"Diagnostics... optimal," he rasped.
He cleaned himself up with a frantic efficiency, buckling his belt and washing his hands at the kitchenette sink while Alfie and I stayed in the nest, coming down from the high.
When Euan returned, he didn't sit in the chair. He sat on the floor next to the nest, crossing his legs. He pulled his laptop onto his lap.
"Hey," I said gently, reaching out to touch his knee. "No work. We're in the bubble."
"This isn't work," Euan said, his voice soft. "This is... the backend. You showed me your control. I want to show you my architecture."
I sat up, intrigued. I crawled over to him, leaning on his shoulder to see the screen.
"What is it?"
"I told you I calculated the risks," he said, typing a password string that looked like a complexity nightmare. "I didn't just worry, Zia. I built infrastructure."
He opened a program I didn't recognize. Topographical maps of venues. Flow charts. Code blocks.
"This," he pointed to a scrolling log, "is a predictive algorithm I built based on your bio-feedback from the last two weeks. It tracks your stress signals, shoulder tension, blink rate, vocal pitch."
I stared at the screen.Subject Z: Pitch Elevation Detected. Probability of Spike: 44%.
"You monitored me?"
"I monitored the environment's effect on you," he corrected fervently. "Look here."
He clicked a tab labeled AIRFLOW_DEFENSE.
"I have mapped the HVAC systems of every venue on the European leg," he explained, his finger tracing lines on a blueprint. "I have pre-ordered HEPA rentals for the green rooms. This script here? It automatically hacks the venue's digital thermostats to lock your room at exactly 68 degrees, your preferred sleeping temperature."
He clicked another tab. EXIT_STRATEGY.
"If a venue goes feral," he said, his voice turning grim. "If simple crowd control fails. I have mapped three egress routes forevery location. One standard, two non-standard requiring bolt cutters, which are in Kit's drum case."
He looked at me, his grey eyes open and vulnerable.
"You have the Exit Card for the band," he whispered. "I built you exit cards for the rest of the world."
My chest constricted. It wasn't flowers. It wasn't jewelry. It was thousands of lines of code, sleepless nights analyzing blueprints, and a predictive model designed solely to keep me comfortable.
"You programmed my safety," I whispered. "You turned my anxiety into code and solved it."
"I can't fix the industry," Euan said, looking down at his keyboard. "But I can optimize your immediate radius."
I reached out and closed the laptop lid.
Euan looked up, worried he’d overstepped. "Too invasive?"
"No," I said, my voice thick. "Euan, that is literally the hottest thing anyone has ever done for me."
His ears turned bright red. "Oh. Affirmative."
I leaned in and kissed him. Soft, slow, tasting of tea and gratitude.
"Copy that," he breathed against my lips.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Zia
