipped straight from his hand, clattering onto the mug. His eyes darted over you like he’d never seen you before. 

“God, you…” His voice broke off. He crossed the space in two strides, his hands already reaching, pulling you in his grasp before you could even reply. You found yourself sitting on the counter, his lips on yours, the mug forgotten. 

“You have no idea,” he whispered against your mouth, his hands gripping your hips. “How much gorgeous you look in my clothes.”

You laughed faintly, “I think I noticed.”

Then, a deliberate cough cut through the room. 

Johnny pulled back slightly, lips still dangerously close to yours, gaze still locked to them. 

Slowly, you both turned. 

Ben stood in the living room, arms crossed, one rocky bow arched. “Go get your own room, not the common one.”

Heat shot to your face instantly, mortification sinking into your stomach. Johnny groaned, dripping his forehead against your shoulder with a muffled curse. 

“You’re forgiven this time,” Ben continued, a slow grin spreading across his face while he took a bottle of water from the fridge. “Sue and Reed owe me 50 bucks. I knew you’d be together before the end of the year.” He ended, leaving the room. 

“Did I really hear that?” you asked, shocked.

Johnny looked at you, then shrugged. “Well, worth every penny,” he said with a satisfied smirk. “Now, where were we?”

You smacked the back of his head before he could close the gap. “You’re impossible.”

He winced dramatically, rubbing the spot with a pout. “Ouch. Abuse. See if I ever lend you another shirt.”

“You better lend me another shirt,” you shot back. “Because I’m never going out there again.”

Johnny just laughed. He steadied you as you slid off the counter, one hand clasping yours, the other reaching for the forgotten mug. 

“Well,” he drawled, grin tugging at his lips, “if you’re so embarrassed to go around the rest of the place, why don’t we start somewhere easy?” His eyes glittered as he leaned closer. “Like, what can I say… My room? You know, amazing view, top-notch furniture…” He paused for effect, letting his voice dip. “Even more amazing bed.” 

You shook your head, a smile curling at the corner of your mouth. Leaning in, you let your mouth brush against his, just enough to make him catch his breath. 

“Well,” you whispered, voice laced with challenge, “I might be interested. Want to lead the way?” 

Johnny grinned, stealing a kiss from you. “Of course, trouble.”

Clicking shut the door behind the both of you, he put the mug over the table where his record player was and immediately pulled you into his arms. “Reay to continue where we left off?” He asked, voice low. 

You nodded, letting yourself sink into him, the quiet intimacy of the room wrapping around you both like a shield from the rest of the world. 

“You know,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “I cannot stop thinking how good you look in my shirt. I might start making it a habit of borrowing it.”

“Is this your polite way of saying I can steal your clothes?”

He smirked, the teasing smirk softening in something more vulnerable. “Maybe,” he admitted, voice low. “But it’s not just the shirt…”

Before you could respond, his hand found your thighs. Hi tilted his head, eyes searching yours for permission, and when you nodded with a smile, he lowered his lips to yours. 

You both started to stumble behind, until he gently let you fall in the bed with a hand behind your back. With his free hand he traced a careful path down your arm, never rushing, savoring each moment. 

Your lips lingered over his, your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours. Every movement was deliberate, a gentle exploration of the boundaries you both wanted to cross.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, never breaking the kiss.

“You are,” you replied with a soft smile, brushing your nose against his. “Even if you’re such a dork,” you teased lightly. 

“Oh, really? A dork?” He countered, mock offense in his tone. 

“Yeah,” you said, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. “The best one. The only one I love.”

Johnny froze for a heartbeat, his eyes widening. A grin spread across his face that made every kiss he tried to place turn messy and uneven. He laughed softly against your lips, and you couldn’t help but giggle into the warmth of him. 

“You make it impossible for me to stay serious,” he murmured. “How am I supposed to act cool when you say things like that?” 

As he leaned in once more, the world outside vanished. Nothing mattered anymore. 

“I cannot believe you actually prefer plain donuts over chocolate ones,” Johnny said, shaking his head in mock horror. “It’s outrageous! Who even does that?”

You rolled your eyes. “Someone with refined taste, apparently. And by the way, even if I wanted to taste the chocolate one again, you stole from Franklin the last one, so don’t act so innocent.”

Just a little while ago, the two of you had been at the Baxter with Sue, Reed, Ben and Franklin, who had just discovered his love for chocolate donuts – much to his mother’s horror. 

Now, walking together toward your place, Johnny kept up his commentary on the “criminal injustice” of your love for plain donuts.

The evening air was crisp, the city quiet, and for a while, it felt like the world had silenced. 

When you reached the apartment building, Johnny leaned closer, eyes sparkling. “Did you find your keys?” He asked, voice teasing. “I’m a poor man, suffering horribly because I can’t kiss my beautiful girlfriend.”

You laughed, giving him a gentle push as you stepped through the doors. “Yeah, yeah, save the theatrics”

Standing outside your apartment, Johnny wrapped one hand around your waist, planting a quick kiss on your lips.

“Hotshot, wait until we’re inside…” You teased pulling back a little, keys already in your hands.

He grinned mischievously. “We are inside!” He said, taking the keys from you and opening the door as if he belonged there. In a way, he already did. Some of his clothes were scattered in your wardrobe, as well as his toothbrush in your bathroom. 

You couldn’t help smiling at him. “You’re incorrigible,” you murmured, closing the door behind you and letting him draw you back into a lingering kiss. 

What you didn’t notice was the shadow trailing you from the Baxter Building, phone in hand, silently capturing every moment they could see.

_ 

The following morning the sunlight spilled gently across the room, waking you up before your alarm. You stirred, tangled in Johnny’s arms, his steady breathing the only sound that kept the world at bay. For a moment, everything was perfect. 

That was until your phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand. Groaning, you reached for it, squinting at the screen. Sue’s name flashed. 

“Don’t come here right now,” Sue said, her tone urgent. “Or, if you have to, go in through the second door. Johnny knows about it.”

You frowned. “Second door? Why?”

There was a pause. “Someone took pictures of you and Johnny last night. Nothing scandalous, just you two walking together until your building, but it’s been shared with everyone.”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. Johnny stirred beside you, squinting at your expression. Silently, he reached for your phone, and you handed it over. 

“Sis?” He asked, his voice still sleepy. As Sue explained the situation again, his brows furrowed and his jaw tightened, each word making his expression more serious. 

Once the call ended, he put down the phone on the bed and looked at you. 

You didn’t even realize you started to panic until you felt his arms gently moving against yours.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, guiding you to meet his gaze. “Look at me, love. Just breathe. In… and out. Follow me.”

You mirrored him, inhaling and exhaling as he instructed, though your chest still felt tight, the panic clinging stubbornly.

It had been ages since your last panic attack, but the sudden rush of fear still weighed heavily, like a shadow pressing against your thoughts.

As Johnny continued speaking gently, you felt your breathing slowly begin to ease, the tightness in your chest loosening just a little. He cupped your face in his hands, looking at you with steady eyes. 

“Okay,” he said softly, tone of voice firm but kind. “Here’s what we’re going to do. First, we shower: we clear our heads, refresh a little. Then, we reach out the others and we sort everything out. Deal?”

You nodded, letting his presence calm you. “Deal,” you whispered. 

_

Reaching the Baxter hadn’t been easy. Both the street where you lived and the Baxter’s lobby were crowded with reporters, their cameras flashing relentlessly. Johnny guided you through secrets shortcuts, and you were grateful to have him by your side. He held your hand firmly, steering past the chaos with calm confidence. 

Once inside, you both made your way to the living room, where Franklin spotted you and immediately ran over. “Y/N!” He shouted, throwing his small arms around you. “Mommy said people have been mean. Are you okay?”

A relieved smile escaped you. “Don’t worry, little one. Now that you’ve hugged me, I’m fine,” you said warmly. 

Franklin released you, beaming proudly at having helped. Johnny reached down, ruffling his hair gently. “Hey there, little scientist”, he greeted, a playful grin spreading across his face. 

Sue arrived shortly after, phone in hand. Reed and Ben followed closely behind. 

“Sweetie, why don’t you go and play with Herbie? He would’ve love it,” she said to her child. Franklin nodded, going with H.E.R.B.I.E. toward his playroom. 

“Don’t worry,” she said once he was gone. She held up her phone. “We’ve seen the photos. They’re not incriminating. You two weren’t kissing of doing anything inappropriate, so as far as the University is concerned, it’s just chaos, not misconduct.”

Reed nodded, adjusting his glasses. “I already talked to Sharn. University wants answers, though, about the commotion the photos caused. That part we need to manage.”

“It’s more about perception than reality. Unfortunately, people love gossip too much,” Ben added with a measured tone. 

“The real question is,” Sue asked, “why would someone do this? We know about Johnny, about us. We’re always under the radar. But this…” She gestured faintly to her phone. “This came from someone who knows you. Someone who deliberately wanted to cause trouble.”

