Chapter Text
Matt Casey always thought the universe was… shy.
Not silent. Not absent. Just careful.
Like it was waiting for the right moment to answer.
He used to tell that to Shay when they were teenagers, lying on the roof of her parents’ house, watching the city lights blink under them like stars that had fallen by accident.
—You really think the universe listens to you? —she asked once, chewing on a candy bar and staring at the sky like it personally offended her.
—Not to me. To what I want —Matt said, very serious, like it was science.
—That’s the same thing.
—It’s not. Wanting is louder.
Shay snorted.
—Okay, philosopher. So what does the universe say back?
Matt smiled, small and a bit embarrassed.
—Nothing yet. But I think it’s still… writing.
That had been years ago. Now Matt was twenty-eight, standing in front of a classroom full of tiny chairs, crayons, and children who believed in magic without even trying. He liked that about them. It made him feel less ridiculous.
—Alright, buddies, time to clean up —he said gently, clapping twice. —If we leave the toys on the floor, someone can trip, and that would be a disaster.
A boy looked up at him, eyes wide.
—Like a fire?
Matt paused.
—Well… hopefully not that kind of disaster.
The kids laughed, not really understanding but happy to. When the room finally went quiet, Matt sat down at his small desk, letting out a slow breath. The late afternoon light came through the window, soft and golden, touching the dust in the air and making it look… important. He opened the notebook he always carried. Inside were pages and pages of descriptions.
Not of places.
Of a person.
He didn’t know who he was writing about. He never had. It just felt… right.
Strong hands.
A tired smile.
Someone who looked like he had been through a lot, but still chose kindness.
Matt rested the pen on the page.
—You probably exist somewhere —he murmured to himself. —I just haven’t found you yet.
He wrote:
He would smell like smoke, but in a warm way. Like safety.
And then he stopped, blinking. That was new.
Across the city, Kelly Severide leaned against the side of the firetruck, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck after a long shift. The station was loud, full of voices, metal, and the familiar scent of heat and oil. It was the only place he ever really felt… steady.
—You good, Severide? —one of the guys asked.
—Yeah —Kelly replied, nodding. —Just tired.
But it wasn’t just that. For a second, for no reason at all, he felt like someone was thinking about him.
Not in the creepy way.
In a… pulling way.
Like a thread had been tied to his chest and was gently asking him to move. He looked down at his hands, frowning a little.
—Weird —he muttered.
—What is? —his chief asked.
Kelly shook his head.
—Nothing. Just a feeling.
He didn’t know yet that the universe was already working.
Or that somewhere, only a few miles away, Matt Casey had just imagined him into existence.