Chapter Text
He spent the entire day unsuccessfully trying to pull himself together. He couldn't quite figure out where his distraction had come from. Was it the morning traffic jam on the highway? The watered-down coffee? Or perhaps the strange dreams that had plagued him for half the night?
Since morning, he'd been reviewing the results of tests conducted on a new type of rocket engine. During the trials, the predicted chamber wall temperature had climbed several hundred degrees above acceptable limits. He corrected models, adjusted calculations, scheduled follow-up tests, and watched the hours slip by while the burning behind his eyes grew steadily worse.
Not even his fourth cup of vending-machine coffee had helped. Every sip left an unpleasant aftertaste on his tongue, something akin to soggy cardboard.
Resting his forehead against one hand, he looked once more at the documents spread across the smooth surface of the desk. Normally, his eyes would have flown across the printed figures, picking out the slightest inconsistencies without effort. Today, however, his gaze remained fixed.
For an indeterminate amount of time, he stared blankly at a point somewhere beyond the papers. Not a single thought crossed his mind. He simply sat there, numb and vacant, listening to the steady ticking of the digital clock on the desk.
In truth, only one concern lingered in the back of his mind.
He was terrified of being removed from the project. And still he couldn't pinpoint the moment things had started going wrong.
Two months ago, someone had first pointed out a glaring mistake he'd made during a thermal analysis. Since then, he had been overlooking increasingly obvious errors in his calculations, plugging incorrect parameters into models, and struggling to draw conclusions with the same sharpness that had once come naturally to him. It felt as though his brain were running on fumes, desperately searching for the nearest gas station.
He wanted to see a doctor, but there never seemed to be enough time. Eventually, he'd decided to wait and hope the mental exhaustion would pass on its own. It hadn't.
Nothing suggested things were about to improve.
The longer he remained trapped in this apathetic state, the more frustration accumulated beneath the surface. He thrashed against it internally, like a cat trapped inside a box with a radioactive atom and no possibility of escape. He hated spontaneity. Spent most of his life trying to eliminate it from every corner of his existence. Yet somewhere deep down, he knew this was one situation he couldn't control. Either he would dig himself out of it or he would sink. Both outcomes seemed equally likely.
A sharp alarm abruptly pulled him from his thoughts. Blinking, slightly disoriented, he glanced at his phone.
Ah, right. It’s today. Time to get moving.
He shut down his computer, draped his freshly laundered lab coat over the back of his chair, and switched off the lights on the deserted floor. Absentmindedly scrolling through messages on his phone, he took the elevator to the lobby and headed toward the car parked a short distance from the entrance.
Only when he sank into the driver's seat did he feel the exhaustion finally catch up with him. The last thing he wanted right now was to play the role of the proud uncle.
A week earlier, Byakuya had called him, sounding happier than Xeno could remember hearing in years, proudly announcing that Senku had landed a paid internship at one of NASA’s facilities. Ishigami had shouted into the phone so loudly that Xeno had been forced to pull it away from his ear for fear of rupturing an eardrum. His old friend’s enthusiasm amused him, because the outcome had been obvious from the start. Senku could have gotten into any place he wanted.
Lillian had wanted to mark the occasion with a small dinner gathering, inviting only him as Senku’s longtime mentor. Not wanting to dampen Byakuya’s excitement, Xeno had promised he’d come.
Now the decision haunted him like an unwelcome ghost.
After an entire week of work, all he wanted was a hot shower and a quiet evening. Instead, he had voluntarily condemned himself to several hours of Byakuya's rambling and Senku's complaints. But who knows? Maybe spending an evening around other people would improve his mood. One could hope.
He merged onto the highway and turned up the music. His eyelids felt unbearably heavy. The drive home dragged on forever. A faint nausea churned in his stomach, accompanied by the hollow ache left behind by a skipped lunch. Even My Chemical Romance blasting through the speakers failed to lift his spirits.
After parking his car and catching elevator to seventh floor, he immediately began patting down his jacket pockets, silently praying he hadn't left his keys back at the office. Fortunately, the day's streak of misfortune appeared to be over.
The moment the door to the apartment opened, he was greeted by the impatient meowing of Voyager and Kennedy Junior.
