In Theory [Senku x Reader]

"Onward, then! To glory and some such nonsense." — Brandon Sanderson, Words of Radiance

Click.

Tap.

Clack.

A boy sits in the dark, the only light bleeding from an array of monitors scattered across his desk. The rapid clack of keys is the only sound in the room.

It's late. The kind of late that turns hours into afterthoughts.

Click.

The screen shifts again. Code scrolls. A schematic zooms in. Something is almost working.

The door creaks open. A sliver of hallway light cuts through the darkness, a harsh rectangle crawling across the room until it splashes against the cluttered desk and the boy hunched before it.

The light catches on the tired hollows beneath his eyes as he slowly pivots in his chair.

"You alive in there, mad scientist?"

Senku scoffs, fingers pausing mid-air. "Tch. When did you get here?"

You shrug, twirling a set of keys around your finger as you step inside. "Just now."

You don't wait for an invitation.

Your hand reaches out and flips the switch.

Lights overhead buzz to life, flooding the room in sterile white. Every blueprint, motherboard, and half-disassembled device is revealed in unforgiving detail.

He groans, shielding his face with the crook of his elbow as if warding off a solar flare. "Oi. Ever heard of circadian rhythm disruption? I was adjusting to a low-light environment for a reason."

You hum, nonchalantly dropping your bag to the floor. "Yeah, and I read that prolonged screen exposure in the dark messes with retinal cells. I figured you'd prefer not to go blind before you finish calculating the tensile yield of that carbon fiber rig you've got half-dismantled over there."

Senku lowers his arm just enough to level a dry stare at you. "Oh, please. If I go blind, I'll just invent a new optic interface calibrated to my neuro-signals. Easy fix."

You roll your eyes, stepping closer to peer at the data scrolling on one of the monitors. "Sure. And while you're at it, maybe invent a pillow that actually supports the cervical spine. Your posture is tragic."

A smirk tugs at his lips. "Says the person whose 'study breaks' involve falling asleep on textbooks."

"Touché," you admit, rubbing at the back of your neck.

Senku opens his mouth—probably about to tell you to either help him or clear out—when he stops mid-motion. His nose twitches, catching the faint scent of something warm and unmistakably savory drifting in from the hallway.

He sniffs again, eyebrows lifting. "Did you seriously bring food?"

You just grin, hands behind your back like you've got state secrets tucked in your sleeves. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

His eyes narrow suspiciously. "You brought takeout."

You pull out the telltale paper bag from behind your coat, it's contents having been left on the kitchen table. You swung it around, the logo showing that it came from his favorite place. "I figured if I can't drag you out of here, I'd at least reintroduce you to nutrition."

He scowls, but it lacks bite. "Bribing me with food to get me out of my room at this hour is manipulative pseudo-diplomacy."

You shrug, unbothered by the use of such low tactics. "Call it what you want. You're still going to eat it."