Archive of Our Own

The first time Xeno met Gina, he was thirteen.

His father did not date. There were no gradual introductions, no long explanations, no space for hesitation. The decision had already been made before Xeno was even informed. Marriage was simply the outcome of alignment—status and mutual benefit.

Xeno understood that much. 

The ceremony itself was small. Not because it lacked importance, but because importance did not require an audience. Only a few selected guests attended, people who mattered in business rather than sentiment. It was the type of wedding that seemed more like a contract being finished than a celebration.

Gina’s mother was an heir to a major company, one that operated under a name too established to casually replace. For that reason, she did not take Xeno’s father’s surname. His father, in turn, also kept his own name unchanged. It was not a family being formed in the traditional sense. It was an arrangement of two existing systems choosing to cooperate.

Xeno stood near the edge of the room, observing rather than participating.

That was when he noticed her.

His step-sister, and her name is Gina. From what he gathered, she's a full blooded Japanese.

“So I’m older than you, huh?” she said, as she casually took a seat beside him.

Her voice was light, and almost playful, and her English is perfect to the point Xeno can't hear a Japanese accent.

She had curly dark hair that fell naturally around her shoulders, unstyled but still composed in a way that made it look intentional. Her eyes were brown, warm in color but not in feeling as there was something observant in them, like she was already studying the room instead of simply existing in it. Her expression carried an ease that did not match the calculated nature of the gathering.

Xeno glanced up from his snack. “We were almost the same age, so there was no need to be superior about it.”

“I was being superior?” Gina asked in disbelief, though she looked thoroughly amused. “This is a simple social interaction, you know.”

“Then don’t start with the age difference,” Xeno told her flatly.

Gina looked even more amused by his rudeness, as if it had done nothing to deter her at all.

“Sure,” she said easily. “Oh, and in my opinion, two years is not ‘almost the same age.’”

Huh.

This was different from the people Xeno had already encountered.

Usually, Xeno’s bluntness or rudeness made people uncomfortable—classmates would go quiet, and even adults tended to correct their tone or dismiss him entirely.

Except Stanley.

But Stanley was different. Stanley was his friend. Xeno frowned slightly at the comparison, then pushed the thought aside.

“It is almost the same age,” he insisted.

With that, he returned to eating, clearly intending to end the conversation. His attention shifted back to his food, as if Gina had already been mentally dismissed.

Gina only smiled. A small shrug followed, effortless and unbothered, as she turned her attention away as well.

Good.

***

Living in the same house with another child and a new mother was not as bad as Xeno had initially expected.

It was, in fact, mostly functional.

The adults were busy most of the time, and when they were present, they were accommodating in a way that felt intentional rather than warm. Xeno was familiar with that kind of environment. He had grown up with a father who prioritized work over routine family structure, where efficiency mattered more than sentiment.

So in a sense, this was not unfamiliar.

What he did not expect was Gina.

She remained… civil.

Not in the distant, polite way adults were. Gina interacted with him directly, as if it was natural. Over time, her presence became consistent enough that Xeno no longer registered it as an interruption.

Then, gradually, it became something closer to routine.

There were moments like this which are small, scattered across days that blurred together.

Gina would appear in his space without hesitation.

“What are you doing?” she would ask, leaning slightly over his workbench or desk, peering at whatever he was building.

Xeno would answer without looking up. “An adjustment to the reaction system.”

“Right,” she would say, as if she understood, even when she clearly did not.

Other times, she would ask about school.

“How was class?”

“Unremarkable.”

“That doesn’t sound like a compliment or an insult,” Gina would reply, amused.

It never seemed to matter to her whether his answers were complete or useful. She simply asked.

Sometimes, she would sit nearby while he worked, watching him assemble small inventions or calculations without interrupting.

Other times, she would ask about subjects he found inefficient.

“Do you understand social studies?” Gina questioned once.

Xeno paused briefly. “No.”

“Really?” she said, like that was interesting rather than concerning.

He did not elaborate.

Gina hummed. “Do you want me to teach you?”

Xeno turned his head to her in surprise. “You’ll do that for me?”

“Of course.” Gina smiled. “Tell me when you’re ready, I’ll teach you immediately.” 

Xeno nodded, feeling warmth with that suggestion.

“What else do you want me to teach you?” Gina asked.

For a second, Xeno hesitated. Not that he was nervous or anything, that would be incredulous to think about, but he just… wanted to gather himself.

And then, he spoke tentatively. “I want to learn Japanese.” 

Gina’s eyes widened as her eyes twinkle in joy, then she grinned softly at him.

“Of course.” 

***

Xeno was the one who decided Gina should meet Stanley.

It made sense. Introducing her to the nearest variable in his surroundings made sense if she was now a part of the home structure. Stanley was dependable and well acquainted with Xeno's work habits.

“Hello, Stanley,” Gina said, smiling as she stepped forward. “My name is Gina. Nice to meet you.”

Stanley gave her a wary look.

His stance changed slightly and his attention became more focused, indicating that he had already evaluated her as a variable that needed to be watched. It was subtle but instantaneous.

Gina, however, only continued smiling.

Xeno registered the tension between them but did not know how to resolve it. Social interaction was not something he optimized for emotional balance.

So instead, he acted on what he could control. He picked up his small rocket prototype.

“This is what I’ve been working on,” Xeno said.

The shift in attention worked immediately.

Gina turned toward him with interest. “A rocket?”

“Yes,” Xeno replied. “A scaled propulsion model designed to test controlled thrust output in a restricted environment.”

She tilted her head slightly. “So it flies?”

“In theory,” Xeno said. “It will achieve vertical lift before destabilizing due to atmospheric resistance.”

Gina hummed, as if following along.

Stanley, on the other hand, remained silent but his gaze stayed fixed on Gina more than the rocket.

Xeno continued explaining the structure: the fuel composition, the ignition timing, the stabilizing fins. He described it in detail, precise and uninterrupted, until the model was ready.

Finally, he set it into position.

The launch system was prepared. The mechanism clicked softly as it locked into place.

Xeno stepped back.

In the corner of his vision, he noticed Gina lean slightly toward Stanley.

She whispered something to him, and Stanley reacted instantly as he jerked back from her as if she had invaded his personal space, his expression became alert and defensive. Gina only laughed softly, like she had expected that reaction.

Stanley’s ears and cheeks were faintly flushed.

Xeno did not process why.

Whatever had passed between them, the tension in the air dissolved quickly. Their posture changed as it became less guarded, more… conversational. 

Chummy, almost.

Xeno watched it without expression.

The rocket ignited.

A sharp burst of sound filled the air as it lifted upward, controlled for only a brief moment before its trajectory stabilized into a clean ascent.

Xeno tracked it mechanically, but his attention wasn’t fully on it.

It was on both Stanley and Gina.

He forced his expression to remain neutral.

Xeno was not jealous. He’s not!

That would be illogical.

And yet something unpleasant lingered in his chest. Not sharp enough to name, not rational enough to classify. Just an unfamiliar pressure, like something had settled inside him and refused to leave.

As if it wanted to reach out.

Grab hold of Stanley, and pull him back.

After that, everything continued smoothly.

The experiment resumed without interruption. Xeno adjusted parameters, recalibrated the model, and ran additional tests. Gina watched for a while, occasionally asking small questions, but did not interfere. Stanley assisted when needed, and was silent as always.

At some point, Xeno stopped thinking about earlier discomfort entirely.

It was not a conscious decision. The sensation simply… faded into the background, replaced by the focus of work. 

By the time they concluded the session, the rocket prototype had been refined further than expected. 

It was only when they began to leave that the earlier moment returned faintly, like something remembered rather than felt.

Stanley approached Xeno briefly before departing.

“Your sister is cool,” he said simply.

Then, without adding anything about the experiment or even acknowledging Xeno further, he turned and left.

Xeno stood still for a moment.

That’s… that’s the only thing Stanley could comment on for this activity?

Not even about the rocket nor about Xeno’s work.

Just Gina.

On the way home, Xeno walked slightly behind Gina. Or next to her. Or perhaps just close enough that it could be considered either.

He was quiet. Only quiet, but definitely not pouting.

“What’s wrong?” Gina asked.

Xeno shook his head without looking at her. “Nothing.”

Silence settled between them again, broken only by Gina’s soft humming. Xeno’s thoughts, however, were not silent.

Maybe introducing Stanley to Gina had been a mistake. Because… What if Stanley now found her more interesting? What if this was the moment Stanley realized Xeno was not the part worth staying near but Gina was?

What if—

“Stanley said something to me,” Gina suddenly said.

Xeno blinked, pulled out of his thoughts.

She glanced at him briefly. “But don’t tell him I told you, got it?”

“…Got it,” Xeno replied automatically, already bracing himself.

Gina smiled faintly.