"Damn, boys. You're acting like I haven't fed you in a week." His voice came out a little raspy as he greeted each cat with a brief scratch behind the ears. A small smile tugged at his lips. Finally he decided to slid down and sit on the floor with his back against the door. Just a quick moment for himself, a moment to breathe. Just focusing all his attention on the two furry creatures competing for space in his lap.
The phone sunken in his pocket vibrated. His fingers fished it out just to find a message from Byakuya making sure he hadn't forgotten about dinner. Xeno let out a long sigh.
The cats sensed the tension running through his body and hopped off his legs, leaving pale tufts of fur scattered across the dark fabric of his trousers.
On his way to the kitchen, he took a look around the apartment – somewhere he had lately been staying rather than living. The mess hit him immediately. Papers covered the dining table and spilled onto the couch, clothes lay abandoned wherever they happened to land, alongside half-finished mugs of coffee. Dust had gathered on every minimalist surface.
Yes. His apartment looked decidedly inelegant. As though it belonged to someone else.
Even now, staring at the chaos he'd allowed to accumulate, he couldn't find the slightest motivation to clean. He shrugged. Tomorrow, perhaps. Or the day after. He'd see.
Before leaving, he'd planned to eat something light. Unfortunately, the fridge contained nothing except a few cans of beer, some milk, and a package of expired sausages.
For a moment, he simply stood there staring at the empty shelves. Then he remembered, that several weeks ago, he'd decided to start eating healthier. A coworker had insisted that nothing improved a person's mood like proper nutrition, so he'd stocked up on vegetables, organic cheeses, and yogurts with absurdly short expiration dates. Yesterday he'd thrown all of it away after it started going bad. Well. He never felt like cooking after work. Most days he ate out or grabbed something from the company cafeteria. That was usually how his impulsive decisions ended.
And lately, he seemed to be making more and more of them.
Ignoring the growl of his stomach, he changed into a clean button-down shirt and black slacks, swapped his socks, and polished his shoes. When he stepped into the bathroom, a well-fed Voyager hopped onto the toilet lid and watched curiously while Xeno fixed his hair.
Once he'd finally managed to force the stubborn silver strands back into place, he looked up at his reflection. He hadn't put much effort into his appearance today, but he had still expected to see something different. Someone who wasn't a frustrated man in his forties with dark circles beneath his eyes and colorless lips. A deep vertical crease had formed between his brows from years of frowning.
Damn it.
Maybe he should skip tonight after all.
If a genie were to materialize in front of him and offer him a single wish, Xeno already knew exactly what he would ask for. He would ask to disappear for a week, to dissolve into atoms and drift weightlessly through the air. Without a single thought disturbing the void. Without a single word directed his way.
And when the week was over, he would return to himself – rested, restored, full of energy and purpose.
Reborn.
–
He pulled into the driveway, cutting slightly across the freshly mowed lawn. After killing the engine, he let out a long sigh and rested his forehead against the steering wheel.
Damn Byakuya. Of course he'd choose a house on the opposite side of the city, the thought followed him as he dragged himself out of the car. The familiar ache in his lower back flared again. Sometimes he had to remind himself that he wasn't twenty anymore and couldn't spend hours hunched over a desk without consequences.
Senku answered the door.
The last time Xeno had seen him was probably three years ago, when he'd dropped by to visit his father – and, more importantly, to replenish his bank account. After giving him a quick once-over, Xeno concluded that absolutely nothing had changed. The same red eyes, the same mischievous grin, and the same hair that looked exactly like a leek.
"Hey, leek-boy." He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.
Senku moved aside. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
"Hi, old man." He shut the door and leaned against the wall, his grin widening. "I was starting to think your back finally gave out and kept you trapped in bed."
"Your old man's persistence can work miracles." One corner of Xeno's pale mouth twitched upward as he pulled off his second shoe. He'd never quite gotten used to that unspoken rule about not taking your shoes off in someone else's house.
The air smelled faintly of spices and lavender air freshener.
He'd only visited the Ishigami’s home a handful of times, two or three at most, back before Lillian had moved in. The place had changed since then. Everything felt considerably more polished now – warm and inviting, though still cluttered in that uniquely Ishigami way. However, not even Lillian's gentle nature could fully contain the chaos that Byakuya and Senku generated around themselves.
In the hallway, Xeno noticed a dresser drawer hanging half-open, stuffed with carelessly crammed sheets of paper covered in crooked handwriting.
