Archive of Our Own

The first thing you know is the pain. Your head is pounding and most of your body feels like it was run over by a truck, then set on fire and badly extinguished. Your left arm is throbbing where it was torn off, the left side of your face feels like acid was poured over it, your heart is racing, your eyes are stinging and your stomach is heaving because of the blood you accidentally swallowed. 

God, the blood. 

You startle awake with the sound of the blood bursting through the old, crusty walls of the submarine in your ears, unaware that it’s your own blood that you hear. 

You wake with a roar and with a racing heart.

You immediately get blinded by the light. 

Light? you think. Did I die and somehow go to heaven?! 

Highly unlikely, you assume, but what other explanation is there? That you were kidnapped by aliens at the very last moment before you actually died? 

Yeah right.

You rub at your quickly watering eyes. As you do so, you notice something sticking out of your wrist. 

Some sort of a cord… 

You rip it out. Then you get off the, what is that, a gurney? Your legs nearly buckle under your weight, but you hold on. 

Something in the corner of the room moves. You turn to face it and yep, I’m really dead. I must be. 

There’s a big greenish rock with a laptop on its head (?). 

The rock chirps something in distress and a moment later, the computer translates it for you. “Please no do that!” it says, moving closer. “Human no well, can no stand!” 

You stand shock still for a second. Then you yell, uncaring that it hurts your already aching throat. 

“WHERE AM I?! WHAT ARE YOU?!?” You try your luck at swinging at the creature, since it’s brandishing some kind of tools you’re not familiar with, but resolutely do not want to end up on the other end of. The rock, however, dodges your hit easily, so you try again. 

“Be no afraid! Be no afraid!” the gender-ambiguous translator voice shrieks as the creature skitters to and fro, dodging your hits. It’s very nimble for such a big ass rock. 

“Human safe! Safe here! Eridians only want help human!” 

You slow down, trying to gauge whether it’s lying or not. What the fuck are Eridians?!

You glance to the side, seeing a smaller brown rock trying to claw its way towards you with clearly murderous intent. The brown rock, however, is being restrained by no less than three other, bigger rocks, so you figure the green one is telling the truth, at least for now. It’s clear that if they (whoever they are) wanted you dead, they would’ve killed you already. 

And anyway, you don’t see any doors or windows around here. 

No doors… no escape…

You start shivering where you’re standing, leaning against the wall for support. 

Then the green rock speaks again. “Hello,” it says slowly and clearly. “No be afraid. Human safe here. My name Adrian. What your name?” 

You stare at the laptop the rock is holding. It looks manmade, but in much better shape than the computer on the Iron lung. Weird. You still can’t rule out that you’re in whatever afterlife you could get to, so you risk a question. 

“Are you… are you an angel?” 

“What is angel, question?” it chirps, tilting its… head(?). 

“Did I die? I must be dead, right?” you say, covering your eyes with the palm of your hand to protect them from the blinding light. 

“No, human vitals all good. Though Adrian advise human get back on gurney.” 

You chuckle humourlessly. “I died, right? I must be dead.”

“No, human no dead,” the rock–Adrian, apparently– explains. “Human find by crew of Eridian astronauts. They bring human here. This planet Erid. Welcome welcome welcome, new human!” 

You can’t help but stare at it in a tense silence. Then you wordlessly slump to the ground, feeling your conscience slowly seep out of you. 

Before it does, though, there’s one word you manage to get out. 

“Simon,” you say, wanting it to know, wanting at least one sentient being in the universe to know your name. “My name is Simon.”

*

You sleep for a long time. You drift in and out of consciousness, sometimes vaguely aware of the rocks walking around and communicating in a series of chirps, hums and clicks, but sometimes you’re back on the sub, back there, surrounded by blood, and you scream, you roar, you cry. Then you wake up, only to see the green rock hovering above you menacingly, and fall back asleep. 

You have no idea how long you’ve slept, but you do wake up one day, hurting and disoriented, but no longer in agony. 

The green rock is there, because of course it is. You don’t try attacking it anymore, since you conclude that it would only be a waste of energy. Plus, you suppose these rocks really did help keep you alive. 

You sit on the makeshift bed and marvel at it. It’s been a long while since you’ve slept on an actual bed, and you can’t help but pat around you to feel the pillows and blankets. 

They’re soft. Way too soft to waste on someone like you. You can’t help but lift a pillow to your face to feel its softness. You know you don’t deserve it, but you can’t help it. You bury your face in it, taking in the silky material and nice smell – it smells clean, like soap, but you catch a faint whiff of something more human, too. 

You wonder if there are any humans here. Wherever here is. 

The green rock, which had up to this point been sitting next to you, chatting with the other rocks (a gray one and an orange one), suddenly chirps at you. You turn to it.

“What do you want?” you manage. 

The rocks makes a sound between a hum and a grunt. You notice the computer is nowhere to be seen. 

“Ah, fuck!” 

