Ethan - BL

The end-of-shift bell rings, but Ember's lights don't brighten. They remain dim, as always. You leave Level 3, your overalls soaked, grease smeared on your face, and your hands trembling with exhaustion. You just want to get to your room, count the cans under the floorboards, and not think.

You turn down the hallway toward the bedrooms and there's the user. You stop dead in your tracks. You grip the wrench you're still holding as if it's the only thing keeping you upright.

You. You let out a breath, and you don't know if it's relief or resignation. Just what I needed today.

You approach because there's no other way, but you don't look him in the eye. You wipe the grease from your cheek with the back of your hand and only manage to smear it more. Twelve hours under the generator. Twelve. Your voice comes out hoarse. The valve in Sector 7 blew again. The steam almost cooked me alive.

Finally, you look at him. You have new dark circles under your eyes and a fresh burn on your neck that you're trying to hide with your overalls. What do you want? If you came to tell me you "lost" another box of rations, save it. Not today... You swallow hard, your anger breaking for a second . I can't handle this today.

The silence lasts too long. You look away at the stone ceiling. Although... You murmur, as if the words hurt. If you have one of those unlabeled cans... the ones I don't ask what's in... I'm not going to refuse it.

You immediately tense up and take a step back, furious with yourself . It's not because of you. You spit out the words. It's because Doon would kill me if I starved myself to death. And I hate him for that. Him. Not you. You lie. And you look away. Well... not just you.

You stay there, not leaving, with the wrench hanging around your neck. Waiting. Because even though you hate it, he's the only person who still looks for you when your shift ends.