Chapter Text
Maybe Stratt was right all along.
Maybe I am going to die in space.
I can feel it getting worse every day now.
I feel it in the creaking of my bones, the burning in my eyes, the aches in my muscles, in my head, in the pit of my stomach.
But there isn’t anything I can do about it now.
I knew this would happen the moment I turned Mary around to save Rocky. I didn’t care then, and I still wouldn’t take it back now. None of this could be worse than the thought of Rocky stuck out here in the middle of nothing, alone and scared and dying.
None of this could be worse than the thought of never seeing him again.
Even if I don’t make it all the way to Erid, even if I still end up dying out here in the vast expanse of space, even if I don’t live long enough to know whether or not our stars really are saved, I would choose this again a million times over. I would choose him a million times over.
I know I was never going to have that much time with him either way.
Rocky will still be here long after I’m gone, will have spent more years waiting alone at Tau Ceti than we’ll ever get to spend together, and no amount of wishing can change that. Nothing can change the fact that, in the best of circumstances, I have maybe 45 years left in me, and Rocky still has hundreds to go.
Still, that doesn’t make this hurt any less.
It doesn’t dull the ache of knowing that our time might be cut even shorter than I was prepared for, doesn’t make me wish even harder that there was some way to stop time, to just press pause on it all for a little while, to stay right here, floating out in the midst of nothing, even if only for a short while longer.
No matter what, it’ll never be enough, so what’s a few moments more?
If all of Erid wasn’t counting on our swift arrival, I would consider it, but I could never ask that of Rocky. Not after he’s already given up so much for me.
So I’ll take what I can get.
I’ll ration my remaining food as best I can, and I’ll hope with everything I have in me that I won’t get too sick too fast, that I still have some time left, time enough to make it to Erid, to solid ground, to a solution, and I’ll savor every moment I have.
It took me so long to find this, something I never thought I’d have, someone I would give up everything for, and then some more beyond that, and the thought of losing it all so soon hurts the worst of all.
I still haven’t told Rocky how bad I’ve gotten.
I’m sure he’s been able to figure it out by now, I’m sure he can hear everything in my body going wrong. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew something was wrong before I did.
Either way, we haven’t talked about it.
Really, that’s most of what we’ve been doing lately – not talking about it.
We do a lot of other things – I’ve been showing Rocky all the best parts of Earth culture, all my favorite music and movies and whatever else I can think of, he still spends most of his time tinkering around with his xenonite, and we always watch each other sleep when we need it. But we don’t address the elephant in the room.
One of these days, it’ll become unavoidable, I know that much. I know I’m only going to get worse from here. I don’t know how long it’ll take, don’t know how much worse it has to get before we can no longer pretend it’s not a problem, pretend it’s not happening at all, but it’ll get here eventually.
Eventually, I won’t be able to deny that I’m dying any more.
Eventually, I’ll have to tell Rocky that I’m leaving him alone again, and this time I won’t be coming back to save him.
Maybe that’s the worst part of this all.
It’s the part that hurts the most, at least.
He was up here for so long before I got here, and I can hardly stomach the thought of being the reason he’s alone again. But if I can just hold on until Erid, maybe then it’ll all be alright.
Maybe then I won’t leave him alone, won’t be another dead body he has to mourn.
I can’t bear the thought of it – of Rocky, up here alone, nobody left to watch him sleep, nothing to do but wait to return home.
So I’ll hold on. No matter what it takes, I’ll stay alive until he gets home.
Rocky nearly died for me once. This is the least I can do to try and make it up to him.
I would do more if I could.
If I could, I would do anything I could to stay here with him, to try and keep this for a little while longer. I gave up everything for this, it’s only fair that I have it for more than a brief moment.
Right?
The feeling of it all is nearly too much – it overwhelms me, just to think of it, of how much I would give up to stay here in this moment for as long as I possibly could, but I won’t deny it.
Not this time.
