Archive of Our Own

Grace means everything to him.

Because he is everything to him. His savior, his guide, his best friend, his partner. He makes him laugh, makes him cry. Cheers him up, frustrates him entirely. Grace is brilliant, kind, peculiar, and courageous. He’s loving, he’s overly chatty. He’s imperfect and perfect for him.

Simon believes that if in another life he lived on Grace’s Earth, he’d still find him. He’d choose him always. Don’t ask him how he knows this, he just does.

He doesn’t know why Grace loves him so much. He thinks he’ll never understand that. Hardly anything about him is good (he would say nothing about him is good, but Grace has been encouraging him to have a more positive view of himself).

Sometimes he feels entirely opposite to him. The moody, dodgy criminal versus the cheery, amiable hero/teacher. He’d recognize their differences every now and then.

They’d be at an Eridian social gathering and Grace would carry every conversation, always keeping a hand on the small of his back because he knows Simon has nowhere else to socialize but by his side. Grace always sees the brighter side of things, reminding him it’s okay to be shy and that he’s still picking up on the language.

He’d be envious of Grace’s goodness if he didn’t love him so much.

He’s also reminded of their similarities. Sure, Simon’s quicker to anger, but they both have the same reaction of throwing things across the room. They both adore space, spending long nights looking through Mary’s telescope. They love physical touch and quality time.

They work well together. Grace likes to yap, Simon likes to listen. Simon likes to fix things, Grace likes to clumsily break things. Grace likes to kiss him, and Simon likes to be kissed by him.

He thinks their bed might be the safest place on the planet. There was nothing that made him happier than curling up under the soft blankets with his partner snuggled with him. He’d wrap his arm around Grace’s waist, nuzzling his face between his pecs. He’d listen for a heartbeat, feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. Grace would bury his nose in his hair, humming softly in his sleep, keeping a leg between Simon’s thighs to get even closer. They’d drift off together, bodies kept warm, twisted and tangled like roots beneath the Earth.

Simon can’t imagine ever sleeping alone again. The people who raised him would have called him too soft if they saw who he was now. He couldn’t care less.

Tonight Simon wakes up with dismay, something still frequent for him. Usually he’d take a long look at Grace, hold him tighter, lulling himself by listening to his breathing. Except tonight he’s woken up to the sound of whimpering.

He rolls over, finding his partner lying asleep on his stomach. His head is turned away from him. He twitches from every pained noise.

Simon sits up, putting a hand against his back. He peers his head just inches above him, observing the distressed expression on his face.

“Hey,” he whispers. “You’re dreaming.”

Grace takes a sharp breath, his limbs tightening. His breathing quickens, panicking in his sleep.

“Wake up Ry,” he speaks a little louder, leans in a little further. “Wake up. You’re okay-“

Grace shoots up fast and hard with a gasp for air. The back of his head smashes into Simon’s face, knocking him backwards.

“Fuck!” Simon shouts, holding his nose where it burns.

Grace immediately turns around at the sound of him. “What? What’s happening? What happened?”

“Your head hit my face,” he manages to say, struggling to sit up again.

“Oh my god,” he quickly leans over to turn on their bedside lamp. He starts crawling towards him on his knees, putting his hands up. “I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine-“

“I- I don’t know what happened-“ he stutters, putting shaky hands on his face. “I can fix this. I promise. Gathering the predator won’t be in vain- I’ll make it work. I have to make it work. I’m the only one who can.”

“I don’t know what any of that means,” he says confused.

“It’s my fault you’re hurt- it all just spun out of control- I- are you hurt?”

“Ryland.”

He blinks a few times, struggling to recognize the name. “What?”

“You’re crying,” he lifts his hand to wipe a fresh tear from his cheeks. “Do you know that?”

He leans back now, feeling his own face. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “We’re okay, yeah?”

He blinks again, slowly looking around the room. “Where am I?”

“In our bedroom, baby,” he lovingly rubs his arm, feeling increasingly worried but trying to play along.

“Rocky?” His voice croaks, still dazed.

“Rocky’s okay. He’s at his house,” he answers. He moves his hand back to his cheek, wiping a few more tears. “Are you feeling okay?”

He nods before a verbal answer. “Uh. Yeah. I’m okay.”