Byakuya and Lillian were already seated at the table. From a radio tucked into the corner, the evening news drifted through the room between stretches of soft jazz.
The moment Byakuya spotted him, his face split into a grin so wide it looked painful. "Oh, Xeno. Good to see you too."
The teasing greeting drew an amused look from Xeno.
"Yeah. Nice to see you're still standing on two feet." He pulled out a chair. "How've you been, Lillian?"
Dinner passed in an unusually pleasant atmosphere, one that allowed Xeno's perpetually tense muscles to loosen, if only for a little while. They didn't talk about anything in particular. Byakuya had slipped into reminiscing about the early days of their friendship, filling Lillian in on stories she'd never heard before. Nothing especially interesting. For most of it, Xeno sat quietly, nursing a cup of green tea and occasionally shooting indulgent glances in his old friend's direction. Actually, he’d never was a talkative type of person.
After dinner, Lillian asked whether he'd finally found someone. One corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily.
Naturally, he brushed the question aside with a dismissive wave of his hand. Unfortunately, the moment Byakuya sensed there might be something worth digging into, he latched on like a bloodhound.
"I don't buy that you're living like some kind of ascetic," Byakuya said, raising an eyebrow. "Keep this up and they're gonna canonize you."
"You've known me long enough to realize science is more than enough for me," Xeno shot back, rolling his eyes with theatrical exaggeration.
God, what a clown.
Deciding it was time to redirect the spotlight, he turned his attention to the youngest member of the household, who had spent the last hour practically glued to his phone.
"Senku, be sure to give my regards to your sweetheart." Xeno propped his cheek against his palm and leaned toward him, his voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. He even threw in a shameless wink. "Tell him they're from Dr. X."
His grin stretched wide enough for his teeth to gleam ominously beneath the dining room lights.
Senku rewarded the effort with a look of profound second-hand embarrassment before immediately returning his attention to his screen.
"Mhm," he muttered.
"You never said you were seeing someone." Byakuya leaned over his son's shoulder to peek at the phone, earning himself a solid shove.
"Jesus, old man. I'm not seeing anyone." Senku sighed dramatically and dropped the phone onto the table. "I'm just texting Gen. Tonight's supposed to be the best night for the Perseids, so we're driving out to the woods to watch them. Speaking of which, can I borrow the car?"
"You don't have a driver's license," Lillian pointed out.
"But Gen does." A smile lingered around the corners of Senku's mouth. "He'll drive. I'll just navigate."
Lillian raised both hands in surrender.
Byakuya's face went completely blank for a moment as he processed this information. Then, several seconds later, it lit up with unmistakable excitement. "You're dating Gen?!"
"I literally just said I'm not." Senku grimaced, though Xeno caught the flicker of panic in his crimson eyes. "I met him through Chrome. He's been over a bunch of times. You would've met him ages ago if you weren't constantly running off to Florida." He directed the explanation at Byakuya, who appeared to have completely ignored the very obvious denial.
"Sure, sure." Byakuya patted him on the back before abruptly hauling him into a tight, thoroughly unwanted hug. "Nothing to be embarrassed about." He shot his son a meaningful look.
In response, Senku pressed his lips into a thin line and glared murderously at Xeno, the instigator of this entire conversation.
Meanwhile Xeno merely crossed his arms and watched the father-son struggle with immense satisfaction. Why should he be the only one subjected to romantic interrogations?
The moment Byakuya's grip loosened, Senku seized the opportunity and slipped free. "Oh, right, Xeno." He cleared his throat. "If you've got a minute later, could you take a look at my Hubbard model calculations? I keep screwing something up, but I can't figure out where."
Xeno took a sip of tea and tapped his fingers lightly against the tabletop.
"Sure. Assuming it isn't something spectacularly idiotic." Tilting his head, he offered the broad, vaguely sinister smile he reserved exclusively for his favorite people – which, at present, meant only Senku. "If you've managed to butcher such a beautiful equation, you may come back three fingers short." He clicked his tongue in mock warning and narrowed his eyes.
Oh Lord, how he loved teasing this kid.
"I guess it's better to come back without fingers than without hair." A short laugh escaped Senku. "Think you're starting to go bald there, old man?"
"Oh, why must you be so cruel?" His hand flew dramatically to his chest, clutching at the fabric over his heart. "If I had to spend as much time with you as Byakuya does, I'd probably go bald before thirty."