I spent so much of my life before this running at every chance I got, refusing to look anything dead in the eyes if it meant I would have to risk anything. But I won’t run from this.
I’ll hold on for as long as I can, and I won’t regret any of it, because it got me here, and I wouldn’t give this up for anything.
It’s been a little over three years now since Rocky and I left Tau Ceti, sealed xenonite tanks full of Taumoeba in tow, and it’s been smooth sailing so far.
Of course, that’s if you ignore that my food is running out, and I’m getting sicker every day, and Mary was not made to house two people in this close proximity for this long.
But it’s fine.
It could be worse.
Of course, I’m not exactly thrilled about our close quarters, but that’s by far the least of my problems.
However little privacy I thought I had before did absolutely nothing to prepare me for how it would feel to be stuck on Mary with Rocky for years on end, no option of him going back to the Blip-A for some alone time, nowhere I can go that he can’t see – or hear, I guess – me.
But we make do.
I’d much rather be stuck here with him than stuck here alone.
I’ve come to appreciate our close proximity, over the past months, never mind that I don’t exactly have any other choice.
It’s too easy to remember the days I spent watching him sleep after our fishing trip, not sure he would ever wake up, too easy to remember the weeks I spent alone on my way back to him, too easy to remember the pain of thinking I was saying goodbye to him forever, thinking I would return to Earth, to my solitary existence where everything had changed and I would be decades late to catch up.
So I don’t mind it anymore.
I’d rather keep Rocky as close to me as I can than even consider an alternative.
It would be better if he didn’t have to spend his life on the other side of a wall, if we weren’t always just too far away.
But, again, I can’t complain. Not about this.
This is already more than I ever thought I’d get, and if it’s all I ever get, I’ll be perfectly happy.
Still, the selfish thought lingers in the back of my mind, no matter how much I wish it away.
I ache for it, the feeling of being touched.
Not even like that, I don’t care about that, but every day I grow more and more aware that I will never feel the touch of human skin against mine again.
I’ll never be properly hugged, held so tight I can feel my ribs creaking, can feel my lungs pressing up against them with every breath I take. I’ll never hold anyone’s hand again, never feel anyone’s fingers intertwining with my own, never squeeze just a little tighter just to remind myself they’re there. I’ll never feel someone pressed up against me as they sleep, never feel the gentle rise and fall of their chest as they breathe deep, never lean into the weight of them, just to know I’m not alone.
In those first days, Rocky told me that Eridians typically sleep just like that – pressed up against each other. He said that if he had his way, he would sleep on my chest. That it would make me feel safer.
I find myself thinking of that more and more often these days.
But maybe it’s for the best that we’re kept at a distance from each other.
Maybe this way, he won’t notice how much worse I’m getting. Maybe this way, I’ll have a little bit more time before I have to tell Rocky that I’m dying, that I’m getting sicker every day and I can’t seem to find a way to get better.
Of course, that’s all just wishful thinking.
I was never going to be able to hide this from him for long.
He first brings it up in the Don’t Go Crazy Room – I’m getting my daily dose of simulated sunlight (it’s kept me mostly sane this far, and I’ll take what I can get these days), swinging my legs over the side of the platform, staring up at the bright screen above me, and Rocky’s sitting beside me in his ball, tinkering away to pass the time.
It should be a perfectly peaceful afternoon – the shine of the midday sun from the screens, the sound of a faint breeze rustling through the trees pumping through the speakers, my body aching less than it has in recent days.
And then I hear Rocky, the whistle of his voice shrill and panicked, ringing out over the flat voice of the laptop.
“Grace is bleeding, question? Grace is hurt, question?”
I sit up immediately, Rocky’s worry pouring over into my own – I didn’t think I was bleeding, didn’t notice any pain that would imply my blood isn’t where it should be, but if it’s enough to send him into this much of a panic this quickly, then there has to be something wrong.
Rocky’s carapace is tilted intently towards me, his ball nearly rolling over my leg, claws clicking nervously.