You hesitated, your throat tightening. Finally, you let the truth spill.  “They’ve hated me since the day they tried to steal my work,” you admitted quietly. “Half of it, they actually did. I had to go to the tutors over and over, until they were nearly losing their positions. Ever since then, I’ve been their target.”

Sue’s expression softened with understanding. “I see. That explains the motive.”

“But another question still stands…” Ben added, his eyes shadowed with sadness for you. “Who would go this far?”

You stared at the floor, unable to meet their eyes. 

It was Reed who broke the silence. His voice calm, cutting straight to the point. 

“It’s your family, isn’t it? Maneuvering everything through your colleagues.”

The room went still. 

You flinched, a part of you wishing you could deny it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. 

Johnny’s hand immediately took yours, grounding you as the others started talking to each other’s. 

“Yes,” you whispered, the word trembling. “It’s them. It’s always been them.”

Silence pressed over the room, heavy, the weight of your confession hung over everyone’s head.

Johnny’s grip on your hand tightened, fierce. “No,” she said simply. “They don’t get to do this to you. Not anymore.”

She’s eyes flashed with protective fury. “Exactly,” she began. “Do you feel at ease to tell us the whole story? It may be extremely helpful to resolve everything.”

You nodded, took a deep breath and started talking. 

You told them how your parents were once estimable professors at the same university you were in that moment, respected and admired, until their research began to falter. How the administration eventually warned them that if their work didn’t improve, they’d lose their positions.

You explained how you’d always tried to help, how, once you were accepted into your PhD program, they began taking pieces of your projects: first in small ways, then in larger chunks. How they threatened you with the cruelest leverage of all: that you’d never see your little brother again if you didn’t hand over everything they demanded.

Your voice wavered as you described how their theft hollowed you out, until you could hardly recognize your own work anymore. How your panic attacks began. How desperation drove you to your tutors, and how, when your parents were finally cornered, they were forced to relocate just to keep their jobs.

How, before leaving, they’d ensured their claws remained. They distorted your own persona to their own students against you, even your own colleagues, spreading whispers, planting doubt everywhere. It was all meant to break you down, to push you until you gave up and came crawling back to them. How they kept your brother away from you.

By the time you stopped speaking, your chest heaved as if you had run miles. The words had poured from you like a raging river, raw, unstoppable, impossible to hold back any longer. 

You could feel the weight of others’ stares. 

Sue was the first to move. She reached you and hugged you. “You’ve carried this alone all this time?” Her voice trembled a little with restrained anger at the injustice you’ve lived. 

Ben let out a low, rumbling sigh, shaking his head. “Kid… That’s not family. That’s a pair of bullied in nice suits. You didn’t deserve any of it.” He approached, his hand reaching for you still wrapped in Sue’s hug. 

Reed’s voice trembled slightly, his eyes heavy with sadness. “It makes sense,” he said. “The pattern of harassment, the timing, the involvement of the other students. They wanted you dependent, trapped. But you aren’t. You’ve proven that by surviving this long despite them. Whatever channels they’ve tried to use, we’ll close them.” 

Sue’s hand lingered a moment longer on your shoulder before she let you go, her smile warm and encouraging. The second she released you, Johnny pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly you felt his heartbeat against your cheek. 

He tucked your head into the crook of his neck, his voice low but full with conviction. “You’re never going to live like that again. Not while I’m here. Not while we’re all here. I promise you.”

You blinked, overwhelmed. 

For the first time, the crushing loneliness of carrying that secret was gone.  

The discussion that followed was so precise you could’ve sworn it was the best plan ever crafted in a matter of minutes. Reed laid out the situation with clinical precision. “The photos themselves aren’t incriminating. But the narrative your colleagues are trying to build is. If we dismantle that, we dismantle the whole story.”

Sue’s gaze flicked toward you, her phone never leaving her hand as she fired off messages: to Lynne, legal contacts, anyone who could help. “We’ll need evidence of what they’ve been doing. Every possible e-mail about you sending them your work, every call, every document. Nothing’s too small. Once we gather that, Reed can make sure the university sees the pattern clearly.”

You swallowed hard. “And if we don’t succeed? If they just deny it everything?" “We’ll handle it,” Ben said protective, “and we’ll make it impossible for them to deny it.” 

Johnny leaned forward, smile crooked, dangerous. “Trouble, we fought every possible monster you can imagine. Do you really think we’re gonna back down from a couple of bitter colleagues and shitty parents?”

_

Over the next days, you started living at the Baxter. It was safer, and the others didn’t want to let you be alone during that difficult time. 

During those days, Sue moved with a quiet precision that only you began to notice. 

Every time you asked, she brushed it off with a smile, saying she was making calls. 

Then, one evening, when you and Johnny returned from a meeting held with at the administration of the campus, you found her waiting in the Baxter lobby. 

Beside her stood a boy, clutching a worn backpack, his eyes wide with awe as he took in the building. Your brother.

The moment you saw him, your heart leapt. Johnny caught your gaze and smiled warmly. “Surprise,” he said, his expression filled with that familiar, steady love. 

You ran toward your brother, scooping him into a tight hug. He squirmed, laughing, “Don’t kill me with affection!”

Laughter erupted around you, breaking the tension completely.

Through his bright, sparkling eyes, he said, “Thanks to Sue, I get to stay here with you! Oh, and you know she can become invisible? And she told me I can call her Sue, not Mrs. Storm!”

Laughing, you turned to Sue, who gave you a little smile and murmured, “I’ll tell you later.” You only nod, too overwhelmed to speak. 

As your brother’s gaze shifted to Johnny, he became serious. “So… You’re my sister’s boyfriend? And you treat her well?”

Johnny grinned, crouching slightly to meet your brother’s eyes. “Well, I try my best,” he said. “But if I ever slip up, you have my full permission to lecture me endlessly.”

Your brother’s lips curled into a small, approving smile. “Good, you better,” he replied. “Now, can you show me your flames? They’re soooo cool.” 

Johnny chuckled. “Flames, huh? Well, you’re in luck. I can give you a mini demonstration later.”

Your brother’s eyes lit up, bouncing with excitement. “Yay!”

“Calm, calm, don’t make them go crazy, you little pest”, you said affectionately. 

Hand in hand, you led him through the elevator up to the living room, where Ben, Reed, and Franklin were already gathered. The moment your brother stepped in, Franklin asked. “I LOVE YOUR BACKPACK! CAN WE BE FRIENDS? MOM, CAN WE HAVE SLEEPOVER TONIGHT?”

Your brother grinned, looking at Sue, who nodded happily as they went play in the sofas, always watched over by H.E.R.B.I.E..

Looking at your brother’s reaction, you could see that he already loved the whole family, the little robot included. 

You and the others went to the kitchen, in order to let the kids be free to play without hearing sad stuff. 

As the others gathered around the counter, you took a deep breath and began to tell everything. 

“As you already know, Johnny and I met the administration today,” you started. “They were firm about the implications of our relationship and Johnny’s involvement in my dissertation. He can’t officially be part of it, but he’s allowed to finish helping Dr. Sharn this semester. There are only a few lessons left, and while he won’t be correcting my work anymore, at least he can end what he had started with the others. Only Dr. Sharn and Reed will provide to look at my work from now on.”

Johnny reached over, grinning. “Dr. Sharn wanted to kill me for almost destroying his best student’s career, but then we resolved everything.”

“You told him you’d bring him breakfast for the whole year, you dumbass,” you mocked. 

He shrugged. “Oh well, we’ll share chocolate. Who am I to say no to that?”

Sue shook her head, amused. “I made sure your brother is safe. He was miserable at your old place, but now… Well, he seems happy to be here. When I reached out to him, he was extremely happy to help,” she said. “As for your parents… Let’s just say that they’ve been contained, so to speak. They won’t interfere again. Not with your life, not with his.”

You nodded, understanding the implications and the weight of it all. “I am his legal guardian now, right?”

“Yeah, you are,” Sue confirmed. “But you’re not alone. As we always said, you’re family to us.”

Ben nodded in agreement. “Exactly. The press has been handled too. We made it clear publicly that you’ll stand up for yourself when the time is right. But for now, your focus should be on your studies, and especially on yourself,” he began. “You’re free now. It’s a lot to take in, we know it, but you deserve every bit of it, kid.” 

You nodded, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. 

“And… We talked about it and we’d love for you and your brother to stay here at the Baxter with us,” Reed added, his tone gentle. “You’d both have your own rooms. Since you’ll be starting work here soon, we thought it might make things easier.”

You blinked, trying to form words, but only a small, shaky smile escaped. 

Johnny squeezed your shoulder gently.

“Really? We can stay?” You heard your brother saying. Apparently, he and Franklin had approached without being heard. 

“Yes,” Sue confirmed, “this is your home now if you want.”