Two other rocks shuffle in at that moment, carrying a tray with a tall glass, a plate with some kind of meat and a bun on it and a pouch of something that looks vaguely edible – at least in comparison to prison slop. You frown. What is this? 

“What’s that?” you point at the tray cautiously. It does look a lot like sustenance, and your stomach growls for anything that’s edible, but you’re not sure. 

The rock stands still for a moment, and you guess it’s thinking. Then, it lifts an arm and points to its head (?), gesturing with a claw roughly around the area where its mouth would’ve been. 

“Is that… food?” you point to the plate. 

The rock does an exaggerated motion, something between a vigorous nod and a bow. You guess that’s a yes. 

“And that?” you point at the glass. 

It lifts a second arm and imitates taking a sip. It even makes a gurgling sound akin to human swallowing. 

Alright, that settles it for you. 

You take the glass first, and then you gulp and gulp. It’s not water, it’s thicker and tastes somewhat sweet, but still it’s the best drink you’ve ever tasted, and it soothes your rasped-dry throat like a balm. After that, you lunge for the plate. When you take a bite, your eyes go wide and you’re fairly sure you’ve just let out one heck of an embarrassing sound. 

It just might be the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten. 

You bite and bite and chew and chew until there’s nothing left, and you’re left to lick the remaining fat from your fingertips. You reach for the pouch last, tasting its contents. It tastes like nothing in particular, not good nor bad. You slurp it all. 

When you glance at the green rock (what did it say its name was, if that wasn’t another hallucination? Something masculine, starting with an A, you’re pretty sure), you see it leaning back in what’s clearly disgust. You chuckle, but can’t bring yourself to be embarrassed about your lack of manners, since that was definitely the best meal you’ve had in your whole life. 

The green A-something rock is now turning away towards the small brown rock that tried to pummel you the last time. You narrow your eyes, but it seems friendlier now that you’re calm. The green and brown rock exchange a series of chirps and sounds you can’t even begin to categorize. It sounds like the green rock is embarrassed and the brown rock is teasing him. 

You shake your head. How did you come to understand sentient rocks?

The two rocks are now nuzzling up to each other, and you have to look away from the display of affection. How long has it been since someone’s treated you with a smidge of similar gentleness? You don’t remember. Perhaps nobody ever had. 

Weird sentient rock creatures are apparently much gentler and kinder than any human you’ve ever met. Who would have guessed. 

You get distracted by a sight of the orange-brown rock carrying more food and drink for you. 

Is it my fucking birthday or something?? you think before snatching it all and continuing to stuff your face. 

You scarf down a second portion of the food without noticing the wetness in your eyes and on your cheeks. Only when you finish do you lift your hand– the only hand you’ve got left, the realization hits you like a giant eel– to touch your cheek, the one unmarred by the acidic blood. 

The dam of feelings you’ve been trying to push away breaks all at once, in full force. You whimper, bending forward until your head is nearly touching your legs, covered by the softest blanket you’ve ever touched. Then you let yourself sob to your heart’s content.

And it feels good. It feels cathartic, in a way. 

The green rock shuffles over to you, lifting an arm to awkwardly but softly pat your legs. It says something you can’t make out, but its meaning is fairly clear. You chuckle mirthlessly. 

“I’m still not convinced I’m not dead,” you confess. 

“Simon no dead. Simon vitals all stable,” the green rock says, now brandishing the computer again (you guess the brown rock brought it over).

You fall back into the pillows. “Still.” You touch your face again, feeling the cuts and bumps marring the left side of it. When your fingers slide to your mouth, finding a deep cut there, you whine. “You could be an elaborate hallucination.”

“Adrian no hallucination,” it assures you. 

Adrian, that’s its name. For a second time you wonder if you’re not the first human these rocks have come to contact with, but you choose to merely hum and say nothing.

Then, you notice something upsetting. There’s still some blood clinging to your skin as desperately as you’ve clung to life. Your heartbeat picks up and your stomach squeezes. You gulp, trying not to barf the delicious food you’ve been given all over the soft bedding. 

You toss the blanket off of yourself in one fell swoop. “I need to wash.”

“Yes, right, Simon wash!” Adrian stomps. “There shower in adjoining room,” it points to the wall behind the bed, and you see a small, stark white door there, nearly hidden by how well it’s blending in with the wall. You decide the questions of how and why did these rock creatures install a shower are a matter for another day. 

“Can Simon walk?” Adrian asks worriedly, stepping closer and extending two arms as if to help you. That simple gesture makes tears well in your eyes all over again. 

“I… yes, I can,” you grunt as you heave yourself up and out of the bed using your one arm. Your walking is wobbly at first, your legs needing to get used to it again, but you get the hang of it quickly. You don’t pay attention to anything other than the remains of red on your arm. You need that off now now now now now now– 

“Soap and towels on first shelf inside cabinet,” Adrian calls out to you from behind the closed door. “And clean human clothes on third.” 