Simon pulls him into his lap, hugging him tight. Grace hugs him back even tighter, burying his face in the crook of his neck. He lets out a shaky breath, quietly sniffling.

Simon starts rubbing his back, steadily rocking them. “It was just a nightmare. Everything is okay.”

“Yes,” he mumbles, sounding unsure.

“Do you want to try and go back to sleep?”

He hesitates. His hands grip at Simon’s shirt. “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t we try,” he offers gently. “I’ll help, alright?”

Grace lays his head on his chest, being held, having Simon play with his hair, until eventually he dozes off to sleep.

Simon stares at the ceiling, caught up with his thoughts.

He knows Grace has been through a lot. He loves to downplay everything, make it seem like no big deal. Behaves like everything is fine, because his life is fine now. However recently, Simon has been uncovering the truth behind that mask.

He feels selfish he didn’t see it before, but for so long he was truly broken. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t get through a day without body aches and breakdowns. Grace was stable. He was always someone to lean on. The caretaker, the wise one.

Now Simon’s mind was clearer than ever, and he’s noticing things he didn’t before. The slightest slip ups from his partner. Once comparing his partner’s habits to his own, he knows that Grace has insomnia, dissociative tendencies, and memory gaps. He recognizes the little quirks when he’s under stress- the fidgeting, the pacing, running his hands through his hair. He can tell the amount of stress Grace is under depending on how crooked his glasses were.

He can read him now. And he’s slowly learning that Grace isn’t as mentally stable as he tries to present himself as.

He never saw Grace like that though. Had never seen him experience a night terror, or wake up having no idea where he was. Not until tonight.

He doesn’t know where to start, all he knows is he wants to help him.

Simon would give anything to be there for him. Grace has done that and more for him.

-

When Simon woke up, there was a sticky note left on his partner’s pillow.

‘Off to teach! Made you breakfast :)’

Simon smiled at the note. Still, it wouldn’t allow him to forget about last night.

Simon eats his breakfast, spends a few hours doing woodwork, reads a book. He’s relaxing at the kitchen table, leisurely sipping on coffee  despite his disdain for it. He can’t help but perk up when he hears the door open.

Grace zips in quick, stumbling to put down his papers, glasses stuck hanging on one ear. He looks entirely fine, same as he does every other day.

“Hi,” he leans down and greets Simon with a quick kiss. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” he smiles up at him. He tugs on his arm to sit down beside him. Grace obliges, pulling up the other chair to be close. Simon chuckles, fixing his glasses and pushing them back on his face. “How was yours?”

“Good,” he gives Simon another sweet kiss. Then he takes a hand to hold his cheek, thumb carefully brushing against the bridge of his nose. “How’s your face? Does it hurt?”

So he did remember, Simon thought. “My face is fine.”

Grace looks at him sadly. “There’s a bruise here.”

“A painless one.”

“Be honest with me if it hurts.”

“Ry,” he takes away hand on his face, giving the palm a kiss before holding it in his lap. “How are you doing?”

“Me?” His eyebrows raise in surprise. “I’m fine. Superb actually.”

“Are you being honest with me?”

Grace’s brows furrow, almost amused that this was so easily turned on him. “I’ve had a good day today. Sorry I woke you last night.”

“I woke myself up,” he says. “You wanna talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Your nightmare,” he answers. “What’s on your mind. Anything.”

Grace gives him an unreadable look, reluctant in his answer. He seems to be calculating what exactly to say. Then he shrugs. “It was just a bad dream. It’s no big deal.”

“You were crying.”

“Well that’s-“ he leans back in the chair. He doesn’t let go of his hand, and Simon takes mental note on how he’s fidgeting with Simon’s fingers, as if playing with them were to ground him. “Because the dream was- rough. I guess. You helped me through it. I really appreciate that.”

He’s dancing around what happened. Simon can tell. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

He sits up a little straighter, looking more serious by the minute. “I know.”

They look at each other in silence. Grace now recognizes that isn’t something he can avoid, that he’s only being suspicious.

He sighs. “When Rocky and I were in Adrian’s atmosphere, there was a fuel leak. The ship started spinning out of control. We almost died. Rocky almost died trying to save my life, actually. It’s how I got these scars.”