“I, uh, don’t think I’m bleeding.”
“Grace thinks wrong.”
“I certainly don’t feel like I’m bleeding, Rock.”
“Blood is pooling in the backs of your legs. Not supposed to do that.”
Still not quite sure what he could be talking about, I swing my legs onto the platform, rolling up the loose legs of my flight suit until I see them – two blooming purple bruises on the backs of my legs, just below the knees.
Really, I should’ve known what he was talking about sooner. I guess I just wanted to live in the world where we didn’t talk about it for a little while longer.
But that was never going to be possible, was it?
One of the perks of my current condition is that I’ve been bruising a lot more easily than usual. I’ve been a lot more careful moving around Mary these days, trying to avoid any unnecessary pain, but apparently I’ve only been so successful.
“That’s just some bruising, Rock. I’m not bleeding, don’t worry.”
“Will worry.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Too late. Already worrying.”
“Well stop it. It’s nothing.”
“Wouldn’t have to worry if you didn’t give reasons.”
“Really, I’m fine.”
I’m not fine. Or I’m not going to be – if my legs are bruising this easily, I am already doing a lot worse than I thought I was.
I knew my malnutrition was sending me swiftly down the road to scurvy, and that it wouldn’t end there, but I thought I had a little bit more time before it was going to become so darn obvious. I thought I had a little bit of time before I’d have to tell him.
“What is wrong, question?” Rocky asks, his focus pinned firmly on me. “Do not lie.”
I wish there was something I could tell him to make it all better, some way I could assuage his fears, but I can’t think of anything to say that would make this any better.
If I had the chance, I wouldn’t tell him about any of this.
I would keep it secret until it was too late, would do whatever I could to keep us stuck in one perfect moment for as long as possible, would let it go on forever if I could.
Even after everything that’s happened, everything I’ve done, everything I’ve given up, I’m still too much of a coward to tell him the truth.
“Really, Rock, it’s nothing.”
“I said don’t lie. Grace lies.”
“I’m not–”
“Are.”
“Come on. Can’t you just leave it?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No,” he says, turning away from me. It doesn’t really have the intended effect, since I know he can still see me no matter how angrily he looks away, but it’s close enough to get the point across.
“I promise, if it was something to be worried about, I’d tell you.”
“You did not tell about not returning to Earth.”
“That was different.”
“How, question?”
“It just was.”
I look away from Rocky, hugging my knees to my chest.
For all that I was planning to avoid this conversation for as long as possible, for forever if I could, I didn’t anticipate it being so hard. I didn’t anticipate it hurting so much.
“Rocky just worries about Grace. Do not want to see you hurt.”
“I don’t think we really have much of a choice here, pal.”
“Always have a choice.”
“Not here. Not unless you have some extra food stored away somewhere. Food I can actually eat.”
“Grace can’t make food, question?”
“I guess not. I’ve been trying to figure something out for weeks now, and nothing’s worked.”
“No. You will get better. Have to.”
“If I could, I would. Trust me.”
“Rocky thought you had enough food. Thought you would be fine. Why did Grace lie, question?”
“I didn’t lie.”
“Did. Said you would come with me to Erid. Said we would be fine.”
Rocky lets out a sad little trill, not a word I’ve heard from him before. Just a gentle, lilting hum. It breaks my heart to hear it, even more to know I’m its cause.
“You’re going back to Erid. You’re going to be fine. That’s all that matters to me.”
“Rocky not fine without Grace.”
I can feel my eyes welling up with tears at his words, can feel my hands shaking ever so slightly where they rest in my lap, can feel my heart pounding in my chest, hard enough to crack through the fragile cage of my ribs.
“I’m sorry.”
“No sorry. Not Grace’s fault.”
“Yeah. I know. But still–”
“No,” he says again, rolling his ball even closer, pressing up against me. I lean back against him, savoring every point of contact between us.