“He told me: ‘As long as you don’t hurt Xeno, you’re good.’ Then he proceeded to threaten me if I ever hurt you, and he knows how to use a gun.” She laughed lightly, as if recalling something mildly amusing rather than intimidating. “You have a very protective friend, Xeno.”

For a moment, Xeno didn’t respond. Then his ears turned faintly red.

Just like that, the heaviness in his chest disappeared.

***

Being bullied was nothing new to Xeno.

He had grown used to it since early childhood, long before he had the language to properly categorize it. Other children often reacted to him in predictable ways—first confusion, then discomfort, and eventually resentment. His intelligence made them feel inferior, though they rarely admitted it. Instead, it manifested as mockery, as if labeling him ‘weird’ somehow restored balance.

Xeno never corrected them.

At first, it was verbal. Comments about how he spoke, how he thought, how he didn’t respond the way he was supposed to.

Then it became physical. Like a shove in the hallway, a conscious trip, or a kick delivered when no one was looking.

It escalated over time in the way such things usually did—gradual enough to be dismissed, consistent enough to become normal.

Xeno adapted.

But then Stanley appeared.

And after that, things stopped being one-sided.

Stanley never asked many questions. He simply acted with violence as when he saw what was happening, and responded in the most direct way possible.

After that, the bullying decreased significantly. Not because it disappeared but because people learned.

So Xeno had not expected a situation where Stanley was absent.

It was a simple coincidence. Stanley had been occupied with his basketball club activities, something unrelated to Xeno’s academic schedule. It should not have mattered.

But it did.

That day, no presence was next to him in the hallway, no quiet deterrent standing nearby. And so, for the first time in a long while, Xeno was alone when it happened.

He did not remember everything clearly. Only fragments.

The moment it started. The pressure of hands. The imbalance of force. The lack of resistance that should have been there but wasn’t.

After that, Stanley found him in a janitor’s closet.

The door opened sharply.

“What the hell—”

Stanley froze. For a moment, he simply stared. Then his expression changed.

It wasn't an outburst of rage. It was crisper and more controlled as the air seemed thicker as his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. The type of rage that might be comprehended without sound.

His posture instantly changed, as though he was evaluating distance, injuries, and dangers that were no longer there yet were still important.

“Xeno,” Stanley said, voice hushed into a whisper. “Who did this?”

Xeno blinked slowly, still processing. “No one important,”

“That’s not an answer.”

Stanley stepped closer, then stopped himself like he was forcing restraint. His hands curled slightly at his sides.

“You’re hurt,” he stated.

Xeno looked down at himself as if confirming the information. “It is minor.”

“Don’t do that,” Stanley said sharply.

Xeno paused.

Stanley exhaled through his nose, still visibly angry, but trying—poorly—to control it.

“I leave you alone for a few hours,” he muttered, “and this happens.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Xeno said, quietly, “You were busy.”

That made Stanley pause, but didn’t say more.

“Come on,” Stanley helped Xeno pull himself slowly. “We’re getting you out of here.”

Xeno glanced away slightly but let himself pulled up. “You are angry.”

“I am not angry,” Stanley said immediately.

He gave Stanley a questioning glance. 

Stanley sighed loudly. “I am angry at them.”

Xeno processed that. “…Why?”

“Because they touched you.” Stanley exhaled, finally looking away. 

Xeno didn’t respond right away. Instead, something unfamiliar settled in his chest again but this time, it was not heavy. It was… warm.

And for some reason, he did not want it to leave.

After that, as usual, Stanley understood without needing it said aloud.

They could not tell Xeno’s family.

It was avoidance as much as pragmatism. Xeno did not want to witness his father's displeasure, which was usually quiet and collected when anything fell short of expectations. And as for Gina… that was harder to define. But Stanley did not need Xeno to explain it.

He simply understood that she should not know.

“Escort me home,” Xeno said.

Stanley looked at him for a moment, then moved without argument. Carefully, he guided Xeno’s arm around his shoulder, adjusting his grip to support him properly.

“Are you sure?” Stanley asked.

“Yes,” Xeno replied. “My parents are on a business trip, and my sister is at the student council.”

As for Gina… 

He had heard that Gina was quite competent in her position. Effective, even trusted with tasks that are older than she is. She was referred to at school as a ‘good secretary.’

Stanley sighed softly, then nodded. “Alright.”

They began walking.

The movement was steady, slow enough that Xeno did not have to force his balance. Stanley stayed close, adjusting automatically whenever Xeno shifted even slightly off-center.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

“You don’t have to act like this didn’t happen,” Stanley broke the silence.

Xeno glanced at him.

“It did not affect my output significantly,” Xeno replied.

“That’s not what I meant.” Stanley gave him a flat look. “And don’t give me fancy words just to escape this.”

A brief silence wrapped around them.

Xeno hesitated, then corrected himself in a quieter tone. “…It is unnecessary to acknowledge it.”

Stanley didn’t respond immediately as his grip tightened slightly, almost possessive even—as if Stanley was scared that if he let go of Xeno, something wrong might happen.

Before they realized it, they had arrived.

In front of them was Xeno's house, which was spacious and strangely silent in the way that upscale establishments frequently were. Glass surfaces, clean lines, and a feeling of space that was more carefully planned than lived in.

As they got closer, the gates recognized the entrance and opened automatically.

The home sprang to life within.

It wasn't warm in the conventional sense, in a large foyer with floors made of polished stone with minimalist furniture that is thoughtfully spaced. expensive furnishings that didn't seem to belong in a house but rather in a design magazine. Everything was kept immaculately, nearly unaltered.

A  location that prioritizes structure above comfort.

Stanley had been inside Xeno’s house before, multiple times, in fact.

He did not look around in curiosity, nor react to the scale of the place. Xeno, on the other hand, remembered something about Stanley that never quite fit into simple categories.

Stanley was not wealthy in the same way he was.

There was no corporate structure behind him, no visible inheritance of industry or academic legacy. But he was not without background either.

He was descended from a long-standing, disciplined military family where duty was expected rather than chosen. Add to that, wealth that was constructed into habit rather than showcased, the sort that manifested itself in voice, posture, and self-control. Instead of using show, old money influence is demonstrated through control.

Without ceremony, Stanley guided Xeno to the couch and carefully lowered him down. His movements like he had done this before or like he never allowed himself to hesitate long enough to make mistakes.

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Stanley told him, already turning toward the hallway.

Before he could take another step—

“What the hell happened?”

Xeno flinched instantly. He recognized that voice.

Stanley stopped as well, straightening slightly on instinct.

Gina walked in as her eyes immediately locked onto Xeno.

She crossed the room in a few steps and tilted his chin upward without asking permission, inspecting the injury with calm precision.

Xeno stiffened slightly.

“Stanley,” Gina said, still not looking away from Xeno, “be a dear and bring me the first aid kit.”

“Got it,” Stanley replied immediately.

Xeno blinked. “I thought you would be back home later.”

Gina hummed softly. “The meeting ended early.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she finally took in the details of his face.

“Now…” she said, voice light but sharper underneath, “who did this to you?”

Xeno looked away. “Why would you assume someone did this to me? What if I simply fell?”

“Uh-huh,” she said flatly. “And the ground gave you a clean punch to the face.”

Xeno said nothing. After a beat, he looked away completely.

Gina sighed, as if this answer was already tiring her.

At that moment, footsteps returned as Stanley came back with the first aid kit and placed it on the table beside them.

“So?” Gina prompted again, finally releasing Xeno’s chin. “What are their names?”

There was a long pause, then Xeno gave in, once he saw how Gina was not letting this go.

He told them the names—almost mechanically, like it was just information.

And that was when Stanley perked up, instantly recognizing those names. 

“Second and third are on Maple Street,” Stanley had said to Gina. “First one is two blocks from the school gate.”

Xeno stared at him. “…You memorized those?”

Stanley shrugged slightly, already turning his attention away. “Habit.”

… Habit?

But Gina only smirked at them.

“I’m glad I know the names,” she said lightly.

A beat of silence followed, a silence of suspicion. 

Xeno slowly turned his head toward her.

“…What are you going to do?” he asked. Then, after a pause, added more directly, “It’s not like you can do anything about it.”

Because logically, she couldn’t.

The people involved came from similar backgrounds—wealthy families, influential connections, the kind of social structure where consequences were often delayed, softened, or redirected entirely.

Well… most of them did.

Xeno himself had only entered the school before his father’s marriage to his current wife—who was, by comparison, significantly more established in wealth and influence. The shift in his environment had been noticeable, but irrelevant to the current problem.

Gina tilted her head slightly.

Then she smiled.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said calmly.

That should have been reassuring.

It was not.

Xeno frowned slightly. “That is exactly what people say right before doing something inelegant.”

Stanley, who had been silently cleaning up the first aid kit, paused.