You don’t question it, don’t have the headspace to question it. You step into the shower stall, turn the water on and hope it drowns out the voices. The screams, the shrieks about something in the light, Ava’s desperate demands, the sounds of an explosion– 

You viciously scrub your body under the hot water, praying for absolution you know you don’t deserve. 

*

“Simon feeling better, question?” Adrian asks you when you open the door and step out. You incline your head slightly, wordlessly, then sit on the bed, fiddling with the hem of the shirt you’ve been given. It, like the blanket and pillows, is incredibly soft. There’s some kind of writing on it, but you’re really not in the mood to find out what it says. There’s static noise in your head now, and you sigh in relief. That’s the best you can hope for for now. 

Adrian approaches you, tapping its claws on the ground to get your attention. 

“Simon know,” it says, “Eridians can make Simon new mechanical arm if Simon want.” 

That gets you to look up at the tall rock. You don’t even know what to say– what to say to that– what would be–

“Why would you do that?” you finally settle on. You cringe. Your voice sounds like that of a child – small, scared, helpless – even to your own ears. 

Adrian tilts its body to the left. “Why would Eridians not help Simon, question?" It sounds genuinely confused. 

You jump up. 

“Because that’s not what happens!” You don’t even realize you’re yelling until the words are out. You stop, breathing heavily. 

“That’s not what happens,” you repeat, sitting back down. “Kindness and mercy like that just… never happen. Not in this world.” 

That gets Adrian to puff up. “Grace happen!” it insists. “Grace happen on Erid!”

“I’m not… I’m not worth all that,” you admit. There, you said it. These rocks really don’t need to be wasting precious resources to help you, of all people. You, whose hands will carry the blood of the innocents until the day the world ends. 

“I’m not worth wasting stuff on like that. Not me, not after,” your breath catches. “Not after all I’ve done.” You try to cover your face with your hands, but remember you only have one left. Ah, you’re crying again.

The rock inches closer. You expect it to question you, to yell at you, hit you – anything but what it actually does next. 

It brandishes a box of tissues, gives you one and pats your legs again. 

You can’t help it. You cry harder, your body shaking and shuddering with the force of your sobbing. You blindly reach for the tissue, wiping at your face listlessly and to not much effect. Ah, damn, you’re not in a habit of bursting into tears, but to be fair, people are not in a habit of being half as kind as this fucking rock. 

“Simon my human now,” Adrian states with a note of finality when your sobs have quieted considerably. “Adrian help Simon in any way Adrian can.” 

“You must be an angel then,” you manage, your voice still raspy and much too quiet. 

The rock clicks in annoyance. “Adrian no angel, Adrian Eridian. What even angel?” 

You stare at it. “What’s an Eridian?” 

“A species. Adrian species. Adrian Simon currently on planet Erid, hence name.” 

Planet… what??

“Planet… Erid?” you repeat dumbly. Something’s not adding up. “How the hell did you survive the Quiet Rapture?!”

Adrian now stares back at you. Granted, it doesn’t have eyes, but it still feels like it’s staring. “The what?” it asks. 

You stare at it. It doesn’t seem like it’s kidding. 

Your head keeps repeating one sentence. What the fuck!?! What the actual fuck?! 

That’s when the realization hits you, creeping slowly, then with full force all at once. 

“I’m… I’m really alive?” you whisper. It hasn’t truly sunk in just yet, but you begin to hope. Hope that you’ve truly… you’re really… 

“Simon really alive,” Adrian confirms. “All vitals good.” 

“I… I made it out?” 

“Well, yes, Eridian crew drag Simon out of Simon ship and-” 

“I live,” you make a couple of short, hiccup-like sounds and whimpers. “I’m alive. I survived,” you can’t help but burst into tears again. You live! You live! 

You want to scream it into the sky, into the ground and into the vastness of space.

You live! You live! You live! Every cell in your body shrieks with renewed life.

I live! I live! I live!

*

You sob and sob until you think you’ve run completely dry, and then sob some more.  You have no idea how long it takes for you to calm down, but then Adrian speaks and you turn to it. 

“Simon like know what Eridian name Adrian choose for Simon?” 

“Eridian… name?” you ask, taking a tissue and blowing your nose. The rocks trills. 

“Yes, name Eridians call Simon since can no pronounce Simon.” 

Nose and face as dry as it’s going to get (you should really wash your face soon), you hum, then shrug. “Why not, I suppose. As long as it’s got nothing to do with blood. Or killing people,” you mutter almost unnoticeably, not expecting Adrian to have heard. 

Apparently it has, though, since it replies “No, nothing like that.” 

You’re kind of curious now. 

“What is it, then?”

Adrian makes a deep, drum-like sound, letting it reverberate through the room. “Simon, Thunderous Heartbeat,” it says proudly. 

You sit still for a moment, not saying anything at all. 