Relief, joy, and a flicker of disbelief tangled inside you. You watched your brother laughing uncontrollably with Franklin, happiness found in every fiber of his being. Your smile was so big your cheeks burned. “I don’t even know what to say. Thank you… All of you.”

Ben chuckled. “Well, just say yes and brace yourself, because the chaos of living here doesn’t hold back for anyone.”

You grinned, shrugging. “Well, I already deal with Johnny. How much worse can it really get?” 

Everyone burst into laughter, while Johnny’s jaw dropped slightly, eyes wide in mock disbelief. 

“Excuse me? Take that back,” he said tickling you under everyone’s amused gaze.

_ 

That night, curled into his embrace, you let your mind drift over everything that happened.

It hadn’t been a secret for long, not between the two of you. Every stolen glance, every touch across the crowded lab, every shared secret – it all felt alive in your memory. And now, with the truth finally out, everything made so much sense that made you giggle.

It had been reckless, possibly wrong. And yet, every time his fingers intertwined with yours, you knew you would have never give it up.

“What are you thinking about?” Johnny asked softly, keeping you pressed close.

You smiled, pressing your lips to his. “About you,” you admitted. “And how I don’t feel guilty at all for loving the incredible man that you are.” 

As your gaze lingers over Johnny’s face, you can see his eyes light up as he stares at the moon and the scattered glows of the stars. When your dad steps inside to fetch you both some hot cocoa, Johnny turns to you with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. 

“THE MOON IS AMAZING! SPACE IS AMAZING! I LOVE YOU!… And your telescope, of course!” he shouts, throwing his arms around you.  You beam, hugging him back. “Yay! Love you too!!!”

Just a few years later, Johnny’s world crashes. One day he is the happiest boy you know, and the next, he is wearing a mask he doesn’t even realize he has put on. Deep down, you know something inside him has broken forever. Your parents have already explained to you what has happened to his mother, but you can see clearly that something is lost forever inside his heart. You know him too well to pretend otherwise.  But Johnny is Johnny, and you are his best friend. He never has to pretend with you. That’s why, when the funeral ends and people begin drifting away, you hug Sue, even though you’ve always thought of her as a big sister whose shoulder you could cry on, and then you go straight back to Johnny. He stands staring at his shoes, unable to face the blur of voices and footsteps around him.  You take his hand, just as you have through the entire service. Your parents glance at you with concern, wondering if you’re overstepping by staying so close to him, Sue, and their dad. But when Sue notices the way Johnny clings on you, she gives them a small, reassuring smile that keeps them from saying anything.  You don’t speak. You are still young, but you already know that sometimes words are too much.  After a silence that feels like hours, you hear Johnny whispers, “I love you. Thank you for staying with me”. If you didn’t know him so perfectly, you might have missed it. But you do know him, and you know that his faint murmur is, in his mind, a scream.  So, you whisper back, “I love you. I will always be with you,” just as softly, not wanting to break the fragile bubble between you, and not letting your voice add to the chaos of his mind. 

The third time Johnny tells you a heartfelt “I love you,” you are both in middle school. Some idiotic boy has just made you cry in class by bullying you, and a few moments later, Johnny is on the floor, fists flying, until the boy ends up with a broken nose in the blink of an eye.  This action earns Johnny one week of suspension, but he doesn’t care.  “The only thing that really matters is that now that stupid boy is scared and silenced forever,” he tells you every time you try to apologize, both for not being strong enough to face your bullies and for the trouble he’s in because of you.  “I love you, you know. No one will ever hurt you,” he adds.  You start crying again the moment you hear those words, and Johnny immediately panics, afraid he’s said something wrong.  “You idiot, I love you too!” you blurt instead, throwing your arms around him.  For a moment, he's so shocked by your reaction that he freezes. But then, he just smiles and hugs you back, tucking his face in the nape of your neck. You don’t notice that Sue is watching from the doorway. She’s already scolded her brother for the fight, but she also understands exactly why he did it. She’s told him that nothing can be solved with violence, but she knows just as well that Johnny will protect you at any cost, in any occasion.  You are his person, and he is yours.  You both just don’t know it yet. 

“I love you, and I don’t want to hurt you,” Johnny blurts the instant he sees you in the Baxter Building, breathless from running as soon as you heard what happened to him and the others in space.  You’re not afraid of him, you know neither Johnny nor the others would ever harm you, but you are afraid for him. For his health, both physical and mental.  “You won’t. I know you won’t. Please… Let me stay with you for a bit.” you say. He shakes his head, stepping back. “No.” When you try to take a step towards him, he immediately takes two back.  You argue for what feels like forever, until frustration boils over and you groan, launching yourself at him. He instinctively catches you, his arms wrapping around you so you don’t fall. You cling to him so tightly your arms ache, but you don’t care. “I love you. I am not scared of you, and you will NOT hurt me. Have a little faith in yourself… And in me,” you whisper into his ear, your hand running through his hair. 

He inhales sharply, then you feel his grip tightens. “I was scared I’d never come back to you,” he murmurs, voice breaking with a sob.  You crumble too, tears spilling as you hold on even tighter.  “I know,” you breathe, as you feel your heart breaking over and over. “I know. I was afraid too. Afraid you’d never come back.”  From that moment on, you become part of the Fantastic Four.  You’re not just Johnny’s anchor, but Sue’s, Reed’s and Ben’s too: their link to the world. You’re the only person they truly call family, the only one who doesn’t see them as a “strange and useful phenomenon”, but simply as the people you’ve always loved.  

Just before the Herald declares Galactus’s arrival, you are having dinner with Sue, Reed, Ben and Johnny at the Baxter Building. It’s a perfect night, full of laughter and plans for Sue and Reed’s soon-to-arrive boy. More than once, you and Johnny find your hands unconsciously intertwining under the table, seeking each other’s presence to fully savor the moment. You don’t notice it when he looks at you as if you hold the entire universe, and he doesn’t notice when you do the same.  But the others? They surely do. “Now we wait for the next big step!” Ben teases Johnny with a playful wink, while the latter nudges you lightly with small, playful shoves, glancing at you out of the corner of his eyes to make you laugh. Sue shrugs, hiding a smile, while Reed starts reasoning aloud about how friendship often leads to love, remembering how Sue and his story began many years prior. Sensing the situation teetering on catastrophe, Johnny releases his jokes and points at them. 

“Ah-ah, very funny. I didn’t know your friendship with the old bakery lady turned into love, Ben. So that’s why you always bring those cookies,” he jokes, trying to deflect attention from you two. You almost quip back, but the alarms on the Fantastic Four’s bracelets interrupt everything.  “Johnny?” asks Reed, already moving toward the balcony.  “Yup, already on it,” he responds him, flying away.  After that, chaos erupts. 

Everything happens so quickly that you barely have time to warn your parents that you’ll be staying at Baxter Building that night (and possibly the next too).  They’re frightened, of course, but they know that the safest place for you is exactly where you are. They’ve long understood that if danger arises, you and Johnny will never stray from each other until the last possible second.

When Sue, Reed, Ben and Johnny return from meeting the Herald, faces tense but determined, they gesture for you to join them in the lab. You’ve always been part of the family; there’s no reason to leave you in the dark. You feel a hand take yours, and already know whose it is. Looking up, you see Johnny’s face, focused yet worried.

“Come on, there’s work to do,” Sue says, giving you a quick kiss on the head. For her, you’ll always be the little girl who played with her brother so many years before. She loves you deeply and always makes sure you know it. At the same time, Johnny knows well that empty phrases like “everything will be fine” mean nothing to you in a moment like this, where there is no certainty. For this reason, he remains unusually quiet. 

In the lab, Reed scours data while Sue and Ben speculate any possible situation. You and Johnny quietly observe every frame on the screens. 

“It’s almost like planets are being swallowed from within. How is this even possible?” you ask, already sensing the terrifying answer. Reed nods gravely. 

“We’ll find out, but to do so… We have to confront this entity. We have to face Galactus before he arrives here.”

Before you can respond, Johnny interrupts Reed by mentioning the moment he shared with the Herald. When the others shrug, not truly considering what he’s saying, he groans.  “Yeah, do not listen to me. Johnny loves space. Johnny loves women. And now there’s this naked alien woman, and Johnny thinks they had a moment,” he summarises. “But believe me,” he continues, holding your hand tight, “I did not share ANY moment with ANYONE. That woman told me something and I think it is something important that we’re missing.”

While you listen, panic rises inside you. Even though people always assume you’re used to the four’s dangerous missions, worry eats you alive every day.  You try to control your feelings, but everyone notices anyway – especially Johnny.  

When the meeting ends, the others retreat to their rooms, trying to sleep a little.  Johnny takes you to his. While you have your own room, because of the many times you’ve stayed over and because you’re truly considered part of the family, you often sleep with him. Sometimes it’s because you fall asleep while listening to music together; other times he falls asleep first, and you drift off while watching him with a smile. In the morning, you always wake tangled together, unconsciously seeking each other. Each tender kiss on the forehead, each tighter hug, reminds you and Johnny of the fear of losing the other… And the undeniable, unspoken truth growing between you. 

