Chapter Text
The Breaker Box was dimmed.
No music. No glowstick lights. No low buzz of patrons pushing through each other for drinks.
Just the soft green of diagnostic readouts. The occasional whirr of coolant tubes. And breathing. Slow. Shallow. Uneven.
Curran lay propped up on the small bed in the back room, swaddled in a threadbare blanket that Volt had insisted smelled like clean wires. His brace was half-loosened, vitals patch exposed and taped into manual override. His skin was pale. His hair was damp.
He hadn’t said much since waking up fully.
Not to Eddie.
Not to Volt.
He just kept staring down at his hands; like they were faulty parts he couldn’t return.
Volt sat by his side, unusually quiet. A portable grounding pad looped over one arm to keep his static output near zero.
“I’m not gonna touch you for now,” Volt said softly. “I’m not gonna risk even a zap. Just—”
He exhaled, brushing his fingers across the edge of the blanket.
“Just wanna sit near you, okay?”
Curran gave a barely-there nod.
His voice, when it came, was dry. Crackling.
“You should be angry.”
Volt tilted his head.
“Why?”
“I made you stop. I broke everything. I—I said I could handle it—”
“Hey.”
Volt shifted closer— still not touching.
“You don’t have to handle me.”
That was when the tears started up again.
They weren’t loud. They just slid, almost soundless, down the curve of Curran’s cheek until they soaked into the pillowcase.
“I wanted to be better,” he whispered. “For you. For both of you. You’re always so bright, and I just—I spark, and I stall, and then I burst, and—”
“You don’t have to be better,” Volt said. “You are enough. You’re already the one we—”
He broke off when he felt the weight shift.
Curran had leaned forward, burying his face in Volt’s shoulder.
“I’m ashamed.”
Volt held him gently, making sure his fingertips rested only on the brace's edge— no skin, no contact pads, nothing to trigger a spark.
“I know. But you don’t need to be.”
A long pause.
“You scared me, live wire.”
Curran flinched.
“I didn’t want to—”
“I know. And I didn’t notice when I should’ve. I should’ve checked. I should’ve made sure you were okay before we even—”
The door opened.
Soft footsteps. No announcement.
Eddie.
He stood in the doorway for a long time before stepping in, something unreadable in his expression. He wasn’t carrying tools. Just a blanket. A proper one. The one from the shelf behind the bar that no one was supposed to use.
He laid it over Curran’s legs without a word, smoothing the edges down.
“You warm enough?” he asked quietly.
Curran blinked at him.
“I think so.”
Eddie reached out. Brief. Gentle. Tucked a lock of hair behind Curran’s ear.
“You don’t have to push past your limits for us, Curran.”
Curran’s throat worked around a small sob.
“But you’re both so capable. And I’m just—”
“You’re ours,” Eddie interrupted.
His voice was soft, but final.
“That’s enough.”
Volt nodded.
“We don’t love you for what you can do. We love you because you’re you.”
Another long moment passed before Curran reached out. His hands shook as they searched for Volt’s. When he found it, he just rested their fingers together— no spark, no surge. Just touch.
“Low current,” he whispered, half-laughing through his tears. “Only what I can take.”
Volt smiled and leaned in, careful, until his forehead rested against Curran’s temple.
“Only what you can take.”
Eddie didn’t say anything.
He just sat down beside them.
And in that quiet corner of the Breaker Box— three beings, humming with energy in all the wrong ways— finally settled into something steady.
Something safe.
Something real.