“Simon know… because, uh, Simon heartbeat, it, um, it loud, and-” the rock begins to explain. 

Your tears have apparently not run dry yet, because you start crying again. That… that’s the nicest moniker you've ever been given, aside from perhaps a pet name you half-remember your mother used to call you. It sounds like what you should be – strong, reliable. 

Then you do something you don’t expect. You reach out to Adrian and pull it closer to you. The rock is wrapped in some sort of a see-through barrier, but it’s not uncomfortable as you give it a half-armed hug. 

“Aaa, hug,” it says. “I know hugs.” It pats your back and leg with three of its limbs. 

You stiffen. What the hell are you doing, giving a talking rock creature a hug?! 

Well, you’ve been through so much, you reason, this might as well happen. 

“Thank you, angel,” you say, voice hoarse and throat dry after crying, because what else is Adrian if not an angel?

It sighs. “My name Adrian, if Simon forget. Human pronouns they.”

“Right, sorry,” you whisper. “I wasn’t sure if I wasn’t imagining that.”

“Simon no imagine,” Adrian says as they tighten the hug, seemingly trying their best to comfort you. That makes another round of tears prickle beneath your eyelids. 

“Thank you, Adrian.”

“Simon welcome.”

“And, uh, my human pronouns are he and him.”

Adrian trills cheerfully. “Noted!” 

*

Things slowly get better after that. The Eridians prescribe you a lot of rest in the soft bed, lot of food (even if the selection is not very big, but it already tastes much better than any prison slop ever could, so you’re definitely not complaining), and, apparently, Adrian or one of the other scientists watching you sleep. 

You still usually wake up in your own sweat, roaring and clawing at something that's no longer there. You can’t explain why, but in those moments, it kind of helps having a literal rock to keep you grounded nearby. Adrian usually croons to you in their strange language, gently patting your chest. It feels good to feel an actual, real pressure on your body, it definitely helps in grounding you. Slowly but surely, though, your mind begins to catch up with the fact that it’s out of the submarine, finally fucking out of that cursed, bloody ocean– 

You’re free. Free and alive.

It’s a whole fucking miracle as unbelievable as they come. You let yourself hope, though, for what are humans if not foolish? 

You still cry a lot, more than you have ever before. But with each tear, a weight is lifted off of your chest. Adrian affectionately calls you a leaky blob, and you can’t really fight them on that, so you only call them a rock guy in return. They seem to take it as a compliment. 

“Simon know, Adrian biggest of family,” they say one day out of the blue. 

“Uh huh,” you say quietly, not really knowing if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“Big Eridians attractive. Can protect mate and family,” they go on. “But lot of pressure. When Adrian mate Rocky leave to save stars, Adrian hurt. Can no protect Rocky in space,” they add wistfully, their tone tinged in grief.  

There’s some new information there, but while you’re curious as to how Adrian’s partner had ended up being called fucking Rocky when everyone else you’ve met has a human alternative for a name, there’s a more pressing matter at hand.

“Save the stars?”

“Yes. Stars dying, bad bad bad,” Adrian explains and your heart plunges. That sounds a lot like–

“But! Adrian mate and Gr–friend figure out what happen! Astrophage eat stars. Lots of astrophage, bad bad bad. Only one planet no affect. Rocky and friend go there to study. Find astrophage predators name taumoebas. Introduce taumoebas to Eridian star system. Then Eridians introduce taumoebas to other star systems. That how Eridian astronauts find Simon, on mission save more stars.”

That… is that how…?!

The wheels in your head are turning rapidly. Is that how the Quiet Rapture happened? That whatever-it-was eating the stars got there and managed to destroy them before the cure could ever be found? And that’s how it all started? …It’s certainly possible. It’s the best explanation you’ve heard so far. 

Seems like you’ve been out of it for too long, because Adrian speaks up again to ask “Simon okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just thinking,” you mumble. You don’t worry about not speaking loud enough, since as you’ve found out, the Eridians have exceptional hearing. That’s how Adrian came up with their nickname for you, since they could hear your heart (along with other organs, but the name Gurgly Stomach sounds far less poetic). 

“Huh,” you say with a note of finality. “That’s interesting.”

*

The days go by, and you settle in more and more. You start greeting and thanking the Eridian scientists taking care of you, mostly an orange-brown one called Marisa, a gray round-ish one, Sharon, and a small, light yellow one, Stephen. Then there’s the assistant called Carl and a mated pair, Marie and Pierre, that researches something or the other regarding radiation. They’ve come to question you once or twice about the submarine. Those talks tend to end abruptly, though, usually with you snapping or Adrian chasing them away. 

