Chapter Text
Grace can’t believe he’s really doing this.
At first, he didn’t have many options. Before he met Rocky, the plan was to stay in Tau Ceti’s System— do as much research as possible before sending the beetles back to Earth (and then die of a very slow and painful death). After he met Rocky, the plan was to travel with him until he eventually ran out of fuel and died. He didn’t want to put Rocky through another loss, but he really, really didn’t want to die alone. He didn’t want to die in general, but he had to take what the universe offered to him, no pun intended. Small mercies and all that.
Once Rocky revealed he could share some fuel, the plan was to return to Earth, or at least die trying.
He never, ever would’ve imagined a scenario where he’d be willingly travelling further away, towards a foreign planet, when he’s got enough fuel to go home. He could die, probably will, but he wouldn’t be able to live anyway, knowing he could’ve helped. Rocky is his best friend. Now that he had already deployed the probes towards Earth, he’d even die for him. The thought makes him anxious, but no less certain.
The ship heads towards Erid as he eats. He’s not sure what’ll happen when he gets there, and he tries not to think about it, lest his noodles decide to make a reappearance due to a panic attack. He’s not going to throw up one of the last packages he has. God, he loves noodles… he hopes Erid’s scientists can replicate Earth’s food, at least to some extent. But first, he hopes Erid’s scientists manage to keep him alive.
Grace sighs. Now that he knows he might die, it’s easy to look back and think about everything he could’ve done differently. There are good memories, too, but they make him even sadder than the bad ones.
He first started dwelling on them once he learned about the circumstances which got him here in the first place—forced into this mission, not wanting to die despite not having anything to live for.
Because he didn’t, did he? He still remembers what he said to Stratt.
“Do you really want me to give up my life?”
That was embarrassing. What life, Ryland? The worst part is that Stratt knew he didn’t have one. She made sure to remind him of that. Sure, he was a teacher, and he loved his job, but that couldn’t have been his whole life. It shouldn’t have been. He should’ve tried to have a social life of some sort. But he’s a coward, and making friends requires being vulnerable in a way he couldn’t, at the time.
Still, he wasn’t known for being stoic—quite the opposite, really. That’s why he didn’t like getting too attached to people, in case they used his feelings against him. Betrayed him.
And can he even blame himself? He stepped out of his comfort zone once, and now he was fifteen light-years away from home, inside a spaceship in the middle of deep space. Look at all the good trusting others did to him!
The thing is, Grace longs for connection. He wants to have a partner, and he wants to be close to them in every way possible. But he’s not sure if he can even feel love the way most people do. He’s not even sure he’s ever been in love before. Maybe he was, but it was so different from how other people would describe it that there’s not even a point in labelling it that. Maybe it’s just… admiration? Respect? He genuinely doesn’t know. Is he allowed to call it love?
Grace also doesn’t really like having sex. He can count on Rocky’s fingers (if you pretend he’s only got two hands) how many times he’s had it, and he only enjoyed it a few times, with Linda. But the way he had enjoyed it was very different from hers, and it was… infrequent. At first, Grace thought maybe she was like him. He was excited at the prospect of them being similar in that way—of this weird little quirk not becoming an issue in their relationship, but rather something to bond over.
His heart sank a little when he learned, during a heated discussion, that she was just waiting for him to initiate. In his panic, he told her he’d “forgotten” to, which went as well as you’d expect. Communication wasn’t their forte. And Grace was known for being a bad liar.
He thought about the end of their relationship for a long while— still does. He isn’t sure whether he ever loved her in the first place. Sure, he cared about her deeply, and he even really wanted to marry her at some point, but…
Hm. No, he did love her. But maybe not in the way she needed.
His eyes burned at the memory, but he managed not to cry. He’s been trying to cry less, which is silly, because there’s nobody here to judge him. Maybe he just wants to prove to himself that he could, if he wanted to. Like a little science experiment.
Rocky thinks it’s gross, but he doesn’t see Grace as weak because of it, so it doesn’t actually bother him. He’d probably find it weird if Rocky started to leak mercury, too. It’s different from how people perceive him on Earth when he gets emotional.
He’s reminded, not for the first time, he’ll never, ever, talk to another human again. He feels a weird mix of emotions at that. Yes, it’s sad he won’t have any more contact with his own species, but, if everything goes well, he might make some Eridian friends. He could have a fresh start. It wouldn’t surprise him if Erid’s culture and customs were easier to navigate and understand than Earth’s. Besides, he was already used to being seen as an outsider.
Rocky wouldn’t judge him for being different from other humans (obviously; Grace was the only human he knew, but still!). He loved Rocky for that. He loved Rocky, period.
…Wait.
