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Ryland and Rocky were just floating through space when they came across a strange object. Mary alerted them of the object, calling it Blip-E. Her scanners didn’t show the shape of it, but a quick look through the Petrovascope showed an odd sight. It seemed to be a box. Not a particularly large asteroid like Ryland expected, or just something random like a chunk of ice, but a box.
A big, red box, with the liquid surrounding it floating off into space.
Ryland didn’t think much of it in terms of what it was, but more in terms of how did you get here and what liquid is that. He locked in when Rocky said—
“Rocky detect heartbeat coming from box.”
A heartbeat. Rocky could detect something inside the box. Something living. Ryland’s bones filled with urgency as he and Rocky worked to catch up with the box. Rocky prepared the airlock for transfer once they latched onto the box, and Ryland prepared himself for whatever they were about to find.
The first thing he noted was the red liquid covering the glass of the airlock door. Once Rocky deemed it safe to open, Ryland de-pressurized the cabin and slowly opened the door. He was met with the front of the door being coated in the same liquid, slowly dripping to the floor. It reminded him of blood with how slowly it was moving. And the smell… it was almost like something was rotten.
“Rocky detect heartbeat. Look like human.”
Ryland didn’t waste any more time. He inspected the door, tugging on it. Then, he tried turning the circular handle. Nothing happened. His hand came back covered in the liquid. Each passing second, he started to think it was blood over anything else. It smelled like it, looked like it, and even felt like it. Ryland pushed back the urge to toss up his lunch he had earlier and continued to try and open the hatch. He tried wiping some of the blood away to find that the hatch seemed to have been welded shut.
Whoever was in there, someone didn’t want them coming out.
It made Ryland all the more nervous for what he was going to find. He rushed back to the lab for his saw, coming back to see Rocky impatiently stomping and saying there was someone inside. Ryland ignored the way his hands, slick with the red liquid, slid and struggled to gain purchase with the saw. He powered it on and started cutting.
The other thing he noticed was how the metal of the box was rusty beyond belief. It could’ve passed for scrap metal, little pieces welded together to create a box. Questions swirled in Ryland’s mind as he worked. As he neared the end of the circular hatch, he noticed the droplets of liquid seeping through the cuts he just made. There was more liquid inside.
Still, he pushed through, making the last incision before the hatch came off with a loud clunk. Ryland heaved the hatch to the side, his arms now covered in the (maybe) blood. He quickly turned back to the open hole, flashing a light inside.
It looked just like the outside. The liquid was high enough that he couldn’t see the floor of the box. He saw a turned over chair. A small circular window, and a couple of buttons on a dashboard with little screens above them. A throttle.
And leaning against the console was a figure. A slumped over figure coated in the red liquid from head to toe. Ryland’s heart was stuck in his throat. A person. A real, slow-breathing person. He clutched the sides of the hole he made, breaths coming in short bursts.
“H-Hey!” he said, his voice coming out like a pathetic squeak. He cleared his throat, willing his heart to stay in its rightful place. “Hey! A-are you okay? Oh my God.”
The figure’s shoulders rose and fell very slowly. That definitely wasn’t good. Nor was the fact that he was missing an arm, from what Ryland could see from his vantage point. The person—a man, it seemed—moved his head. His long hair hung down heavily by his face, almost creating a curtain, but Ryland could see his eyes.
Dark, inky, almost black. Coated in red. Tired, tired eyes. Though, when they locked onto Ryland, they widened, gleaming with something he couldn’t name.
“Grace go get human! New human!” Rocky demanded.
“R-right. Rock, I need you to help me carry him to Armando.”
Ryland tried not to think about the mess he was about to make of the ship. It was going to take forever to clean up, he could already tell. He chastised himself for thinking about that when there was someone there who needed his help. He started down the ladder, thankful that he wasn’t wearing his favorite chucks as he splashed onto the floor of the box.
Upon closer inspection, it looked like a submarine. A tiny one. There was the circular window, and beside it was what looked like a depth meter full of the red liquid. Ryland rushed to the man’s side.
He looked horrible. His arm was missing, his sleeve torn where the limb had been. His entire body was covered in red. Red red red. His long black hair dripped with the liquid. He continued to stare at Ryland as if he weren’t real—like he was hallucinating. Ryland held his hands up in a surrender motion, seeing the man’s eyes scanning him feverishly.
“I-I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said slowly in a softer tone. “I’m… my name is Ryland Grace, though most people just call me Grace. I’m going to try and help you as best as I can, okay? C-can I check your pulse? Your arm… your wounds, maybe?”
The man’s eyes raked his body again, studying. Dissecting. Ryland tried not to squirm. The man’s gaze was strong, piercing, totally guarded like he didn’t trust a word he’d just said. Still, Ryland could see the lingering hysteria in the man’s eyes. Whatever happened in this submarine was… Ryland didn’t have the words for it. Horrific.
Before Ryland could speak again, the man beat him to it.
“Angel…?”
Ryland almost missed the word, it was said so softly, so quietly. Disbelieving. The man’s voice was breathless, as if relieved and terrified at the same time. But the man’s eyes slipped shut, his body going limp. Ryland filed the word away for later analysis, rushing forward to help stabilize the man.
“Rock! Be ready!”
“Rocky ready, yes yes yes.”
Carrying the man over his shoulder and climbing up the ladder was no easy task, but he somehow managed it while breaking a sweat. It was made tremendously more difficult due to the man being covered in blood, making Ryland’s grip unstable. Somehow, he made it back onto the ship. The man was heavy, no doubt due to the dense liquid coating his body like a veil of death.
Ryland ran as quickly as he could to the dorm, his arms burning and legs aching as he set the man on the floor close to Armando. The robot got to work, and Ryland could finally breathe.
“Another human aboard! Another human!” Rocky said happily.
If he lives, Ryland thought.
He enlisted Rocky’s help in getting Mary detached from the submarine, and afterwards, spent the rest of the day cleaning up the blood trail he’d left from the airlock to the dorm. All the while, his mind repeated the word over and over again.
Angel.
Simon was the man’s name. It took a whole day for Ryland to get his that information.
Simon awoke a few days after Ryland pulled him out of the sub. He awoke with a shout, a scream, and he’d grabbed a loose shard of xenonite from one of Rocky’s tunnels to use as a weapon. Rocky was already in the room, watching the man sleep when he awoke with a start. When Ryland entered the dorm, Rocky’s limbs were raised as if ready to fight, and Simon held the shard sharp point facing them.
And then his eyes, dark and vast much like space, locked onto Ryland and his demeanor changed. He stared at Ryland, again, like he were hallucinating, though he lowered the xenonite slightly. Ryland was once again the subject of the man’s piercing gaze as he assessed Ryland, as if trying to classify him as a threat or not.
Once Ryland got over his nerves and found his tongue, he re-introduced himself and Rocky, trying so hard to sound non-threatening. God, could you imagine? The one person within light-years of Earth and they thought you were a threat. It could’ve gone a multitude of different ways like Simon stabbing him with the xenonite and breaking Rocky’s dome. But he didn’t. He seemed… transfixed on Ryland, as if he were still processing the fact that he existed.
Ryland had decided that maybe it was a bit too much to have Rocky watching him sleep, so he ushered the alien away and gave Simon a few hours to decompress in the dorm before speaking to him again. Now, being able to see him in the light, the man was… built. He looked like he’d been through hell and back.
His hair was long, reaching just a little below his shoulders. His hair shared the same dark shade as his eyes. His skin was slightly tanner than Ryland’s. He had stubble growing around his jaw and lips. He had a broad nose with a few bumps and cuts on the bridge of the skin. Armando had given him a pair of Ryland’s clothes he didn’t really wear—his element of surprise t-shirt and a simple pair of sweatpants—but the shirt was tight around his broad chest and hiked up over his stomach whenever he moved his arm. He was… rough-looking. Rugged. Ryland tried not to stare.
But to be fair, Simon didn’t seem to be doing anything but staring at Ryland, so… fair game.
Ryland spent most of the day talking at Simon, since he could feel that the man wasn’t much of a talker right now. He spoke about how he and Rocky came across the submarine floating through space, basically summing up how Simon ended up aboard Mary because he had no doubt the man wanted to ask. He explained how he and Rocky met, trying his best to explain that Rocky didn’t mean any harm and that he was just as scared of Simon as Simon was scared of him in that moment.
The next day, Ryland walked into the dorm to check on the new occupant to find Simon leaning against what he would consider the “headboard” of the beds. He was staring at the wall when Ryland entered. Predictably, his gaze landed on the man immediately. The man’s brows were furrowed, deep in thought. It was then that he said his name. A courtesy extended to Ryland, who had saved him.
From there, Simon was a bit more open.
Two weeks passed, and in those two weeks, Ryland got to know how Simon ended up in that submarine. He got to learn about how Simon’s arm was torn off of his body. He got to learn of a blood ocean somewhere far away that housed a monster that took deep pleasure in whispering in your head until you went insane. Each new thing that Simon shared about his past, though slowly and sometimes reluctantly, the more questions appeared in Ryland’s head.
