ridiculous, desperate, heart-based plan.
Step 1: spend time with Ethan.
Step 2: make him laugh.
Step 3: survive long enough to see Step 4—confession, mutual feelings, world saved.
Easy. Right?
> SYSTEM: unresponsive
"Good," Noah said, cracking open a can of soda. "No supervision. Time to charm the uncharmable."
At 7 a.m., he burst into Ethan's office carrying two coffees and a paper bag.
> "Breakfast delivery!"
Ethan looked up from his laptop. "You don't work in catering."
"I do now. Consider it morale support."
Ethan eyed the bag suspiciously. "What's in it?"
"Egg sandwiches and optimism."
> "Dangerous combination."
Noah plopped one onto Ethan's desk anyway. "Eat. CEOs need protein. And feelings."
Ethan's lips twitched. "You're impossible before 8 a.m."
> "And yet you let me in."
He caught the faintest smile before Ethan hid it behind a coffee sip.
Score one for Noah.
Over the next few days, they were inseparable.
Noah shadowed meetings, tripped over interns, accidentally called a board member "grandpa," and somehow made every disaster charming.
By Friday, Ethan had given up pretending he didn't enjoy it.
> "You're chaos," he said one night as they walked out of the building.
> "Controlled chaos," Noah corrected. "Mostly controlled."
Ethan's gaze softened. "You make this place feel alive."
Noah blinked. "You mean like a virus?"
> "Like sunlight," Ethan said quietly.
Noah forgot how breathing worked.
That evening, Ethan invited him to his penthouse for "a work session."
It turned into noodles, laughter, and Ethan trying (and failing) to teach Noah Excel formulas.
> "So the numbers hate me," Noah declared. "I'm a creative spirit."
> "You entered text in a financial cell."
> "Exactly! Art!"
Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose but was smiling. "You're going to be the death of me."
> "Hopefully not literally this time."
Their laughter faded into something softer. The air between them shifted—closer, warmer.
Then Noah's phone buzzed:
> SYSTEM: "Emotional thread stabilizing… progress 42 %."
He hid the screen quickly. Don't jinx it.
The next day, a new intern named Ryan appeared—young, loud, and way too friendly with Noah.
At lunch, Ryan leaned close, whispering, "You and the boss seem… cozy."
Before Noah could reply, Ethan appeared behind them like a silent storm.
> "Wilder, you're needed in my office."
"Now?" Noah blinked. "I'm eating."
> "Bring the food."
Back in the office, Ethan closed the door and said nothing.
Noah stared. "You dragged me from lunch for a silent staring contest?"
> "I don't like him."
> "Ryan? He's harmless!"
> "He was flirting with you."
Noah's heart tripped. "Wait… are you jealous?"
Ethan's jaw tightened. "I'm observant."
Noah grinned. "Observant with feelings?"
> "Don't push it."
"Too late," Noah said softly. "You're cute when you're jealous."
Ethan turned away, but the faint blush on his neck gave him away.
> SYSTEM: "Progress 58 %."
Noah nearly cheered. We're halfway there, baby.
That night, Ethan drove him home.
Rain poured, neon lights streaking the windows. The air inside the car felt heavier than usual—quiet, charged.
> "Thanks for today," Noah murmured.
> "For what?"
> "For being jealous. It was flattering."
Ethan shot him a sideways glance. "You're impossible."
> "You keep saying that like it's a bad thing."
Traffic lights painted their faces red, then green. Ethan's hand brushed Noah's—accidental, maybe not.
Noah's breath hitched.
> "Ethan…"
> "Yes?"
> "You ever wonder what we are?"
> "Every second."
The world narrowed to that small, stolen space.
Noah leaned closer—
Then the radio crackled.
> SYSTEM: "Progress 73 %. Continue emotional synchronization."
Ethan frowned. "Did your phone just talk?"
Noah panicked. "Nope! That was, uh, AI radio! Very modern!"
Ethan sighed, amused. "You're the strangest person I've ever met."
> "And yet, you keep me around," Noah whispered.
> "Maybe I like strange."
They both smiled, small and helpless.