One day, Adrian brings their own mate for you to meet officially. Sure enough, it’s the same small brown rock that’s been trying to attack you when you first woke up, but you can't really fault him for it, since you did attack his mate. You had already apologized for it, of course, and Adrian had assured you all was forgiven, but Rocky apparently holds grudges like a motherfucker. You kinda respect him for that. You both seem much calmer now, though you can’t say you like him too much. He’s pretty demanding and bossy, not to mention rude, always asking all sorts of questions and is clearly disappointed when you fail to answer them. If he were human, you’d be more than happy to let your fists do the talking and he seems to think the same in reverse, but then Adrian sings “Happy happy happy Simon Rocky get along!” and that shuts you both up. You guess you’ve got one thing in common. Though you still fail to comprehend how did the ever-calm, collected, too-polite and kind Adrian end up with the short, rude menace known as Rocky. 

That is until you see Rocky nuzzling into Adrian’s underside, making a noise very close to purring as he playfully bumps into and cuddles his mate. Adrian responds happily, and you turn your eyes away. Their affection feels too intimate, too sacred, and you know you are undeserving of seeing it yet again. 

On his second visit, though, Rocky brings you a gift that makes you change your opinion of him by a 180 degrees. 

“Rocky have two things for Simon,” he states proudly. The first thing, as it turns out, is a new shirt. Ah, nice. The Eridians have given you some clothing already, along with salvaging whatever they could of your original clothes, but however comfortable, the black shirt you’ve been given is beginning to get a little sweaty after you wear it all the time for days. Not to mention it’s a little tight across your chest. It smells good, though, or at least it did when they gave it to you – it smelled clean, like soap, but also held the unmistakable scent of a human. It helped calm you down significantly after you’ve woken up with your throat raw from screaming. By now, however, there’s not much of the scent left. It starts smelling more like your sweat now. You’re pleasantly surprised they’ve brought you another without you even needing to ask. This one is also black, with a white line and a small ball at the bottom. It says “I had potential”, and you chuckle. Once upon a time, perhaps you did. Before the whole Quiet Rapture stuff, before–

Well. No use thinking about it now. You shake your head as you pull the shirt down. It’s also somewhat tight, but you’ll manage. 

“Thank you,” you say to the couple. Adrian lightly trills and Rocky tilts his carapace. You guess that’s as good of an acknowledgement as you’re going to get from him. 

“Simon no thank yet!” Adrian says, seeming excited. “Rocky make gift for Simon!” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. Oh? Really, now?

The tall Eridian drops a large box on your bed. “Open, open!” 

When you do so, you can’t hold back a gasp. 

“Simon like?” Rocky asks gruffly, but you can tell he’s nervous. “Can attach now for Simon test.” 

You manage a nod. The brown Eridian comes closer and fixes the mechanical arm with the help of his colleague, Mickey. You lift the arm. It’s not as heavy as it looks, and you try flexing the fingers. The movements are somewhat stiff and it’s missing some fine motor skills, and Rocky takes note of this. 

“Prototype,” he explains. “Can make better in couple days.” He puts the arm off, packing it back into the box. You stare at him. You stare for so long he becomes restless and asks you why you’re staring.  

You shake your head, eyeing the box. Your eyes are prickling again. 

God knows you’ve never cried as much in your entire life as in these last few weeks. 

“It’s just that… well,” you begin, voice shaky, all annoyance at the brown Eridian vanishing. “Thank you, Rocky,” you say and you mean it. 

“Simon welcome. Fist my bump?” he lifts a hand. 

You have no idea what that means, but you’re guessing it can’t be bad. You press your own hand to his.

“Sure, man, I’ll, uh, fist your bump.” 

Rocky falls silent for a beat, then giggles. Somehow, you get the feeling you’ve made a horrible mistake, but you can’t really bring yourself to regret it when it makes Adrian laugh so. 

You find that all of the Eridians are growing on you awfully fast. 

*

The prosthetic arm is finished within another week. Rocky brings it over for two more tests, and only after that does he proclaim it as finished. It brings you a lot of relief, since stuff like washing and especially toweling yourself is made much easier. 

Rocky seems to like you much better now. He keeps teaching you various phrases and gestures you’re pretty sure he pulls out of his ass on the spot, but you don’t call him out on it, since it is pretty funny. You teach him some human swears in return, which he’s over the moon about, and teaches you Eridian swears. Well, tries to when Adrian’s out of earshot, anyway. A lot of the sounds are not possible for you to replicate, but you manage some. Rocky claps and shrieks excitedly when you manage to call an Eridian named Mark a hoe-ass bitch. 

(Adrian gives both of you a lecture afterwards, but it was worth it. Rocky seems to fully accept you now, at least. You guess it was some sort of an initiation ritual for him. The thought makes you chuckle.)

All in all, little by little, you’re improving. 

And you can’t help but grow tired of the four stark white walls of the room they’ve set you up in. Sure, there’s the bed and a small bathroom, and Eridians filter in all the time to do research on you (they took a sample of your flesh the last time. It was unpleasant, but you do owe them your life, so you figured you’ve gotta suck it up. And hey, as long as you’re not looking at your own blood, you find you can comply with their demands well enough). Adrian is almost always near and Rocky visits you often too. 