Blood ocean? How?
Giant eel that could speak in your head?
It seemed farfetched, but he ran with it, because Simon had this look in his eye whenever he spoke about his past that solidified in Ryland’s gut that it was the truth. Why would Simon lie about something like that, anyway? There was nothing to gain from making up a story.
Three weeks passed, and Ryland was sitting in the lab with Rocky, making sure the Taumoeba hadn’t evolved again to escape their new plastic containers. If they did, they’d be out of luck on storage for Taumoeba. Ziplock bags, maybe. Ryland didn’t know what else they could do. But ever since Simon started opening up more, he started hanging around Ryland and Rocky more. He wasn’t as afraid of Rocky anymore now that he knew the alien was just one giant, smart goofball.
Simon liked tossing the Earth hacky sack in the air and catching it. He used it as practice to get used to the imbalance that came with only having one arm now. He’d watch Ryland and Rocky do their thing as he did his.
“How much Taumoeba we have, question?” Rocky asked.
“Definitely enough to get Erid started with a large farm. They’ll need to breed a bit more before sending it to space, but it’s looking good, Rock,” Ryland said with a smile and nod. “Really good.”
“Happy happy happy.”
Simon caught the hacky sack again. “Angel.”
Ryland didn’t respond at first, too busy measuring the weight of the Taumoeba containers. This was important stuff, sue him. He needed at least double or triple of their current supply to be able to save Erid, though the storage of all that Taumoeba was going to be a problem. They needed to wait until they got to Erid to make more. Until then, more experimenting, more analyzing.
“Angel.”
“What is angel, question?”
“Huh?” Ryland said, turning to see Simon already staring at him. Smirking coyly. He turned to Rocky as his face flushed. “What was that, Rock?”
“Simon friend keep calling Grace ‘Angel.’ What is angel, question?”
“Oh, well uh… first off, that’s not my name—” he said, pointing at Simon playfully “—and an angel is this figure that a lot of people believe to bring messages from Gods. Remember our talk about religion a while ago?”
“Yes. Very interesting concept,” Rocky said, tilting his body in a nod. “Rocky kind of understand but not really. So why Simon call Grace messenger?”
“They’re protectors,” Simon butted in, catching Earth. He looked pointedly at Ryland. “They’re holy figures. Saviors. Kind.”
“Oh, Rocky understand now. Simon call Grace angel because Grace pull Simon out of box.”
Simon shrugged in agreement, tossing the hacky sack again, eyes running up and down Ryland. “Among other things.”
Ryland’s face was burning. This had to be the weirdest timeline he lived in. How is he forced into space, where he meets his best friend and a strange man who keeps calling him the equivalent of a holy being? What did he do to deserve a title like that? More importantly, why does Simon insist on not using his real name? It wasn’t that hard. It was a mouthful, sure, but it was better than a… a pet name. They’d just met three weeks ago!
“D-Did you need something, Simon?” he managed, willing his face to stop flushing.
“Where are we going?”
Oh. Did Ryland really never get to that? He must’ve forgotten somewhere along the line. It was just so interesting having another human aboard who was starkly different from Ryland in terms of personality and upbringing as well. Ryland had pestered Simon with enough questions over the last few days. He figured he’d take a break and let Simon ask the questions.
“We’re going to Rocky’s planet, Erid. We still have to save his star,” Ryland explained.
“After you save the star, what then?” Simon questioned mindlessly.
“I…”
He didn’t know. Mary couldn’t go back home, so he’d be stuck on Erid. It didn’t sound so bad, but there would always be parts of him (deep, deep down in his heart) that wished he could step foot on Earth again.
Ryland shrugged. “Live on Erid for the rest of my life. Doesn’t sound so bad, does it, Rock?”
“Rocky Grace hang out forever! Meet Adrian!”
“Which I’m super excited for. Adrian sounds amazing.”
“For the rest of your life?” Simon said, pausing as he caught the hacky sack. He sat up straighter. “You’re not going home? To Earth?”
Ryland scratched the back of his head. “Well, Mary wasn’t exactly meant for a two-way trip.”
“What do you mean?”
“The people back on Earth… they launched this ship as a final act of desperation to save the sun. The three astronauts aboard knew they would never come home but they still went anyway.”
Simon frowned. “You… you’re not an astronaut. You’re a scientist.”
“Yeah, well… all the mission needed was a pilot, an engineer, and a scientist. My crewmates didn’t make it,” Ryland said, shaking his head.
“Doesn’t answer what you’re doing here.”
At that, Rocky looked at him expectantly. Shoot. Ryland had never gotten around to telling Rocky how he came aboard Mary. He never told Rocky that he remembered now. Ryland sighed, sitting down in a nearby stool as Rocky stomped.
“How did Grace get on ship, question? Grace remember yet?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
Not a good memory at all. He took off his glasses, letting them hang on the collar of his shirt as he wiped his face with his hands.
“The woman in charge of the project, she uh… she told me with the deaths of the main and backup scientists, I was the most qualified candidate for the mission,” he started, heart heavy in his chest as the memories resurfaced from the back of his mind. “She… um… she brought me to her office and I told her I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go to space. I didn’t want to. I wasn’t the person she was looking for, all of that. I tried everything, but she was adamant that I was her solution. She had given me three hours to ‘decide’ if I wanted to go or not, but she ended up drugging me and putting me on the ship anyway.”
Rocky and Simon froze at the confession. The air was heavy, tense, as all eyes and ears were on Ryland. The words kept coming. He couldn’t stop.
“I tried to run. I did. I ran and ran and…” he said, blinking away a fresh wave of tears. No. He could not cry in front of Simon. “They caught me. Pinned me down, stuck a needle in my neck and shipped me to space.”
He looked down at his hands, remembering how he clutched at the dirt, the grass. He remembered how fast his heart raced in his chest, how he heaved desperate breaths as he screamed and begged for them not to kill him. He remembered his face pressed against the Earth, hoping and praying that this wouldn’t be his last memory of his beloved planet, that they would take mercy on him and move on to someone who wanted to go on the mission. They didn’t.
“Rocky hate Earth!”
He snapped back to see Rocky rolling towards him, his claw stretching out of the extendable part of his dome to rest on Ryland’s leg.
“Rocky hate humans who hurt Grace! Grace no want to go on mission but send him anyway! Humans hurt, bad bad bad.”
“They had to, Rock, it was me or eight billion people,” Ryland defended meekly.
“Bullshit.” Simon stood, the hacky sack left on the table as he stood beside Rocky, eyes lit with anger. “They basically kidnapped you and put you on a one-way trip! That’s… that’s horrible!”
He didn’t know why Simon was so worked up about it. It’s not like he’s known Ryland for long, not like he cared too much about him like Rocky did. Except the anger in his eyes was directed at humans light years away, a bright flame that searched to hurt. It was Ryland’s turn to frown. The way he spoke was like… like he understood completely Ryland’s situation. Like he’d experienced it himself.
“They sent you to die! How could they do that to you? You did nothing but help them and this is what you get in return?” Simon fumed.
Ryland shrugged, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. “I was the leading scientist on Astrophage. I… I was the most qualified,” he said with finality. “They were just doing what they thought was right.”
“Do not make excuse for them! Horrible people! Grace no deserve it!” Rocky protested.
“If they didn’t send me to space, I wouldn’t have met you, Rock,” Ryland pointed out. “We never would’ve met. We never would’ve found the Taumoeba. I would’ve died on Earth, anyway, if I stayed.”
“You would’ve died out here, too,” Simon argued.
“Grace almost did die after fishing trip!” Rocky added. “Does not make Grace life any less important. Rocky love Grace. Simon love Grace. Why no humans love Grace?”
Ryland’s bottom lip wobbled, unable to stop a tear from escaping. “They did, Rock. It’s why they sent me. Stratt believed in me in her own way.”
“Rocky hate Stratt.”
To Ryland’s shock, Simon rested his one hand on Ryland’s shoulder. His fingers twisted the fabric of his shirt in a tight grip as if he’d disappear in the blink of an eye. Simon wasn’t very tactile. Well, he sometimes stood a little too close to Ryland but he just thought it was because he was scared of being alone, though he didn’t say anything about it. He’d sometimes let their shoulders brush. But Simon didn’t reach out for contact.. This was new, and Ryland was thrown for a loop because he hadn’t felt the touch of another human in so long that it felt so… warm. Comforting.
“You deserved to live, too,” Simon stated.
He couldn’t stop the flood of tears that came leaking out of his eyes—not when Rocky’s claw clutched his pant leg, the dome pushing into him and providing stable weight, and certainly not when Simon took it a step further and wrapped his arm around Ryland’s shoulders. He tugged Ryland closer until his face was buried in Simon’s shoulder.
He cried for his students, whom he missed dearly. He cried for Carl, who was a good friend when everyone else around him was blunt and edgy. He cried for a life that was deemed expendable simply because he didn’t have an immediate family. Or a dog. And Rocky started making noises. Soothing, long tones that almost sounded like a song. At the same time, Simon’s hand rubbed his back as he cried.