Johnny closes the door behind him, but you remain frozen in the center of his room, still thinking about the meeting. He hands you one of his T-shirts for the night, a small, loving ritual. He knows you have more clothes than you should in your room, but he loves seeing you in something his. You change quickly in the bathroom and return to find him already in his pajamas, sitting on the edge of the bed.  You move closer, and he doesn't waste a second in wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you as tightly as possible. You know it’s because he’s afraid you might disappear at any moment. Your hands reach his neck and hair, stroking gently. He inhales sharply and lifts his chin to meet your gaze. Seconds later, he gets up, leaning in and hugging you even more. Your arms settle against his chest, fingertips brushing his T-shirt. Your foreheads press together, and you feel each other’s breath. 

Johnny looks at your lips, and you see the wheels of his brain turning as if trying to decide what to do. 

“Hey…” he whispers, his lips now a few millimeters away from yours. 

“Mh?” you reply, lips barely brushing. 

“I love you, for real. Always did,” he admits as he finally kisses you. 

The feeling of your lips colliding is like a universe finding its way after a singularity lasted millions of years. It is soft at first, as if you’re both afraid to break something sacred. 

After a pause to breathe, your eyes meet again. His hands cup your face and he leans in again. This time, the kisses are urgent, and you hear him groaning with the need to feel you as close as possible.  “I love you,” he murmurs again against your lips, and you feel your smile growing. 

“I love you too. Always did,” you whisper in return. For a moment, his eyes widen as if he cannot believe this is real. “Twenty years, three months…” he begins.  “And ten days,” you finish. “The day we met. Yeah. Haven’t forgotten it for a second.” 

He looks at you, mesmerized. “God, I love you,” he declares, kissing you again and again. “Nothing will ever make me leave. Not even a multi-millennian threat. I know you’re scared, but I’ll always come back to you. Always.” 

As you both stumble on the bed, you nod, whispering a teasing, “You better.” 

That night, your bodies speak in a language of their own, a sanctuary of love and trust. 

You both cherish the other like you’re holding the entire universe in your hands… And for you, it really is. 

Every document, every prototype, every frantic scribble covering his chalkboards seemed to be scattered with no reason at all.

To a stranger, it would look like pure disorder. An awful disorder, a headache in the form of a lab. The kind of place that makes someone give a look inside mutter, “nope, absolutely not,” and then run away. 

But to anyone who truly knew Reed (or, as you, to anyone who started to), there was something else hidden in that mess. A hidden signification behind it all.

A perfect, meticulous pattern that only revealed itself with patience.

Just as Reed, if you were patient enough to know him.

You let your hand pass over the surface of a nearby table, careful not to disturb a single thing.

How lucky you felt, standing there. To be given the chance to study, to grow under the guidance of not just a brilliant scientist, but an extraordinary human being too.

When someone asked what you admired the most about the “Fantastic Four”, as if they were some sort of phenomenon and not real people with names and personalities and hobbies, your answer always surprised them. It wasn’t their superpowers, even thought it was comforting to know they’d always be there to protect the world. It wasn’t the fame either, though magazines tried to devour every glimpse of their daily lives. 

What you admired most was them. Their humanity, their passions, their brains. Their ability to stay grounded despite everything.

But above all, you admired the way they were a family. No one was ever left behind.

And that? That was something you longed for most.  Something you wished, someday, could be yours too. 

As your gaze wandered further, your breath caught. 

Against a wall, preserved with reverent care, were the suits… their suits. The very ones Reed, Sue, Ben, and Johnny had worn on the mission that changed their lives forever. As you walked across the room to reach them, unable to resist, you could see clearly how the fabric had been forever scarred by the touch of cosmic rays. 

Their history was stitched into every fiber. 

A shiver ran through you, your heart tightening not with awe, but with sadness. The thought of that moment - the uncertainty, the fear- was unbearable.

“Reed keeps them here as a reminder of his failure,” a voice said behind you.

You turned. Johnny stood in the doorway, his expression shadowed with something you didn’t see often on him: sorrow. There was pain there, open and unguarded, a side he rarely let anyone see. He shook his head slowly, then walked toward you with quiet steps.

“It wasn’t his fault,” you whispered. “I know it wasn’t. No one could have stopped what happened out there. No one could’ve prevented the cosmic rays…”

A humorless laugh slipped from him. “You sound just like Sue.” He stopped beside you, his eyes flicking briefly toward the suits. For a moment he was quiet, and then his voice dropped lowered. “You know… Nobody ever asks us what it felt like. That day.”

You looked at him, curiosity and worry tugging at you. “Do you want to talk about it? I’m here if you want. I’ll listen.”

His jaw tightened. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tugged at the collar of his t-shirt and pulled it just enough to reveal a thin scar above his heart. You hadn’t notice it before. Somehow, in every photoshoot and public appearance, he had always managed to keep it hidden.

“Right before it happened,” he began, “the Excelsior shook violently. I slammed into a panel hard enough I thought my ribs had shattered. I figured — okay, fine, bruises, blood, maybe some cracked bones. But then…” His voice faltered, and his eyes grew distant, lost in memory, as he let the t-shirt fall back into place.

“Then the rays hit… And I burned.” The words cut like broken glass. “Not like fire touching your skin. Not like standing too close to a flame. I was fire. It swallowed me whole. It roared in my ears, filled my lungs, it…” He stopped and exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I was dying. I thought I was already dead and hell had just claimed me.”

Your chest tightened as you listened, every word sinking in your heart like a stone. He never let his walls down with others than his family, and even more spoke like this: raw, stripped of the cocky grin he used as armor. 

Instinctively, you reached for him. Your fingers slipped into his hand, tentative but steady. For a heartbeat he didn’t move, his eyes flicking down at the connection. 

Then, slowly, he laced his fingers through yours and tightened the grip, grounding himself in the contact and giving you the smallest smile.

“And then,” he whispered, voice unsteady, “the flames died down. I was still there. Alive. But never the same.”

The silence between you was heavy, but not suffocating. It was fragile. Real. You squeezed his hand just a little tighter.

His eyes shifted away, dropping on the floor as if he couldn’t bear to meet yours right away. “I was twenty-three,” he added after a pause, his voice breaking into a bitter laugh. “Just a kid playing being an adult, fresh off my bachelor’s, running my first space mission. I was supposed to be worrying about dates, dumb pranks with friends, teasing Sue about her wedding plans…” His hand gestured vaguely, as if words failed him. “Not this. Not burning alive. Not hearing my sister scream in terror. Not looking at her turning invisible. Not watching Reed stretch, or Ben…” His voice broke. “Not watching myself turn into some sort of a monster of fire I couldn’t control. Because at first, I couldn’t. And it was terrifying.”

The confession lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of a truth he rarely gave voice to. For all his bravado, in that moment you saw him not as everybody looked at him, as someone indestructible. You saw him like a boy who had been swallowed by fire and forced to survive it.

Without thinking, you stepped even closer. Your free hand rose, brushing gently over the post above his t-shirt where the scar laid. His breath hitched at the touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“You weren’t a monster,” you murmured. “You were just a boy in the wrong place at the wrong time. And you survived, Johnny. That doesn’t make you cursed. Neither of you are. It makes you strong.”

At last, he looked at you. His blue eyes shone with something pure — pain, yes, but also gratitude for seeing him for what he really was: not a headline, not just a hero, but as a man who still carried the weight of his past.

His fingers tightened around yours, intertwining fully now, almost desperate, like he needed the anchor. Like he needed you to even breathe and not collapse. 

“I try to tell myself that,” he admitted softly, leaning forward until his forehead rested against yours. “But it’s hard. The fire… It’s always there. Sometimes I wonder if it’s going to burn me from the inside out. Just like the first time.”

You shook your head gently, leaning closer so your words couldn’t be mistaken, just like a vow shared between you two. “Then I’ll remind you every time you forget. You’re not alone in this. Not now. Not ever.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you warmer, charged, but not with flames but with closeness. He exhaled, a trembling sound that seemed to release some of the weight he carried. 

Then, almost instinctively, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his grip on your hand firm and unyielding.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

JOHNNY STORM 1. Four times Johnny says "I love you" + one that actually changes everything || Johnny x F!Reader SUMMARY: Four times Johnny tells you that he loves you amicably... And one time that the same words change everything between you two. 2. Not so guilty || Johnny x F!Reader SUMMARY: When you find Johnny Storm in your lecture hall, you know you're screwed. You detest him and his attitude. But... What if things change?