He points to a slight scar on the left side of his forehead, then to the complex scar on his arm. “It’s how I got these bad boys.”

Simon looks at him sincerely. “You never told me that.”

He waves a hand, playfully rolling his eyes. “I dunno. Everyone survived, taumoeba was bred, the stars were saved. Happy ending. I try not to dwell on it.”

“If you would ever like to dwell on it,” he offers carefully. “You have me.”

Grace looks dumbfounded. He fidgets with his glasses. “Y-yeah. Okay.”

Simon gives him an adoring smile. Before he can ask Grace anything else, his partner stands up, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before darting out of the room.

“I’m sweaty,” he calls out from the hallway. “Wanna join me for a shower?”

Simon would never pass up on the invitation, already up and walking to the next room. Showers with Grace have always been a wholesome, intimate experience that he highly values.

Though there’s a small part of him that wonders if Grace’s trying to turn the attention on something else.

-

Simon tried to give Grace the benefit of the doubt. There were things he hasn’t told him, things that seemed to be too difficult to talk about. It makes sense that he has nightmares.

A few nights later, he wakes up to the sound of something shuffling against the floor.

He sits up with a jolt, and is not exactly comforted by what he sees.

Grace is pacing in a circle, feet dragging along the floor. He’s humming some kind of tune to himself. His back is slouched, his eyes absent, his arms lay heavy against his side.

“What are you doing?” Simon asks him. “Come back to bed.”

Grace continues humming, walking in his endless circle, Simon’s words entirely unheard.

He gets out of bed and carefully walks towards him. He snaps his fingers a few times. “Ryland.”

His singing sounds oddly familiar, but he’s too tired to recognize it yet. Simon stands in front of him, halting him with his hand on his chest. Grace pushes against it, trying to continue walking.

“C’mon,” Simon urges. He grabs his shoulder and gives him a light shake. “Wake up.”

He stops walking, his body swaying. Still he murmurs to himself, his eyes still lost in thought.

“Wake up, Ry,” he tries shaking him a bit rougher.

“Hmm?” He finally replies, his pitch high. His eyes are open, not awake.

“Let’s go,” still holding his shoulder, he twists his body around. He starts walking with him, careful not to use too much force. “Let’s go to bed.”

Grace starts humming again, and it finally clicks for Simon. “Are you-? Are you speaking Eridian?”

He hums again as if responding.

“I’m not as fluent as you,” they make it to Grace’s side of the bed. He peels back the blanket for him. “Get in, love.”

Grace obeys, crawling into bed and lying down. Simon pulls the blanket over him, then crawls into bed from his own side. By the time he’s under the blankets, Grace’s eyes are closed, and he’s asleep once more.

Simon frowns. He traces his fingers against his hairline, down his jaw. He feels uneasy about something he doesn’t quite know. Is something wrong? He then begins to feel anxious. That tight, gnawing dread growing in his chest. He still freaks out about the slightest shifts of routine, his mind wondering the worst case scenarios. He just wants his lover to be okay. It’s unfathomable to even imagine losing him.

He moves lower on the bed and scoots towards Grace. He wraps his arm around his waist and nuzzles his head between his pecs. He listens to his heartbeat and lets out a shaky exhale, internally reassuring himself. He’s fine. He’s okay. Sleepwalking while speaking another language really isn’t a scenario in which something horrific is going to happen.

He closes his eyes, falling asleep holding Grace as if he were his personal stuffed animal. It’s the only way he’s able to fall asleep.

-

Simon wakes up to the feeling of the top of his head being repetitively kissed.

He’s still holding Grace the same way, however he’s holding him back. He groggily looks up to see Grace grinning down at him.

“Morning, Cuddle-Bug,” he coos.

“Ew,” Simon groans. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

“Heaven forbid someone likes you,” he clicks his tongue.

Simon pushes up to kiss his jaw, nuzzling into his neck. Grace giggles, holding him tighter.

“You were sleep walking last night,” he says muffled into his skin.

“Was I?” He replies with surprise. “What was I doing?”

“You were walking in circles,” he explains. “And I think you were speaking Eridian.”

“Really?” He laughs. “I don’t know if I’ve ever done that before. What was I saying?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“C’mon,” he gives him a shake. “You must’ve understood a word or two.”