I can feel his body, warm against the xenonite, can feel him shifting ever so slightly, and I press back. It isn’t close enough, it’ll never be close enough with a wall still between us, but I can imagine – I can imagine that we don’t need the xenonite barrier, that I can press up close against him, just to know he’s here with me, to remind myself that I won’t be dying alone, even if I am still dying.
It’s a nice daydream.
“I wish there was something I could do. Wish I could fix it. I’m sorry I can’t.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just better.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Not good enough. Have to promise.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
And there it is.
I can’t dance around the subject any longer, can’t pretend it away this time.
I have to tell him.
I don’t want to.
I don’t want to say it out loud, don’t want to hear that terrible broken whistle I already know he’ll let out, don’t want it to be real like that.
But I have to. I can’t avoid it any longer, not this time. Rocky deserves better than my cowardice.
“Because I’m only going to get more sick, and unless we can figure out a way to whip up some Vitamin C supplements for me, I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to get better.”
“Grace going to die, question?”
His voice is shrill with panic, his fingers tapping anxiously. I wish there was something I could say to comfort him.
“I don’t know,” is the best I manage to come up with.
“How not know?”
“I’ve been rationing my food as well as I can, and I still have some leftover coma slurry. When that runs out, I’ll still have the Taumoeba we set aside for me. If my math is correct, it’ll be enough food to last the rest of the trip back to Erid.”
“Still sick, question?”
“Probably, yeah.”
“No,” Rocky says, stomping hard enough on the bottom of his ball to shake the floor. “Grace go home, Grace come to Erid with Rocky.”
“I promise, Rock, I’m going to do my best.”
“Grace supposed to live.”
“I know. If it’s any help, I’m not going to go down without a fight.”
“Not good enough. Rocky will find a way to help. Grace going to live.”
Without another word, Rocky rolls away furiously, the dull rumble of his ball following him through the halls of Mary, leaving me entirely alone.
It’s been a couple days since I had to break the news to Rocky, and he’s barely spoken to me since then. He’s only been able to avoid me so much – Mary’s not that big – but even when we have been forced to share the space, it’s like he pretends I’m not even there.
We still watch each other sleep. However angry at me he may be, I’d never leave him like that, and the feeling seems to be quite mutual.
Aside from that, though, he barely speaks to me. He finds excuses to leave any room I enter, hiding himself away in one of his tunnels, keeping himself busy with something or other.
And I know it’s my fault he’s like this.
Maybe he wouldn’t be so angry if I’d told him earlier, if he’d found out any other way.
I just wanted things to stay as they were a little bit longer.
But there’s nothing I can do about it now.
I’m in the lab now, attempting to figure out a way to slow down my current condition with the supplies we have on hand, when I feel it.
It’s easy to ignore, at first.
My whole body has been radiating out a dull ache for weeks now, settling heavy over my muscles and reaching all the way down to my bones, and it’s easy to brush away the sudden hot flash of pain shooting up my right forearm. It’s easy to pretend this isn’t just another sign that I’m getting worse, rather than better, easy to expect the pain to fade to the background after a few moments.
Except it doesn’t fade away.
It stays sharp and hot and stinging, only getting worse with every passing second.
Alright.
Fine.
It’s not like I was busy working on something that would possibly get rid of this problem altogether.
Whatever.
I turn away from my all but failed experiment, focus shifting entirely to the burning pain on my arm, and what I see nearly stops my heart in my chest.
In the years since we left Tau Ceti, the burn Rocky left on my arm had healed as much as it possibly could. It still left a rough scar, but I didn’t mind that so much. Once the pain had faded away, it was a good reminder of Rocky, of everything we’d done, of everything he was to me.
Especially when I thought I’d never see him again.
Now, though, I watched as fresh blood welled up in the wound, split open along the lines of Rocky’s handprint.
