Chapter Text
When the water reflected back only his empty eyes, that was when Louie knew he was hopeless. He’d turned from the pool with scorn. Stupid ideas.
Day in. Day out. Olimar walked beside him and saw nothing of what Louie filtered out from every word he spoke. Made him barely speak. What he held inside. The tiredness. The shame and fear of what he’d caused and what he wanted despite that. It was much easier to avoid the topic. So they trekked through caves and collected treasure and for what? Some dead-end job? They were in space - not for glamorous, cool reasons. Just delivering packages. At least until they got sent here to sort through another planet's trash. And it wasn’t his fault. No. That ravenous space bunny…
The food was great, though. Mostly. A few things didn't taste great, and Olimar wasn't happy watching him test them out. It was a gourmand's dream. The job they had to do was stupid, though. And they were stuck here together. It was nice but also… not. He’d messed up, but it wasn’t his fault. Plus, they WERE together.
Today's trek was back at the Garden of Hope. The grass swayed like a hymn to their success, providing a low-level backdrop for each hour of sunlight. Last night, they'd emptied a clearing with a curiously heavy object in the center from enemies that threatened to gobble up the industrious Pikmin. The corpse of a Creeping Chrysanthemum lay unmoved from when it had fallen previously - sadly. It would have made a good salad if it hadn't been sitting out so long. It only takes once to learn not to eat spoiled plant matter. This time around, Olimar directed some red Pikmin to pick it up and carry it off.
Being around such a go-getter got old at times, but it was mostly a feeling he wished he could muster for himself. Olimar was dedicated to a company that didn't care about him half as much as he hoped. Sad, but admirable, somehow? And the care with which he treated Louie, as unwarranted as it felt, inspired a deep warmth in him. Louie often caught himself looking at his superior's determined face watching the sunset, observing the Pikmin at work and overseeing operations. It was bittersweet.
"Louie?" Olimar said. "Are you feeling all right today?"
"Huh?" Louie said. "Oh. Yeah, sorry."
"You've seemed a little distracted lately. I hope nothing's plaguing you."
"Nah. I'm fine. Wouldn't worry about it."
"If you say so." Olimar shifted his concerned gaze after letting it linger a while, returning his attention to the task at hand. The work continued. Pikmin were whistled to gather around the treasure in front of them and return it to the ship. Most of the Pikmin were required to bear the weight, so they were left with few at their disposal.
"You know," Olimar said, unprompted. "I feel like I used to be more like you when I was younger."
"Is that good?" Louie said.
"A matter of taste, I suppose."
"So… no?"
Olimar laughed. "Louie, you’ve always struck me as shy. Am I reading that right?"
Louie gave a half-hearted shrug. "It's not worth talking unless I have something to say."
"Maybe I've read it wrong, then. I was a bit shy when I was young. It must be more intentional on your part, then?" Louie shrugged again, but his brows furrowed, too. Where was this conversation going? It was starting to feel kind of insulting. Olimar seemed to notice this and added, "I don't mean any offense by it, of course. It's just the way you interact with the world."
"You say that like it's wrong."
Olimar matched Louie's furrowed brow. "No! No, I mean–my apologies, that's not what I'm trying to say." He readjusted his posture and started again. "I appreciate that you're an individual, then. That you're not afraid to leave silence. I've always felt like I can't do that."
Louie pondered this for a moment. Olimar wasn't excessively chatty, but it was true that they didn't have a lot of silence.
"I admire that you can walk to your own beat, so to speak," Olimar said. Louie's heart squirmed in his chest. Tell me more, it said. Louie glanced away.
"Thanks." It was all he could muster. He didn't take compliments well.
"Of course."
The conversation still felt unfinished, though. Louie ventured to continue it.
"I like that you talk. And you know what you're doing."
Olimar bashfully waved a hand. "Hah, well. If I knew what I was doing, I wouldn't have crash-landed here last time."
Louie tightened his mouth, then added, "You survived that on your own."
"I suppose… but if not for the Pikmin–"
"They didn't find those ship parts."
"No, but without them, I'd be dead."
Louie sighed. "Give yourself credit. You lived."
Olimar seemed to take this more to heart. He rested a hand on Louie’s shoulder. The touch tingled even through his suit. They were so alone out here. A heartfelt touch was tenfold what it was on Hocotate. Olimar regarded him sincerely, dark eyes matched with his.
“Thank you, Louie. I appreciate you saying that.”
“Sure.”
“I wouldn’t survive out here now if not for you. It’s made exploring much easier. Less fraught, too.” His mouth turned up at the corners ever so slightly. “I spend a lot less time running from the indigenous wildlife.”
“Hah. I bet.” Should he do it? Put his hand there too? Was it that kind of moment? It was. It had to be. Right? Louie lay his own hand over Olimar’s, holding it there. At first, Olimar looked ready to jerk his hand away, but the initial movement was smoothed over with a soft squeeze of Louie’s shoulder.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Olimar ventured. Louie wondered how out of sorts he looked to have Olimar asking. His face felt red, but he rarely blushed, so he couldn’t be sure.
“I’m good. For real.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll stop asking.” Another gentle squeeze, then his hand lifted away to return to commanding the Pikmin. He gestured to Louie with the other. “Let’s head east and check out across that pool, why don’t we?”
That warm sensation in his gut clenched. Much like his first bite of Fire Dweevil, it was searing his insides. The words he wanted to say were coated with caustic bile. The need for companionship, the fight inside himself - this guy has a family, a wife and kids! How could you be so stupid? - always chewing away at the lining of his heart. There was nothing to be said for now. He nodded and hurried to follow. Maybe he’d get over this hurdle.