3. Reminiscing the past || Johny x F!Reader SUMMARY: when you step into Reed’s lab, your gaze is immediately drawn to the suits displayed against the wall. Their fabric still carries the weight of the day everything changed. As you wonder what it must have been like, Johnny enters. His usual grin is gone, and for once, he lets the memory surface. Quietly, he tells you his story.

SNOW WHITE (2025)

Three almost kisses, one that saved a life and one that sealed a new kingdom. || Snow x Jonathan

SUMMARY: Snow had always dreamed of a love like her parents — one that was brave enough to change a kingdom and tender enough to heal the heart.

She just never expected it to come in the form of a reckless boy she’d once knocked over at a festival, who later became a thief, a rebel, and a man who would risk everything to save her.

STRANGER THINGS (2016 – 2025)

pulse check (hands under the sweater) || Mike Wheeler x Will Byers

SUMMARY: It’s 1983 when Will disappears, and Mike feels like he’s losing his mind, worried about what’s happening to him. When he knocks on Nancy’s door for help, she teaches him how to check someone’s pulse — you know, for when Will comes back and Mike needs a way to anchor them both to reality. or years pass. Will comes back, and yet they continue checking each other’s pulses (a small ritual to watch over one another and feel safe).

How could they not think about Will? About how lonely he must be? Where he was hurt, or scared, or… 

Mike couldn’t even finish that thought before feeling like he could throw up. 

Every time his mind drifted toward those possibilities, his head began to spin so violently he worried he might collapse right there on the floor.

He talked about this it only once. 

Only once… To Nancy. 

At the time, their relationship hadn’t been great. Mike has thought she was wasting her life on stupid lessons at school concerning journalism and love stories with Steve-The Hair-Harrington, things that felt useless compared to what really mattered. 

But when the moment came, when he knocked on her door and she let him in her room, Nancy sat beside him on her bed. She looked at him genuinely concerned for his well-being, something Mike still couldn’t quite believe, and she said something that stayed with him.

“You know,” she said almost whispering, “when everything starts spinning and I need to calm myself, I put two fingers here…” 

She placed her index and middle finger on the inside of his wrist, just below his hand, her thumb resting lightly on the other side, as if holding the whole fragile position in place.

“And I anchor myself to what’s around me by listening to my own heart.”

“Your own heart?” Mike asked, his gaze flicking from his wrist up to her face.

“Yeah,” Nancy nodded. “Right here, exactly where I put my fingers, you can feel your pulse. If your mind is quiet enough, you can hear your heart beating. Try.”

She offered her own wrist. Mike hesitated, then placed his fingers where she showed him. 

Nancy gently adjusted their position, then closed her eyes. After a moment, Mike did the same, focusing on the steady rhythm beneath his fingertips.

“When you will find Will,” she said softly, eyes still closed. “Because you will find him.”

“Yeah?” Mike whispered.

“Yeah,” she said firmly. “And if either of you needs to anchor yourselves, to remember what’s real, you can check his pulse. That way, he’ll feel you there. And you’ll know he’s still here. His heart beating. Steady. Alive.”

Mike swallowed hard, his fingers pressing just a little more firmly against her wrist, memorizing the rhythm. 

He promised himself then, silently, fiercely, that one day, he’d feel Will’s heartbeat again. 

_

The first thing Mike did when he entered the hospital room was run straight to Will’s bad and press his ear against his chest, listening for the sound of his heart. 

The moment he heard it, faint but steady, his vision blurred with tears. He wiped them away quickly, now wanting to scare Will, not wanting him to see just how close Mike had been to falling apart. 

When he finally pulled back to let the others hug the little boy too, Mike realized that hearing his weak, breathless laugh was the happiest sound he had ever known, and the only one he could never imagine living without. 

Because the world without Will, for him, had been simply unbearable. 

Dull. Quiet. Drained of its colors.

When everyone left, the room felt far too large. Mike pulled his chair closer to the bed, as if the empty space might make Will disappear again.  

Joyce and Jonathan had stepped out to speak with the doctors, leaving the two of them alone. 

The steady, mechanical rhythm of the machines filled the silence. Even though it wasn’t night yet, the lights outside the windows had begun to dim. 

Mike knew it was time to go home, time to leave Will in the care of the doctors and his family. 

But he couldn’t. 

Just five more minutes, he told himself.

Will lay back against the pillows, eyes half-closed, exhaustion written into every line of his face. A faint smile still tugged at his lips. His skin was paler than usual, and Mike hated how fragile Will looked, like a ghost who might fade if he blinked too long. 

Without really thinking, he leaned closed, his hand trembling as he reached out. 

Noticing the movement, Will shifted slightly, lifting his arm just enough to open his hand and waiting. 

“Can I…?” Mike asked quietly, trailing off. 

Will turned his head a little towards the boy, eyes soft. “Yeah.”

Mike took Will’s hand gently. It was warm. Real. His fingers shook even more as he slid his hand into Will’s, two fingers settling firmly against the inside of his wrist, right where Nancy had shown him.

“What are you doing?” Will asked but not pulling away, even though Mike’s grip was awkward.

Mike swallowed. “Anchoring you,” he said softly. “And me too. Nancy showed me yesterday.”

He closed his eyes, focusing. For a moment, he heard nothing. 

Then he felt it. 

Will’s pulse. 

Not strong as he wished it were, but steady. Just like when he entered the room.

Mike let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, relief washing through him. 

“I can hear it,” he murmured, a small smile breaking through. “Your pulse. You’re really here with me.”

Will’s lips twitched. “Told you I was.”

Mike shook his head, emotion thickening his voice. “Yeah, but… I kept thinking about you. About how scared you must’ve been. About how much more I could’ve done. And I…” His voice broke, tears slipping free again. This time, he didn’t catch them. “I didn’t know how to find you.”

Will’s hand shifted, his fingers closing more firmly around Mike’s. “I wasn’t alone,” he said quietly. “I heard you once. Through the walkie-talkie.”

Mike sniffed. “Yeah?” 

Will nodded. “Yeah. It helped.”

Mike smiled through the tears, then stood and leaned in, wrapping Will in a careful, gentler hug than the one he did when he saw him the first time. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, voice low but certain. “I’ll stay. You’ll never be alone again.”

Will’s eyelids drooped as exhaustion finally won. “Thank you, Mikey,” he whispered.

Soon enough, his breathing evened out. 

Mike pulled back slowly and sat down again, his hand finding Will’s once more. He stayed there, fingers resting lightly over Will’s wrist, listening to the steady rhythm beneath his touch. 

Yeah. 

Just five more minutes. 

___

Trick-or-treating should’ve been fun. 

Everyone in the Party was dressed as Ghostbusters, and the night was supposed to end with an epic sleepover with lots of candies and DnD until they fell asleep.

Everything should’ve been perfect. 

Except it wasn’t. 

Finding Will trembling behind the low stone wall, eyes unfocused and expression twisted with fear, shattered Mike’s heart into a million pieces. 

He ran to him immediately, dropping to his knees and pulling him close, wrapping his arms around him as if that alone could keep what was hurting him away. Mike did everything he could to quiet whatever was happening through Will’s mind, but even then, even with Will tucked safely against his chest, he knew. 

Something was deeply, unmistakably wrong. 

Mike wished he could do more, but he just didn’t know how. 

“I’m bringing you home, okay?” he said softly, his voice steady despite the fear. Will didn’t answer, looking like he was on the verge of a panic attack, breath shallow and uneven. Mike glanced up and waved the others back, sharper than he meant to be. “I got him. I got him.”

Dustin stared at him, almost speechless. “Mike…” he started, but Mike cut him off immediately.

“Keep trick-or-treating,” he said, already guiding Will away, one arm firm around his shoulders and the other on his chest. “I’m bored anyway.”

And without waiting for an answer, he walked away with the boy, refusing to let him go. 

Bringing him to his home was the easiest decision Mike had made all night.

Mike’s house had always been Will’s too, just as Will’s house had always been his. 

For as long as Mike could remember, home had never been a place to him. It had been a person, the exact one that was with him at that moment.

For them, home was where the other was. 

Sitting on the worn couch in the basement, Mike watched as Will slowly recovered. Not completely, as his shoulders were still a little bit tense, and his eyes still unfocused most of the time, but his breathing had evened out, rising and falling in a steadier rhythm. 

“What it was like?” Mike asked quietly, turning toward him. “You know… The Upside Down.”

Will let out a shaky breath. “It’s like the world being… Divided?”

“Like two sides?”

“Yeah. One side is ours. And the other…” Will’s voice trembled. “The other side is the Upside Down.” He paused, swallowing, then forced his gaze back to Mike, grounding himself in what was real. “There is this noise, coming from everywhere… And then I saw something…”

“The Demogorgon?” Mike interrupted. 

Will shook his head. “No. It was like… A huge shadow in the sky. Only it was alive. And it was coming for me.”

Mike’s stomach twisted. “Do you think it was real?” he asked. “Or like the doctor said… Just in your head?”