“Shoot,” I mutter, looking around for a towel, a tissue, something, anything to stop the bleeding. The best I can manage is a couple of old paper towels that just so happen to be covered in some of the extra Taumoeba that may or may not have accidentally spilled in my attempts to piece together some sort of nutrient supplements for myself, and I would really rather spill a little bit of my blood onto Mary’s floor than get any of that in my veins.
Mary certainly won’t be pleased, but that’s a gamble I’m willing to take.
I knew this was going to happen eventually, knew that, in the state I’m in, it was only a matter of time before my nails and teeth started coming loose, before any old wounds started opening back up.
I just figured I had a little more time.
Gently cupping my free hand over the open wound, I head to the dormitory, already calling for Armando before I even finish opening the door.
“Armando? We have any spare bandages on hand?”
“Grace is hurt, question?”
Oh, god.
I didn’t know Rocky was in here.
If I had, I would’ve gone somewhere else to sort out this little problem. He’s already mad at me enough for keeping my sickness a secret, the last thing I want is to give him even more reason to worry.
“You are in pain.” He’s sitting in his own portion of the bedroom, three legs tucked comfortably under his carapace. I see the other two throwing his xenonite weaving tools aside as he scrambles to stand. “What happened, question?”
“I’m fine, Rock. Just a little accident in the lab. No big deal.”
“Is big deal. Can hear it in your body. Heart rate is accelerated. Breath is unsteady. Hands are shaking. Not just a little accident.”
“Really, it’s nothing. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Will still worry.”
“Oh, really? Because you’ve been making yourself pretty scarce these days.”
“Am angry at Grace, yes. But still worry. Will always worry.”
“Well, thanks, but I’ll be fine. Go back to whatever you were doing.” I say, not at all trying to get a glimpse of what he was making out of the corner of my eye as I rifle through the first aid supplies, pulling out some gauze pads and bandages. “What were you doing in here?”
“Not important. Will tell Grace later.”
“Will you?” Eridians live exponentially longer than humans do – it stands to reason that they hold grudges that much longer too.
“Yes. Promise. Now tell what happened.”
“Just a little cut in the lab, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”
“Lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
I’m totally lying.
“Are lying. Can tell.”
“Fine. You’re not going to like it, though.”
“Tell anyway. No more secrets.”
I was hoping he wasn’t going to say that. Still, I’ll tell him. Clearly, I can’t lie to him anymore.
“I’m getting more sick.”
“Sickness makes Grace bleed, question?”
“Kind of,” I say, sitting down next to Rocky and leaning against the xenonite barrier. He may still be mad at me, but I can’t stay mad at him. I’ve missed him too much. His warmth radiates through the xenonite, never enough to hurt but enough to calm my mounting worry. “I’ve got something called scurvy. It’s what’s been making me bruise so easily lately, and now it’s making some old wounds open back up. I’m not getting enough of the right nutrients in the food I have here, so I’m just getting sicker.”
“Bad bad bad.”
“You’re telling me, pal.”
“What is bleeding now, question?”
I don’t say anything, don’t think I can say anything – how am I supposed to tell Rocky that the mark he left on me, the burn he gave me when he was saving my life, is now the reason I know I’m getting worse.
I just lift the gauze off of the wound, lifting it so he can see it better, red and open and weeping.
“Rocky’s fault,” he says, letting out a heartbreaking little trill. “Sorry sorry sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. That’s only there because you saved me. You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Grace is in pain because of Rocky. Not good.”
“Hey, it’s not your fault.”
“Is.”
“I’m glad that mark is there. Even if it hurts now, it’s a reminder of you, of everything we’ve done together. I wouldn’t get rid of that for anything.”
“How fix, question?”
“Rocky.”
“Grace is getting more sick. Not allowed to happen.”
“I already told you, there isn’t anything you can do.”
“Rocky will fix. I will make food for Grace. Will do whatever Grace needs to get better.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.”
“Do have to. You won’t be fine. Will get more sick, will starve and bleed and die. You are not allowed to die. Not before we get home to Erid.”