Still, you feel more and more like a caged animal with each day. 

You take to exercising, since there’s nothing much for you to do except heal. And you can’t exactly consciously help with that. Luckily, when you ask Adrian if you could maybe take a walk, they have news for you.

“Eridians can maybe bring suit for Simon go outside, Simon can no go outside as is. Atmosphere would kill. Too hot for human. Bad bad bad.”

You shudder. Yikes. You didn’t think of that. Once again you’re left wondering just how they knew that for sure, but actually… you don’t want to think about it. You really don’t want to be thinking of death, of more innocent blood spilled. 

“But!” Adrian lifts a claw in a ‘listen up!’ gesture. “Eridians building Simon home! Biodome, with atmosphere good for human. When biodome done, move Simon there.” 

You blink. You’re really not sure what this… biodome is supposed to be, but if there’s gonna be more space for you, then you’re all in.

“Wh– what’s a biodome?” 

Adrian trills excitedly. “Adrian plan, engineers build! Space where human live.” 

“I… I…” you just realize something that leaves you speechless. “I’m really allowed to stay here with you?” 

“Of course!” Adrian tilts their carapace in question. “Where else would Simon live?” 

They have a point. It’s definitely not like you can return to the blood moon, even if, for some unfathomable reason, you actually wanted to. But God, do you not want to go back there. You think you’d rather spend the rest of your life in this lab-turned-bedroom than ever set foot in that goddamned submarine again.  

“Eridians no want Simon all alone,” Adrian says quietly, as if it wasn’t their intent to let you hear it, but you do, and the by-now familiar burning in your eyes makes another appearance. 

“I can stay?”

“Yes yes yes,” Adrian shrieks, doing some sort of an Eridian tap dance around you, lightly bumping into your (right) shoulder. “Simon stay stay stay!” 

Your heart soars, then sinks. 

“But…”

The green Eridian stops their dance, slumping slightly. “But what? Simon… no want to stay?”

“That’s not it, that’s not it!” you rush to assure them. You’d hate to bring anyone any more pain than what you’ve caused already. “It’s just that I… well…”

The Eridian stays still, clearly focused yet not impatient.

“I don’t deserve all you guys have done for me,” you finish in a small voice. “Not after all I’ve done.”

Adrian doesn’t reply for a while. Your breath hitches and you’re back there– the chaos, the screaming, the sirens, the screaming–

“Simon no need deserve,” the Eridian states promptly. “Simon Adrian friends. Simon Adrian human friend. Eridians like Simon. Want Simon to stay.”

“I–”

“Simon kind. Simon strong. Simon survive.”

“I am not kind,” you argue in a broken voice. “Seriously, you’d be better off chucking me off of your planet entirely.”

Adrian lifts two arms and places them on your shoulder. 

“Simon want to leave?” they ask, deadly serious. 

“No! No I don’t! I want to stay, I really do, but–”

“Then what problem, question?”

That’s… it? 

You can’t help a disbelieving, mirthless laugh that escapes your lips. “That’s it? I can just… stay? You don’t care about my past at all?!”

“No,” Adrian says frankly. “No care. Simon kind. Simon get along with Rocky. Help scientists even when no comfortable. Simon smart smart smart. Simon nice. Greet Eridians and do best. Simon Adrian friend. That enough.”

You sit on the bed. You need to sit down before you become a sobbing, whining mess once again. You don’t think anyone’s ever given you that many compliments in one go. Actually, scratch that, you don’t think anyone has ever given you any compliment, ever. Certainly not any like this. 

Adrian stays, gently patting your back. “What Simon want in biodome, question?” he asks after you’ve calmed down and accepted yet another utterly impossible situation. 

“Huh?” you lift your head from where it’s resting in your hands. 

“What Simon want in biodome, question?”

“I… can choose?” 

“Obviously,” the Eridian states, “Simon biodome. Can ask for anything.”

“I want trees,” you blurt out, your hand shooting to cover your mouth in embarrassment. Adrian doesn’t seem to care, though.

“Trees. Hm. Will take time.”

“You don’t actually have to–” you try to say, but the Eridian is already halfway through the door. “Trees trees trees. Adrian see what Eridians can do.” 

Then he’s gone, leaving only the warm feeling in your heart. You smile. Not a big one, but it’s a smile nonetheless. 

Trees. Yeah right. Good luck synthesizing those, guys.

*

Well you’ll be damned. 

They actually managed it.

You sniffle as you cover your face in the crook of your right arm. 

They made trees.

Little ones, yeah, barely more than sprouts, but they’re plants and they’re living and the soil feels so inviting, and your heart becomes so full you think it just might explode. 

The sprouts are happily swaying in the wind, not caring they’re being watered by your tears. You hurry to wipe your face. Your tears are not in any way worthy of even touching their little leaves. You don’t feel worthy of touching their little leaves. 