“I don’t know, just…” Will whispered. “Please, don’t tell the others. They won’t understand.”

“El would,” Mike said without hesitation.

Will looked at him. “She would?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “You know, sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy.” 

That earned him Will’s first small chuckle of the night.  “Me too.”

Mike smiled, his hand inching closer until it brushed Will’s. “Well,” he murmured, “if we’re both going crazy, then we’ll go crazy together, right?”

“Yeah,” Will replied, lacing his fingers through Mike’s and glancing down at their joined hands. Crazy together.” 

He hesitated, then lifted their hands slightly. “Can I…?”

Mike blinked. “Oh, yeah. Absolutely.” He paused. “You know how to do that?”

Will shook his head. “Will you teach me?”

Mike nodded, gently separating their hands. He turned his wrist upward and guided Will’s fingers into place, just as Nancy had shown him: two fingers resting lightly against the inside of his wrist. 

“Here,” Mike said. “That’s my pulse.”

Will concentrated, eyes narrowing slightly. It was a funny vision for Mike to see Will so attentive. 

A small smile tugged at his lips. “You look like you’re trying to solve a really hard campaign,” he said. 

Will huffed out a breath, the tension in his shoulders easing a little bit more. “I just don’t want to mess it up.”

“You can’t,” Mike replied. “It’s already there. And you’re not hurting me. You just have to listen.”

Will stayed quiet, focusing again. “I feel it,” he whispered after a little bit, eyes widening slightly. “It’s… Fast.”

 Mike’s gaze dropped to their hands. “Huh, yeah…” he admitted. “That happens when you’re scared.”

Will’s eyes snapped up, worry immediately replacing his focus. “You’re scared?” He asked. “Because of me?” 

“No!” Mike answered too quickly, pulling his wrist back without meaning to. “I mean, no. I was scared for you.”

He winced, realizing how that must’ve sounded. He really was bad at expressing himself. “Because you were hurting,” he said, voice lower. “Because you looked like you were going to disappear again, and I didn’t know how to help you or make that thing stop hurting you.”

Will studied him for a second, then his shoulders eased. “Oh,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “You always help me.” 

Mike blinked, caught off guard by how easily Will said it, like it was the simplest and most obvious truth in the world. His chest tightened, warm and aching all at once, and heat crept up his neck to his cheeks. 

He frowned slightly, confused, lifting a hand to his forehead. 

Was he getting a fever or something? Yeah, that had to be it.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” Will asked, interrupting his thoughts. 

lowering his hand from his forehead. “Of course. You don’t even have to ask.”

Will let out a slow breath, relief softening his features. “Okay.”

That night, with Mike’s room lights were dimmed, and the hum of the heater filled the space with its familiar, comforting sound, the two of them, slept side by side on the floor in their sleeping bag, close enough that neither of them had to stretch to know the other was there.

Mike lay awake longer than he meant to, staring at Will’s face and listening to his breathing slowly even out. 

Without really thinking about it, he shifted just a little closer. His fingers brushed against Will’s hand. In his sleep, Will stirred and his hand moved too, finding Mike’s and fitting into it like it had always belonged there. 

Their fingers curled together, gentle and sure. 

And for the first time that night, Mike let finally himself relax and sleep catching him.

__

“IT’S NOT MY FAULT YOU DON’T LIKE GIRLS!” Mike shouted, the words tearing out of his stupid mouth before he could stop himself. 

The instant they landed, guilt hit him like a punch to the chest. 

He looked at Will’s face and his heart lurched. 

Will’s eyes were wide, confused. Hurt in that devastating way that meant Mike had crossed a line he couldn’t take back. 

His voice softened almost to a whisper. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m… I’m sorry, Will.”

Will didn’t look away. Somehow, that was worse. The pain was right there, so clear and unshielded that it made Mike feel nauseous. 

He hurt Will. 

He hurt the person he cared about most. 

Without another word, Will turned and grabbed his bike from the porch. The had picked up, drumming in their ears harder than before, and soaking the pavement. 

“No!” Mike rushed a step toward him. “Will, wait! Don’t go!” 

The words from earlier still burned in his mind, as well as the feat of seeing Will go away felt unbearable, like he was watching the most precious presence in his life slip away and not knowing how to stop it.

Will ignored him, starting to push the bike. His shoulders were tense, jaw clenched.

 “You know where Dustin is?” he asked suddenly, not turning around. “No, you don’t. And you don’t care.” 

Mike froze.

“You are ruining everything,” Will went on, bitter now. “And you know what’s worse?” He finally turned, eyes shining with tears.  “You were the only thing anchoring me. The only thing that helped me not going fully under his control.”

Mike’s breath caught.

“My hand,” Will said, voice cracking. “Do you even remember?”

He watched Mike opening his mouth, but no words came out. 

“No,” he chuckled sad. “Of course you don’t,” Will whispered. “And here I was imagining my whole life playing and smiling and having the best time with you.”

Then he got on his bike and rode off into the rain. 

He didn’t notice the tears falling off in Mike’s face. 

Mike and Lucas found him hours later. 

Right after the argument, Mike had run straight to Lucas, words tumbling over each other as he explained as together grabbed their biked and started searching. They checked Will’s place first, then the streets, calling his name into the rain until their voices went hoarse. 

It wasn’t easy. The rain was heavy, and the night, to Mike, was falling thick and unforgiving.  

“Castle Byers,” he announced suddenly, to Lucas, the realization hitting him all at once. 

Lucas didn’t question it. They turned toward the forest and they both ran. 

By the time they reached the clearing, both of them were soaked through and shivering. The broken remains of Castle Byers loomed in front of them, and by looking at its splintered wood and collapsed walls, memories started to drown in rain. 

There, curled in on himself, was Will. 

At first, Mike couldn’t tell if he was crying. Then he saw the shaking, his shoulders trembling violently as the rain soaked through his clothes and plastered his hair to his forehead. His eyes were unfocused again, distant in that exact way Mike had learned to fear.

Mike’s chest tightened painfully. 

This was all his fault. 

“Oh…” Lucas whispered, stepping forward.

Mike, on the contrary, didn’t hesitate. He ran. 

“Will,” he said softly, dropping to his knees in the mud in front of him. “Will, I’m here. I’m here.”

When Will didn’t look up, he continued. “I didn’t mean it,” he said desperately, rain mixing with the tears on his face. “I didn’t mean any of it. I’ve been an idiot. I said something stupid, and I… I hate myself for it.” 

When Will still didn’t respond, Mike gently shook him. 

“Will?” Lucas tried too, worry thick in his voice. “Please, answer us.” 

Mike swallowed hard, his voice breaking completely. “Will? Please,” he continued. “You are not alone. I’m… We’re with you. Always.”

Slowly, Will turned his head. 

And when his eyes met Mike’s, all that hurt poured out again.

“I trusted you…” will whispered. Then his body fell into Mike’s. 

“Will!” Mike reached for him immediately, arms tightening around him as panic surged through his chest. “No, no, no…” 

His hands were shaking as he repositioned Will, cradling him against his chest. “Lucas, call help!” He said alarmed as Lucas was already running towards Will’s house. 

Without thinking, muscle memory kicked in. Mike pressed two fingers against the inside of Will’s wrist. 

Pulse. 

Fast, as he was scared. But there, present. 

 “Please, come back to me…” he whispered to himself. “I… I don’t want to imagine a life without you.”

__

If someone had ever told Mike that he would end up living without Will in his life, he would’ve laughed in their faces. 

He couldn’t even imagine it. 

Will had always been there. He was that constant, familiar, essential part of his life that made him feel a whole. Will was so deeply woven into Mike’s existence that the idea of a word without him simply didn’t make sense. 

But life, of course, had other plans. 

And even though it hurt more than Mike had ever thought possible, even though it felt like something vital had been torn out of him, he had started (or, more sincerely, tried) to live a life without Will in it. 

Sometimes Every day, he woke up expecting Will to be there. 

Sitting in his chair after a sleepover. 

At the cafeteria at school for lunch. 

Around with him with his bike. 

Every day, Mike expected Will to exist alongside him in that quiet, astonishing way only Will ever had. 

The absence never got easier. 

Watching his friends move forward almost normally left him breathless. They laughed, argued and made plans as if something hadn’t been fundamentally removed from them. It felt like watching the same nightmare play out again and again: November 3, 1983. Will’s disappearance, on repeat. 

Only this time, Mike knew exactly where Will was. 

Not trapped in the Upside Down, chased down by monsters. 

Just… Miles away. 

Alive, yeah. 

Safe, surely. 

But… Not with him. 

And somehow, this last thought made him feel sick. It was like his heart couldn’t understand the difference between knowing Will was in another state and losing him entirely in another dimension. The anxiety felt the same. 

The ache, especially the ache, felt exaggerated. 

And after everything that had happened between them, after the argument in the rain and the silence that followed… He didn’t understand why it still hurt so much. 

