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It was easy for Newt to tell when Hermann’s stride shifted from its usual slight imbalance to the subtly wonkier gait that meant the pain was worse than usual. Walking down the eerily quiet city street after a catch-up dinner that had gone on far longer than planned – right up until the moment the restaurant had kicked them out, in fact – that ever-present twinge Hermann felt was clearly becoming unignorable. Newt noticed it now, even three years after they’d drifted together for the first time. For the only time.
As they walked, amicable silence left room for Newt’s mind to chase whichever tangent it fancied and, as was so often the case, Newt’s mind chose Hermann. It took a stroll through familiar questions, like ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if he could drift with Hermann as often as he drifted with a sample of barely conscious brain matter?’ and ‘Could Hermann’s beautifully precise logic, and surprisingly tender feelings for Newton, and the damnable ache in his leg balance out the thoughts of mass genocide that were so persistent these days?’ If anybody’s mind was interesting enough to manage that, it was surely Hermann’s.
Speaking of, the man himself – in all his tweed-elbowed glory – had stopped walking entirely and was giving Newt a perplexed look. Newt gave the same look right back, and Hermann just shook his head, bemused.
“I was just saying, I thought you took a left turn here? I know you’ve been enjoying the life of luxury as of late, but you surely can’t have become so airheaded as to forget where that fancy new flat of yours is,” Hermann finally prompted, to break the back-and-forth of confused looks. The jibes were more playful these days, the pretence of animosity between them almost entirely dissipated into a fog of pleasant, but occasionally uncertain, affection.
“Oh! Right, yeah, no dude, of course I remember, I was just thinking… PPDC accommodation is another – what? Twenty minutes from here? And it’s been a pretty long day. You could crash at mine for the night, if you wanted.” Good job, Newton mused, way to be subtle, invite the guy back to your one-bedroom apartment to stay the night. Not that Hermann knew it was one bedroom. He hadn’t visited yet. Newt’s new apartment had lots of features Hermann was unaware of: the number of bedrooms, the lack of a fold-out sofa bed that a platonic friend could sleep on, the illegal kaiju brain sample and drift equipment in his bedroom. Ah. The illegal kaiju brain sample and drift equipment in his bedroom. That could be an issue. Another pressing issue was the fact that Hermann was replying and Newt’s brain was too busy racing to really process the words and formulate a decent backpedal at the same time.
“-well, that is to say, yes, I suppose that would be an agreeable arrangement, if you’re sure you don’t min-“
“Shit, actually – man, I feel like a jerk – I just remembered I have someone over tonight,” Newt cut in, perhaps too late. Hermann’s face fell, though he tried to hide it, so definitely too late.
“Some…one?” he asked, clearly curious and also clearly half-reluctant to hear the answer.
“Uh, yeah… Alice! Did I not tell you about Alice? Great… great gal, she is, that- that Alice. Totally slipped my mind, but yeah, I guess you can’t stay over,” Newt stammered out. Lying to Hermann felt so fundamentally wrong, which was strange, because he’d gotten good at lying over the past few years. He was lying to everybody in his life on a daily basis, but somehow this one wasn’t so easy. “I’m sorry, Hermann.” That, at least, was genuine.
“Right. Well, the walk isn’t so long anyway,” Hermann replied after a somewhat awkward pause, taking a step back and wincing. “I’ll see you later this week, perhaps, if you’re available between work and… well, between work and Alice.”
“Yeah, that sounds good, see you later,” Newt said, words rushed out on an exhale because the sooner this conversation ended, the sooner he could get back to his apartment, the sooner he could drift with “Alice” and fill the painful hole in his head with thoughts and urges and impulses that weren’t his own.
And he watched Hermann limp away – the sort of painful limp that Newt recognised so easily, because some part of Hermann was still tangled up in his brain between the six doctorates worth of knowledge, and the pulsing, growing, alien need for annihilation, and the helplessly faltering remnants of who Newton once was – and he thought that maybe, just maybe, Hermann could save him.
That bright thought flickered in his mind for the rest of the walk home, and then its brief and beautiful life was quickly cut short on the tip of a neuron as Newt pulled the Pons system onto his head and let Alice melt into his brain once more. The rush came as it always did. He felt numb and exhilarated at once, he felt half like a giant, half like an ant, he felt the enormity of the world at his fingertips… And he felt a brief, painful twinge in his right leg.