Grace stops chewing in a moment of shock. Did he mean that romantically? He doesn’t think he likes anyone romantically, though, which means that, technically, Rocky is just as good a candidate as anyone else for—shit, what is he thinking?! He’s not– can Rocky even consent? Wait, of course he can. He’s a full-grown Eridian. He can communicate well, and he’s older (and sometimes smarter) than Grace. He can consent. Right. Still fucked up to think about, though.
…But is it? If he can consent, then all is well, right? Earth is millions and millions of kilometres away; he doesn’t need to perform for anyone anymore, or care about what humans would have to say about a hypothetical, very taboo relationship. Still, he shouldn’t be thinking about having a romantic (?) platonic-ish (?) relationship with a space spider made out of rocks. Besides, Rocky’s a taken man! Or, well. A taken Eridian. Maybe he’d be disgusted if he found out. Maybe he should–
“Hello, Grace.”
Grace jumps, hitting his head against the huge window frame above him. “Wocky! You stawtled me,” he says through his mouthful of noodles, rubbing the top of his head. He’s pouting dramatically, hoping Rocky can tell he’s displeased.
He keeps asking him to knock before entering a room, but Rocky simply forgets. Forgets! Grace could teach him how to spell pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, and he’s sure Rocky would recite it perfectly on his first try, but knocking on a door is too hard.
The truth is that Rocky simply doesn’t understand why Grace would want privacy if he’s not doing anything “gross”—such as eating, according to him—or what the point even is, since he can “see” Grace through walls anyway. Grace has to be thankful that at least the worst Rocky can do is hear him from anywhere on the ship, and that he didn’t end up with a telephatic alien as a roommate instead. It would be really awkward to explain the thoughts he’s having now.
“Apology. I did not knock. But you did not hear Rocky coming, question? Ball is loud.”
Ah. He has a point. Grace swallows. “I was… distracted,” he says, rubbing his arm. Rocky does it too, sometimes. He likes to think he picked it up from him.
“Humans think too much. Tell Rocky what you think, question? Maybe I can fix.” He rolls closer, the xenonite ball coming to a stop just in front of Grace. It’s interesting how Rocky doesn’t have a face, but he’s clearly got a “preferred” side to face Grace with. Maybe someone else wouldn’t be able to tell, but Grace knows what it looks like when Rocky’s facing him. He’s committed every crack to memory.
…aaaand that’s another weird thought! He removes his glasses so he can groan into his hands. He’s flushing, he realises. He’s glad Rocky can’t see colour.
“You are sick, question? Grace heartbeat quick. Loud.” Rocky sounds slightly wobbly. He’s worried. Grace quickly shakes his head, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes, creating a squeaky noise. Damn, they were dry. He should get some sleep.
“No, it’s just–“ He bites his lip. He doesn’t want to talk about this. But maybe he should? Just a little bit? Maybe talking would help, and Rocky likes listening. Heck, he can’t wait till he’s in Erid (if he survives); he’s more than happy to dedicate his life to studying Eridians. He’s just as interesting to Rocky as Rocky is to him.
“I’m thinking about my time on Earth. Remember when I told you about Linda? I was thinking about… about how I didn’t really have a mate before I left,” he says, not meeting Rocky’s- well. Not looking at him.
“You want mate, question?” Rocky asks. Grace feels his cheeks reaching Astrophage’s temperature.
“Um, maybe? I don’t know… most humans want a mate, but I’m not sure if I want a mate the way they do. I want someone to share my time with, and… you know. Be intimate with.” He doesn’t care if Rocky makes certain assumptions based on that. He’s already talking about a bunch of complicated feelings now; he can explain the intricacies of his sexuality later. “But that could also be a friend. I don’t know.” He sighs. “It- it’s hard for me to tell the difference between a mate and a very good friend. Most humans can tell. I can’t. I don’t feel things the way they do.”
Rocky is silent for a few seconds. Grace braces himself for what he’ll say. Maybe he’ll call him stupid for not knowing such a simple thing about his own culture (he knows he wouldn’t; Rocky isn’t cruel, ever, but It wouldn’t be the first time Grace has heard something like that—or the second—and years of trauma don’t simply vanish into thin air after spending some time with a kind person). Rocky adjusts himself before he speaks.
“No big difference in Erid, between mate and good friend. Eridians feel difference, not tell. Not sure I understand. Maybe need more words,” Rocky says. The way he speaks reminds Grace of when he first met him, when Rocky wanted to seem non-threatening, throwing those cylinders at a very slow velocity until they reached him. Grace isn't surprised at Rocky’s confusion. He doesn’t understand it, either.
“Only Grace can’t tell, on whole Earth, question?”
Grace chuckles. “Well, there are probably other humans out there who can’t, but I didn’t meet them.” In a smaller voice, he adds, “I’ve never really talked about it.”
“Why not, question?” he presses. “Humans are social beings. Make no sense.”