He didn’t understand why he felt lonely even when the fault was his and even when he was surrounded by other people he loved. 

He didn’t understand why the neon sign “ONE WAY” taped near his closed seemed to mock him, pointing unknowingly to the hidden box where he kept some of his favorite Will’s drawings. 

He didn’t understand why calling the Byers’ number and hearing the line fail, even though he knew that Joyce worked every day through that same damn line, made his heart crack a little more each time. 

He even started writing little notes for every single missed phone call, scraps of paper filled with thoughts he was terrified of forgetting. Dumb jokes, movies he’d watched, questions he wanted to ask about Lenora. 

All the little things they were used to share without thinking every day. 

Day by day, Mike understood himself less and less and… That terrified him. 

It felt tragic, and somehow poetic in a cruel way, to feel himself fading alongside the memories of the only person who had always seen him clearly. 

The only person who understood him completely, even when he was dead wrong. 

…Even when he hurt him. 

It felt horrible to read El’s letters, to see mention of Will painting something for a girl he maybe liked, and feel something twist sharply in his chest.

Maybe if he did let his mind and heart run freely, just once, he could’ve named it, the feeling. 

But he never dared. Not once. 

Instead, he simply shoved it down. 

Buried it under the idea of normalcy. 

Maybe, maybe, it would go away eventually. 

He knew that was a lie, the biggest one he had ever told himself. 

But he forced it anyway and tried to be the most normal teenager he could invent.

It was the only solution he could cling to.

And that’s why, when he arrived at the airport in California, he tried to dress like other guys his age. Something trendy that didn’t feel like him at all. 

The outfit was awful and he hated every inch of it, but he forced the biggest smile he could manage and pushed forward. 

He knew he was completely screwed the moment he saw Will again, standing there, eyes bright with happiness, and holding something in his hand. 

He didn’t dare hope, not really, that the object was what he thought it might be. That maybe, maybe, Will had been thinking of him too.

That exact moment, his palms went slick with sweat and every word he had rehearsed during the entire flight dissolved. 

When El’s sudden hug hit him, it pulled him off-balance. 

He tried to recover, to pretend nothing was wrong, but the second he turned toward Will again, he simply couldn’t do it. 

So, he hid.

He stayed back as long as possible.

He swallowed the ache, the missing, the urge to pull Will into the kind of hug he’d imagined a hundred times.

He didn’t hug him. 

He couldn’t even say the words he’d practiced. 

All he managed was a weak smile and a pathetic pat on his back, so quick, awkward and hollow that made him feel worse.

He watched Will’s smile falter and disappear almost instantly, like it had never been there at all. 

And in that precise moment, Mike knew that he had messed everything up again. 

…He didn’t need to check his own pulse to anchor himself to reality.

He didn’t need fingers on his wrist.

He didn’t even need to think about that little trick Nancy once taught him, the same one he had shared with Will over the years, the same one that had helped them anchor each other in a way so simple and pure it was almost impossible to describe.

He didn’t need anything at all, because in that moment, while watching Will slowly trying to disappear from his sight by stepping behind Jonathan, Mike could hear it. 

As clear and ache-sharp it could be, it was now undeniable: his heart had started bleeding.

And he knew that the sound of that blood, imagined or not, would anchor him to reality far more brutally than any pulse or world-ending situation ever could. 

__

“Okay. This time, Will doesn’t go after a demo. He goes after Vecna,” said Joyce with a proud expression. “One blow takes him out and ends him. Ends his army and ends this nightmare.”

Even if she seemed confident, the others did not seem to share that enthusiasm.

Mike could definitely tell the plan sucked, as well as everyone else, judging by the confused expression on Erika, Lucas, Robin, Murray, and even Will himself. 

He loved Joyce, and after all those years she was almost always right about everything… But her plans still kind of sucked. 

Every. Single. Time.  

He tried to suppress a laugh, but he could feel Will staring at him, that old silent communication flickering between them.

It felt good to have him back. 

To feel that connection rebuilding, even if slowly and carefully, after he had destroyed so much of it.

He had missed him, but he had missed them too, together with all the little shared looks, their unfinished sentences, and all of the tiny details nobody else ever noticed. 

“Yeah…” Murray said, clearly uncertain, breaking Mike from his thoughts. “It’s… It’s a plan, yeah…”

“You took out that demo with your mind,” Robin added, grinning at Will with genuine admiration.

“I mean—”, Will tried to say. 

“Three, to be exact. Simultaneously,” Mike cut in without thinking, eyes still shining the same way they had the first time he saw Will use his powers. He couldn’t help it. 

Robin smiled knowingly. “A real-life wizard.”

“A sorcerer, actually,” Mike corrected, turning toward Will. His heart warmed when he smiled back, just as he always used to, in that quiet, soft way that he had missed.

“Okay, well,” Robin said, clapping her hands together. “I don’t know you guys, but I really, really need a break.”

She flashed Will a look, almost teasing, that Will answered with opening a lot his eyes and a confused expression. 

It seemed like they were having a silent conversation, and Mike hated every second of it.

What was that? 

It was stupid, maybe, because Will deserved to have someone who really liked him back and he seemed at ease with Robin, but… She was older, she didn’t know Will as much as he did, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. 

He cleared his throat, looking at her, trying to sound casual. “Yeah, same here. I, huh, need some air.”

He turned to Will, trying to keep his voice steady. “Want to come?”

Will blinked, a little surprised, but his eyes softened in a way that made the spark of jealousy that Mike felt before loosen its grip. 

“Yeah,” Will said, smiling. “I’d like that.”

Standing up, Mike caught Robin’s smirk and the most painfully obvious thumbs-up anyone in the entire world had ever given in the history of thumbs-up. He didn’t know what Will had told Robin during their time alone, not that he was jealous, of course, but that gesture screamed something like ‘don’t you dare screw this up again.’

Mike gulped, feeling his eras turning pink. 

They slipped out before anyone else could comment. 

The little pathway to the roof was quiet, with just the echo of their footsteps and the distant hum of the radio. They didn’t speak at first, because Mike couldn’t trust his voice, and Will didn’t seem to know what to say either.

Their shoulder brushed occasionally, and Mike could feel Will’s gaze lingering, but he remained focused on pushing the door open. 

The rooftop stretched out beneath the night sky.  

It was funny seeing how bright the stars were, like the universe hadn’t gotten Robin’s subtle radio hints that the world was ending. 

Will’s breath caught, and Mike stayed still, watching him take it all in.

After a few moments, door now closed behind them, Mike broke the silence. “Makes me think about all the nights spent on my roof or at Castle Byers,” he chuckled softly, voice low. “I miss those nights.”

Will turned his head toward him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah,” he agreed whispering too. “Well, I definitely don’t miss being, you know, literally stolen by some kind of a monstrosity jerk and having my whole life turned upside down. But still…”

“Oh my God, I saw what you did here,” bumping a fist lightly into Will’s shoulder. 

Damn. 

How much of a dork was he?

 A fist bump? 

Really?

He wished El was there, just so he could ask her to open a portal and jump into it. 

Will, however, didn’t seem to notice Mike’s inner. He laughed, the sound carrying a warmth that made Mike’s chest ache. “Ouch, rude,” he teased, nudging Mike back gently with his elbow. 

Mike blinked, caught off guard by how at ease was now Will with himself. 

It was… new, but also endearing, interesting. 

They continued bumping into each other, just like when they were kids, laughing from time to time, until Mike decided it was enough. He caught Will’s arms, stopping the playful fight. 

For a moment, they just looked at each other, breathing slightly uneven from laughing. Then, almost instinctively, Mike let one of his hand slip carefully over Will’s wrist, guiding his fingers to the familiar spot. 

Will’s gaze dropped to where the Mike’s fingers where, and a small, shy smile tugged at his lips. 

“I… Missed this,” he admitted softly, voice just above a whisper. “Doing this little thing with you.”

Mike’s own expression darkened slightly, shadows of guilt flickering across his face. 

“Yeah, well… That’s my fault,” he murmured. “I was a jerk back then. I shouldn’t have…”

Will shook his head, cutting him off gently. “Well, it was my fault too,” he said, voice steady. “I didn’t have to put myself between you and El, or all the things that were happening. But I admit, sometimes I wanted to throw something not so soft at your head. You know, for my own sanity.”

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. 

“When? At Rink-O-Mania? Or at that weird pizza place? Or at my house, almost two years ago, after I’ve told you me and El had broken up, even after all your speeches, and I almost forced you to tell me more about your, and I emphasize your, painting?”

“Oh, shut up Wheeler,” Will said, his cheeks reddening.

“Wheeler? Who’s Wheeler?” Mike mocked back. “I do not know any random Wheeler here. Just Michael-the-Paladin, the one and only best Dungeon Master, the Heart of Party…”

“Okay, okay, I get it, you idiot.”