“You…” you turn to the Eridians standing a little to the side to give you space. Adrian is beaming and Rocky positively vibrates with good cheer. “You crazy rocks, you did it.”

You really need a moment. 

The Eridians seem to understand, Rocky even scuttering off to wherever, the tippy taps of his feet echoing in the tunnel on the opposite side of the biodome. 

You don’t know how long you’re sitting there, your hands buried in the fresh soil. It’a a miracle, a fucking miracle. These guys are really a bunch of angels. You’ve most definitely been granted absolution. 

After a while, Adrian whistles a tune, gaining your attention. “It’s time Adrian Simon go,” they say. “One more thing to show Simon.”

“Oh, sure,” you rasp out, finally standing up. You turn to look back at the house the Eridians have built for you – it’s bigger than any living space you’ve ever seen for one human to live in alone, and there’s not much inside yet, but you hope… you think… you know you’ll make it feel like home. 

You already do. You move to follow Adrian, who’s waiting for you by the tunnel’s entrance. 

You honestly don’t think you could ever ask for more. These guys have already given you everything. What else could you even ask for?

It’s not like they’re gonna introduce you to another human, right?

*

Son of a bitch. 

You seriously need to stop underestimating the Eridians. 

Once again you’re made to question these guys’ magical properties, because what???? How????? WHAT???

You followed Adrian about halfway through the tunnel only to come face to face with a man.

Well, not exactly face to face, since there’s still a barrier between you, but. Yeah. There’s a man, staring at you with eyes wide open, looking just as surprised as you feel. He’s slightly taller than you, but leaner. He’s dressed in a blue shirt that matches his eyes and some kind of a white, soft-looking jacket. His hair is golden-blonde, and his eyes are reflected by thin glasses perched on the top of his nose. 

Now that man looks like an angel if you’ve ever seen one. 

Neither of you speak for a moment, drinking the sight of each other up. Then the man glances to your left arm and grimaces. 

“Ouch,” he mutters.

All at once, the realization hits you harder than anything else ever has. Oh, he’s real. 

You don’t even notice you’ve stepped forward until he does so as well. 

Neither of you gets a chance to speak again, because suddenly, Adrian’s voice cuts through the air. “Grace, meet Simon! Simon, meet Grace!”

Grace?! You were joking about this guy being an angel. (Well, sort of. Truth is, you’re not entirely convinced he’s not some kind of a magical being. Maybe not an angel, but a step further? He would make a good image of God, you’re sure.)

“Grace Simon use he pronouns,” you barely hear Adrian add. 

“Grace…” you say, and he takes one step closer, pressing his palm against the barrier. 

He smiles at you, all tear-stained, but real. Oh so real. “Nice to meet you.” 

You can feel your own face scrunching up, and you press your own palm against your side. 

“Are you real?” you ask. It comes out weakly, barely there, but he hears you. 

“I am,” he replies, his own voice filled with emotion. “I’m real. I’m here with you.” 

You gasp. God truly is real and he’s in this very tunnel with you. 

“Are you an angel?” 

“Huh?” Grace asks, confused. 

“You must be, right?” you say. “I died and went to heaven, didn’t I?”

You can hear Adrian make frustrated noises at that. You’ve been over this, you know you have, but you feel like you need the reminder all the same. 

“Simon not dead, not died, Simon alive, Simon friend. Grace friend too. Save my Rocky, save the stars. Grace no imaginary magic being.” 

You turn to them with a small smile. Thanks for the reminder, Adri. 

“That actually makes him sound more like an angel, you know,” you tell them just to mess with them a bit. Adrian makes an exasperated noise. “With that name and all.” 

“Grace no angel! Grace human scientist!” they stomp angrily. Then they pause, thinking. 

“So Simon think Grace beautiful?” they ask you, and dammit, your face heats up. You’re not really embarrassed, can’t bring yourself to be embarrassed. You open your mouth, but before you can get a word in, Grace laughs.

It may be the isolation speaking, but you never want to be parted from this man, ever. 

Adrian goes on, though. “Simon no worry. Grace like Simon pheromones!” they state proudly, smugly, and now it’s your turn to be taken aback. What?

Grace makes a sound close to choking. “A-anyway,” he claps his hands.  “Is there any way we could get the, um,” he says, pointing at the barrier, “removed?”

Adrian lifts his carapace like they do when they’re focusing on something. The Eridians outside (oh yeah, there’s about two tons of them outside the tunnel, you belatedly realize, and under any other circumstances, it would’ve made you feel like a caged animal, but right now you find you don’t really mind) make sounds like shrieks and clicks. 

“Grace want touch Simon?” Adrian turns to the blonde man-angel, who nods, hiding his face in his hands. Then they ask you. “Simon want touch Grace?” 

You didn’t even realize that… that’s a possibility. Oh, you don’t deserve it. You shouldn't sully, shouldn’t taint the perfect purity of the angel in front of you. It’s a cosmic punishment waiting to happen. 