“…Yeah,” he agreed under his breath. “That’s usually how it starts.”

Gina glanced at both of them.

“Wow,” she said, sounding faintly amused. “So you both just assume I’m a threat now.”

Xeno blinked. “Statistically, it is a reasonable conclusion.”

Stanley didn’t look up. “You asked for names.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Gina replied smoothly.

Xeno added, very seriously, “It increases probability.”

That earned a soft laugh from her as Gina shook her head slightly. “You two are exhausting.” She leaned back a little, still smiling. “Relax. I said don’t worry about it.”

Xeno stared at her. That, unfortunately, did not help.

If anything, it made it worse.

Stanley closed the first aid kit with a quiet click.

“…Yeah,” he muttered. “I’m worried.”

Gina’s smile widened slightly.

“Hmm, maybe that’s good,” she said. “At least we’re all emotionally prepared.”

***

After that, the bullying simply stopped completely.

At first, the change was slight. No more bumping into each other in the corridor. No more casual remarks that were meant to be humorous. People started to deliberately avoid him, reroute conversations, and move aside as he passed.

Eventually, even those who had once been involved seemed to adopt a strange neutrality toward him. Not fear and not friendliness.

Just… indifference.

As if Xeno had been quietly moved out of relevance.

That was what unsettled him the most.

Because it did not look like intimidation. There was no visible punishment, no obvious consequence that would explain the behavioral change.

Which meant Gina had done something.

But Xeno could not determine what.

And that, more than anything, stayed in his thoughts longer than he cared to admit.

Later, he and Stanley were working together again.

It was one of those days when everything seemed organized by routine: notes strewn in a controlled disorder that only they could understand, tools arranged in exact order, and incomplete parts on the desk.

Stanley was helping him adjust a component near the base of Xeno’s current prototype while Xeno reviewed measurements on a tablet-like device.

The work itself was quiet, but not uncomfortable. It rarely was with Stanley.

They had reached a point where silence was simply part of the process rather than something to fill.

“You know,” Stanley grunted after a while, not looking up from what he was doing, “your sister is really cool. I’m saying it again.”

“…Yeah,” Xeno said after a moment. “She is… really elegant.”

It was not the first word that came to mind but it felt accurate in a way he could not fully explain.

Stanley hummed in acknowledgment, as if that answer made sense.

***

Both Gina and Xeno referred to their parents using formal titles—father and mother—regardless of biological relation. It was a convention that maintained structure more than sentiment.

Naturally, they were closer to their biological parents. Xeno with his father, and Gina with her own mother.

So it was not something Xeno initially questioned when he noticed the difference in treatment.

What did surprise him, however, was how much respect his father seemed to hold for Gina.

It was not the casual approval given to a stepchild out of obligation. It was more… attentive? As if her words carried weight in a way few others did.

At some point, Xeno asked her about it directly.

His father’s attitude toward her was inconsistent with what he understood about family hierarchy.

Gina had only smiled at him when he asked.

“Being the next in line for the business,” Gina explained, “means I sometimes work alongside my mother. He sees the results of that work directly.”

It made sense if that’s the case.

Then it became clearer one day during dinner sometime later.

The dining table was large, polished, and arranged with the same precision that defined the rest of the house. Conversations were usually minimal unless necessary, and tonight was no different.

Xeno brought up the field trip.

It was a school excursion, it’s educational and important enough that attendance would be recorded and noted. For Xeno, it was relevant enough to be worth attending.

“I would like to go,” he said simply.

His father did not look up from his meal immediately.

“Our family trip is scheduled for the same period,” his father replied. “It is more important. It aligns with several business discussions that require presence, not delegation.”

It was not an argument, but it was also not a discussion open for negotiation.

Xeno frowned slightly. “I still want to go.”

His father finally looked up from his meal. “Xeno, this is not a recreational decision. This trip is connected to our partnerships and ongoing agreements. Your presence as my son is part of maintaining those relationships.”

Xeno understood the logic. That did not make it any less disappointing though.

He looked down as the conversation already obviously effectively concluded.

“I think he should go.”

Gina’s voice cut through the table.

It was calm, not raised, not disruptive. But it immediately shifted attention.

Xeno looked at his sister as his father turned slightly toward her and waited.

Gina continued eating as she spoke, as if the topic were only mildly inconvenient.

“It’s a school field trip, education is still part of his development, and it would reflect poorly if he missed it for something non-academic.” Then Gina added calmly, “Also, I imagine the trip is somewhere well-known. If Xeno attends, there is a higher probability he contributes something noteworthy. That is more beneficial long-term than him sitting through a business discussion he is not involved in yet.”

Xeno blinked slowly, knowing that was not how he would have framed it.

But it sounded… reasonable.

Gina finally glanced up, her expression still composed.

“And honestly,” She shrugged, almost casually, “it might be better socially as well. Business trips tend to involve people comparing their children’s achievements. It can become repetitive.”

His father’s brow shifted slightly, still staying silent.

Gina continued, tone not changing. “It would be more efficient to simply present the actual standard.”

Silence settled over the table as Xeno watched his father carefully.

A lengthy, deliberate, analytical pause ensued. Gina wasn't exploiting sentiment, knowing their father was not easily persuaded. Still… she was making use of good words. 

Finally, his father exhaled softly.

“…You make a valid point,” he said.

Xeno’s attention sharpened slightly.

“Very well. He will attend the field trip.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he told them, “We will adjust the schedule accordingly.”

Gina gave a small nod, as if the matter had simply been corrected.

But not before everyone discreetly glanced at the person who has real power in this house—Gina’s biological mother.

Their mother did not speak throughout the entire exchange, it’s almost as if she was bored of this whole thing. The woman simply continued eating, observing without interference.

Just like that, Xeno was able to go on a field trip.

And maybe spent some time with Stanley during that trip.

Later, Xeno could not fully categorize what he felt. It was not surprising in the traditional sense as he had already known Gina was intelligent.

But watching her redirect his father calmly felt different.

She had not argued but had simply redefined the situation until the outcome changed.

Xeno looked at her from across the table.

Gina was already back to her meal, expression relaxed, almost indifferent.

And for the first time, Xeno thought with a quiet sense of certainty that did not need further analysis—

His sister was elegant.

Not in appearance but in the way she moved through people.

***

Years passed.

Xeno and Stanley were now in high school.

Their routines had changed, but their dynamic had not. Stanley still appeared next to him with effortless consistency, and Xeno still found himself working better when Stanley was present.

One afternoon, while Xeno was working on his laptop, Stanley spoke without looking up from what he was doing.

“Hey,” he said casually. “Did you hear what your sister did a few years ago when she was still a first-year in high school?”

Xeno paused briefly and lifted his gaze.

“What is it?” he asked.

“She rejected a guy by humiliating him in front of the entire school.” Stanley told him after a moment “Although, to be fair, he was known for being a serial dater. So it wasn’t exactly unprovoked.”

Xeno returned his attention to his laptop.

“He deserved it, then,” he said simply. “Nothing can top the time when Gina arranges for someone to be beaten after stealing class funds though.”

Stanley blinked. “That’s a different level of escalation.”

Xeno did not look up. “It was an appropriate response for her.”

“Eh,” Stanley eventually shrugged it off, “sounds like the guy deserved it too.”

“Still,” Xeno said flatly, “it was a messy solution.”

Stanley glanced at him. “You just don’t like messy things.”

Xeno paused. “…That is correct.”

He did not like unnecessary variables as preferred outcomes that were more clean.

And yet, Gina’s methods did not always align with that standard.

Sometimes they were clean—almost elegant in execution, like a problem being solved without visible effort. Other times, they were undeniably chaotic.

Gina was an elegant manipulator on a good day. On her bad day though, she was something far more difficult to categorize—vicious in a way that never looked emotional, only intentional.

What made it more complicated was that neither Xeno nor Stanley ever seemed to fully escape her influence. In conclusion; Gina sometimes was able to manipulate the

There were moments that, in hindsight, clearly aligned too neatly to be coincidence.

Xeno refuses to attend a junior high prom, only to find himself attending anyway.

Stanley was expected to travel for summer with his grandfather, only for plans to shift in a way that resulted in him staying near Xeno instead.

At first, these had seemed like unrelated changes.

Now, they did not, because… 

Come to think of it, situations like those almost always resulted in him and Stanley spending more time together.

Xeno stared at the screen for a moment longer than usual.

Despite everything—despite her manipulative tendencies, her calculated decisions, her ability to redirect situations without being obvious—

Gina had always been soft toward them.

Especially toward Xeno.

That was the part Xeno did not analyze too deeply.

Because whenever he did, he found that the answer was not logical. It was simply something that made him quietly, consistently… glad.

Sometimes though, Xeno wondered what Gina saw in him that made her treat him with such consistent fondness.