“You deserve to live, too, angel.”
He didn’t bother trying to correct Simon. He couldn’t stop crying knowing that he had the best possible outcome he could’ve gotten when being sent on this mission.
In the week after what Ryland dubbed the breakdown, Simon was a lot more… softer. Kinder, like he’d realized something that Ryland didn’t know about.
Simon always had a food pouch for him whenever he woke up, handing it over with a small smile. Simon sat quietly in the lab as he and Rocky worked, though he offered words of encouragement whenever Ryland felt like he’d hit a wall and wanted to throw his microscope out the window. Simon even brought him a blanket once when he fell asleep next to the Taumoeba tanks, covering him up without a word. When Ryland thanked him for it when he woke up, Simon played innocent.
While he was kinder and opening up more and more each day, Ryland got to see how… flirty he was. He thought it was just his personality, you know, putting out jabs here and there. It was funny even if the words coming out of Simon’s mouth made him flush from head to toe (his voice was so… low. Gravelly).
For instance, Ryland had asked Simon to clean up the Petri dishes in the sink because Rocky quite literally couldn’t wash dishes and Ryland had his hands full with handling Taumoeba. The sink wasn’t too far from the table he worked at, just a few feet away. Ryland heard the water stop. He was busy transferring their latest batch of Taumoeba into a clear container, his latex glove getting a smidge of the amoeba on his thumb. The position he found himself in was his elbows on the table, transferring the amoeba, and his lower body taking up half of the walkway as he leaned forward.
So, to be fair, he was in the way, but still. What happened next nearly made his brain explode.
Simon had decided walking around was too far to get to Rocky, who was asking for assistance in getting unstuck from under a table. Which meant he had to walk directly behind Ryland to get to Rocky. Instead of being normal about it and, you know, announcing his presence for Ryland—who was locked in to making sure he didn’t spill any Taumoeba—he instead planted his hand on Ryland’s waist as he slipped behind him.
“Comin’ through,” Simon breathed, his voice and breath suddenly close enough to Ryland’s ear that it caused goosebumps to form across his skin.
Simon shimmied behind him, all while his hand stayed firmly planted on Ryland’s hip until he was walking towards Rocky. Ryland quite literally froze, his face no doubt beetroot red as his heart did backflips in his chest. His glasses slipped further down his now oily nose until they rested on his nostrils. His breaths came in short, low bursts as his eyes followed after Simon.
The man grinned at him before kneeling, trying to help Rocky.
That was… definitely new.
The touch was surprising. Not to say Ryland didn’t like it—no, he… loved it a lot more than he thought he would. He just had a hard time getting back on track transferring Taumoeba when all his brain could focus on was the phantom feeling of Simon’s hand clutching his hip. His fingers had rumpled his shirt, evidence of the touch that threw Ryland for a loop. Maybe he was looking too much into it, but it almost seemed… flirty.
And the grin. What was that? Ryland, again, didn’t want to read much into it, but he’s seen a few flirty smiles before and that was definitely one of them. Ryland shook his head, trying not to think about it too much even though his hip burned with the imprint of Simon’s hand. He didn’t even grab Ryland that hard but he left a lasting impression on his skin.
From there, touching was normal.
Simon usually didn’t initiate unless he had to or unless Ryland did first. And since Ryland had gotten a tiny taste of another human’s touch, all his body seemed to crave was Simon’s warmth. It got to the point where Ryland would toss and turn at night, Simon sleeping just a few feet away from him, his mind occupied by wolfish grins and hands on his hips and—
He was going insane and it was Simon’s fault. And Simon was no help in trying to get him back on track. If anything, it seemed his mission was to drive Ryland even further up the wall.
His lack of sleep had him stumbling into the lab one morning, yawning and wiping his eyes.
“Grace no sleep, question?” Rocky said with mild concern.
“It’s okay, bud. I’m good.”
“Grace get weird when no have sleep.”
“I promise, I’m good,” Ryland insisted as he put on gloves, preparing himself for another round of Taumoeba farming. “Let’s get to work.”
“You don’t look too good,” Simon said from where he sat on a table nearby. His hand fiddled with the hacky sack again.
“Just… couldn’t get to sleep last night, that's all.”
“Why?”
“Yes, Rocky curious, too. Rocky fix, question?”
Ryland snickered, shaking his head. “Thanks for the concern, guys, but it’s nothing you can fix.”
“Grace brain make him have bad thoughts, question?” Rocky said.
“No, not bad thoughts. I’m good, really, guys.”
“What kind of thoughts then?” Simon questioned curiously. “Maybe talking about it will make them stop.”
Not these ones, Ryland thought, feeling his cheeks beginning to flush. Stop it!
“Just… science,” he said with a shrug.
“Science,” Simon repeated with a tilt of his brow, eyes intrigued.
“Yup. Good old boring equations and stuff.”
“If Grace say so,” Rocky said. “Pick up Taumoeba, must give it new home.”
“I’m on it, Rock.”
Though Simon seemed to want to say more regarding the subject, he let it drop for the time being (thank God). He went back to staring out the window and squeezing miniature Earth. Ryland noticed him doing that a lot. He liked to stare at the stars for long periods of time, probably because there weren’t any stars where he was from. Ryland theorized that the Astrophage had completely taken over Simon’s star system, leaving it in eternal darkness. He didn’t blame Simon. The stars were always beautiful to look at. Beautiful and plenty.
When Ryland had finished farming the Taumoeba and put them away, Rocky huffed.
“Grace good to watch Rocky sleep?”
“Yeah, go for it, bud. You earned it.”
Rocky started towards the dormitory, knocking Simon’s leg along the way. “Apology. Good night, Simon Grace.”
“Night, Rock,” Simon said with a half wave.
Rocky disappeared down the corridor, leaving Ryland to clean up the farming tools and make sure the Taumoeba were secure. As he worked, he couldn’t help but feel that someone was staring. And Rocky didn’t have eyes. He tried to ignore it, but the feeling persisted on the back of his neck until goosebumps broke out over his spine.
“You just gonna keep staring?” Ryland said with a chuckle, kind of nervous for what Simon had to say. He never knew what to expect from the man. It was either something philosophical regarding how they both ended up on the Hail Mary or it was a tease that made Ryland’s cheeks turn bright red.
“Yeah. I like the view,” Simon replied, and oh Ryland could just hear the smirk in his voice.
Ryland took off his gloves, tossed them in the trash can and turned to face Simon. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “What? You have something to say?”
“I’ve got lots to say but that’s not important. What’s important is what’s keeping you up at night.”
“It’s really not that important.”
“It is to me.”
“Why’s that?”
Simon sat up. “Believe it or not, but I don’t want you to die of insomnia before we get to Erid. Come on, spill. Maybe it’ll help it go away.”
Ryland shifted his weight from foot to foot. How do you tell the person who is occupying your thoughts that the touch was the problem? Well, it wasn’t a problem, but it was a problem. Ryland couldn’t get the feeling of Simon’s hand on his skin out of his head. He could feel Simon’s hand on his shoulder, his waist, as he lay in bed trying desperately to shut out the raging thoughts trying to consume him. The touch was more than welcome, but he didn’t think it would take such a toll on his mind.
That’s what spending years alone in space does for you, he guessed. Rocky was great company, and his touches through the extendable xenonite barrier were good, but they didn’t replicate the same feeling as another human being. Ryland was feeling that difference right now.
Simon was staring at him again, something he seemed to love to do as a pastime. He didn’t know why Simon found him so interesting to look at. He wasn’t much to ogle at.
But maybe he was right. Maybe talking about it would, like, reset his brain or something. Get it to stop thinking about it so much. Ryland sighed, his arms coming around to hug himself as embarrassment crawled up his neck.
“I can’t… God, this is so stupid—”
“No, no it’s not. What is it?”
“I can’t stop thinking about… about touch.”
Simon’s brows raised. “Touch?” he said simply.
“Yeah,” Ryland breathed, and he did feel a bit lighter. “I-I dunno why. Well, no, I do know why, but I didn’t think it would affect me this much.”
“Oh,” Simon said, suddenly averting his gaze. He seemed… shy all of a sudden. “What about touch?”
“Just… the feeling of it. I spent so long by myself that I’d kind of forgotten what it felt like to have someone else there, you know? Forgot what it felt like…”
Simon met his gaze. “Are these thoughts good things?”
“I think so. I mean, it’s nice having you around. You’re good company.”
“So then what’s the problem?”
Ryland’s face burned. He hugged himself tighter. “I just… my body’s not used to it, I guess. But it feels nice.”
Simon seemed to relax a little at that. “So your brain is just, like, thinking about it because it’s a good thing and it’s causing you to not sleep at night?”
“Think so. That’s the running theory.”