Your eyes take in the entirety of the other man, and you decide you’re damned anyway. If he wants to touch you, who are you to stop him. “Yes.”

The Eridians outside are now screaming so hard you’re half afraid your ears won’t be quite the same afterwards. It scares you and you flinch, but you find solace in the blue gaze shining down on you from the other side of the wall. 

“Good good good!” Adrian shouts, fighting to be heard. “Eridians open. But,” they lift an arm as if to warn you. It reminds you of the Father, and your face contorts slightly. “Grace Simon play nice!” 

You visibly deflate. Oh. 

“Yes yes, Adrian, we’ll play nice,” Grace quips, a bit too sharp and impatient for a supposed holy being. Ah. So he really is human? 

Adrian turns to you, tilting their carapace slightly, as if to say “good luck, pal!”. Then they walk away in that small-steppy way of theirs. 

And then, the wall is gone. 

And the blonde man is lunging at you like you’re air and he’s drowning. 

You flinch an inch backwards, but then his chest is pressed against yours, and your foreheads are touching, and you’re sure you died and went to heaven on the very spot. You don’t think you’ve ever experienced human contact quite like… this. 

He’s gentle, but oh so very real, pressing up against you with tenderness you’ve last felt from your mother, or maybe not even from her. His breaths, quiet yet thunderous all at once, tickle your face, your own breath hitching. 

Then something wet lands on your cheek. You lift your gaze and notice the angel is crying through his closed eyes, on his lips a wobbly smile. 

Before you can stop yourself, you reach your right hand out and wipe his tears with your thumb. 

His eyes, blue like you’ve never seen, open. 

“Hey,” you whisper as gently as you can find in yourself. “Don’t cry.” 

The angel starts crying harder and you cringe, but before you can take your hand away, he reaches out and presses his own palm on top of it. 

“Can I… can we hug?” he asks, sounding absolutely broken. 

Yes, yes of course, angel, anything you want, you want to say, but only reach out your arms instead, taking his lithe form in them, surrounding him. You’re a little worried that the prosthetic arm is not going to feel good, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

He goes willingly, putting his own arms around you. 

And then he squeezes and presses himself even closer, and oh God, what have I done to deserve this gift? I don’t deserve this, I don’t–

Your own face is rapidly getting wet, and then Grace’s face is in your hair and his scent is everywhere and it’s overwhelming and incredibly calming all at once. 

He mumbles something against your shoulder. You can’t hear it properly over your sobs, but you think you know what it is, for you’re thinking the very same thing.

“It’s you.” 

*

You barely notice when you’ve gone from standing to sitting, from holding Grace, you chuckle –literally holding Grace in your arms– to being held, but it feels like both an eternity and a short moment. You bask in the other man like you never had before, like you never imagined you ever would. 

“You’re actually real,” you say to confirm it, and he does so. “Really real.”

You barely hear the hollers of the overexcited Eridians all around. You don’t know what they’re saying, and right now, you don’t give a damn in the slightest, not when Grace is holding you so tightly, like he never wants to let you go. 

Good thing that feeling’s mutual. 

Eventually, you get approached by someone. It’s apparently Marisa, asking Grace something you don’t quite catch - she speaks quietly and rapidly. 

It must’ve been something embarrassing, though, if the way your angel is scrambling to get a word out is any indication. He almost lets go of you in the process though, so you press yourself closer, and fortunately, he resumes your earlier position. You catch his voice then. 

“We’re not mating, and we certainly can’t make babies.” 

…what???? It’s a good thing Grace is not looking directly at you, because the expression you’ve got on your face must be bordering on crazy. 

It doesn’t get better when the Eridians singlemindedly sigh in disappointment. You can't hide a chuckle. Oh my. Oh my, they really thought…?

Marisa goes on, though. “Grace Simon mate in future, question?” 

Now this gets you curious. You know you’ve only just met him, and that there’s more to it than merely proclaiming you mates, but you think… God help you, you think it would be an honor. 

“I- that’s-” Grace stutters. “I mean- maybe- it’s way too early for that-” 

Maybe is good enough for you for now. Maybe is so much more than you deserve. 

“Human courting take long time,” you hear Adrian tell her. “No use ask now.” 

They’re right and you know it. You sigh, wanting to stay like you are forever, but your stomach has other plans. It gurgles as if you hadn’t eaten in days. Your face flushes, but Grace only chuckles. 

“Well, looks like it’s time for lunch, wouldn’t you say?” he tells you, standing up. You nearly whine at the loss of contact, but then he’s offering you a hand and helping you stand and leading you away and you think you’d allow him to lead you anywhere, that there’s nowhere you wouldn’t follow this half-man, half-god. 

You squeeze his hand and he looks back at you, smiling. 

You feel your own lips tugging themselves up, rising for him. 

You’re absolutely sure you died now. 

You died and were reborn. 

Grace has given you a new life with this sacred intimacy.