Chapter Text
Slamming the door to Stratts office open, Ryland races down the halls- narrowly missing taking himself out on the edges of doorframes or walls. Breathing heavily by the time he gets above deck.
Running to the edge of the deck and tipping well over half of his body over the side, he gets a much better look at the stranger.
His hair is darker but has streaks of silver, it's slightly wavy and is pushed to one side. His skin is tan and even from here Ryland can tell the man's covered in freckles.
The man sees him and gives a relieved smile and a much less visible wave. Ryland gives his own smile and wave and turns to the ship to figure out a way to get the man aboard.
He doesn't see any lifeboats or rope readily available to throw over, but he knows there's always spare im just about every closet on the ship- how does he? Know what, not important right now.
Ryland holds up a hand, begging that the stranger will understand he'll be back, and scrambles off towards the nearest closet. In his pursuit, he slams hard into the corner of a table that he just knows will be a bruise later but he can't bring himself to care too much right now.
Rushing back rope in hand, he gives a quick glance around the deck and spots a small crevice that he then promptly shoved the rope through until it pushes through the other side for him to knot.
Turning back to the ocean, something in him settles at seeing the stranger still perched on the rock. Tossing the rope into the water, it splashes into the waves and rests im range of the rock- Success!
The stranger sees it too and pads through the water and begins their journey up. Ryland takes a second to be impressed, they're hauling themselves up the side of a ship after being in freezing cold water. He knows for a fact that he wouldn't be able to do even half of that.
It feels like centuries until a hand reaches over the railing and pulls up a matching body with it. Ryland will ignore that he flinched in favor of rushing over to the man and helping him stand steadily on his own feet.
The man's skin is warm, but it's hard to tell if it's from being in the sun or if the man is just naturally this temperature. If he had less composure, Ryland surely would've dragged him into an embrace.
He's taller than Ryland by a few inches, most likely close to six foot, he's tan and absolutely covered in freckles and-
"Oh my god!-"
Naked. He is so, so very naked.
Throwing a hand over his eyes quickly, Ryland backs away and turns around. Heat quickly rises to his cheeks as he feels his heart pounding in his chest.
Soft laughter comes from the man, voice surprisingly smooth and calm given his situation. Ryland doesn't pay it any mind as he stares into the sun, hoping maybe it'll blind him from what he just saw.
Turning around again after a long second of silence passes between them, Ryland makes sure that all of the man's unmentionables are covered before speaking again.
"Okay! How- How about we go get you some clothes? Yeah. Let's....let's do that."
The stranger- God, Ryland should really get his name- follows after him dutifully as he walks the short distance to the rooms. It feels disrespectful to give this man dead people's clothing, so Ryland walks the extra distance to his own room and grabs whatever article of clothing is closest to him and tosses it to the man.
"Here, that should- uh- fit you. I'll- I'll go out. Outside! Of the room! So you can- Yeah-"
Great. Good going, Ryland. Just make a complete fool of yourself in front of him, yeah, great idea.
Groaning as the door closes behind him, he falls back to rest on the wall opposing his door. He shouldn't go too far. What if something happens? Maybe he should've just stayed in the room, the stranger didn't seem too hung up on being nude around people.
No, no Rylands pretty sure anyone would find that weird- god what is wrong with him? You can't just watch people get dressed-
Looking up, the man is standing in front of him. Barely a foot away.
Jumping up at his sudden presence, and subsequently slamming his head back into the wall behind him, he glances back at the man and- Huh. He cleans up nice. The clothes Ryland grabbed turned out to be a simple shirt with the top left open and dark baggy pants that seemed just barely too short on the man.
"S-Sorry, you- uhm- Startled me." He says, placing a hand on his chest where he can still feel the frantic thumping of his heart.
"Anyway- I never got your name. I'm Grace- er- Ryland Grace, but just Grace is fine. You are?" He speaks, holding out a hand in greeting. Somehow Rylands getting the sense that he's not great at talking to people. Or being around them at all.
The stranger doesn't answer him nor do they take his hand so he lets it drop lamely to his side. Maybe they realized he can't function and hate him. Maybe they don't speak english, it's not like Ryland knows where they are and it's just plain stupid to think everyone on earth speaks English.
He'll just try to keep it simple. That should help his blundering too. Raising the same hand he held out earlier, he turns it to point at himself.
"Grace. I'm Grace."
Then, he flips it to point at the man. Ryland hopes it's an obvious attempt for a name, but he might've misread this entire thing.
Any further worrying is cut short by the man finally speaking. He raises his hand and mirrors Ryland by pointing at himself and saying- something.
"ℛꕤ✧⋈ꕤ𓍼ꕤ"
Oh. Okay, so Rylands not sure if he can pronounce that. It sounds musical, like it was sung rather than spoken. Before Rylands given the chance to respond, the man switches to point his finger at Ryland and speaks again.
"ꁅꋪꍏçꍏꌗ"
The man said his name. Okay, he probably didn't actually say Rylands name and instead just gave him a name he picked himself in his native language but come on!
The man is looking at him expectedly, turning to look behind him to see what the man might want Ryland comes back empty handed. In response the man huffs, points at Ryland, then back at himself.
