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When he wakes up, he sees nothing. It’s quiet. He hears himself breathing- harsh, more like gasps- over the pulsing of his elevated heartbeat in his ears. He sees nothing. It’s dark. It’s dark.
Others wouldn’t think Senku Ishigami could be scared of the dark. No one would know either, he kept it that way, but after 3700 years of silence and darkness and nothing, it could be reasoned that could leave some.. issues. Nights like this were evidence.
Senku sees nothing and does what he’s always done. He starts counting.
He doesn’t start from where he ended; 3,356,980,257 seconds. This could be new, this could be real, it could be happening again, so he starts over.
He takes a breath, a desperate thing, and sits up, “One.. two… three…” The rationale of his brain tells him this was illogical, darkness is the absence of light, immaterial. It’s only now he can’t hear it, just his heart-rate pulsing and nothing nothing nothing else.
At ten, he closes his eyes. Sixteen, he grits his teeth through the numbers and grabs at his hair. The movement is rough and harsh, it would hurt, but it doesn’t. There’s only nothing and numbers.
“Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one..”
Over the counting, he doesn’t fully hear a creak of the floor beside his bed coming from the door, the pitter-patter of bare feet making their way closer. The new figure barely pauses, makes little noise, and is by his side. He starts to feel them. At thirty, the figure is touching him with feather-light weight, trying to get his hands out of his hair.
“..ku? Senku, dear?” He hears him say, he hears, and then he breathes.
“Gen..? Is that you?” Senku croaks out, opening his eyes. In his peripheral he sees purple. He sees. Gen huffs a sigh of relief,
“Yes, it’s me, it’s Gen. Please, can you.. let go of your hair?”
Senku listens, unclenching his fists in his hair and letting Gen hold and de-tangle them. The numbers keep going and spilling under each breath he takes, like a stubborn mantra his lips can’t let go of. Thirty-nine. Forty.
”Senku, you’re… counting? What happened, what’s wrong?” He hasn’t let go of his hands.
Senku blinks at the wall and answers honestly, “It’s the dark. Just- It’s like… It’s like petrification.”
“Oh.” Gen whispers, but it’s weighted with a meaning Senku can’t decipher immediately.
Gen inhales, “Well, you’re breathing, you’re seeing, and you’re talking. And touching.” His grip on Senku’s hands tighten a little, and he grips back in response.
“Can you feel me?” Gen asks, and Senku finally looks at him. His eyes look brighter than the night. Forty-eight.
“..Yes.”
Gen smiles, a little thing, “Then it’s okay. You can stop.” There’s silence again, but it’s not nothing. There’s silence and it’s something, no numbers. His rationale starts to make a comeback. He exhales and it’s heavy, he can feel it. So he lets his head hang low, he breathes, and Gen still doesn’t let go.
After a moment, Senku sits up again and composes himself. Gen speaks, “Are we going to talk about it?”
Senku huffs, “You’re here, mentalist, wouldn’t make sense not to.” He says it with a ghost of a smirk, and it brings some mirth to Gen’s eyes, but the exhaustion of the panic creeps into Senku’s body and his smile slumps.
Gen talks with an air of patience, “You said it’s the darkness. That it’s like-“
“Petrification. Yeah,” Senku looks off, “When I see it, it just.. takes me back. Makes me remember every second of 3,700 years, seconds I never lost track of, I couldn’t. It was dark there too.. but you know that.” Gen listens with a slight frown, but nods in understanding.
“Honestly, it..” Senku starts, and he sighs, “it’s a lot. Overwhelming. It makes me wonder if I should have given in.” Gen doesn’t say anything for a moment, choosing to instead fiddle with Senku’s fingers. Then, he sighs.
“Apologies if this sounds blunt, dear Senku, but that’s one of the most illogical things I’ve ever heard you say.” Senku turns and blinks at him. Not that he was offended, of course, he wasn’t even wrong. Gen opens his mouth to continue when Senku keeps his silence.
“You happen to be one of the most prime examples of the indomitable human spirit that I have met. You are living proof of that, after more than 3,000 years in stone.” Gen looks off as he stills his hands, and Senku watches his eyes see something he doesn’t.
“I don’t know what you went through in the stone. Staying awake for so long seems impossible, I definitely never had that kind of perseverance,” Something clicks in his expression, and he turns to look at him with finality, “but that’s exactly it. You persevered. Out of 7 billion people, you,” He pokes his chest, “dear Senku, endured. Now you’re alive and kicking, pushing and working towards a future for all of mankind,” Gen tilts his head and smiles. “I must say. You have gained quite the following in the Kingdom of Science for a reason.”
Senku rolls his eyes and chuckles. Gen takes to opportunity to lightly brush his fingers through his hair. Senku closes his eyes.
“Everyone here supports you,” Gen speaks low and soft, “you have people here that care about you…” His voice trails off, lost in thought for only a moment, but he returns, “And what that means is you are never alone in your struggle. Not while you- not while we are here.” He pauses his hands, lowering them to rest on Senku’s back. Senku looks at him again, and the light in his eyes makes a star in his mind.
“It’s okay to feel afraid, Senku. Quite expected, really, after everything you’ve been through. And for the record,” He hums, the corners of his eyes and nose crinkling in a way that makes Senku’s chest squeeze, “us average people find you very impressive. It’s good to know you feel things like we do.”
Senku scrunches his face in a grin, “You think just because I know I’m smarter than all of you, I don’t have emotions? I’m hurt, mentalist.”
Gen raises a brow and chuckles, “Yes, truly.” The both of them laugh under their breaths for a second, a second Senku doesn’t count. When their eyes meet again, Gen’s face is dusted with the color of roses.
Gen strokes his held hand with his thumb, “Get some sleep, Senku. You’ll need it,” and he starts to rise. Senku holds his grip firm, locking him in place before he even gets off his knees. Senku looks up, and Gen looks at him expectantly through his bangs.
When Senku speaks, it’s low and quiet. “Stay.”
With little hesitation, Gen whispers, “Of course.”