The other man’s gaze fell to the floor, eyes far away as he thought. That was the other thing about Simon that was strange to Ryland. Usually, Ryland had a good read on people, but he could not for the life of him read Simon very well. He figured it was just because they were still getting to know each other well but he truly didn’t know. He watched Simon’s every move. He watched how he seemed to fight an internal battle before landing on that same mischievous look in his eye Ryland had seen many times by now.
“So, theoretically, if you… say… had some sort of contact before falling asleep, would that help at all?”
Ryland’s eyes widened a bit. Was he…? Was he offering to…?
“Um…” Ryland said awkwardly, clearing his throat, his pulse racing in his ears. “A-are you saying that you would… um—”
“The thoughts would stay away if I slept with you, right?”
Ryland spluttered at how bluntly Simon said it, like it was the simplest thing in the universe. That, and the wording was absolutely suggestive even if Simon didn’t say it that way. Simon’s lips turned into a small smirk, watching him choke on his own air and try to recover himself.
“Sleep with—um,” Ryland stuttered, face no doubt a deep shade of red. “I-I mean, it’s totally possible, but we wouldn’t know without…trying.”
Simon shrugged, eyes alight with amusement. Damn him. “You wanna try? Maybe it’ll help.”
“C-cant right now. Rocky’s sleeping.”
“Right, gotta watch him. I thought it was kind of weird at first, you know? That custom. But I really like it,” Simon admitted. “Makes me feel safer than I ever have before.”
Ryland managed to recover and make his heart take a chill pill. “Me, too. It was nice, especially after being alone for so long, to have Rocky there.”
Simon smiled. “You guys are close.”
“Yeah. He’s my best friend. He saved my life and my home.”
“That’s nice.”
Ryland turned to look out of the window. The deep vastness of space stared back at him. He remembered waking up on the ship and looking out the window and feeling a cosmic level of terror fill his body at the sight. All the questions that flooded his head were fuzzy and he was so frustrated that he couldn’t provide answers. The sight of space terrified him partially because he had no clue how he ended up on the ship, and partially because… well, it was space. And he had no way of knowing where he was in proportion to Earth.
Looking at it now, he just wished he could see Earth. There was a time, back then, where he would’ve been giddy to explore the International Space Station and stare at his home planet from afar. The pictures would’ve never done it justice because seeing it with your own eyes is just something else entirely. He would’ve liked to see the glow the Earth made against the canvas of space. He would’ve loved to see just how big the oceans and continents really are.
“You’re not alone anymore, angel.”
Ryland looked back at Simon. The man held a softer smile—not crass in nature like some of his previous ones. He genuinely smiled, even if it was a smaller one, like he was comforting Ryland and himself. The nickname threw Ryland off. He shook his head, ducking away to hide his uncontrollable grin.
“Still not my name, Simon.”
“Should be.”
Life on the ship was good. A little touch and go here and there because as much as Ryland loved the Hail Mary and its occupants, sometimes it felt a little cramped.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault that the ship was built in such a way to be kind of cramped and spacious at the same time. They had enough room to stretch out and be comfortable doing it, but Ryland found that his personal space was once again at a premium. Not because of Rocky this time, though he was still a little menace whenever Ryland’s brain started being mean to him.
No, the culprit was Simon. The hovering had gotten ten times worse to where Ryland started to believe the man to be his own shadow. And when he worked in the lab, Simon was right by his side, handing him tools and new gloves and whatever else he needed. He’s watched Ryland farm the Taumoeba enough now that he knew which tools and containers to grab for him when he couldn’t. It was nice having another set of hands to help, but it was still a struggle for him whenever Simon would hand him a tool. He’d say thanks, get back to work, only to still because he could feel Simon’s body right beside him. Hovering. Watching.
It also didn’t help when Rocky would sometimes ask if it was a human mating ritual. Simon may be blunt sometimes, but Rocky was even more frank.
The talk about the whole… sleeping thing had brought nothing to fruition. Ryland did sleep a little better after talking about it, but there were still too many nights he lay awake with phantom fingertips on his hip or shoulder. Simon didn’t say anything regarding the matter which made Ryland think he dropped it on the pretense that it made Ryland uncomfortable. Sure, the thought of it was uncomfortable at first, but the more he thought about it, the more he longed for some form of contact that wasn’t a brush of the hand or arm.
Life was good aboard the Hail Mary despite Ryland’s desire to reach out, to hold and be held for the first time in years. But he didn’t let himself because even though Simon had suggested cuddling in a half serious half teasing manner, he didn’t want to make Simon uncomfortable. He didn’t want to ruin what they’d already built—a stabilizing friendship that continued to grow every day.
Everything was fine until one night where Ryland fell asleep a little too easily, though he didn’t realize it until later.
He was dreaming. He dreamt of sand beneath his toes and waves lapping on the shore.
He dreamt of blue skies and green grass, a beautiful rainbow after a storm.
He dreamt of a party aboard a giant ship in the middle of the ocean where people danced and sang knowing their fates were sealed in death’s ink.
Ryland dreamt of a woman with strawberry blonde hair smiling at him, genuinely smiling, right before an explosion erupted behind her.
Ryland dreamt of someone he held great respect for, even considering her a friend, right before she signed his death warrant in front of his eyes.
Ryland dreamt of running, of his body being pinned to the Earth he adored so much but was too selfish to save.
“NO! I can’t do it! Don’t, please don’t make me… NO!”
He dreamt of grass and dirt being the last reminders of his home to clutch in his fist while his last interaction with humanity was one of cruelty and violence.
“No, no no no, please, I can’t do it! Carl! Carl!”
He dreamt of one of his only friends standing by, watching him be sedated and watching his life be taken before his eyes.
“You know who you are. You’re gonna be great.”
He dreamt of a needle piercing his skin.
“NO!”
Ryland sat up abruptly, the scream clawing out of his throat painfully. His vision was blurred with unshed tears. His skin was damp, sweaty, having seeped through his clothes and sheets. The blankets were pooled around his lap, though they hung off the bed like he’d thrown them in his sleep. Ryland couldn’t take a full breath. The tears finally fell as he covered his face with his hands, rocking back and forth with the pit in his stomach expanding again.
The most homesick man in the universe, and his brain decided to remind him of what he lost. How callous of his brain to conjure a nightmare of such proportions.
“Grace? What happen? Why heart race so quick in sleep, question? Talk while sleep?”
Rocky’s fast, worried voice filtered through his ringing ears. Ryland opened his eyes, trying desperately to take a deep breath and expand his lungs as he looked over at his best friend. Rocky’s arms were tapping the xenonite barrier, his whole body seemingly on alert of an invisible danger. The sight of the alien brought him great relief.
“Grace?” Rocky called, voice panicked.
“‘M okay, Rock,” he whispered, wiping his eyes and tear-stained face. “‘M okay.”
“Grace no look okay. Grace leaking. What happen, question?”
“I um… had a nightmare.” Ryland glanced at Simon’s bed, horrified to see that the man was already awake and standing in between their bunks, hand outstretched like he wanted to comfort but didn’t know if Ryland wanted him to reach out. Ryland hid his face again, shame crawling up his neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up—”
“None of that,” Simon dismissed. He moved slowly as if Ryland were a wild animal ready to snap. He sat beside Ryland on his bed, their legs almost touching. “It’s normal to have nightmares. Don’t apologize for that.”
“Still, I—”
“Simon say no apology, Grace no apology,” Rocky said.
“I’d listen to him, if I were you,” Simon jabbed with a small, unsure smile.
Ryland managed to smile back, though it was wobbly. “Fine.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Nothing much to say about it. Every time I have a nightmare, it’s the same thing.”
Simon scooted a little closer, their thighs touching. “It’s the same each time?”
“Yeah…” Ryland sniffled. Oh, why the hell not? It’s not like the nightmares are gonna stop anytime soon. “I’m… It starts out nice. I’m at the beach and teaching my kids and… it’s nice. But then I started seeing where it all went wrong. The explosion. Then Stratt’s pulling me into her office and then I’m running and—”
Simon’s hand rested on his shoulder. Grounding, firm, but comforting all the same. It only made Ryland’s eyes leak more.
“And they got me,” he whispered, voice breaking. “T-they didn’t even care that I was screaming and crying and begging for my life. They put me under, anyways, and put me on the ship. I wanted… to live and they didn’t—”
“It’s okay.”
“Is it?”
“You’re still alive. You’re here, now, with me and Rocky. You were dealt some serious bullshit cards, but you persevered," Simon said as Ryland wiped his eyes again. “What they did to you was horrible, cruel, and I don’t know how you find it in your heart to forgive the people who put you here. But that’s exactly why I… admire you so much. You’re strong that way.”
“Brave,” Rocky provided helpfully.
“Brave,” Simon agreed.
“Don’ feel like it,” Ryland said.
“You don’t have to feel like it. It’s not about whether or not you feel brave. It’s about whether or not you realize you’ve had that strength since the beginning, even if it didn’t feel like it was there. You’re stronger than those people who sedated you, who ignored your will to live.”