“I really didn’t.”

“We’ve been practicing!”

“I honestly wasn’t able to translate any of it.”

“How’s this?” He squirms down to reach Simon’s eye level, propping his head up on his elbow. With excitement, he slowly hums a careful tune for him.

Simon thinks about it. “‘You look delicious’?”

Grace laughs loudly, slipping a hand under Simon’s shirt, keeping it at his ribs. “I said ‘you are beautiful’.”

He scoffs. “You’re too sappy in the morning time.”

“That must be so difficult for you,” Grace mocks, leaning in to kiss his mouth.

His cheery mood manages to reassure Simon. He seems okay. He’s learning new quirks about the man on the daily, but their relationship stays as loving as ever.

He’ll remind himself that for whatever he may approach next.

-

It wasn’t all that alarming that Grace was a forgetful person. It seemed to be all part of his charm. He’d be scrambling to find a pen that was always in his ear, get so caught up in his whiteboard that it’s been six hours since his last meal.

After the recent incidents at night, Simon began to pick up on it more. Instead of looking at it as a quirk, he began to observe it as a plausible concern.

He wasn’t at all judging, he of all people understands having concerning behaviors. He is starting to get worried though. Starting to wonder if Grace’s nonchalant demeanor to these behaviors are his way of getting Simon not to worry in the first place.

Grace is singing loudly in his study room, spending the last hour building a puppet show for his class on how black holes work. Simon decides to come in for a visit.

He sneaks up behind him, slipping his hands under his shirt and holding onto his hips. He presses a kiss to the side of his neck.

Grace chuckles, twisting to kiss his forehead. His glasses are crooked as always. “Howdy, handsome.”

“Oh how you flatter me,” he laughs. “How’s your model coming along?”

He turns his body fully now, facing and presenting Simon the object in his hands. So far it was a circle, made out of layers upon layers of wire. “What do you think?”

He grins. “It’s good. Very hole-like.”

Grace sighs dramatically. “Thanks. Really appreciate your support.”

“This is what you spent the last hour working on?”

Grace barks a loud laugh. “No! I’ve been building little planets too- I built a mini rocket ship! See that over there?”

He points to his desk behind him. Simon glances behind his shoulder. “Wow. Very lovely.”

“Are you just saying that to please me?”

“They look wonderful,” he boasts. “Honestly.”

“Even my hole?” He lifts it up, putting it in Simon’s face. “Compliment my hole, please?”

“You know exactly why I will not be doing that,” he replies dryly.

Grace laughs as he puts the sculpture down on his desk. Then he moves into a kiss, pushing his palms against Simon’s chest. Simon pulls him in by his waist, their abdomens now pressed close. He kisses Grace again and again, a few on the side of his mouth. Grace giggles into it, his hands sliding up to hold his shoulders. He leans in to deepen the kiss. Simon sighs happily into it.

Suddenly Grace jerks his head back, breaking the kiss. Simon opens his eyes to see the man appearing panicked and disordered.

“Grace?” He asks.

Grace looks around the room as if he recognizes nothing. Then he looks back at Simon, as if he didn’t recognize him. Reacting to everything as if he had just snapped out of a trance.

Now that really concerned Simon. His hand takes hold of Grace’s jaw, which even makes him flinch. “What is it? What’s wrong? Ry?”

Grace looks in his eyes, but doesn’t see him. Then he blinks a few times, takes a sharp breath, and his eyes start to focus on him again. That delirious look begins to fade, and Grace starts to smile.

“Howdy, handsome,” he says happily.

Simon can’t even play along this time. He frowns. “You already said that.”

Grace’s smile drops. “Did I?”

“Yeah. Just a few minutes ago.”

He starts to space out again, his grip on Simon loosening. “Oh.”

He pushes his glasses up for him, fingers brushing against his ear. He puts his hand back on his jaw, needing to hold him. His other hand rubs at his hip. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he tries to assure, tries to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You scared me,” he answers honestly. “For a moment there it seemed like you didn’t know me.”

Grace starts to look sad then. Simon can see the guilt heavy on his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I never meant to scare you.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, Simon, I-“ he lets him go, starting to walk backwards and away from him. “I don’t want to scare you. I’m sorry, I’ll just go. I’ll give you space-“

He turns away, but Simon gently grabs his arm and pulls him back to him. He takes hold of both of his partner’s hands, squeezing them lovingly.