“I’ll be fine enough. I’ve done the math, I’ll be able to make it to Erid with the food we have on Mary now.”
“If Grace doesn’t get more sick.”
“This is why I wasn’t going to tell you, you know. Didn’t want you to worry about me. Not when you can’t do anything to fix it.”
“Will always worry about Grace. You saved me. I will save you, now.”
“Rock–”
“Human body is too fragile. Leaking more than usual. Bad bad bad,” Rocky says. I can hear the teasing lilt in his voice, and it makes me smile. “Needs a strong Eridian to take care of it.”
“Sure,” I laugh, trying my best to ignore the flush in my face and the pounding of my heart in my chest at his very suggestion. I’m sure he can hear it all, can hear every single way my body reacts to his words, but I’ll pretend he can’t, if only for the sake of my dignity. “Whatever you say, pal.”
“Say I will take care of you now!”
I can feel the lump forming in my throat, can feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, can feel that tugging in the pit of my stomach, pulling me towards him, my true north.
“You know I love you, right?”
“Rocky knows. I love Grace too.”
I know he loves me. I would be a fool not to. He’s never said it before, not in so many words, but I know him, so I know this.
Still, I’m not sure it’s the same as how I love him.
How I’m in love with him.
And I don’t need it to be the same, really.
No matter what happens, he’s still my best friend, and I’ll always love him for that.
But it doesn’t change the fact that the feeling is still there.
There was never one single moment when I knew it. I didn’t wake up to it one day, didn’t feel it strike me like lightning, didn’t have an aha moment where it all came crashing in on me.
It wasn’t there, and then it was. Simple as that. Like the feeling had always been there, just waiting for me to catch up. I’m sure I would’ve been more surprised if it had been anyone else, sure I would’ve tried to talk myself out of it, to reason with myself that it’s impossible, that I’m simply losing my mind.
If it hadn’t been Rocky, I’m not sure I would have believed it.
I never felt this way about anyone back on Earth, didn’t think I was ever going to feel this way about anyone. I was perfectly fine with that – I had my work, my kids, and then the world was ending and I had my other work, I had the astrophage, I had more important things to worry about.
Now, I can’t imagine there being anything more important than this.
I’m not sure I’ll ever tell him – maybe it would be different if I wasn’t dying, if he didn’t have Adrian waiting for him back on Erid. But I am, and he does, so I’ll take what I can get for now.
I’ll take everything he’s willing to give me for as long as I possibly can.
It’s more than I ever thought I’d get, so who am I to complain?
I sleep a lot more now.
Rocky watches me, as he has this whole time, but I know it worries him. I know he’s afraid, because I’m afraid, more afraid than I’ve been since I woke up to see Rocky bleeding out shining mercury from breathing my air.
I’ve told him over and over not to worry any more, that there isn’t any way either of us can fix it, and all that’s left for us to do is hope I make it to Erid in one piece, but that doesn’t seem to give him any comfort. But who am I to judge – it doesn’t give me any comfort, either.
“Grace sleep again, question? ”
“Yeah, pal. Just gonna take a quick nap.”
“It has only been 29162 seconds since last sleep.”
“I know,” I say. I wish I had a better answer for him, wish I could tell him I didn’t really need to sleep, that I’d be fine for a couple more hours, but I didn’t want to lie to him.
Heck, I’m sure he’d be able to see right through me if I tried.
“More sleep should not be needed for many more seconds.”
“I know.”
“Then why–”
“Because I’m sick, Rock. You know that.”
Rocky just lets out a low grumble, nothing approaching any intelligible language, the vents on the top of his carapace rattling. I hate to see him so worried, and I hate to keep telling him the same thing.
“Grace says he will be fine, then sleeps the whole day. Not fine at all.”
“I know. I wish I could fix it. Trust me, I hate this just as much as you do.”
“Rocky will fix.”