Simon slowly moved, giving Ryland ample time to move away if he wanted to as he brought Ryland into a side-hug. The best he could do with one arm, but Ryland didn’t care. He hadn’t realized how much he desperately needed this—to feel someone, to have someone reach and hold and comfort.
Ryland melted into the embrace, turning to properly wrap his arms around Simon’s shoulders and neck. The man’s arm adjusted to rest against his lower back, a firm weight Ryland hadn’t felt in so long that he’d been missing so much more than he thought. Ryland clutched, squeezed the life out of Simon like he was going to disappear under his fingertips if he didn’t.
“It’s okay,” Simon muttered, his voice right in his ear.
The dam broke. Ryland let himself cry, let himself mourn the life he wished he had, the things he wished he’d done when back on Earth. He mourned his children, unknowing if they were alive or if they even remembered him. He let himself feel the anger, the grief he held towards humanity, towards his home. It would’ve consumed him if not for Rocky and Simon’s steady presence.
“It okay, Grace. Rocky Simon love Grace, no let anything bad happen,” Rocky said. “Adrian will love Grace, too. Adrian very happy to have new friend.”
Ryland reluctantly pulled away from Simon, though he wished he could hold on for longer without it being weird. Simon kept his hand steady on his shoulder, eyes open and inviting, a stark contrast to the man he was a few months ago.
“Grace go back to sleep, now. Rocky Simon watch, keep away bad bad bad thoughts.”
“Dunno if I can,” Ryland admitted. It never got easier to relive his last moments on Earth. If anything, it got harder to get past when it kept popping up so frequently. It dug a pit beneath his feet before he could blink, laughing at him as he fell.
Now, though, he had two people who would jump in with him. Two people who would build him a ladder out of nothing to get him out.
“We’ll be right here,” Simon said, his thumb rubbing circles into Ryland’s shoulder. “You should at least try. Can’t have the scientist losing sleep and fucking something up in the lab.”
“What word mean, question?”
“What word?”
“The one with the F.”
Ryland couldn’t hold back a huff of laughter. God forbid if Rocky learned how to swear. “Not important, Rock.”
“Come on, lay back down.”
“Alright, mom.”
Simon rolled his eyes as Ryland climbed back under the sheets, pulling the blanket up to his chest.
“The thoughts would stay away if I slept with you, right?”
Ryland’s heart skipped again at the blunt statement. He wasn’t a psychologist or anything, but he did remember when he had a partner. He remembered how easy it was for him to fall asleep with someone else there with him, holding onto him as if he were the most important thing to them. It was one thing to sleep against Rocky’s dome, knowing his friend was right beside him. It was another thing to have a whole other human there. That kind of contact.
“Simon?” he muttered, half expecting the man to not hear the call.
But he did. He raised his brows and hummed, still sitting on the bed. Hell, he looked so warm. It probably helped that he had all that muscle to keep heat in. Ryland’s palms grew clammy, his mind suddenly full of images of muscles and an arm and how that arm would feel wrapped around him—
“C-Can you…” Ryland interrupted his thoughts. He stared imploringly, hoping he didn’t have to say the words out loud.
Simon furrowed his brows for a moment curiously. He stared back, scanning Ryland’s face for the answer. Ryland looked down at the mattress and scooted over, staring at the space he made. He’d never seen Simon’s expression shift so quickly from confusion to understanding.
“Oh. Oh, um… are you sure?” he asked.
“Please.”
“O-okay.”
Ryland turned to lie on his other side, facing Rocky as Simon slowly slipped in beside him. The cots were not meant to support two full grown men, but Ryland didn’t care. He already felt better feeling the weight of another beside him, feeling Simon’s torso rise and fall with slightly elevated breaths. And the warmth, oh, and the muscle. Can’t forget about the muscle Ryland could feel each time Simon moved to get comfortable. At first, their backs touched, but Simon, ever the brave one of the two humans, rolled over so he was facing Ryland’s back.
“You’re sure about this?” Simon mumbled into the silent, tense dorm.
“Just get in here, Si.” Ryland reached back for Simon’s hand, finding it easily. He didn’t care anymore. He was tired, still seeing images of his last memory of Earth and he really wanted them to go away. He tugged Simon’s arm until their joined hands were resting on his stomach, Simon’s arm draped around his waist. Ryland sighed, the weight already working its magic in comforting him.
Simon didn’t move for a moment, perhaps surprised at Ryland’s sudden bluntness. When he eventually moved, he shuffled further under the blankets as Ryland adjusted them. His nose brushed Ryland’s shoulder, his face coming to rest between his shoulder blades. Ryland exhaled deeply, not having felt this way in a long time. He’d forgotten how much he missed this kind of touch—intimate and caring. He rubbed his thumb along Simon’s hand. His palms were calloused and rough but he didn’t mind.
Simon’s arm tightened around his waist, pulling him so his back was flush with Simon’s body.
“Grace Simon go back to sleep. Rocky observe,” Rocky said as he started tinkering with something Ryland couldn’t see.
Simon squeezed his hand. “Relax. I’ve got you, angel.”
Sleep had never consumed Ryland so fast in his life.
The sleeping arrangement had changed for the better, in Ryland’s opinion.
The two humans decided to put the mattresses together on the floor instead of falling asleep together on a cot and hoping that they didn’t fall off in the middle of the night. Simon didn’t move much in his sleep, but Ryland liked to sometimes fling his arm or leg out, and generally took up a lot more space. Rocky complained that they were too far away, so they moved the mattresses to rest right next to Rocky’s xenonite.
Sleep came easily, now. No longer did Ryland lie awake at night with past memories taunting him. Simon kept the thoughts away.
The further they drifted to Erid, the closer the crew of the Hail Mary became. Rocky loved teaching Simon how to tinker. He used old scraps of xenonite Rocky didn’t need anymore to create something new. Rocky taught him the properties of xenonite, how to mold it. It was an entertaining watch while Ryland farmed Taumoeba.
Simon and Rocky were curious about Earth. Most nights, Ryland would hold a lecture of sorts in the room with the screens. He’d show them places he’d been to, monuments, the natural wonders of the world. They soaked up the information greedily, asking millions of questions that Ryland was happy to answer.
Everything was fine. As fine as it could be when everything was held together by xenonite, duct tape, and dreams.
Ryland didn’t pry into Simon’s past because he figured the man would talk when he was ready, but it had been nearly four months since he was rescued from the submarine and he still hasn’t said anything. He told Ryland how he ended up in the submarine, but not how there were oceans of blood or people that were cruel enough to weld Simon into the rusty box.
He got his answer soon enough.
They had gotten ready for bed like normal, hopping in beside one another without hesitation now. Ryland had put his glasses on a flat part of Rocky’s dome, wishing everyone goodnight as he got comfortable. He’d noted how Simon was particularly quiet that day. He seemed too preoccupied with something, much like when Ryland thinks too much about Earth, and Rocky thinks about Adrian.
He fell asleep without trouble. The problem was when he woke up in the middle of the night because something hit him.
Ryland frowned, turning over. Simon had kicked away the blanket, his breaths coming in short bursts. His hair was strewn about haphazardly as he twitched violently. His lips moved, whispers escaping his mouth but Ryland couldn’t decipher them. Simon’s arm flinched, accidentally hitting Ryland’s shoulder.
“Simon?” Ryland said worriedly, suddenly awake. He’d had enough nightmares to recognize the man was having one.
“Simon having bad thought, question?”
“Think so, bud.”
“Wake Simon up.”
“Trying to. Simon. Hey, it’s me.”
Ryland gently reached out, poking Simon’s shoulder. He quickly retracted his touch when Simon flinched again.
“Fuck you…” Simon muttered.
He only seemed to be getting worse. Sweat beaded on his brow. His chest heaved. His expression twisted into a mix of anger and fear. Ryland was almost scared to reach out again. Everyone reacted differently to different things. He didn’t want to scare Simon further.
“Simon, it’s me. It’s Ryland and Rocky. You’re okay.”
Simon grunted, using his one arm to lash out, nearly hitting Ryland in the face. “Stop it…”
“Simon almost hurt Grace,” Rocky said in alarm. “What happening?”
“He isn’t in the right headspace right now, Rock. He doesn’t mean what he’s doing.”
“Shut up,” Simon hissed, eyes squeezed shut.
Ryland swallowed. He couldn’t watch this go on anymore. He got up on his knees and grabbed Simon’s hand, using his free hand to shake Simon’s shoulder.
“Come on, Si, get up. It’s not real.”
Simon’s hand tightened around him almost painfully. His knuckles turned white. Ryland grimaced but didn’t let go, instead squeezing back as best as he could.
“Simon—”
“You want the butcher?” the man said with such venom in his tone.
“What that mean, question?” Rocky said, alarmed, as he hit the xenonite barrier. “Grace?”
“Simon, wake up!” Ryland said louder. “Wake up!”
Ryland jumped when Simon yelled out. He didn’t even blink and Simon was moving. His eyes were sharp, angry, as he lunged at Ryland. He pushed Ryland back, not caring that Ryland’s head bounced painfully off the floor. He straddled Ryland’s hips, his arm extended back and his fist closed.