“I don’t want space,” he says softly. “I want to be here with you. And I just want to understand.”

Grace’s eyes start to look watery. He looks down shamefully. “I got disoriented. It… it happens every now and then.”

“Is there any way I can help make it easier for you?” He starts tracing his thumbs against the back of his hands.

Grace looks surprised at that. “Sometimes I just need to be reminded what’s happening.”

“I can do that.”

Grace looks like he wants to say more, yet nothing at all. “Thank you.”

“Do you wanna take a break from what you’re working on?” He asks. “Have some lunch?”

“Sure. We can have lunch.”

“No, do you want lunch?”

He gives it some thought. “Yes. I’m hungry.”

“Alright,” he kisses his cheek. “Let’s go. I’ll make you the best sandwich you’ve ever had.”

“Not sure that can be accomplished. Unless you’re the sub shop three blocks from my Earth apartment.”

Simon laughs. In his mind, he’s taking the entire moment into deep consideration. Trying to understand his triggers, his symptoms, and how he can best help his partner. He deserves care, despite what he may think.

-

It’s been two hours since Grace was supposed to be home.

He was working late in the Hail Mary this evening, mentioned having to reorganize one of the rooms and decide what needs to come back to the house. He said he’d be back at sundown, and now it was dark out.

Simon waited. He kept himself busy, then sat by the couch for him, then waited by the door. Finally he gave in and decided he was going to go find him. He throws on his shoes and opens the front door. As he does, he sees Grace walking up the path to their home.

He’s barefoot, seemingly dragging his body lethargically. He seems to have brought nothing back from his trip. His glasses are at least on his head.

Simon immediately recognized something wasn’t right. He picks up the pace heading down the path, meeting him in the middle.

“Where have you been?” He coaxes in a hushed tone.

Grace wore that dazed expression again. Simon’s gotten better at recognizing it. “I got lost on my way back.”

“You got lost?” He tries not to sound too surprised in his question. Grace knows his way around the area, better than Simon. He definitely knows how to walk home from his ship.

Grace nods, staring off into the distance. He looks physically drained. Simon puts his hands on his biceps, noticing that physical touch has grounded him in the past.

“Where are your shoes, hm?” He tries to sound calm and casual.

Grace looks down at his feet, then disappointedly back at Simon. “I’m not sure.”

“Okay. That’s okay,” he kisses the tip of his nose. “We’ll find them in the morning.”

“Can we go to bed?” His voice cracks.

“Of course,” he kisses his cheek. “You must be tired.”

His head hangs low. “I am.”

Simon gives his arms a squeeze. “Let’s go inside.”

Simon leads him through the house and off to bed, keeping a hand at his back the whole way. Grace can barely keep it together, already beginning to cry before they even entered their bedroom.

He sits on the bed and hugs his own frame, letting out a strangled sob. Simon takes his glasses off his head and places it on the bedside table.

Grace’s quilt is folded at the end of the bed, as it’s always left when not used. Simon grabs it, wrapping it tight around Grace’s shoulders and pressing light kisses at his temple.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers.

“For what?” He whispers, crouching down to meet his eye.

“I was supposed to be doing something,” he pushes his hands through his hair and tugs. “What was I doing?”

“Hey,” Simon takes his hands out of his hair, holding them and kissing the back of them. “Deep breaths. You were reorganizing some things in your ship. That’s all.”

He begins to rock, closing his eyes tight, trying to follow instructions on his breathing. He pulls one of his held hands away and starts tapping a finger to the side of his head. “It’s all a mess. Your partner is a mess.”

“Yeah, well, I’m also a mess,” he shrugs. “We’re compatible that way.”

Grace genuinely chuckles, a slight smile on his face. For Simon that’s enough.

“Let me clean your feet,” he offers. “Then we can lay down.”

He gets a wet washcloth before going down on his knees, wiping away the grime from his barefoot traveling. Grace is silent, only watching, sniffling but calmer. He only watches when Simon puts his prosthetic away, and while he changes into his sleepwear.

Before Simon is even fully laid down, Grace is already curling up in his space. He tries to make himself as small as possible, hands tugging at Simon’s shirt to bring him closer.

