Chapter Text
While he’s spent a lot of time in space, Liam Kosta is not a spacer by any definition of the word. Yeah, he’d spent most of his holidays on the Citadel with mum or dad or both, depending on who was working where at the time, but the sprawling wards of the hub of the Milky Way did not compare to spending most of his days on a spaceship.
And not just any spaceship, but a scouting vessel. The Tempest might be an engineering delight but it’s hard to overlook how small the ship is sometimes, especially when Liam’s close to crawling out of his own skin with restlessness.
He’d known that settling an entirely new galaxy would take time, even in the best of circumstances. And hell, he’d known things could (would) go wrong.
Still, knowing was different to feeling and that made all the difference.
It’s hard to remember why he came here when he’s sticking his foot into his mouth all the time, trying to span bridges but falling flat on his arse instead. It’s hard to remember why he came when the same old shit keeps on happening, marring his hopes for a better galaxy, a better future, a better home.
But it’s hardest when he remembers his parents and all that he’s left behind. It’s not that he regrets his decisions. He doesn’t. But he misses them all the same, an ache that burns and tears at his lungs when he allows himself to cry just before he goes to sleep.
The Tempest is smallest when he’s surrounded by people but nonetheless inexplicably lonely.
Everything will be okay. He reminds himself of that on the daily. But sometimes, he wishes that there was somebody else that would tell him, too. Or, at the very least, allow him to believe it.
*
The thing is, the Pathfinder listens. Eyes tracking along his face, as though he’s got something important to say. They sit together on his couch, side-by-side, and the walls of the storage room stop closing in on him, stop threatening to crush and bury his heart.
The Tempest is still small, but he finds that he doesn’t mind it quite so much.
Enjoys the implications, in fact.