“What Simon doing, question?! Stop stop stop!” Rocky shouted, hitting the barrier with fervor.
Ryland raised his arms just in time to catch Simon’s fist as it tried to smack down on him. “Simon! What’re you—”
“Come on!” Simon shouted as he raised his arm again.
“Stop, Simon!”
Ryland felt true fear enter his system, because those weren’t Simon’s eyes he was looking into. He was staring into pools of hatred, anger, of violence that didn’t coincide with the man he’s gotten to know. Not only was he angry, he was strong. Ryland pushed back easily against his arm’s attacks, but he couldn’t wiggle out from Simon’s weight atop of him. His thighs squeezed, holding him in place.
Simon was terrified. He was lashing out, trying to hurt because he thought he was being attacked. Ryland could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t fully in the present. He was stuck in his head, in that submarine they left behind a while ago. Simon thought he still had blood coating his hands when that wasn’t true at all.
“Simon, please!” Ryland pleaded, his arms straining under the pressure of Simon putting his whole body weight into the attack.
“Stop stop stop! Simon hurting Grace!” Rocky exclaimed.
Simon blinked, and his whole body stilled. He blinked again, staring down at Ryland. Confused, dazed, before he took account of his surroundings. Ryland didn’t move. He watched Simon’s eyes light with recognition, his expression twisted in horror.
“I’m…” the man said, his shoulders falling. “I thought—”
“Why Simon do that? Why hurt Grace?” Rocky said with a harsh stomp.
“Rock, it’s okay,” Ryland said.
“No it not! Grace no lie!”
“I’m not lying!”
Simon scrambled away, struggling to stay on his feet. He and Ryland had been working a lot more on helping him adjust to losing his arm, how the balance of his body constantly seemed off with the lost limb. It was coming back to bite him now as he fell into the closest cot with a huff. Ryland quickly got to his feet.
“Simon—”
“Don’t! Stay there. Stay there.” Simon’s back was to him, shoulders tense again.
“Hey, it’s okay. You were having a nightmare.”
“No shit.”
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“Why are you apologizing?” Simon questioned flatly. When he finally looked at Ryland, his eyes were misty and guarded, untrusting.
Ryland let his arms fall to his sides. “I didn’t know how to help.”
“That’s not your job.”
“But I want to help.”
“Why?”
“You’ve been helping me. I want to help you, too.”
Simon huffed. “No you don’t. You just see a problem and you try and fix it.”
“Exactly. I want to help you. You looked like you were in pain.”
Ryland saw his eyes flicker to Rocky, who was standing tall as if sizing him up. Simon sat on the floor, body hunched over. His hair covered his face much to Ryland’s disappointment.
“Simon, you’ve… you’ve helped me with my burdens. I think maybe it’s time to let me help you with yours,” Ryland said as he slowly sat in front of the man.
Simon didn’t look up. Hell, he didn’t move. If Ryland couldn’t see his chest rising and falling, you would’ve thought he’d been dead. He sat patiently despite Rocky chittering behind him, telling him it wasn’t safe. He waited. And waited. He’d keep waiting because Simon deserved the time to let it all out just as he’d let Ryland cry and blabber on about how homesick he was.
“I thought I was in the sub.”
The words were quiet, nearly lost to the static ambience the Hail Mary always had as she floated through space. Ryland leaned forward slightly.
“I was back in that hellhole with the eel. It kept messing with me,” Simon uttered, shaking his head. “That’s the thing about it—it learns. It learns about you and uses it against you. First, it was Ava telling me I was going to die down there whether I liked it or not, and the next it… it was you.”
Ryland bit his tongue as Simon finally looked up. He’d never seen Simon look so tired, so hurt and angry. He didn’t even see the bags under his eyes. How inconsiderate was Ryland that he didn’t notice this happening? The way Simon spoke about it made it seem like this wasn’t the first time this nightmare has happened.
“It was you. You kept saying that you hated me, that you couldn’t trust someone who had the title of Butcher. The eel, it… it made me believe you were coming to save me just to mimic your voice. It pretended to kill you just to rub salt in the wound.” Simon put his hand to the side of his head. “Keep hearing your screams…”
Simon’s past experiences were morbid. This, Ryland understood. But for his brain to use him as a… what, some sort of emotional damage, was just downright cruel. He knew Simon cared in his own way through his teasing jabs and deep down under the cover of his snappy nature. And here was his brain using it against him.
“Hey,” Ryland whispered, offering his hand. “I’m right here. I’m alive. Look, you can feel for yourself.”
Simon looked at him with enough uncertainty to break his heart. It felt like every bit of progress they made as friends and… maybe a little more was suddenly thrown out of the window. Still, Simon took a deep breath and slowly inched his hand towards Ryland’s. His fingers ran over his palm, tracing the lines in his skin. Ryland didn’t move. He let Simon’s fingers run along his skin, let his fingers press into his wrist to feel his pulse.
“No eel’s gonna get you. Not while I’m here,” he said with a reassuring smile.
He slowly enclosed his hand around Simon’s, running his thumb along the back of his skin. He kept a very loose grip on him and gave him ample time to pull away, but he didn’t. Simon stared at their hands.
“You don’t even know what I’ve done. I should’ve died in that sub, not come on this ship to hurt you,” Simon said meekly.
“Hey, don’t say that. You haven’t hurt me.”
“I tried to. That’s even worse.”
“You were having a nightmare.”
“Doesn’t excuse trying to hurt you when you’ve done nothing but make me feel at home.”
“Simon, I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me. You… I mean, yeah, you scared me for a second there but I don’t think it helped you that I woke you up by yelling at you,” Ryland said. “There’s nothing to forgive because you did nothing wrong. You were just defending yourself. You had a natural human reaction.”
“I killed 62 people.”
What. Ryland’s body froze as he digested the information. Simon stared at him with such regret and frustration. 62 people. Simon… he couldn’t have. He couldn’t have.
“Yeah,” the man said, pulling his hand from Ryland’s limp one. The air seemed colder. “I helped blow up Filament Station and it killed 62 people. That’s why I was on that sub. If I got information in the ocean, I would be free. Except I wasn’t told there was a fucking monster down there and that I was going to die no matter what. I told you, I don’t belong here with you. You don’t deserve… this. Any of it. I can’t drag you down with me.”
Ryland couldn’t help but draw connecting dots between his situation and Simon’s. Both of them were put in one-way tickets (their vessels), both had a woman manning their operations with cold-blood, and they both were destined to die in their ships. Both of them defied all odds and clung to life because goddammit, what was so wrong with wanting to live?
And Simon believed he was unworthy of living because he helped take the lives of 62 people. He wanted to live but thought he was, what, tainting Ryland with his sins? No. He was being unreasonable.
“Simon, the actions of the past don’t define the future.” Ryland reached for his hand again, squeezing his palm gently. “What happened in your past happened. It doesn’t make you a monster.”
“How can you say that?” Simon said with a sniffle, trying to pull his hand away. “I killed people.”
Ryland didn’t let go. “You said you helped blow up a space station. Did you mean to kill those people?”
“N-no. We were just going to sabotage the station, make it unlivable. Not kill people.”
“The explosion was out of your control, Si.”
“But I helped.”
“Simon, your actions aren’t going to condemn me to hell or whatever it is you’re thinking,” Ryland said. “I don’t know the exact circumstances around the explosion, but I don’t think of you as… as a Butcher or whatever it was you said. To me, you’re human. A human who loves living and wants to keep going. I do, too. I want to keep going, and I want to help you.”
“I don’t deserve it,” Simon said, shaking his head as his eyes glazed over with tears.
“Yes, Simon do,” Rocky said. “Simon deserve to live, like Grace. Both humans were treated badly, but now have each other and Rocky to depend on. Human friends’ brains very mean to them, Rocky hate. No more think like that Simon friend.”
Ryland managed a small chuckle. “I’d listen to Rock, if I were you.”
Simon’s eyes flickered between them, his expression stuck in shock. Tears fell, soaking into the fabric of his pants. His eyes eventually settled on Ryland, specifically his head. Or the top of his head, for some reason. Ryland looked up, trying to see what Simon was seeing but came up empty aside from the overhead light, which only made him release a puff of laughter.
“What? What are you looking at?” Ryland asked, still searching.
“You, angel.”
Ryland’s gaze found Simon’s, no longer shocked or angry or regretful, but full of mirth and a twinge of grief. Ryland ignored the way his heart skipped at the nickname or how his skin suddenly felt hot where he squeezed Simon’s hand.
“Not my name,” he whispered.
Simon shrugged. “You sure? It matches pretty well.”
“Grace name match angel, Rocky agree.”
“You say that and you don’t know anything about biblical references,” Ryland said as he looked at Rocky. The alien stood tall.
“Don’t have to know much to know Simon right.”
“Thanks, Rock,” Simon said.
“Human friends good now, yes? Good good good.”