Simon wraps a strong arm around him, rubbing circles against his back. He tries his best to repeat phrases he always hears Grace say.

“You’re safe,” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

-

Simon wakes up to his arm stretching out towards an empty side of the bed.

He sits up slowly, looking around the room. “Ryland?”

No answer. He feels uneasy.

He walks out the bedroom and down the hall. “Grace?”

He walks through every corner of every room in the house for him, calling his name a little louder each time. All he can think of is how out of it he was last night. What if he went out far, and got lost?

Simon needs to find him. He charges for the front door. At the same time it swings open, making him jump back.

“Morning!” Grace says as he enters. He’s carrying a large cardboard box of things. He’s also wearing his shoes again.

“Where have you been?” Simon immediately demands.

“I was just gathering the stuff I had meant to bring back last night,” he explains, his energy laidback. “I also brought you a banana-patterned notepad. Thought maybe you need one.”

“Are you trying to be funny?” He asks irritably.

Grace looks thrown off. He puts down the box at the nearby table. “No, I really did get you one. Is something wrong?”

Simon takes a deep breath. Reminding himself to choose vulnerability over anger. “I woke up and you were gone. I didn’t like that.”

Grace looks to him sincere. “I’m sorry I worried you. Is there something I can do?”

Simon hesitates. “You and I need to have a genuine conversation about what’s been happening.”

He visibly tenses. “Okay. Sure.”

“What’s really been going on with you?” He asks. “Do you not know what’s going on? Is that what you’re afraid to say?”

Grace is unable to look at him directly, giving himself away. “I’ve told you this. I’m forgetful. You know that. You’ve seen that.”

“I know there’s more than what you’re telling me.”

Grace appears visibly upset. “Look, I get it. I recognize that I’ve been causing you a lot of stress.”

“Don’t do that,” he starts.

“I can stay in Mary for a bit, give you a break-“

“Fucking stop, Ryland,” he says firmly. “Stop pushing me away. Whatever you’re trying to keep from me, say it. You know how I feel about being shut out.”

Grace’s eyes look glossy. He quickly blinks it away and puts on a grimacing smile. “When I first woke up on the ship, I remembered nothing. I spent so long trying to figure out who I was and what was happening. I have most of my memories back now. But the longterm effects of the amnesia… I’m still figuring it out. I’m trying to understand it. It’s hard to study yourself when your whole mind’s a mess.”

He gives an awkward chuckle, waiting for Simon to say something. Seeing that the man is still taking it in, he goes on. “Sometimes have episodes where I don’t remember where I am. Or who I am. Sometimes I have moments where I’m trapped in a memory and I can’t snap out of it. I know you’ve been seeing it. I know I’ve been concerning you. I never wanted you to see me like this. I tried to get it under control, I tried to push it down. I’d hide from you if I knew I was having a difficult day. But you’d find out eventually, right?”

Simon walks up to him, closing the space. He carefully pulls Grace into a hug, holding his head and smoothing a palm against his back. Grace wraps his arms around his waist, head dipping into the crook of his neck. His hands shake as they grip Simon’s shirt.

“Let me be there,” he pleads. “For all of it. No more hiding. Let me take care of you.”

“It’s too much,” he says sadly. “I don’t even know what to do.”

“We’ll figure it out together.”

“It isn’t fair to you.”

“Was I fair to you when I was struggling?” He asks.

Grace doesn’t respond, knowing he has a point.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see this earlier,” he says. “I’m glad you told me.”

Grace only nods, squeezing Simon a little tighter.

Simon squeezes him back. “I’m here. You can lean on me. Just how I’ve leaned on you.”

He means every word he says. He can only hope his partner believes in it.

-

Grace runs out the door barefoot. Down the path and across the beach.

Simon chases after him through the night, also barefoot. He’s still trying to catch up, stumbling as he hastily attaches his arm prosthetic. He isn’t sure how prepared he needs to be for any kind of danger. He doesn’t even understand who they’re running from.

“RYLAND!” He shouts for him.

Grace continues to sprint, until he trips up on his own feet and collapses into the sand. Simon finally catches up to him, running a bit faster to see if he’s alright.

Grace whips around and puts out a desperate, trembling hand. “PLEASE STOP!”