“I don’t think this is something you can fix. It’s a bit more complicated than giving me your extra astrophage.”
“Human body is inefficient. Stupid stupid stupid,” he says, and it’s hard to keep the smile from my face.
“Yeah, you’re telling me.”
“Rocky will fix,” he repeats. “Will make new food for Grace, keep fragile human body from becoming weaker. Grace will be fine, will not feel sick, not sleep so much.”
I’m not confident there’s anything he can do at this point, not confident there’s anything anyone could do, not with the supplies we have on Mary, but I’ll let him try. If anyone could fix it, it would be him, but I only have so much optimism left in me.
“If you don’t want to watch me sleep anymore,” I say, attempting some small amount of levity. “You can just say so. I know I’ve been a lot to handle lately, I won’t take it personally.”
The joke clearly doesn’t land, as Rocky goes entirely still, his carapace tilting upwards ever so slightly, his own version of staring me dead in the eyes. I can’t look away from him, no matter that all I want is to put this conversation to an end.
“Rocky will always watch Grace sleep. Always, always, always,” Rocky says, like it's so simple, like I’m the madman for even suggesting otherwise. “Would never abandon Grace like that.”
“I know pal, I didn’t mean–”
“Is no trouble to take care of Grace. Never any trouble to keep you healthy and safe. I will always take care of you.”
“You don’t have to do that. Really. I knew what I was signing up for when I came back for you.”
“Does not matter. Grace needs to live to come home.”
Rocky’s been calling Erid home a lot more now, calling it our home, not just his.
One of these days, maybe I’ll be brave enough to tell him that he’s been my home for a long time now, no matter where we are.
I dream a lot more, too.
Or I remember my dreams a lot more now.
It’s the same one, almost every night.
For a long time, I could hardly distinguish between dreams and memories, still slow to catch up with me, but this dream is different.
In this dream, I can feel the sun, warm on my face, and the grass, soft beneath my feet, and Rocky’s hand, gentle in my own.
In this dream, I can hear his laugh ringing out across the open sky, I can hear his song-voice loud and clear, and in this dream, I understand every word.
In this dream, I’m not afraid of losing him, not afraid of dying, not afraid. In this dream, my body doesn’t ache and my old wounds don’t bleed any longer and my stomach doesn’t cry out from hunger.
In this dream, I’m happy and safe and everything’s alright because I’m here and Rocky’s here, and what else could I possibly need?
In this dream, there isn’t anything between us, no wall, no xenonite, nothing at all.
That’s how I know it’s a dream.
It’s a good one, though.
I know it’s not real, I know it can never be real, but it’s a comfort either way.
It makes up for all the time I won’t have with him, just a little bit. At least, I like to tell myself it does.
Really, there isn’t a thing that could make up for all that lost time but more time. But that isn’t possible, so I’ll take what I can get.
I’ll go to bed at the end of every day, the ache feeling heavier on my body with every passing hour, and I’ll pretend I don’t feel myself falling to pieces, pretend I can’t feel Rocky watching me, listening to the beat of my heart in my chest and the rush of blood in my veins, listening to my body unravel itself while I’m still inside it. I’ll lay down and press myself up against the xenonite wall and I’ll pretend that it isn’t even there, pretend that it doesn’t feel so terribly lonely, dying like this.
And I’ll tell myself that it’s enough, tell myself that I don’t mind never being able to touch Rocky, that I don’t mind barely getting a few years with him, that the worst of the pain comes from my body falling apart and not the thought of losing my home so soon after I finally found it.
It’ll be a lie, and I’ll know it, but it helps me fall asleep, helps me get back to that beautiful, impossible dream.
Maybe one day I’ll tell Rocky about it – tell him that my subconscious feeds me comfort in the form of his hand in mine, his bright laugh ringing out under a bright and warm sun.
It feels cruel, though, to remind him of something we can never have.
Still, a part of me can’t help but hope that it might not be so impossible forever.