There were many people around Gina. People who sought her attention, followed her lead, tried to earn even a fraction of her approval. And yet, she never seemed to forget Xeno. 

She texted him without clear reason, asked questions that did not always serve a purpose, and occasionally requested his presence in places where she technically did not need him.

It was not necessary behavior. And yet, it happened anyway.

Strangely, it did not bother Xeno.

If anything, it warmed him in a way he had not fully categorized.

Especially when—

Xeno’s gaze drifted.

Even though Stanley Snyder didn't make a big impression, he managed to take up space in a way that, once recognized, seemed inevitable. He had a calm yet controlled stance, as if he was constantly ready to move. Though Xeno had long since discovered the tiny distinctions underlying it, his look was composed, perceptive, and a little inscrutable.

His hair was a little disheveled in a way that appeared accidental rather than careless, and he exuded the calm stability that Xeno had learned to identify with security rather than quiet.

Xeno realized he was staring.

He did not look away immediately though.

“…Stan,” Xeno called out.

Stanley glanced over. “Yes?”

That habit started about a year ago.

Gina had casually suggested shortening Stanley’s name. Xeno had done it without much thought.

And for some reason, whenever he did, Gina always looked faintly satisfied afterward.

Xeno did not understand why, but it did not seem important enough to question.

What mattered was that Gina treated Stanley the same way she treated Xeno.

Carefully. Softly. With attention that did not need explanation.

“Nothing,” Xeno said after a moment.

Stanley watched him carefully, then his expression softened slightly.

“If you want to tell me about one of your inventions,” he said, “go on. I won’t stop you.”

Xeno paused. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled a little.

“…I have a plan,” he said.

Stanley blinked. “That sounds dangerous coming from you.”

“It is not dangerous,” Xeno replied. “It is methodical.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Stanley muttered. “And we nearly set the lab curtain on fire.”

“It was controlled… uhh burning?”

“It was a fire. Just pure fire”

Xeno tilted his head slightly, hiding the sheepish expression. “It was a learning experience.”

Stanley sighed, but there was no real frustration in it.

“…Fine,” he said. “What’s the plan this time?”

Xeno looked at him for a second. “To improve efficiency.”

Stanley stared. “…That narrows nothing down.”

“Good.” Xeno nodded. “That means it has potential.”

“I’m going to regret being friends with you.” Stanley covered his face briefly with his hand. 

“Statistically speaking,” Xeno thought about it for a moment. “You have not left yet.”

“Hah.” Stanley exhaled. “That is not a reassuring metric.”

***

Gina had been staring at him for several minutes.

Xeno ignored it.

This was not unusual behavior anyway.

They were in his room, and as always, Gina had entered without knocking—as if the concept of personal space was more of a suggestion than a rule. She moved with the same ease she did everywhere else, like every place she stepped into eventually became hers by default.

Xeno, on the other hand, was seated at his desk, working through a set of assignments with quiet focus.

He was in his final year of high school now.

Gina had already moved on to college, studying political science.

The choice had not surprised him.

At one point, Xeno had asked what she intended to do in the future.

She had looked him dead in the eye and said, without hesitation: “To become the President of United States of America.”

Xeno had accepted that answer immediately. There had been no reason to doubt it.

Statistically improbable, yes—but so were most outcomes Gina pursued, and she had yet to fail in any that she committed to seriously.

Back to the present—

Gina was still staring and Xeno continued writing.

He adjusted a formula, reviewed a line, and turned a page.

His sister is still staring. He paused.

Then Xeno resumed.

“…If you are attempting to induce discomfort,” Xeno said without looking up, “it is only partially effective.”

Gina did not respond… That was not reassuring.

Xeno sighed softly, setting his pen down.

“Why are you staring at me?” he asked, finally glancing in her direction.

Gina tilted her head slightly, as if considering how to answer.

“I’m observing you,” she said.

“That is vague.”

“I’m analyzing,” she corrected.

Xeno frowned slightly. “For what purpose?”

Gina smiled. “For future use.”

“…That is not comforting.” Xeno stared at her.

Gina only hummed. There was a brief pause before she added thoughtfully, “You know, if I ever do become President, I’ll need someone competent.”

Xeno blinked. “For what role?”

“Undecided,” Gina’s smile widened just a little.  “But you’re already qualified for something.”

Xeno narrowed his eyes slightly. “That sounds like exploitation.”

“Of course it is,” Gina replied easily. “Duh.”

Xeno looked at her for a long moment then he sighed tiredly, “I will require a contract.”

“See?” Gina laughed. “This is why I keep you around.”

Xeno turned back to his work, as if that statement required no further reaction. If that’s all, then there’s nothing to talk about.

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend yet?” Gina asked suddenly.

Xeno paused his writing next to his laptop, because that question felt completely unrelated to the previous topic.

Is that why she’s here?

“…Because I am not interested in romance,” Xeno replied flatly. “Focus on your own love life.”

Gina waved a hand dismissively. “Eh, Gabriel is busy with his school project.”

“Remind me,” Xeno looked up slightly, “how that relationship started?”

“Oh, I drugged him because of a misunderstanding.” Gina leaned back in her chair, thinking for a moment before continuing with alarming casualness. “And then he drugged me back. Isn’t he so good?”

Gina then sighed dreamily. Xeno stared at her blankly.

“…How inelegant,” Xeno said immediately, returning to his work. “I still cannot believe you are in a serious relationship.”

From everything Xeno had observed over the years, Gina’s relationships had always been casual.

She dated multiple people, but none of it ever carried expectations. Her partners seemed aware of the same thing—nothing she did was meant to be permanent. It was understood easily

Gina did not ‘settle.’ She simply… experienced life and challenges.

So for her to fall in love seriously with someone who matched her level of unpredictability—it felt, strangely, appropriate.

Xeno had met Gabriel once.

He was polite. Calm. Soft-spoken in a way that did not feel weak, but controlled. There was something observant about him, like he was constantly evaluating situations without making it obvious.

More importantly, he did not react strongly to Gina.

Which, in Xeno’s experience, was either very smart—or very dangerous.

Gabriel also came from a background that did not appeal to Gina’s mother at all. He was an orphan, with no notable family backing or institutional ties. On paper, he was insignificant.

In practice, however, he was not.

He studied psychology, but also maintained a small business on the side. During their brief conversation, Xeno had noted his understanding of financial systems was unexpectedly strong for someone his age.

Which made him… elegant, in a way.

Xeno had once asked Gina why someone like Gabriel studied psychology when he clearly had an interest in business.

Gina had answered simply, “He likes the challenge.”

Xeno had accepted that explanation immediately.

Those two are a really perfect match.

So yes, Gina now had a serious boyfriend.

And, based on how things were progressing, possibly a future husband after college.

At first, their parents had not approved of the relationship. There had been questions—about background, stability, and family status. 

However, those objections had not lasted long.

When Gabriel formally visited their home, the atmosphere had changed. The same people who had once been hesitant now received him with courtesy, even warmth, as if the earlier concerns had never existed.

Xeno did not ask what had changed. He suspected Gina did something again, she usually did.

“So what about Stanley?” Gina asked suddenly.

Xeno blinked, pulled out of his thoughts. “…What about him?” 

Gina rested her chin on her hand, looking at him with mild curiosity rather than seriousness.

“Is he not available in your romantic options?”

Xeno stared at her.

“…Are you insane?”

Gina tilted her head. “What?”

For a moment, Xeno did not respond.

Not because he lacked an answer but because he was trying to process whether she was joking. Gina loves to do that, after all.

That question was not something that should have been asked so casually. Not in their environment and not in their household. 

“I’m not—” Xeno’s voice turned into a whisper. “I’m not gay, Gina.”

It came out quieter than he intended. Gina rolled her eyes immediately, as if the answer was both unnecessary and overly dramatic.

“There’s nothing wrong if you are, you know.”

“There is,” Xeno snapped back.

The words came faster this time.

Being homosexual in their environment was not something treated with neutrality. Not here, not in the circles their family moved in, and certainly not in the world Xeno was expected to inherit.

It was not just about personal identity. It was about consequence.

Reputation mattered. Perception mattered. Even rumors, even implications, carried weight that could spread faster than fact.

If his father heard something like that—

If it reached the wrong people at school—

If it became something whispered instead of stated—

Xeno’s thoughts tightened.

He could already imagine the shift. The looks that would change. The way people would reassess him. The way opportunities would quietly disappear without explanation.

And the bullying—

He had seen how quickly ‘different’ became ‘target.’

Gina should understand that, she always understood systems.

So why was she speaking like this was harmless?

“If someone hears you saying things like that,” Xeno’s grip on his composure tightens. “it is not a joke. It becomes something that follows you. In our environment, it does not stay neutral.”

Gina looked at him for a long second.

Her expression did not change much—still calm, still composed—but something in her attention sharpened slightly. Like she was sad.