“Human friends good, statement.”
Ryland turned back, continuing to hold Simon’s hand because even though the man looked fine, he could still feel lingering tension in the man’s muscles and in the air. The more Ryland thought about the nickname Simon gave him, the more he kind of liked it. Don’t tell him he said that, though. He couldn’t deny how well it fit, especially with his last name being Grace of all names.
They weren’t entirely okay, and they probably never would be, but sitting on the floor together talking about anything and everything to get their minds off their pasts was enough for Ryland for right now. Especially with Rocky’s commentary that never failed to make him smile.
“So people just went to these buildings to buy food, get drunk, and sing?”
“Yeah! It’s called karaoke. It’s actually pretty fun.”
“No, not fun.”
“It’s not fun for you because you sing beautifully, Rock. It’s fun for those of us who can’t do that.”
Simon shook his head. “I don’t sing.”
“You don’t have to. That’s the fun part. For example.”
“No, no, Grace no sing. Hurt Rocky hearing.”
Ryland balked as he changed the screens to a karaoke version of Bad Romance. Why not have some Gaga while in space? He didn’t do much karaoke in a group setting, he was always too shy and nervous because while it was about singing horribly in good company, he always had a fear of singing in front of people.
“Grace no sing!” Rocky stomped.
“Come on, Rock, it’s fun!”
“I’m with Rocky on this one.”
“Ugh, you guys are no fun. Fine. What should we do to pass the time, then?”
“I can think of a few things,” Simon said with a smirk directed at Ryland.
Ever since Simon’s nightmare a few weeks ago, he’s, again, been a bit more… daring with his words. Ryland could never tell if it was just Simon’s personality or if he was saying these things because he actually had an interest in Ryland. He couldn’t for the life of him picture why Simon would find him so interesting to like like, but as of late, Simon’s made a few suggestive jokes and comments here and there that never fail to make Ryland spiral again—wondering if Simon was teasing for fun (his personality) or for other reasons.
He also didn’t understand why after a nightmare. Why start being more bold after a nightmare? Simon was already unapologetically flirty before the nightmare, but why amp it up afterwards? He probably wouldn’t know for a while.
“Like what, Simon, question?” Rocky said. “What Simon do for fun?”
Simon stood. “Back on my home station, we didn’t have the tech you guys have here. We listened to stories in groups and came up with our own to share. There were a whole bunch of things, but arguably my favorite was what we called Kick.”
Rocky and Ryland followed Simon to the lab, where he picked up the hacky sack. He tossed it in the air and kicked it back up with the inside of his foot, almost like a soccer ball.
“See, you’d kick the ball and try to keep it in the air. If it hits the ground, game over.”
“Oh! Rocky want to try!” Rocky said, tilting from side to side in his dome.
Ryland and Simon shared a smile.
“I dunno if you can play, Rock. The dome’s in the way,” Ryland pointed out gently.
“Ugh, Rocky make new dome to play. Rocky bored.”
“How about you? You ever play something like this?” Simon asked as he tossed the little Earth to Ryland.
“Uh, not really. I wasn’t really the sport slash athletic type. But we did play hacky sack. That’s our name for Kick. You can’t use your arms or hands, but in Earth’s version, you had a group of people and you kicked the ball to each other. Still, if it fell or if you touched it, the game would end.”
“Huh.”
“I know. Interesting, right, how similar our versions of humanity are?” Ryland said as he kicked the ball. One, two, three, four, before it fell to the ground. He tossed the ball back to Simon.
The man snickered. “Wanna see how long we can keep it up?”
“Of course.”
As Rocky worked on a new xenonite suit, Simon and Ryland started up a game of hacky sack. Simon served, kicking it up, letting it hit his chest before kicking it to Ryland. He wasn’t the most graceful (ha), and he lost it after two kicks. He huffed, but now that he had another person to play with, he was determined to make it at least two minutes.
With that goal set, he tried his best to lock in. He let Simon serve each time since it seemed to bring a bit of luck. That, and so Ryland could observe Simon’s technique and see how he kicked the hacky sack. It took many rounds of trial and error, a few hours of smiles and half-assed curses under his breath before he and Simon managed to keep the ball in the air for a timed one minute.
Simon was a little too good at the game. He could keep the ball afloat by himself for maybe fifteen seconds at a time, all the while Ryland’s brows remained furrowed as he tried to figure out how to match Simon’s tempo.
“Grace bad at game,” Rocky said, still forming a new suit. So far it looked like he was trying to make a 3D printed version of himself—there was an arm and the beginnings of another arm.
“Can’t wait to see you try this yourself, Rock. It’s not that easy,” Ryland huffed.
“I think he’ll be great at it. He’s got five arms.”
Rocky laughed, leaving Ryland to huff again. Not that hacky sack wasn’t fun, but he was thirsty. He’d been kind of a lazy butt the entire trip so far, so the exercise was welcome but also a little tiring. He pushed himself off the counter and headed towards the dorm.
“Oh, Grace sore loser, question?”
“Yup, a thirsty one.”
He heard Rocky laugh again and he rolled his eyes. He walked down the hall and made it to the dorm, retrieving a pack of water for him and Simon. As he sipped, he turned to go back to the lab only to find Simon had followed him. He stood in the middle of the dorm.
“Got you some water,” Ryland said, tossing him the pouch.
Simon caught it with ease. His eyes never left Ryland as he sat on the empty cot. For a minute, the two of them were silent, happily drinking the water. Ryland pictured the next game of hacky sack that would inevitably occur, trying to think of good strategies. The game primarily relied on the athleticism of the players and sheer luck, which Ryland didn’t have good amounts of either. He hadn’t even realized Simon was done with his pouch of water until Armando extended an arm to collect the waste.
“Thanks,” Simon said.
“For what?”
Simon shrugged. “Everything.”
Ryland finished the last sip of his pouch, frowning, sensing a speech incoming. Not that he didn’t want to hear Simon talk—it was good to hear him open up—it was just unexpected. Simon’s voice had lowered considerably, solemn and reflective.
“No need to thank me. Anyone would’ve done the same,” Ryland said, not really knowing what else to say.
“We both know that’s not true.”
Ryland faltered. “Well, there’s no need to thank me because I didn’t do any of this out of obligation. Like I said, I want to help. It would kind of suck if I let the only other human for light years die.”
“Yeah, but… you didn’t have to stop when you saw the SM-13 flying through space. You didn’t have to open the hatch and drag me out. You could’ve left me but you didn’t.” Simon’s shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “No one back home would’ve done what you did. People were cruel out of necessity. There was no room for kindness in a place where rations were limited and the more people meant more mouths to feed. You’ve… I don’t think you fully grasp how you saved me in more ways than one.”
Ryland didn’t move as Simon took a tentative step forward. The dorm was silent. In the back of his head, he wondered if Rocky was eavesdropping. It’s not like Rocky could control the sense that let him see, but he wondered if he was listening because he wanted to or not. Simon had been vulnerable a handful of times aboard the ship now, and most of them happened without Rocky in the room, though later when Simon was asleep Rocky confronted Ryland to ask what Simon’s words meant even if he didn’t know yet.
He couldn’t read Simon, couldn’t tell where he was going with his words. All he could see was pools of ink shimmering with something he didn’t have a name for. It was familiar, but he couldn’t put a name to the emotion he saw.
“Getting to stay on this ship, to be with you and Rock, it’s been the best part of my miserable life. Every day I wake up and I think I’ll be back in that rust bucket of a sub, but I’m not. I wake up feeling like I’m in a dream where I get to hold onto what I consider the most important thing in my life.”
Oh. Ryland’s hands were suddenly clammy, clutching the edges of the cot as Simon stepped closer. The room behind them disappeared, leaving the only two humans floating through space to stare into each other’s eyes as they’d done many times before. This time, though, their gazes cut through a rising tension that Ryland had been feeling for weeks now.
Simon’s suggestive comments and hand placement was part of the growing tension, sure, but it blossomed because Ryland found Simon just as captivating as Simon seemed to find him. There was a whole other human civilization out in the universe, arguably dealt the worst cards he’d ever seen, but still they persevered. He was curious as to why Simon had to always be in a room with someone, why Simon said certain things that Ryland stuffed away in a mental box labeled Simon’s customs to analyze later. There was a whole other human culture to understand, and a whole other person.
Ryland didn’t take Simon’s flirty comments too seriously because there was a part of him that thought bitterly that it was Simon’s way of trying to thank him for the rescue. He didn’t want there to be an obligation, a contract between them. He stopped the ship because Rocky said there was someone alive in that submarine and damn Ryland if he ignored Rocky’s words. He didn’t stop the ship so he could… as Rocky would bluntly put it, have a mate of his own. He stopped because it was the right thing to do.
