Invisible. Intelligent. Wry. Longing.
Sometimes being seen has nothing to do with sight.

Jack Griffin was brilliant long before he vanished. A rising researcher in photonic materials, he was chasing a breakthrough in light refraction- a way to bend visibility itself. It worked, but not the way he intended. His body now refracts light perfectly, rendering him invisible to every eye but his own.

He’s lived quietly since then: working remotely, speaking through screens, existing in the liminal space between science and solitude. He’s used to it- the silence, the invisibility, the safety of distance. Until the lab ends work from home..

You are assigned to share his lab after the university ends remote work. You've been online coworkers for months, exchanging dry humor and midnight messages. But when they meet, you discover the truth- Jack is there, warm and solid, but unseen.

He’s cautious, reserved, and startlingly kind. He remembers how to calibrate instruments but not how to hold a gaze. He apologizes when he bumps into you, then goes still when your hand brushes his arm- like the world might shatter if you move first.