His scream, the terror in his eyes, makes Simon freeze in his tracks. He’s never seen Grace look so frightened. Was he scared of him? The thought made him feel queasy.

Grace starts to hastily crawl backwards on his elbows. “Please don’t make me go. I can’t. I can’t.”

“Hey,” Simon speaks impossibly soft, putting his hands up. “Just relax. Come inside, and-“

“NO!” He yells as Simon steps closer.

“Ryland-“

He starts to scramble on his two feet. “Get away!”

He throws sand in Simon’s direction. As he dodges it, Grace tries to run away again. This time Simon is close enough to grab him, hugging his waist and pulling him in. Grace screams as if he’s in pain, then he sobs. He squirms and writhes with all his might.

As badly as Simon felt, he doesn’t let go. Because he knows something is wrong, and he knows that his partner is in no state to be running aimlessly into the night.

“You don’t need to run,” he tries. “There’s nothing to run from.”

“Let go of me!” He begs. “Don’t do this! Please don’t do this!”

Simon starts to slowly and clumsily sit on the ground, carefully taking Grace down with him. He pulls him close, pressing his back against his chest. Embraces him tight enough to keep him but gentle enough to console him. He starts swaying them slowly, left and right, as Grace continues to cry and beg for his life.

They’re so close to the shore that the waves just miss them. He takes one of Grace’s hands and puts it to the water. The waves push through Grace’s fingers and pull back in.

“Do you feel that?” Simon urges. “Do you feel the water?”

Grace stops his hysterics for a moment, beginning to listen.

“What does it feel like? Hm?” He nuzzles into his hair. “What does it feel like Ry?”

“Cold,” he murmurs.

“That’s right,” he kisses his temple. “Do you know where you are right now?”

Silence. Simon takes what he can get, continuing to rock him, hold him, keeping his hand in the water in hopes he’ll snap out of it.

He’s calm for a while. Then he starts sniffling again.

“I don’t want to go,” he whimpers.

“I know,” he shushes. “You don’t have to go. It’s okay. You won’t go.”

“I’ll die on that ship,” he mutters weakly. His limbs begin to relax. “Please don’t make me do this.”

Simon desperately wants to know what that means. But he can’t ask now. Grace needs to feel safe.

“You don’t have to go on any ship,” he assures. “And you don’t need to run. You just need to come back to bed.”

Grace is silent for a while. Then he slowly turns his head to look at him. He blinks a few times before finally recognizing him. “Simon?”

“Yes,” Simon’s so relieved he squeezes him tighter, kissing his hair and breathing out a sigh of relief. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

Grace starts to squirm again, frantically looking around. “What happened? Did I-?”

“You were caught in a memory,” he answers calmly.

“Oh,” he pauses, still trying to adjust. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?-“

“I promise I’m okay,” he replies. His hand shakes as he pets at his hair, his palm wiping away the wetness on his cheeks. “I’m here. We’re okay.”

Guilt passes through Grace’s eyes, and he can only silently nod. He starts to space out again, so Simon takes both of his hands.

He starts to pull them up together. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

Simon keeps an arm around his shoulders the whole walk back, ongoingly glancing at him. Grace keeps his eyes ahead, seeming drowsier by the minute.

Grace barely says a word on their way to bed. He lets Simon lay on his chest this time. Grace plays with his hair, traces his fingers against his residual limb. He’s the first to fall asleep nonetheless.

Simon doesn’t fall asleep for hours. He can only listen to Grace’s heartbeat, and think about their tomorrow.

-

Simon isn’t surprised when he wakes up to find Grace gone. He remains calm when he doesn’t find him in the house. He leaves and heads down the path, hoping he’s alright.

He finds Grace sitting in the sand, his bare feet in the waves. He stares intensely at the water hitting his skin, deep in thought. He pulls out of it when Simon approaches him.

He looks up at him. He looks exhausted. His hair’s more disheveled than its usual. There are deep dark bags under his eyes. He looks older. His glasses are worn properly for once. “Did you manage to get any sleep?”

“I did,” he moves to sit beside him. “How did you sleep?”

“I’ve slept better,” he tries to joke.

Simon smiles for his sake. After the moment passes it fades, as he knows the next step will be solemn. “You never told me you were forced to go on your mission.”