Though, the longer he and Simon got to talking, and got to know each other, the more he found his heart yearned. He wanted to see more of Simon’s rare full smiles, his laughter. He wondered what it would feel like to run his hands through the long strands, to use his fingers to comb out the noticeable tangles Simon refused to take care of. He wanted to trace his fingers along Simon’s arms. He wanted to know everything about him and where he came from. He wanted to know what Simon loved, what he hated, all of it. It took Ryland a minute to realize these thoughts were certainly more than platonic and that he had a crush.
The problem was that he couldn’t tell if Simon was being serious or not. The nickname angel still made regular appearances. It made Ryland question if Simon said these comments because he still believed Ryland was some sort of holy entity sent to rescue him from hell when in actuality, it was just a stroke of luck that they came across the submarine.
Simon stood before him with his back pulled straight. “I wake up every day and think how lucky I am that you and Rocky found me. I can’t imagine a life without you.”
“Simon,” Ryland said, his brain struggling to send words to his tongue to spew out when it was so busy making his hands shake and face flush bright red. He managed a cough. “What’re you saying—”
His words died in his throat when Simon’s hand rested on his cheek, his thumb tenderly stroking his skin. Ryland’s heart lodged in his throat, his pulse roaring in his ears. Yeah, they spent time in close proximity, sure, but this was a whole different playing field. He suppressed a shiver at the contact because while it felt utterly intoxicating, he hadn’t felt this kind of touch in years. And Simon kept staring at him with that look in his eye, the one Ryland had seen many times when Simon watched him from a distance, like he was worth everything and more.
“Si—”
“I’m saying I’m somehow the luckiest person in the universe to have you in my life,” Simon whispered in the small space between them. His eyes scanned Ryland’s face as if he were trying to memorize every little detail. He smiled. “I’m saying I love you, Ryland.”
Ryland.
Ryland.
Simon’s words echoed in his head, specifically his name. Simon never used his name, not if he could help it. He liked to tease, to call Ryland anything but the correct name. Hearing his name fall from Simon’s mouth for the first time made him feel like he was suddenly plunged in ice cold water. He sat in shock that Simon actually used his name and the other thing. He loved Ryland?
Love.
That was the look he couldn’t place. Simon loved him.
Ryland gaped at Simon, unable to suppress a shudder when the man’s fingers sprawled in his hair. He watched Simon smile wider, happy and coy at the reaction he caused.
“Y-you… you l-love me?” Ryland repeated dumbly.
“I just said it.”
“Why?” he blurted before he could stop it from tumbling out.
Simon’s expression shifted into what the fuck are you talking about. “Why? You… okay. I love your smiles, your laughs, the way you and Rocky bicker all the time. I love it when you start spewing out equations I don’t understand and write them on the board. I love watching you do that thing with your eyebrows when you’re really focused. I love being able to hold you close at night because I feel crazy if I don’t. I love that you… I love that you don’t see me like the others did. You see me as the me I want to be—Simon, not the Convict.”
Ryland listened, remembering all the times over the past months that he caught Simon’s gaze in the corner of his vision. He’d sometimes be too focused on his work to acknowledge Simon’s staring, but he knew it was there. As for that last part, he had always known Simon as Simon, not the Convict or Butcher he insists on calling himself. Ryland swallowed nervously. He hadn’t been in this kind of position in a long time. What did he even say back to that? It’s not like he didn’t return the sentiment, but how does he top that speech?
“Y-you don’t have to say anything back. I just… wanted to tell you. I couldn’t keep it in anymore because I admire you so much and you really are my savior and I just… you had to know,” Simon rambled, leaning back and starting to pull away.
No.
Ryland’s hand shot up, holding Simon’s wrist. He didn’t care about the calluses on Simon’s palm grazing his cheek. If anything, he wanted it to stay there. He wanted more, wanted to be closer than he allowed himself to be. For once, he was happy Simon was so bold in his actions, because it only made Ryland fearless in return. He feared Simon wouldn’t like touch, especially with how guarded he was when he first arrived on the Hail Mary. He was so closed off, so keen on staying withdrawn that Ryland wondered if he’d ever come out of his shell. Ryland kept his distance, only initiating touch whenever Simon did.
Now, he knew Simon wasn’t scared anymore, and neither was he.
“I’m… I’m not really good at these kinds of talks,” Ryland said with an awkward cough. “But I’m the lucky one. I never thought I’d see another human again but here we are. And you happen to be a really fun, interesting, and amazing person and I’m so happy I’ve been able to get to know you these past few months. I want to know everything; the good, the bad, and whatever else you want to tell me. I want…”
Simon stayed still, eyes glancing down every other second as Ryland tried for once to be brave and say what he wanted to say.
“I want to—”
He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before Simon’s fingers held tight on the back of his head, crashing his lips against Ryland’s.
Oh.
That’s new.
It was a bit of an awkward angle. Simon had an inch or two of height on him since he was sitting, and his hand that cradled the back of Ryland’s head tilted his face up to meet him halfway. Rylands hands sat uselessly by his sides as he recovered from his shock, pushing back eagerly against Simon. God, the feeling of his fingers in Ryland’s hair was killing him. The touch was more than welcome, and he couldn’t think of anything besides the man in front of him.
Simon pulled back, taking a deep breath as he nervously searched Ryland’s eyes. “Sorry, I should’ve asked—”
“Shut up.”
Ryland brought his hands up to cradle Simon’s face as he leaned back in. He pressed his lips against Simon’s, leaning back when Simon followed eagerly. His legs nudged to the side when Simon stepped between them, his one arm wrapping around Ryland’s waist.
He couldn’t think. It was like the touch had fried his brain. He held Simon’s face probably a little too hard, their lips moving in tandem with each other like they’ve been doing this forever. He let his fingers run through Simon’s hair. Ryland inhaled sharply through his nose when Simon's hand found his hip, squeezing him.
They pulled away for a moment to catch their breaths, but neither of them could get enough. Simon pressed further into him, like he was trying to mold their bodies into one, his lips finding Ryland’s again. This time, instead of being languid and lazy, Simon kissed with hunger. He stepped even closer until Ryland nearly fell backwards onto the cot, but Simon’s hand steadied him. Ryland felt like putty in Simon’s hand, his heart racing wildly and his skin on fire where they touched. It didn’t help when Simon’s fingers dug into his hip, eliciting a low hum from Ryland.
Simon swallowed the sound, his tongue pressing through to slide against Ryland’s teeth. God, it was so electrifying. Ryland almost didn’t care that Rocky could probably hear the shaky exhales and low groans the two humans couldn’t hold back, but he did care because knowing Rocky, he would mention the noise the next time he saw them and he didn't know if he was ready for that conversation yet. Ryland’s brain finally shut up for once, only thinking Simon Simon Simon, and while his body felt like it was burning alive, he kissed back with equal fervor. He squeezed Simon’s hips, trapping him between his legs. Simon responded in tandem, his tongue exploring his mouth while his hand on Ryland’s hip pulled him impossibly closer.
It was only when Ryland’s lungs were begging for air did he finally, reluctantly, pull away. He didn’t go far, just enough to breathe deeply through his lips, satisfying his neglected lungs. He stared into Simon’s eyes, seeing the same fire he felt reflected in his iris. Their breaths mingled in the centimeters of space they allowed between them—hell, even Simon’s breath fanning his lips drove him crazy. Simon rested his forehead against Ryland’s, closing his eyes and relenting his grip on Ryland’s waist just slightly. Ryland could see Simon’s lips slick with saliva. He felt blood rush to his cheeks, making him feel like he was dying of a heat stroke.
“If me talking so much ends with that, I should ramble more often, don’t you think?” Simon whispered as they caught their breaths.
Ryland giggled, something he never did, but sue him he was happy. His heart was happy and light knowing that Simon loved him, too. He shook his head as he laughed, his nose brushing Simon’s. “I could get behind that. Hey, you used my name correctly for once. You know, the one that people actually call me.”
“Oh so if I say your name you get all kissy.”
“No! I’m—oh my God…”
Simon smiled wide, eyes cracking open, full of mirth and warmth. He squeezed Ryland’s hip again and boy did that send his heart in a rollercoaster. “You’re still my angel.”
Ryland met his gaze, his smile softening. “I dunno about that.”
“Need some more convincing?”
“Hm… maybe.”
“Whatever you say, angel.”
So, yeah. Life was good on the Hail Mary even as Rocky walked into the dorm, his arms thrashing about as he tried to attack Simon for attacking Grace face! Ryland nearly died of laughter watching the alien chase Simon through the ship, the human shouting back at Rocky that he wasn’t attacking Ryland.
The title of angel Simon assigned him still felt like an unworthy pedestal to be placed upon. It was a lot to unpack knowing you were perceived in comparison to a biblical figure, but Ryland had time to get used to it. He couldn’t deny that every time the nickname was brought up, a piece of him lit up with it. Maybe it was because it was Simon saying it. Maybe it was because he found someone who he really connected with and wanted to be with in more ways than one.
Or maybe it was because he finally let himself replace the title of The Coward with something of positive connotation.
Either way, Ryland could get used to the nickname, especially if Simon kept saying it with that lovesick grin of his that never failed to make Ryland fall in love all over again.