Just… aware.

“Secrets can be an option but…,” she sighed. “But I get where you are coming from.”

Xeno did not respond immediately as he looked away.

Because saying more would make it real in a way he did not want it to be. And for once, even his logic did not feel like enough to fix it.

Gina’s eyes softened slightly—not in pity.

“Sorry about that, Xeno,” Gina apologized. “But I do have a question though.”

“What?” He carefully asked. 

A brief pause followed.

“What is Stanley to you?”

“We are friends, of course,” Xeno narrowed his eyes at her, suspicion immediately. “You already know that.”

“I do,” Gina said gently.

There was no challenge in her tone this time. No teasing, just pure curiosity.

Xeno frowned. “Then why ask?”

“Because, it seems that your definition of ‘friends’ is… more specific than most.” Gina tilted her head slightly, then she cleared her throat. “It doesn’t mean it's supposed to be romantic. After all, there are people who they call their friends as their platonic soulmates.”

“That is vague.” Xeno mulled what his sister said. “But yes…It is more than that,” 

His shoulders relaxed slightly as he spoke, as if the answer itself came naturally once he stopped overthinking it.

“He’s mine,” Xeno continued, voice steady, certain. “And I’m his.”

The statement settled into the space between them.

Simple and direct. But dangerous, if heard by the wrong person.

If anyone else had been present, Xeno would have immediately corrected himself. Rephrased it. Reduced it into something more acceptable, more neutral.

But this was Gina. And she’s always Xeno’s safe haven.

Gina only hummed softly. “I see.”

“That’s it?” Xeno blinked at her.

Gina straightened slightly, already turning as if the conversation had reached its natural conclusion.

“Do you want me to say anything?” she asked lightly.

Xeno hesitated. “…No.”

Gina let out a small snort.

“Anyway,” she said casually, “it’s going to be weird once you and Stanley get married to other people.”

Xeno snapped his head toward her immediately.

“I am not going to marry someone,” he told her flatly, then hesitated for half a second. “And as for Stan—”

He stopped as that thought landed a little differently than expected.

Stanley… It couldn’t be, right?

Gina raised an eyebrow at his reaction but only shrugged as if she had simply commented on the weather.

“Is that so?” She turned toward the door as she spoke. “Well, then only Stanley is going to get married. Probably.”

Xeno can’t help but still panic at the thought.

“I distinctly remember him saying he doesn’t mind having a family in the future,” she added over her shoulder. “That would be awkward for you if you still consider Stanley as yours.”

And just like that, she walked out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Xeno remained still as he stared at the empty space where she had been standing, as if expecting the conversation to continue or correct itself.

But nothing changed. Only silence remained. His mind, however, did not.

Stanley having a family.

Stanley with someone else.

His Stan no longer available in the same way he had always been—always present, always consistent, always there when Xeno needed him without question.

Xeno’s grip on his pen tightened slightly.

Logically, it made sense.

People eventually formed families. Relationships changed. Priorities shifted with time. There was no error in that outcome.

And yet the idea did not sit correctly with Xeno.

Xeno sighed slowly as he decided to open his laptop.

If he focused on studying, it would resolve itself.

He typed the first line of his notes.

Paused. Deleted it. Typed again. Paused again.

His eyes drifted slightly to the side, unfocused.

If Stanley had a family… Xeno frowned faintly.

He wrote nothing for several seconds.

Then, with more force than necessary, he resumed typing.

If only he could concentrate.

***

Xeno came home later than usual.

School had been heavier than expected. College preparation was no longer theoretical; it was becoming immediate, structured into deadlines, expectations, and decisions that carried weight beyond simple academics. By the time he reached his front door, his mind was already exhausted.

He had expected the usual.

Gina and Stanley inside.

And he was correct.

He could already hear them from the doorway—laughter, informal chatter, the effortless ease that permeated the room. In contrast to the controlled stillness Xeno was accustomed to elsewhere, it was strange but not unwanted.

He stepped inside, preparing to greet them.

Then stopped.

Stanley was there, sitting on the couch.

But there was a bandage along the left side of his face.

Xeno’s expression changed immediately.

He crossed the room faster than he intended.

Stanley looked up in surprise, his usual calm shifting slightly at the sudden proximity. His eyes widened just a fraction before settling again, as if adjusting to Xeno’s presence beside him.

Gina was nearby, watching quietly.

Xeno ignored her for the moment.

He reached Stanley’s side and examined him without hesitation. The bandage had been placed properly, carefully, but the implication behind it was already clear.

His gaze sharpened.

“…What happened?” Xeno asked.

His voice turned into a hush concern as his hand lifted, gently brushing the edge of Stanley’s cheek near the bandage.

Stanley inhaled sharply.

“Was it your father again?” Xeno continued. “You haven’t been in a fight with anyone else recently. It can only be him.”

Stanley gave a faint smile instead of an answer, leaning slightly into the contact without thinking.

“…It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said softly.

Xeno did not accept that.

His thumb lingered near Stanley’s cheek for a moment longer than necessary, as if confirming something only he could see.

“…That is not an answer,” Xeno replied.

Stanley did not move away.

Instead, he stayed still, gaze fixed on Xeno in a way that was unusually unguarded for him. There was something quiet in his expression now, less composed than usual, but not unstable. More like he had simply stopped pretending to be unaffected.

Xeno finally noticed the silence around them.

But he did not immediately break it.

Because Stanley was close enough that the rest of the room felt irrelevant.

His hair was slightly disheveled, his expression softer under the dim light of the room, and even with the bandage, there was something about him that made Xeno’s thoughts slow without permission.

As if his brain had already categorized Stanley as something important long before he consciously acknowledged it.

Stanley spoke first, voice quieter than before.

“You’re staring,” Stanley looked surprised when he uttered that.

“…I am analyzing,” Xeno replied automatically.

“That’s not what it looks like,” Stanley muttered, but there was no real complaint in it.

Xeno did not respond immediately.

His hand was still near Stanley’s face. And for reasons he did not yet identify, he did not remove it right away.

Gina suddenly clapped her hands together.

The sound cut through the room sharply.

Stanley and Xeno both flinched almost at the same time, pulling slightly apart as if they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Gina leaned back with a satisfied smile.

“Forget about the depressing stuff,” she said brightly. Then, her eyes briefly flicked toward Stanley with unmistakable mischief.

Stanley moved away from her, watching Gina warily.

“I forced Stanley to go shopping with me,” she continued, “and do you know what happened?”

Stanley’s expression changed instantly as his ears turned red.

“…Don’t you dare,” he warned, voice hush into a whisper.

Gina ignored him completely.

“A girl kissed his neck,” she said, bursting into laughter right after.

“Hey!” Stanley snapped, but he did not deny it.

That, unfortunately, was enough confirmation.

Xeno just… froze as something in him simply… stopped processing for a moment altogether.

His eyes moved slowly to Stanley’s neck.

Sure enough there’s a faint lipstick mark. Still visible.

For a second, Xeno did not speak.

He only stared.

“Do you know who it is?” Gina grinned at him.  “You know her very well.”

No.

Xeno did not want to know.

That information was unnecessary. Inefficient. Completely irrelevant to—

His thoughts stalled again.

Stanley leaned back slightly, finally noticing the direction of Xeno’s gaze. Then he looked at Xeno with mild confusion now.

He still did not know what expression he was making. But for some reason, the room felt colder than it had a moment ago.

“So you don’t want to know?” Gina only smiled wider, as if that’s possible. “How about the boy Stanley was holding hands with earlier? They looked very sweet together.”

Xeno paused.

A boy.

Stanley clicked his tongue immediately. “You’re making Xeno think I’m part of some threesome.”

Gina tilted her head. “Maybe that’s your calling?”

“Shut up,” Stanley snapped.

But there was no real heat behind it—just frustration at being entertained at his expense.

As the two of them continued bantering, Xeno did not move.

Because his mind had already locked onto one detail.

A male human being had been with Stanley earlier. And Stanley had not reacted with disgust, that was the part that did not compute.

Xeno’s brows furrowed slightly.

He did not understand the implication Gina was trying to create, but he could feel the structure of the conversation shifting in a direction that felt increasingly unnecessary.

“Oh, by the way, Xeno,” Gina said suddenly, turning toward him. “Why were you late?”

A change of topic? That’s good. Maybe Gina noticed unusual in Xeno’s reaction.

“I was busy with my lab partner,” Xeno straightened slightly, returning to his usual tone. “We have a project due this week.”

For a brief moment, Stanley’s expression shifted with a subtle flinch.

Xeno noticed it, but did not register why it mattered.

Gina, however, hummed thoughtfully. “Your partner seems to occupy your time quite a bit.” 

“Naturally,” Xeno replied. “It is fortunate I have someone who is not dependent on my input for every step.”

