Chapter Text
Being on the Hail Mary was difficult, to say the least. Wrapping his head around the fact that the stars were still alive, planets larger than anything he could imagine sped past on their way to Erid, and there was an honest to god human in the ship with him. All of it hurt his head if he thought too much about it.
Most of the time he didn’t even think it was real. That this was all some fucked up game that thing was playing with him. That he would wake up and be back in that damn submarine, left to die.
And then Ryland Grace looked at him with such fondness, eyes shining like he was the most interesting thing in the room and the doubts started to lessen. He was constantly asking him questions, about his education, about the space stations, about what his life was like. Simon didn’t answer most of them, but every time he ignored a question Ryland would brush it off and change the topic.
It was weird, being around someone that didn’t force him to talk, but didn’t ignore him when he needed to say something. It was nice.
Eventually Rocky is what convinced Simon it was real. The idea of an alien life - a rocky alien at that - was the first trigger. Then Rocky had conversations with Ryland about topics Simon couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Words he couldn’t define, or even sometimes pronounce, flowed between the two of them with ease, ideas sprouting from both of them every other sentence.
Rocky didn't have Ryland’s respect of “I don’t want to talk about it so I won’t’ mentality. Any question he had he would repeat over and over again until Simon gave him some sport of response. It didn’t have to be a proper answer, Simon eventually figured out, but a verbal confirmation that he had heard Rocky would satiate him for a while. That thing could never be satiated with a half answer Simon determined. This had to be real.
Simon cried to himself when it clicked for the first time. That he was out, and he wasn’t going to wake up on the god forsaken submarine. He was in fact, on a spaceship with a molecular biologist (whatever that was) and an alien engineer that could fix things as fast as Simon could break them.
More often than not Simon felt himself struggling to keep up with the two of them. They had so much energy, such a drive to discover and explore. All Simon wanted to do was stare out the window, watching the universe pass by.
The two of them would have been just fine on their own, without Simon in the mix.
It was on a particularly bad day, where every time he blinked he saw that fucking ocean and he knew- knew that Ryland and Rocky would have been better off leaving him in that sub, when Ryland found him.
He had been staring out the window, staring at everything and nothing. There was a small voice in the back of his head that whispered they’re just ghost lights, they’re not real. Normally Simon would ignore it, push it away and go find Rocky or Ryland, he couldn’t seem to find the energy to do that today.
“Hey Simon.” Ryland said, momentarily pulling him out of his thoughts. “Figured you would be hungry.”
Simon turned to look at Ryland. He had a burrito. One of the best things Simon had ever tasted but right now- right now they shouldn’t waste the limited resources they had on him.
He shook his head and turned back to the stars.
Ryland shuffled next to him, sitting down just out of reach. “No you’re not hungry? It’s been a while since you last ate.”
Simon could see him in his peripherals, the burrito hung loosely in his hands, free to take if he changed his mind.
“‘m not hungry.” He muttered out, eyes trying to count the stars. He never got very far, but he kept trying nonetheless.
Simon could feel Rylan's gaze on him. His eyes traced his face, all the way down to his missing arm. Simon wasn't sure if Ryland was aware how often he stared at him.
“Well I already pulled it out,” he said eventually. “It'll go bad if you don't eat it.”
He leveled his gaze on the scientist. There he was, holding out a burrito with the stars dancing in his eyes. There was something ethereal about Dr. Ryland Grace, something Simon didn't have the words for.
“‘m not sure I believe that,” Simon said. “Think you could eat it or something.”
Ryland shook his head. “Already ate my friend, pulled this out because my eyes were bigger than my stomach y'know.”
He waved the burrito around, honestly a ridiculous sight. A grown man, waving a burrito around. A faint smile pulled at Simon's lips. Something about the scene was far more endearing than he cared to admit.
Something shifted in Ryland's face. His eyes lit up even more, something Simon didn't know was possible, and a wide grin broke out on his face. Simon couldn't tell if the red on his cheeks were from them flushing or the reflection of the lights in the room.
“C'mon man, I did all this effort to pull it out and even heat it up, take it off my hands so I don't have to think about it.” Ryland said, pushing the burrito closer to him.
“...Fine.” Simon said, reaching out for the damn thing. “I'll eat the fuckin' burrito.”
“Language.” Ryland mumbled. The word slipped out with such practiced ease, he had to have said it dozens of times before.
Simon grabbed the burrito, and as he said it was warm to the touch. His hands briefly grazed Ryland's, lightning shooting down his fingers. Fuck, when was the last time he'd touched someone?
Ryland's hand shot back, as if he felt the same bolt of lightning. The two made eye contact with each other before Ryland let out an awkward laugh.
“Well, time to uh, time to check on the ship. Yeah, that's what I'm going to go do. Check on the ship.” He shot Simon a smile and a thumbs up before basically tripping over his own feet to get to the pilot's station.
Simon stared at the spot where he last saw Ryland for a long moment. Was he uncomfortable touching him? He knew the missing arm and gash on the left side of his face wasn't pleasant to look at, but damn, watching Ryland trip over himself to get away from Simon hurt.
His gaze shifted to his fingertips, the spot where their skin touched. It felt nice, the warmth of another person. Simon didn't know why it hurt to touch someone.
Maybe he was too far gone.