Does he want Ryland to repeat what he said? Because he could try but Ryland doesn't think it would go well- Oh! Oh my god, of course. He wants Ryland to say his name.
Except Ryland has no idea what this man's name is. He doesn't even have a close guess. Okay, so he has to give this man a temporary name until they can better work out the language barrier.
Well. He found the man on a rock in the middle of the ocean. Rocky. Eh, it's a little on the nose but it's not like it's permanent. It'll do for now.
Pointing at the man- Rocky- Ryland makes sure to say it clearly. Hoping that Rocky will have a better understanding of what's being said than Ryland did for Rocky's language.
"Rocky. Your name is Rocky."
"Røckŷ." He repeats proudly, a little far off. Sounding almost like Rack-eye
Smiling to himself, Ryland softly corrects him. "Rocky. Rock-ee."
The next time Rocky speaks it's much closer and Ryland settles for that. He's not going to nitpick with a man who's currently learning a new language, Rocky's already doing more that he is anyway.
Rylands next thought is to feed Rocky. He has no idea Rocky was stuck out there but it had to of been hours- but more likely it was a couple days given there's no sign of another boat on the horizon. Ryland waves his hand towards himself in what he hopes is an obvious 'follow me' motion and leads the both of them below the deck.
Ryland realizes his memory clearly isn't the best but he can recall the general area that the kitchen was in. Surely he can't get that lost.
Glancing back at the other man, he looks content. A lot of things aren't adding up but how on earth is Ryland supposed to ask about it? Who's to say Rocky will even be truthful?
Huffing as he focuses his eyes back in front of him, all this is doing is stressing him out. Ryland will get answers later. It's not like Rocky can just jump over the side of the ship and disappear.
Turning down the hall he remembers having the kitchen, it does in fact take him three tries before he gets the correct door but that's neither here nor there.
Exploring the cabinets more intently this time, most of the non-perishables have quite the layer of dust over them- Just how long was he asleep? It couldn't have been that long, he would've died of starvation or something. There's a lot of one thing, some unlabeled soup, and a lesser amount of a variety of other things.
"Okay! We've got a few options here, there's some sort of soup, what looks to be tuna, and assorted vegetables!" He says slightly more enunciated than normal. Man, no one ever really considers how hard language barriers are.
Ryland makes sure to say each option as he points at them. There's no way for Rocky to really know what he's offering but hopefully the small pictures on the cans help.
Rocky picks the tuna and Ryland reaches out to take the soup. Opening the can and taking a tentative sip- bite? ah, whatever- It's not bad. Certainly not good, but palatable.
Glancing up Ryland stops when he sees Rocky's look of poorly disguised disgust. The man's flicker from the food in Rylands hand to his face and back again before one of his eyebrows raise.
"W-What...? I was just....tasting it." Ryland defends.
Rocky scoffs in response but doesn't say anything, instead he lifts an arm and points at the door.
Did-
Did he just-
"You want me to leave?!" Ryland says, voice higher in disbelief. All he gets in response is a firmer stare from Rocky and another purposeful point to the door.
"Alright! Fine! I'll leave. Privacy's important and all that. Just...come get me if you need anything."
Ryland leaves the room and does his best to avoid staring back at Rocky like he's a widow seeing Ryland off to war. Once Rylands outside the door, however, he hovers for a few minutes.
If something happens he needs to be there. He can't let the only person slip away before he has the chance to know them.
Eventually Ryland tells himself nothing that dire would happen that Rocky can't walk the ten feet to the room across the hall and pushes the door open to sit and eat.
Ryland feels a bit crazy but it doesn't taste the same when he eats it alone.
Somehow it's familiar.
In the same way that smoke lingers and a fire leaves behind ash. It's nothing but proof that something existed without any hint of the who caused it.
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The streets were cold, they always are this time of year. The type of weather that leaves people find any excuse to stay home but not quite cold enough for the rain to freeze into snow.
It means at this time of night the streets are empty. Not even a stray cat or a hungry bird searching around. Yet Ryland sits, squeezed tightly under under the awning trying to stay dry.
He's alone. Now he's not entirely sure why, or how, but he is. The place he once called home has been long since vacated, he even saw a new family move in. Ryland remembers the baby they had with him, rosy cheeks and baby fat and deep blue eyes and endless laughter. They looked the same as any other baby, eyes not yet changed and hair still pale blonde.
Clinging tightly to the last bit of stale bread he has Ryland wonders if he was ever like that. Not a baby, obviously he was once that young, but that cherished. Able to laugh at everything, not worrying about if he was going to eat that day. Having two parents to take care of all the hard parts.
The breads scratchy as it goes down and Ryland knows it won't fill him.
The last light on the street goes out and it's dark. He's alone. But that's not new, is it?
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Staring down at the soup, he's suddenly not hungry. Now, he just wants to go check on Rocky. No, no Rylands not worried about Rocky. He just doesn't want to be alone.
Standing, he leaves the can behind and goes back into the hall. Sliding down the wall to sit across from the room Rocky's in. Door closed, but there's faint rustling behind it.
Ryland doesn't think he wants to remember much more.