Gina nodded as if that answer confirmed something she already suspected.

“Just make sure I don’t catch you with him in your bedroom again,” she added casually.

Xeno rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes.”

His mind briefly flashed back to the incident.

A project discussion that escalated into a heated argument. Two incompatible approaches. Raised voices. A near-physical fight over methodology. Gina arrived home at the exact wrong moment, taking one look at them, and locking them both in a closet ‘until they learned collaboration.’ Gina does not even know Xeno’s lab partner personally.

Afterwards, she had, of course, commented that this was ‘classic enemies-to-lovers behavior,’ which had offended both of them enough to immediately become more civil out of spite.

Gina, being Gina, had found that result satisfactory.

“Tell me, Xeno,” Gina said suddenly, eyes glinting. “Was he good with his hands?”

Xeno blinked.

He thought about it seriously.

His lab partner’s hands were steady, reliable, and precise—as much as he hated to admit it. As it’s far more controlled than most of his classmates, and even more consistent than his own when under pressure.

In fact, he had once noted that their manual precision was statistically above average.

And—if he was being objective—useful.

“Yes,” Xeno answered immediately.

At the same time, Stanley choked.

A very real, very abrupt sound.

Xeno’s head snapped toward him instantly.

“Are you alright?” he asked, already analyzing possible causes.

“I’m fine.” Stanley waved a hand quickly as he stood up. “I should probably go home.”

Xeno’s gaze sharpened immediately. “…After being beaten by your father?”

“I’ll be fine,” Stanley grunted. “It’s more likely he isn’t home right now. He usually… calms down after. Feels guilty.”

There was no bitterness in his tone. Only familiarity.

As if this pattern had already been accepted long ago as part of routine life.

Xeno almost rolled his eyes.

Almost.

Stanley’s explanation did not change anything about the situation. His father’s behavior was still abuse. The justification—whether it came from guilt, instability, or emotional dysregulation—did not neutralize the outcome.

Xeno had once been told there was a clinical explanation behind it. Something about impaired impulse control, emotional regulation issues, possibly long-term psychological instability worsened by external stressors.

Not a “cure” in the simple sense. More like management that never fully stabilized the behavior.

Xeno had not looked into it further.

Not because he did not understand it, but because understanding it did not change the result.

And Stanley spoke about it like it was weather. Something to wait out rather than something to escape.

“I’ll be fine,” Stanley repeated, more gently this time. Then he looked at Xeno. “I’ll text you later.”

Once the door closed behind him, Gina spoke darkly.

“If it weren’t for Stanley…” she murmured. Her eyes darkened slightly. “I would’ve gotten his father in prison years ago.”

Xeno did not question her.

Gina was not the type to speak without certainty, and she was even less the type to make empty claims about capability.

But they both understood the same limitation.

Stanley would not allow it.

Not because he approved of what happened, but because he had already normalized surviving it—and he loved his father.

Xeno’s hands tightened slightly at his side.

More importantly, he did not like that Stanley treated something so structurally wrong as something he simply had to accommodate.

He stared at the door for a moment longer

“Anyway,” Gina said, tilting her head slightly, “are you mad?”

Xeno already did not like the direction this conversation was taking.

“About Stan’s situation?” he asked, slowly. “Yes.”

“No.” Gina looked at him with mild curiosity. “About the fact Stanley kissed a boy.”

Xeno snapped his head toward her. “I thought it was a girl he kissed,”

Gina shrugged. “The girl kissed his collarbone. The boy kissed him on the lips.” She paused. “Should I have been more clear earlier?”

Xeno did not respond.

Not because he was processing the clarification but because he had decided, very quickly, that he did not want to know any further details about Stanley’s evening life.

The image alone was already too much information.

His thoughts stalled in a very specific direction.

Stanley. Someone else. With a boy.

Something sharp and unfamiliar tightened in his chest. It's just an irritating feeling.

He frowned slightly.

And, before he could fully filter it—the idea of Stanley being with someone else made something in him react in a way he did not have a label for.

Specifically, he wanted to punch the person Stanley had kissed.

Which made no sense, because Stanley was not something that belonged to him. At least, not in any defined or acceptable way. They were just friends.

Gina suddenly leaned forward slightly.

“Hey,” she said, squinting at him. “Are you being homophobic?”

Xeno froze.

“I—I am not,” he said immediately, too fast.

“Remember,” Gina raised an eyebrow, as if continuing an unrelated lecture, “Stanley is still your friend.”

“I know that,” Xeno snapped, then corrected himself more carefully. “I am not being—whatever you are implying.”

Gina hummed like she had not heard him.

Then, without warning, she leaned back and shifted tone completely.

“You know,” she said, almost conversationally, “thirty years from now, I think attitudes about this will be very different.”

Xeno blinked. “About what?”

But Gina already slipped away into that familiar analytical cadence she used when talking about systems rather than people.

“Based on current academic trends in political science and social behavior modeling, there is a strong likelihood that attitudes toward same-sex relationships will become significantly more normalized in future policy environments. Not necessarily universally accepted, but structurally recognized enough that public resistance will decrease over time.” She tapped her finger lightly against her arm. “It follows the same pattern as other historical social shifts. Slow institutional acceptance, followed by generational normalization.”

“…Really?” Xeno asked.

“Of course,” Gina nodded, completely confident. “It’s predictable if you actually study social cycles.”

Xeno rolled his eyes at that, and Gina chuckled. Then she tilted her head again, smiling faintly.

“Are you going to start doubting me now?”

Xeno paused. “No.”

Gina nodded, satisfied, as if the matter had been settled.

Because… Xeno had grown up alongside Gina since he was thirteen.

In that time, he had learned something consistent about her that defied most expectations of ordinary reasoning.

When Gina described something as likely, it usually became likely.

Not through vague intuition, but through structured observation—patterns in policy, economics, education systems, and generational behavior that she seemed to track the way others tracked weather.

Years ago, she had spoken about political and social trends shifting within a multi-decade horizon, outlining changes that at the time had sounded theoretical, almost detached.

And yet, some of those predictions had already begun to manifest.

Public discourse had shifted, academic framing had changed, and subtle institutional language had begun to align with what she had once described casually over dinner.

So when Gina spoke now, Xeno did not dismiss her.

For some reason, her explanation about future social acceptance eased something in his mind.

It did not solve the problem though.

Because of a certain image that refused to leave his mind.

Stanley getting together with someone.

Something unpleasant sprang in him at the notion; it was harsh, illogical, and hard to describe. He did not perceive it as rage. It wasn't reasoning, worry, or just unease.

It was closer to rejection.

His stomach turned slightly at the idea, and he pressed his lips into a thin line as if that alone could force the thought out.

Xeno exhaled slowly.

Because he could not deny that something existed between him and Stanley.

Not in the sense of ambiguity but in the sense that it had always been there, uninterrupted, unexamined, and consistent.

Xeno is in love with Sta—

What he could not do was define it.

Because naming it would require accepting that it had shape.

And accepting that would require acknowledging what it meant.

***

Gina only had one week left before she had to return to her college dorm.

She did not announce it with sentimentality. She simply stated it one morning over one morning. And then, without waiting for agreement, Gina decided she was going out with Stanley and Xeno.

Stanley did not argue. Xeno also did not refuse.

So that was how they ended up there.

A private botanical conservatory on the outskirts of the city—technically open to the public, but rarely crowded due to its location and quiet reputation. Glass ceilings arched above them, filtering sunlight into soft, fractured patterns across rows of carefully maintained plants. The air was humid, warm, and filled with the faint scent of soil and greenery.

It was secluded enough to feel distant from the city but still public enough that there were people passing through in the background.

Gina walked slightly ahead of them, hands clasped behind her back, moving at an easy pace as if she had arranged the environment itself.

Xeno walked next to Stanley. That was the problem though.

There was nothing visibly wrong.

They did not fight or anything, and yet Xeno was aware of something different in the atmosphere between them.

Stanley was not speaking as much as usual. When he did, his tone was normal, but there was a subtle delay before responses, as if he was considering things he normally would not. His presence, usually steady and familiar, felt slightly more… restrained.

As if he has to be restrained around Xeno.

Really, Xeno did not know how else to categorize it.

He also did not know why he was aware of it at all.

They stopped near a section of tall greenery, where light fell through glass panels in uneven shapes.

Gina paused ahead of them, pretending to examine a sign about plant species.

She had been doing that often lately.

Pausing at convenient distances and looking away at precisely the right moments. As if she was observing something else entirely while pretending not to.

Xeno did not question it. Instead, he looked at Stanley.

Stanley was staring forward, but not at anything specific.

“…This place is quiet,” Xeno said after a moment.

Stanley nodded once. “Yeah.”

Silence followed.

It should have been normal.

They were often quiet together when working, or when walking, or when nothing required speech.

