#because i’ve been somewhat into a dcst headspace

[junosmindpalace]

His head aches directing his eyes toward the doorway, but Senku does anyway to get a glimpse at your figure.

Your fierce expression tells him you refuse to get any closer, as if punishment for the suffering he subjected himself on the dock of the Perseus just a few hours ago. Senku had caught a glimpse of you at the far back of the crowd when the crew had rushed him in from further ambush.

He remembers pain, a lot of it, Luna tending to him, and various members coming both to check on his condition and to receive instruction and advice. He’s found himself with a rare moment of true quiet and space for himself. Until you appeared, that was;

Angrier than he ever expected to see, yet he immediately knows why. The realization makes a frown settle over his own features, and he doesn’t dare break away from your tense gaze.

You strode towards him suddenly, hand slowly coming up in the air as if to punch him, tell him off with a disapproving finger, do something to express your fear and anger toward him for his stunt. All he did was stare with his mouth firmly planted in a deep frown, not wavering in his expression for a second even when you stopped suddenly by his side, keeping your hand in the air and staring at him with a fury hardly being kept in check. His stare almost challenged you to try and retort against the sacrifice he made, and oh how it made you wanna—

But then you sighed. Stepped back. Lowered your arm back to your side. Your brows creased upward in distress, and, oh, no, was your bottom lip quivering?

“You’re an asshole.”

“Well, isn’t that a pleasant way to greet a friend?”

“You shut up with that, I thought you—“

You halted your words, turning your back toward him as horrified eyes stared forward in an attempt to steel yourself. A hand ran down your face, stopping at your mouth. What a horrifying sight that was. Not even a sign of warning.

“C’mon,” he wheezed out with a slight upward curl of his lip. “I thought you knew me better than that.”

Yet the silence his remark was met with brought his lips back to a frown, a more melancholic expression. He called out your name and was met with nothing.

“I braced myself: what more could I have done?”

And you know he’s right. He’s being realistic. You have no right lashing out so aggressively toward him. If anything, you should be praising his bravery, his sharp thinking, his ability to still uphold witty banter with you in the state he’s in. But you can’t. Not when your racing heart hasn’t settled it’s violent thrumming against your ribcage, bruising it and your mental sanity, since the shot rang out. Not since you saw the blood spill out of him. Not since you saw the intense look of pain on his face.

So for now, you hate him for it. For all of it. Even though it wasn’t his fault. He anticipated it at least, so you hate him for it.

He calls for you again.

And finally, you look over your shoulder, eyes glassy and expression fierce. The sight makes Senku want to shiver.

“I did…what needed to be done…” he starts gently. “It’s up to you guys now. And I’ll help where I can.”

Ever the efficient one, that Senku. How it could infuriate you like nothing else. You would think him made of steel at times with the way seemingly nothing fazed him. But with the way you saw his blood pour out from him so quickly, the anguish on his face, it reminded you that he was more human than anyone you’ve ever met. So passionate, so full of life. Nearly childlike in the way he winced as every uncomfortable stir and breath he in and exhaled.

The tension in your face dropped. Senku’s own expression perked up, but mostly stayed firm as you approached him tiredly, pulling up the chair by his bed and taking a seat, hands hesitating as they reached for his.

He stared down at the space in between them, and then back at you just in time for you to raise your own exhausted gaze toward him. Don’t you dare push me away, they pleaded with him.

A little knock of his knuckles against yours gave you the permission you were looking for, and your carefully took his limp hand in both of yours, holding them gently. He chuckled a little as he stared upward, while your gaze remained steady on the bed, and offered a small squeeze in return, which in turn relaxed the tension in your shoulders.

Things were okay between you two. Things would be okay. The sentiment didn’t need to be voiced aloud.