Grace thinks for a minute before he replies. “I was scared of what other people would think.” He looks at his hands, fidgeting with his fingernails. It feels silly now that he says it out loud. It’s also not like he’s been given any opportunity to talk about it. He didn’t have any close friends, and his family didn’t ever try reaching out to him. The last time he had any contact with his parents was during his mid-twenties, and it was just a phone call. He hadn’t heard from them ever since, and that was good, because it took him two days to stop crying over how disappointed his father’s voice sounded from the other end of the line. He didn’t even try to fix their relationship, too scared his parents would reject him even after an attempt at reconnection. He’d probably break if he decided to beg for some maternal and paternal love, only to be denied. It would be humiliating.
He swallows past the lump in his throat. “It’s not only about having a mate or not,” Grace tells him. “On Earth, if you do or feel things a bit differently, you may be criticised for it—sometimes even abandoned or isolated. It’s true humans are very social, but they can also be really mean if you, uh, socialise in a way that's considered unconventional.
“You have all of these small rules, and if you don’t follow them, people may think there’s something… off, about you. That’s why I liked being with kids. They’re too young to realise you’re doing things wrong.”
The sound of Rocky tapping the inside of his ball three consecutive times makes Grace’s head snap back towards him. “Bad, Bad, bad! You are good human. You save Earth. Humans are bad to you! Not fair. You almost die!”
“I don’t know about that,” Grace says, a shy smile on his face. He brings his knees in front of him, curling into himself, arms gently wrapping around his legs. “I’m not all that, really. And they didn’t mean any harm. It wasn’t their fault.” It was my fault, he doesn’t say. I’m not worth anyone’s time.
Rocky ignores him. “Grace is good and brave. You must accept compliment, command.”
Grace chuckles again. Then he remembers that’s exactly what Stratt told him that time, moments before that building exploded, and he has two seconds to prepare for the sob that rips through him. He completely loses his composure, brings his hands to his face, and manages to muffle the worst of his cries. It’s pointless; Rocky can hear him no matter what.
“Grace is okay, question?” Rocky asks. Grace feels warmth against his face, and realises Rocky is a few inches closer. Correction: his xenonite ball is closer. He presses his forehead against it, even though he knows he’ll burn if he doesn’t let go soon. He doesn’t mind.
“I’m okay,” he tells him shakily. “Humans get like this sometimes when- when talking about feelings.” He’s always been a crybaby, but this is getting ridiculous. Rocky probably thinks all humans are emotional wrecks just like him. Thank god he’ll never have the chance to meet Stratt.
He doesn’t even know what he’s crying about, exactly. Maybe he’s crying because he’ll never have the chance to try again, to connect with other people. Make friends, fix his relationship with his family, explore his sexuality... All that.
But he didn’t for over thirty years, so who guarantees he would have, if he had stayed on Earth? Maybe, after helping Stratt complete the mission, he’d spend the rest of his miserable (and short) existence too scared to explore his identity. It doesn’t help that said people, depending on Earth’s situation, could end up killing him for some bread and milk. People wanted to kill him for much less in high school! It took being isolated in a spaceship with the only other person within light-years distance to make a friend. And that’s just because they had a common goal.
Maybe it’s good he’s here. No, it is good. He met his best friend. Great. Now, instead of crying because of his failed attempts at human connection, he’s crying because he’s grateful he’s here. He hugs Rocky’s ball and whines. He tries not to think about the fact he’s not actually hugging Rocky, otherwise he’ll run out of tears. If actual starvation doesn’t get to him, touch-starvation most likely will. Can humans even die due to that? Seems like a silly way to go. And extremely fitting for him.
“You are burning,” Rocky says, exasperated. He sounds a bit like when he’s being sarcastic, or at least trying to. “Ball temperature not suitable for human skin. You touch too long. Too hot for you.”
“I know,” Grace tells him. “Just a little bit more.”
“Grace,” Rocky says, amusement tinting his tone. “Leaky, foolish human. I make suit suitable for hug later.” The ball retreats, moving away from Grace, who clings weakly to it until he can’t reach it anymore. Rocky speaks to him with such fondness that it makes him flush all the way down to his chest. His lips spread in a bashful smile.
“Suitable suit,” Grace repeats, chuckling as he wipes his tears with the back of his hand. He does feel a bit better after talking about it. Who would’ve thought talking about your feelings would make them easier to bear!
“Grace sleep now, question? You are awake for seventy-two thousand seconds. Humans must sleep every fifty-seven thousand six hundred seconds. You sleep, I watch. Wake up, I start to make suit. Go to sleep.”
Grace nods. “Yeah, right. I get stupid when I’m sleepy,” he says with a wink. He grunts as he gets up, Rocky trailing after him.
“Not stupid,” he says. Softer, he adds, “You must talk to Rocky if sad. Rocky want to see you happy. I help, question? Grace feel better?”
“Yeah, bud.” Grace sniffles. He wants to cry again, but he won’t. “That helped. Thank you.”
“Welcome. You are okay now. We are safe.”