But this silence felt different. Like something had been placed in the space between them without either of them acknowledging it.

Xeno frowned slightly.

“…Are you uncomfortable?” he asked.

“No,” Stanley blinked, then looked at him.  “Just thinking.”

Xeno accepted that immediately as thinking was a normal state.

But Stanley did not look away afterward.

Instead, his gaze lingered in Stanley’s figure just a second longer than necessary, as if something in Xeno’s presence was interrupting whatever he had been thinking about.

Xeno did not understand why that detail registered so sharply.

Behind them, Gina made a soft sound of interest.

Xeno turned slightly. But she was still facing away from them, studying a plant display with exaggerated focus.

Clueless. Or appearing to be.

“…What is she doing?” Xeno narrowed his eyes slightly.

Stanley glanced at Gina briefly, then back at Xeno. “I don’t know,”

But his tone suggested otherwise. After that, they continued walking, still side by side.

Neither of them spoke for a while. And yet Xeno could not ignore the awareness of Stanley beside him.

Not in a logical sense. As if something that made the quiet feel less like absence and more like anticipation, even though Xeno did not understand what was being anticipated.

Ahead of them, Gina finally turned slightly, glancing back over her shoulder.

Her expression was light, almost innocent.

“Are you two enjoying yourselves?” she asked.

Xeno answered automatically. “It is an acceptable environment.”

Stanley shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Gina smiled.

“Good,” she said.

And then she turned forward again.

As if nothing unusual was happening at all.

A sudden cry broke through the calm of the conservatory.

It was an unfiltered, harsh sound that didn't fit in an area with filtered sunshine and peaceful vegetation. Tearful and confused, a tiny child stood close to one of the walkway crossroads, yelling for his mother in between erratic breaths. When there was no response, his voice swelled once again into a cry.

Xeno winced slightly at the volume, instinctively stepping half a pace back.

Before he could say anything, Gina was already moving.

She walked toward the child without hesitation, as if the situation required no deliberation at all. Her pace was steady, unhurried, but direct enough that it drew attention.

Xeno and Stanley exchanged a glance.

Then, almost in sync, they followed.

Gina knelt in front of the boy once she reached him, bringing herself to his eye level. Her expression was calm, not overly soft, but deliberately gentle in a way that did not overwhelm.

“Can you tell me your name?” she asked.

The boy sniffed, blinking rapidly at her as he tried to steady his breathing.

He shook his head at first, and Gina did not press immediately.

“That’s alright,” Gina said instead. “Can you tell me what happened? Did you get lost?”

The boy hesitated, then nodded weakly.

“I… I can’t find my mom,” he said between sniffles. “She was here… and then she was gone.”

Gina hummed softly, as if acknowledging the information rather than reacting to it.

“Okay,” she said. “Do you remember where you last saw her?”

The boy lifted a shaky hand and pointed vaguely toward one of the paths lined with tall plants. Gina followed the direction with her eyes.

“All right,” she told him. “We can work with that.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small tissue pack, offering one to him without rushing.

“Wipe your face first,” she added. “It’s harder to think when you’re crying too much.”

The boy blinked at her again, then slowly took the tissue and obeyed.

Behind them, Stanley stood slightly to the side, watching.

Xeno did not move at first as he was still processing the shift in Gina’s demeanor. It was not unfamiliar, exactly.

But seeing it directed outward, toward someone else, made it register differently.

“It’s a surprise, isn’t it?” Stanley said quietly beside him.

Xeno glanced at him.

Stanley did not look particularly shocked. If anything, his expression was more observant than surprised, as if confirming something he already suspected.

“Why don’t you look surprised like I am?” Xeno asked.

Stanley gave a small shrug.

“I’ve noticed Gina has a… nurturing side,” he told him. “She’s been like that for a while.”

Xeno frowned slightly.

Stanley continued, still watching Gina speak softly with the child.

“Ever since she came into our lives, she’s been looking after you in her own way,” he added.

Xeno looked back at Gina.

She was patiently listening now, letting the child point again, adjusting her posture slightly so she did not tower over him. Her voice remained calm, guiding rather than commanding.

The boy’s breathing was already evening out.

And Gina, as always, looked completely in control of the situation without ever appearing to force it.

“What are you talking about?” Xeno frowned at Stanley, “About me being looked after by Gina?”

The idea did not make immediate sense.

Xeno had been independent for as long as he could remember. Ever since his caretaker had been discharged when he was ten, he had learned to rely on himself for most things. Like decisions, routines, problems—everything had been handled internally or systems he created on his own.

Since Gina entered his life, that independence had not changed.

If anything, it had simply gained another point of reference.

She was not a caretaker. Not a guardian. Not anything that fit into a parental structure.

She was simply… Gina.

A constant presence that had gradually become part of his environment, like Stanley had, except in a different way entirely.

Someone he could ask things he did not understand. Someone who would answer without making him feel as if the question itself was incorrect.

That was all.

“Gina is like a mother to you, if you haven’t realized it yet,” Stanley said.

Xeno frowned immediately. “That is not accurate.”

“After all,” Stanley tilted his head slightly, unfazed. “whenever you have to deal with something you don’t understand, you go to her, right?”

Xeno paused.

That part, at least, was true.

It was natural.

Gina understood people in a way he did not. Social interaction, emotional subtext, unspoken expectations with things that did not follow strict logic. When Xeno encountered situations that lacked clear rules, he defaulted to her because she provided clarity.

That did not make her a parental figure. That just made Gina more approachable, in a way.

“That is just being a sister,” Xeno rolled his eyes.  “And we are almost the same age.”

“Right,” Stanley replied. Then, after a short pause, he added, “For someone who is quick to criticize my family situation, you don’t seem to notice how… unstable yours is.”

Xeno did not react immediately.

He had, on occasion, commented openly on Stanley’s family situation. Not out of malice, but observation. Stanley had never taken offense to it, so Xeno had never considered it inappropriate.

“It is different,” Xeno shrugged.

Stanley gave him a look that suggested he did not agree, but did not press further.

Xeno’s thoughts drifted briefly.

To Gina. To how she had acted earlier, so calmly guiding the child, making decisions without hesitation, creating order out of distress in a way that felt almost instinctive.

Then, unbidded, another thought surfaced.

Gina had once told him that Stanley might want a family in the future.

Xeno pushed the thought down before it could form properly.

He did not like the direction it was going, so he did not follow it.

Instead, he focused on what was in front of him.

The child was safe now.

Gina was still beside him, speaking softly while coordinating with security, ensuring everything proceeded in a controlled and efficient manner. Within minutes, the situation had stabilized.

Eventually, the boy’s mother arrived, panicked and apologetic, and the reunion unfolded with relief and tears that quickly dissolved the earlier tension.

The matter ended as it should have.

Cleanly.

Without complication.

And Xeno, standing slightly apart from it all, chose not to think further than that.

***

Gina’s last week passed faster than it should have.

There were no long speeches, no drawn-out goodbyes that tried to stretch time. Instead, it came quietly, like everything else she did when she did not want to make a scene of it.

On the final day, she stood with Xeno in the same house that had held most of their shared years.

“You’ll be about to graduate soon, Xeno,” Gina said softly, her voice was gentler than usual.

She pulled him into a hug. In this height, it had become noticeable how they are now at the same height unlike the first time they met years ago.

“Hey, Xeno? I’m going to give you some advice.” She murmured gently into his shoulder. “So cherish the memories you have here in this place.”

Xeno let out a quiet snort, even as he did not pull away immediately.

“In this place?” he repeated. “Are you serious, Gina?”

“There are still things worth remembering here,” Gina shrugged slightly, still holding him for a moment longer before releasing her grip. “Other than me.”

Xeno tried not to jerk back, knowing what Gina was talking about.

Gina smirked. “Specifically, someone else who is important to you.”

Xeno’s expression tightened for a fraction of a second.

Stanley.

He cleared his throat and looked away immediately, as if the name had been spoken aloud instead of implied.

Gina noticed as a faint smile tugged at her lips.

“Maybe you should add more memories with him,” she continued casually, stepping back now. “It’s the same as cherishing what you already have. You don’t need to treat it like something separate.”

Xeno didn’t respond right away.

His thoughts stalled briefly, not because he disagreed, but because the way she said it made it feel strangely final.

After a moment, he gave a small nod.

“…I understand,” he said.

And for once, he did not try to over-explain what that understanding meant.

***

Xeno did not think of it as anything unusual.

It was simply a continuation of what Gina had said.

Cherish memories and add more of them.

So when the idea came to him, it felt logical rather than emotional.

He asked Stanley if he wanted to go back to the old site as the place where it had all started between them—thier first meeting.

Instead of the rail gun, Xeno decided to make another invention that looked safe and wouldn't put them in jail. Again—that’s a story for another time.