Before either of them realized it, Will had shifted his in such a way that their hands naturally slipped into each other’s. His eyes fell, unfocused, toward something behind Mike. 

Mike’s chest tightened at the gesture, heart hammering. He could feel the years of misunderstanding, the silences, the small stolen moment all condensed into this one simple act of connection. 

“You know,” Will began, clearing his throat. “During that car ride…I wanted to do this. Hear your pulse. But I couldn’t, so…”

“Why?” Mike asked softly.

“Why what?”

“Why you couldn’t. You could have, you know.”

Will’s gaze snapped to his, shocked. “I could have…Listen to you. I definitely couldn’t? After everything?”

“Said Will the Wise,” Mike teased, easing the tension in his chest.

Will sputtered, half-scandalized, half-laughing. “I’m going to throw you from this rooftop.”

“You won’t,” Mike shot back, smirking. “You love me.”

Will froze for a fraction of a second, just long enough for Mike to see it. His eyes widened, then flicked away. 

He didn’t deny it.  

Mike’s smile softened, fake arrogance becoming something gentler. “I mean,” he swallowed, suddenly aware of the weight behind his own words, “you care about me. Just like I care about you.”

Will exhaled, long and slow. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

Mike gasped. “Unfortunately?”

“You know how much of a pain you are? I’ve known you for more than a decade, and I feel like I’ve lost at least fifty years of my life for dealing with you. I can feel my hair starting being gray.”

“And here I thought I was your best friend,” Mike murmured, forehead tilting toward Will’s. He didn’t move when they touched. 

“Don’t push it, or I am going to tell everybody how much you drool in your sleep.”

“I really, really think they all already know it.”

“Wanna bet?”

Mike pondered for a second. “No. Better not.”

“Just like I thought.”

They laughed, foreheads still pressed together, close enough to feel each other’s breath. 

“Honestly,” Mike said, his voice shifting, now more serious. “Thank you. For saving me out there.”

He felt Will squeeze his hand, almost instinctively. “As if I’d ever let something happen to you.”

Mike closed his eyes, letting the words settle into him. He felt the reassurance, the safety, and the undeniable bond between them, stronger as it ever been, even after they’d tried to bury it.

He loved how, even in the middle of the chaos, with the world on the brink of falling apart, even after everything they’d said to each other, even after everything they’d broken… He continued to feel more are home with Will, than anywhere else.

__

High School was over. 

No more monsters, no more soldiers, no last-minute rescues.

Just a warm September afternoon, heat still shimmering a little, and Mike sitting on a bench near a newly opened music shop, hair still damp from the world’s quickest shower. 

He kept glancing down the street, lost in his thoughts so much he didn’t notice Hopper sitting beside him. 

He turned his head when he caught the familiar uniform in his periphery.

“I thought that hat burnt this morning? By the stove?” 

“Oh, ha-ha,” Hopper deadpanned, lowering himself onto the bench and bracing his arms on his knees, coffee in hand. “Didn’t know you upgraded to fun, Wheeler.” 

Then, after a sip, continued. “By the way, I didn’t see the three inches this morning.”

Mike groaned. “Oh my God.”

Hopper raised a brow. “Do I have to revoke your ‘I stay when I want’ privilege?”

“I was tired,” Mike muttered. “Do you have any idea of how much shopping a seven-year-old wants to do for school? I was less tired when I wrote my university letters.”

Hopper let the quiet linger just a second longer before clearing his throat. 

“So,” he started casually, “English Literature?”

Mike nodded. “Yeah. I hope to end up writing.”

Hopper’s mouth twitched, half-smile, half something like restrained pride. 

“Will’s still going to do the illustrations? I can still hear Joyce’s screams when the letter arrived.” 

Mike smiled faintly. “Yeah. I hope so.” 

Hopper pointed a finger at him. “Remember to treat him well or…” 

“What?” Mike cut in. “Ground me? Ban me from the dorm room I’ll share with Will? Make me eat your cooking?”

Hopper huffed. “I was going to say something else, but sure, let’s add all that to the list.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mike muttered with a small eye-roll. 

It was startling how far they’d come from barely tolerating each other. 

 A beat passed. 

“How are Karen and Ted holding up? Do they need more groceries?”

Mike shrugged, staring at the ground. “No, I took care of that this morning. And you all help all the time… They’re grateful. And they’re not… Terrible. I mean, despite everything, they’re trying. They really are. Still recovering their vocal cords, and their injuries, and…” His voice broke. “You know.”

Hopper nodded. “Nancy.”

“Nancy.” 

The weight of her name didn’t crush the air anymore, but it settled into it. Heavy, familiar, like a hug he could definitely remember, but never feel again.

Mike breathed slowly, trying to hold himself together, but memories rushed in whether he wanted them or not. 

He didn’t remember a night in which he or Will didn’t wake the other up because of the nightmares. He hoped they’d go away eventually. 

Because every time he closed his eyes, he still saw the run. The panic. The terror in everyone’s eyes. How Holly had tripped on the ground, and how Vecna had closed in too fast for everyone to escape. He saw throwing himself in front of her, only to be dragged back by Jonathan, who was desperately trying to save all three of them. 

But above all, he saw Nancy. Smiling, even with tears in her eyes. 

He saw her touch her wrist, the same gesture she had once taught him, speaking goodbye in the quietest language they had ever shared. 

He saw himself screaming her name, begging her to come back, to not leave. 

He saw the moment Vecna reached her, lifted her off the ground, and…

Mike felt a tear fall onto his hand. His chest constricted, breath caught in his throat, and panic surged, uncontrollable. His vision blurred. He felt himself tipping, losing all control over his body, ready to collapse. 

He was tired. 

Then, hands reached for him. Gentle, grounding hands. Hopper’s first, who let his coffee fall in order to catch Mike first. Then others, smaller but firmer, gripping his own tightly, anchoring him to reality. 

“Hey, hey…” Mike could hear Will whispering from where he was crouched in front of him. “You’re safe and I’m here. You’re not alone, okay? Breath with me,” he tried to help him. 

Mike tried to nod, then inhaled and exhaled slowly, following Will’s own breath. At first, he struggled to match his rhythm, the panic still lingering like a storm he couldn’t escape. 

“You’re doing good, kid,” he heard Hopper say. “That’s it. Just like that. You’re okay.”

Mike’s vision cleared just enough to see Will’s face first. Soft, concerned, but patient in that quiet way only Will could be. 

“Welcome back,” Will said, and Mike felt a faint smile tug at his lips. “Hi,” he whispered. “I thought…”

“He didn’t.” Will interrupted gently. “He didn’t get you. I know how much he took from us, from you, but you’re here. Safe.” 

Mike nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “I’m… I’m sorry. I just need to catch a breath.”

Hopper’s hands loosened around him. “Don’t worry, kid. I’m sorry I’ve put you out there again.”

Mike shook his head. “Everything put me out there. Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault.” 

Hopper gave a slow nod, fully understanding.

Everyone had lost someone in that fight, and it was undeniable that it would take time for them to recover even a little. 

“If you’re feeling better, I’m going to leave you kids be, okay? “Call me if you need anything,” he said, standing up and leaving them have the necessary space to recover.

Will nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

As he stepped away, Will shifted to sit beside Mike, filling the space Hopper had left. Mike leaned his head against Will’s shoulder, seeking the comfort only he could provide.

“I swear, one moment, and I’ll be good to go,” he murmured.

“No worries,” Will said softly, wrapping one hand around Mike’s and letting his thumb brush gently over Mike’s fingers. With the other arm, he hugged him close, letting him sink into the warmth and reassurance. “We’ve got all the time you need.”

Mike exhaled, the tension slowly leaving his shoulders. For the first time since everything had happened, he felt anchored. Not by a little trick, not by a pulse check, but by the certainty that Will was right there. 

That the person who had always been there for him would continue to be by his side in the future, too. 

That the person he always cared about, became his person and was not letting him go. 

For the first time, he realized he wasn’t holding onto Nancy by clinging to that old gesture anymore. He still did it sometimes, a quiet way to feel her presence, but now reality didn’t depend solely on it.

Once his breath evened out, Mike shifted his head slightly. Will mirrored him instinctively, eyes scanning for any sign of discomfort.

“Will?” Mike murmured, cupping Will’s cheek and pressing his forehead lightly against his. 

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you,” he continued, a sad smile tugging at his lips, a tear lingering on his cheek. He leaned in and kissed him softly. “I love you.”

When the kiss ended, Will smiled gently. He opened his eyes, meeting Mike’s gaze, and carefully brushed away the tear from his cheek.

“I love you too,” he said softly. “And I’ll always be here. Crazy together, remember?”

Mike let out a small, relieved chuckle. “Yeah. Crazy together.” 

They stayed like that for a little longer, foreheads still pressed together, hands entwined. 

They let the quiet certainty of each other’s presence speak louder than any words could.