They left the table and headed upstairs. Senku pushed open the door to his room, which was packed from floor to ceiling with cardboard boxes. Torn sheets of paper and books missing entire sections were scattered across the shelves beside the bed. Xeno clicked his tongue and glanced down. A small screw lay beneath his shoe.
Maybe this was why Americans wore shoes indoors after all.
"You know it's incredibly barbaric to tear pages out of books, right?" he remarked, picking up a mutilated section from a textbook on plasma propulsion systems.
"Tough." Senku shrugged. "I'm not exactly carrying around several thousand pages everywhere I go." He shoved a stack of papers into Xeno's hands. "Here."
Had Xeno been a man of his word, Senku would have left that room with a grand total of seven fingers. The little menace had somehow turned an S into a 2 midway through his calculations and then wondered why nothing worked. Naturally, this earned him a sharp smack to the back of the head and a concise lecture. When it came down to it, he was every bit as scatterbrained as his father.
In the end, they spent a little over half an hour in the room. Senku enthusiastically walked him through one project after another – model sketches, theoretical designs, equation sets – losing all track of time as he talked.
Xeno watched the glow of the computer screen reflected in those red irises. They shone with a hunger that was almost frightening, restless and insatiable.
Something heavy settled in his stomach. He had known Senku since he was a child, maybe five or six years old, when he'd sent NASA an email detailing a problem with the propulsion system of his miniature rocket. They'd corresponded regularly for years after that, right up until their first meeting in Florida.
The moment Xeno saw the boy with the ridiculous hair and a handful of pens stuffed into the back pockets of his jeans, he'd recognized him immediately. The same thing that had radiated from every one of those emails radiated from him in person. Pure, boundless passion.
Xeno had always considered that the most important quality a scientist could possess. Not determination, not discipline – important as those were – but passion. Something that made you spending entire nights bent over equations feel natural rather than burdensome. Something that turned every answer into three new questions, each one feeding the hunger for knowledge instead of satisfying it.
In Xeno's eyes, a scientist without passion was nothing more than a stuffed scarecrow. A poor imitation of the real thing.
Someone like him lately. The irony wasn't lost on him.
When they finally returned downstairs, they found someone new sitting in the living room.
Xeno frowned. He hadn't heard the doorbell ring while they were upstairs. Glancing sideways at Senku, he noticed that the boy didn't seem surprised by the visitor's presence at all.
"There you are at last." Lillian spotted them and shook her head with a quiet sigh. "I was starting to think we'd have to drag you out by force." She laughed softly as she rose from her chair.
"Well, Senku subjected me to absolute hell with his absentmindedness," Xeno said, feigning annoyance. "Moments like that really remind you the two of you are related." He directed the last comment at Byakuya, who merely snorted.
"Why don't I introduce everyone properly?" At Lillian's words, the man turned toward them.
And suddenly Xeno's mouth went dry.
Pale strands of hair slipped across a smooth forehead. Sharp features seemed to carve through the space around him. Xeno didn't even have time to properly register the stranger's hazel eyes before his gaze dropped lower.
To his lips.
Purple.
A deep plum-colored shade.
So vivid it was almost tempting.
"Stanley." The man extended a hand, apparently aware of the scrutiny he was under. At last, Xeno dragged his gaze upward and offered a pleasant smile.
"Xeno. Nice to meet you."
Their hands met. Stanley’s grip was warm and firm, sending an odd shiver down Xeno’s spine. The faint scent of cigarette smoke clung to him.
"Yeah. Likewise." The smoothness of his voice seemed to set the very air between them vibrating.
The handshake lasted a second too long. Xeno could feel those hazel eyes fixed on his face, as though Stanley intended to pry open his skull and read every thought inside. His right hand burned where they'd touched, like he'd spilled hydrochloric acid across his skin. Discreetly, he wiped it against the back of his trousers.
"Stan's the son of a friend of mine," Lillian explained, looping herself around Stanley's arm and affectionately brushing a stubborn lock of hair away from his forehead. "What a coincidence that they happened to send you to Houston." Her smile widened. "Stanley works for the military. He's a fighter pilot." She sounded absurdly proud, as though he were her own son.
"That's a pretty elegant line of work," Xeno remarked, meeting Stanley's gaze once again.
But dear God.
What the hell was with those lips?