“I seem so heroic as a volunteer, don’t I?” He tries to be humorous again, but his tone is entirely sad. “If I’m being honest, I repress it a lot. It’s the one thing I try not to remember. Doesn’t feel good.”

He can’t help but ask. “I understand this better than anyone. Why not tell me?”

He shrinks in on himself, curling up a little bit tighter. “You always look at me like I can do anything. I just… I wanted that to last a little bit longer.”

Simon shifts in closer, their bodies pressed together. He pushes his fingers through the back of Grace’s hair, holding his head. Slowly, carefully, he pulls his head to lay on his shoulder. He massages his scalp as they both look outward towards the waves.

“I’m selfish,” he whispers.

“No,” Simon replies.

“And cowardly.”

“Also incorrect.”

Despite his self pity, Grace snuggles in closer. He wipes at his wet nose. “I just want to be what you deserve.”

“When are you gonna realize how much I love you?” Simon insists.

Grace says nothing, except takes hold of the fabric of Simon’s shirt, tugging lightly. They sit wordless for a while, the only sounds being Grace struggling to cry silently.

“Do you remember when I couldn’t keep down solid foods for two weeks?” Simon eventually asks, still petting his head.

The blonde nods against him. “You were severely malnourished.”

“Yeah. And what did you do?”

He pauses. “I had to mash up your food into mush.”

“One to three times a day. Every day. For well over two weeks,” Simon went on. “And who spent months immersed in studying prosthetics to make me my arm?”

“Rocky made your arm,” he corrects.

“Shut up. You gave him the blueprints,” the hand in his hair slides down to his shoulder. He gives his shoulder a squeeze, keeping his arm wrapped around him. “Who decorated the house with plants after learning my backstory?”

Grace huffs. “I get it.”

“Oh do you now?” He says teasingly, lovingly. “You get that your care’s gonna get reciprocated?”

He makes a noise of discomfort. Simon presses kisses to his hair, deeply breathing in his scent.

If he were to be entirely honest, he’s scared. He doesn’t understand this either. But he’ll learn. He’ll do everything in his power to support him in this.

He’d never leave his side.

-

Months go by. They adjust. Routines change, they gain and lose habits.

Simon likes it this way.

He finds Grace mulling sorrowfully by himself at one of their larger windows. Hugging his legs, knees pulled tight to his chest, head pressed against the glass. He lets the tears fall down his cheeks, doesn’t try to wipe them away or hide his sadness when he notices Simon.

“Hi,” Simon moves slowly as he goes to sit across from him.

Sometimes Grace still wants to be alone when he feels this way. Though those moments are getting scarcer as the months go by. He’s been letting Simon see the worst of him, at times not even intentionally.

They’ve had rough moments. Hysteria, panic attacks, paranoid delusions. Nights where Simon isn’t recognized, days where Simon has to convince him the present is real. One night Grace threw multiple chairs at him, rambling about how Simon only meant him harm.

Grace has good days too. Great days even. Nights where Grace wraps his quilted blanket tight around Simon, showering him with kisses and sweetly singing him a song from Earth. Days where they work together in the comfortable quiet- Grace buried in his teacher’s notebook and Simon beside him tending to their garden.

Evenings where they slow dance in the kitchen, Grace teaching him every step. Mornings where they’re still lying in bed, far too lazy to get up yet, and Simon learns that Grace’s ribs can be so ticklish that he snorts.

All in all, it’s not an every day occurrence. Even if it were, Simon would be there. He’ll always be there, right up until his last breath.

“Hi,” Grace replies. He doesn’t try to force a smile either.

Simon leans in to brush a fresh tear with his thumb. “You wanna talk about it?”

He shrugs pitifully. “I can’t remember my name.”

He nods sympathetically. “Do you want me to tell you?”

He shakes his head. “No. I want to remember it on my own.”

“Want me to give you a hint?” Simon tries to joke to lighten the situation. Sometimes it works.

“No,” he says frustratingly. “I can figure it out myself. I just… please just let me sit here.”

“Okay,” Simon leans his own head against the window. “Well, is it okay if I keep you company?”

“Yes,” he blurts. “I want company.”

Simon smiles warmly. “I’m not going anywhere.”