Anyway… the rocketship, it’s one of the inventions Xeno first started.

Stanley agreed.

The location was quiet when they arrived.

Familiar in a way that did not feel aged, only unused. The ground was slightly uneven, marked faintly by time and absence rather than neglect. It was not far from where they usually worked, but distant enough to feel separate from their current routines.

Xeno had already brought the components.

He assembled them with practiced precision, hands moving in a sequence that required little conscious thought now. Stanley assisted with a needed instruction, adjusting parts when necessary, stabilizing sections when Xeno indicated without words.

Eventually, the structure stood complete. Small, compact, refined compared to its earlier version.

“…It should function,” Xeno stepped back slightly, eyes scanning it once more.

Stanley gave a short nod. “Then test it.”

Xeno activated the mechanism.

For a brief moment, nothing happened.

Then, a clean ignition. 

The rocket lifted smoothly as it rose into the sky with steady acceleration, leaving behind a thin trail that caught the light as it ascended.

Xeno did not speak.

He simply watched.

The sky above was wide and open, stretching beyond immediate comprehension, and the small object he had created moved through it with precision that felt almost unreal. It did not struggle. It did not falter.

It just continued upward, as if it had always known where it was meant to go.

Something in Xeno’s chest tightened slightly—not unpleasantly, but with a sense of recognition he could not fully articulate.

So elegant.

The word came to him without effort.

But for the moment. For the continuity of effort that had led here.

For the fact that something they had once built as children could still function, still exist in a form that made sense years later.

He found himself staring longer than necessary.

The rocket was now small against the sky, barely more than a point of motion against endless blue.

Yet he could not look away.

Time felt briefly suspended.

As if the world had narrowed to this single upward trajectory, and everything else had momentarily lost relevance.

Xeno noticed suddenly in the corner of his vision at first that Stanley was shifting closer.

Not with hesitation just a melancholy quietness, as if it’s natural movement, like he had already decided and simply needed the distance to close.

Before Xeno could properly turn his head, Stanley’s hand lifted.

It was gentle when it reached his face, brushing lightly along his cheekbone. Careful and almost uncertain, as if he was testing whether the moment itself would allow it to exist.

Xeno did not move. Not because he was frozen, but because something in him refused to interrupt it.

Stanley did not speak. As if words would ruin whatever fragile understanding this was becoming.

Then he leaned in.

Slowly enough that Xeno had time to pull away. He did not.

Their lips met.

It was brief at first.

A kiss that did not demand anything, did not claim anything, only existed for the sake of the moment itself.

Stanley began to pull back.

That was when Xeno moved.

Xeno pulled Stanley closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, their mouths moving in a rhythm that was all instinct. Stanley’s hands found Xeno’s nape, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring himself and holding Xeno possessively.

The kiss grew messier, more insistent. Xeno’s tongue pushed past Stanley’s lips, tracing the edge of his teeth before retreating, only to dive back in with a swirl that drew a low hum from Stanley’s throat.

They broke for a breath, foreheads resting together, noses bumping in the scant space. Xeno’s chest heaved, his lips swollen and glistening, but before the cool air could fully register, he was back, sealing his mouth over Stanley’s with renewed force. This time, Stanley’s hand slid from the collar to Xeno’s jaw, thumb pressing into the hinge as he guided the angle.

Xeno’s fingers tightened on the back of Stanley’s shoulder, then one hand ventured up, palm flattening against his cheek, and Stanley pressed them closer together as if he couldn't get enough. 

It’s as if Stanley’s possessed as Xeno graciously accepted it.

Time blurred in the haze of it.

But when he looked back on this, Xeno would think how much their first kiss was so messy and would not be enjoyable with any couple other than to the inexperienced teenager couple like them who was able to finally taste their first love.

Honestly, it’s a laughable first kiss, but he wouldn’t change anything. 

When they finally parted, the charged silence from before had evolved into something thicker, more alive. 

Their eyes met again, pupils dark and dilated, the fragile understanding now forged in the raw intimacy of shared breath and unrelenting closeness.

“What was that?” Xeno asked, voice hush into a whisperer than usual.

Stanley’s gaze did not immediately leave him.

“You just looked…” he paused, searching briefly for the word, “…beautiful.”

“Oh,” he said quietly.

As if that explained something.

Before he could continue, Stanley spoke again.

“Don’t go back to your former lab partner,” he said, expression tightening slightly.

Xeno frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Stanley exhaled through his nose, visibly annoyed at something only he seemed to fully understand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner,” he continued, “but I’m here now.”

Xeno’s confusion deepened. “…Notice what?”

“Your situation with him,” Stanley’s brows knit together.  “You were trying to move on because you thought I wasn’t interested.”

He stared at him in disbelief.

So Stanley continued. “Gina told me you were in love with me for a long time.”

Xeno blinked.

Then again.

And again.

“Stanley,”Xeno spoke slowly, as if trying to reconstruct the entire situation in real time, as carefully enunciating his name, “I did not realize my feelings until you came to my house and Gina told me about the girl and the boy you supposedly kissed.”

Stanley’s expression shifted immediately.

“What?” he said sharply. “But Gina told me—” His brow furrowed. “Wait. Kiss? I never kissed anyone.”

“…The lipstick stain on your collarbone?” Xeno questioned. “And Gina said you kissed a boy.”

Stanley stared at him for a moment, then exhaled through his nose like the answer was physically exhausting.

“I didn’t,” he said flatly. “The lipstick stain was from when we pretended to be a couple. Nothing more. She was the girl who put it there, just to mess with me” Stanley rubbed his temple briefly, as if recalling something irritating. “And I didn’t kiss a guy either. Gabriel showed up later, found it funny, and Gina started telling him some exaggerated version of the story. Then he decided it would be ‘interesting’ to also act like a fake couple with me.”

Xeno blinked in disbelief.

Stanley continued, tone growing more matter-of-fact with each word.

“So we held hands in public. That’s it. He thought it was amusing when people reacted badly to it.” he concluded. “No kissing,” 

Xeno stared at him for a moment longer.

“…Gabriel and Gina,” he uttered slowly, “those two are dangerous together.”

Stanley gave a tired nod. “And I don’t even question how they ended up like that anymore,” 

Silence enveloped between them.

Then Xeno sighed.

“So,” he muttered, almost to himself, “we were manipulated by my sister.”

Stanley tilted his head slightly.

“I want to curse her,” he said honestly. “But I also want to thank her.”

Xeno groaned quietly, pressing a hand to his face for a moment.

He hated how correct that sounded.

When he lowered his hand again, Stanley was still looking at him.

Then Stanley leaned in slightly.

“So,” he said, like it was the most natural continuation in the world, “want to kiss again?”

***

When Xeno got home, Gina called at exactly the right time.

He barely had his things down before the phone rang, the first thing he heard was her laugh.

“So,” she said, far too casually, “any progress?”

Xeno closed his eyes for a moment.

He really could not believe this woman.

It was not even a surprise anymore. It was pattern recognition.

Gina always sounded like she already knew the outcome of things before they happened, as if she had simply chosen to watch events unfold rather than participate in uncertainty like everyone else.

Xeno exhaled slowly.

He wanted to ask her directly how long she had been planning all of this.

Because now that he thought about it, it was obvious.

Like the constant ‘accidental’ meetings or the way she always made sure he and Stanley ended up in the same space. 

But he did not ask in the end.

Because after several long complaints from Xeno over the years, and Gina listening to all of them with the same patient amusement she used for everything else, he had learned that arguing with her directly rarely changed the outcome.

Instead, he simply let it go this time.

“…Gina,” he said at last, more tired than angry now, “how did you know Stan was in love with me?”

Gina hummed. “Oh? You’re not asking how I know you’re in love with him?”

“That is already a given,” Xeno replied, annoyed. “You have known me for years and we live in the same house.”

“Fair,” Gina admitted easily. Then her tone shifted slightly, becoming more thoughtful. “It’s the way he looks at you.”

Xeno frowned. “…What?”

“The first time I met Stanley,” There was a faint smile in her voice now. “he had that look.”

“What look?”

“Like he would do anything for you.”

Xeno went quiet.

The words caused something warm and strange to settle in his chest, smoothing the edges of his thoughts without his consent.

It was not overwhelming though.

“I should probably observe how he looks at me then,” Xeno said after a moment.

Gina chuckled softly.

“Alright, lover boy,” she teased. “It's a good thing I’m here or else you two would’ve gotten together in your thirties."

“Hey!” Xeno immediately looked offended. "We're not that hopeless—”

But Gina had already laughed again, like the correction was irrelevant.

Later, when Xeno finally did pay attention—really pay attention—to the way Stanley looked at him, it would become something he never managed to forget.

Something he would store carefully, without even realizing he was doing it.

It would become the image Xeno preserved most vividly in his mind.