–
Nana,
I’m not going to send this letter. I want to feel like I’m writing to you, though.
There’s a man I work with that I like being around a lot.
I feel like I’m crazy and kind of weird.
He probably thinks I’m weird. Just like everyone does, I guess. But whatever.
He’s smart, and he cares about people and things.
But he always talks about his family. He has a wife. Plus kids. Two of them.
How much he misses them and how he can’t wait to see them.
I wonder what you would tell me to do.
Love you,
Louie.
–
The only thing that mattered to him in this world was pleasure. He could eat all the food in the world, take every nice nap in the sun, and see every beautiful sight. In the end, though, nothing could cauterize his central wound: something was wrong with him. He was empty inside. What made him happy was cooking, his Nana, and Olimar. If he could ever get that insect cooking show idea off the ground, that might force him into feeling. Or if he could feel Olimar’s body against his.
Louie bit his tongue to chase off the thought. He repressed a grunt of pain, but it did work. He could redirect to the provisions Olimar had set out in the ship. He’d cooked himself a little Sheargrub on the side to fill his appetite. Olimar had long stopped expressing his shock and mild disgust at Louie’s propensity for eating creatures. It wouldn’t change his mind on the matter, anyway. Louie appreciated a good hunk of meat. Reminded him of safer times.
Olimar peered at him from across the table. It was beginning to wear on him today, Olimar’s concern over what he was doing. Mildly flattering, but annoying. He was such a dad-type. Expected him to ask “How’s school, sport?” at dinner each night.
The only sound in the room was chewing and quiet clinks of silverware and plates on their makeshift metal table. The ship was bigger on the inside, as Louie had remarked when he first entered. Olimar had chuckled and said that everyone said that about spaceships. “Like a video game house,” Louie said. Olimar had not answered. He probably hadn’t played a video game.
While Louie finished up, Olimar had gotten up to clear his plate and was whisking the few scraps into the garbage disposal, which apparently recycled it into nutrient blocks or something space-y like that. Louie didn’t get it. The blocks tasted pretty bad, though. Soon, the captain came back to sit at the table and cleared his throat.
“Louie.”
Louie looked up from his plate. “Hm?”
“Is there something you’d like to discuss?”
“Uh. No.”
Olimar frowned. “I can just tell. Chalk it up to instincts.”
Louie frowned back and sat up in his seat to look him in the eyes. “I mean… no. Not really.”
“I’m not sure what it is, but if it’s really important, I would like to know. Especially if it might affect our mission. You understand.”
“Yeah, I guess. It isn’t, though. It won’t.”
Olimar let out a frustrated sigh. Though Louie’s stomach churned to be in a conflict, his self-esteem was too low today to make it that kind of day. But Olimar pulled a chair over to sit right beside Louie instead of across from him.
“I know whatever is going on must be bothering you a lot. I can’t make you talk about it, but I need you to know that you really should tell me, for the good of us two getting home on time and in one piece.”
“Yeah, okay,” Louie grunted. “Fine. Can you just leave me alone?”
Olimar sighed again, though this time with disappointment. Louie imagined himself shrinking down to nothing. Disappointing Olimar… hurt. It hurt badly. At least it was a feeling. But his pride blocked him from saying anything else as Olimar got up.
“Fine, then.” Olimar pushed the chair back in and began packing up the parts of the table and chairs Louie wasn’t using that could be stored away overnight. The waves of irritation floated off of him. Acting like a bratty teenager made Louie a little embarrassed for himself, and the tension afterward made it feel increasingly less worth it. He started to clean off his plate as well, and once that was done, wasn’t above helping to put away the rest of the ship’s items before night.
They didn’t speak again that night until Olimar broke the silence.
“Lights out, Louie. Ready?”
“Yep.”
“Copy that."
With a pull of a switch, the ship’s internal lights went into rest mode. They would turn on in the event of an emergency or if someone manually pulled the switch again, but this was their only way to get any semblance of darkness (plus the makeshift window covers they’d fashioned from blankets - the stars were brighter when you were in the middle of them.) Louie settled into his sleep station. Minutes passed by with his eyes shut, counting the ticking and background harmonies of the ship’s processes running to keep them alive. He couldn’t be lulled by the familiar sounds. His earlier behavior kept flickering behind his eyelids. He couldn’t take it and sat up. Hoping he wouldn’t accidentally hit any important buttons, he crawled carefully from his station toward Olimar’s.
Louie heard the captain’s steady breathing in the echo of the sleep station. He rested under a fleece blanket and a red comforter - Olimar’s favorite color - and occasionally took in a breath that was a little sharper than the rest. Definitely fast asleep. Louie’s heart pounded. He didn’t want to wake him up because they needed rest, but… He nudged Olimar once. Nothing changed, though Olimar did let out a small breath. Nudge two. Nothing at all. Nudge three. Olimar squirmed and rolled over with a huff. It looked like he’d have to try a little harder.
Crawling forward just enough to put one knee and his hands on the mattress, Louie gently shook Olimar’s shoulder. The whirling thoughts of what he was actually going to say and how close he was to him made him almost dizzy. Something more straightforward, or something a little more fancy? He hated this. Too complicated. The captain snuffled, and with a little more shaking, he blinked awake and yelped.
“Good grief - Louie!” Olimar said, out of breath. “You scared the life out of me!”
“Sorry.” Louie pulled back, supporting himself mostly with his arms. He sunk into the bed more as a result. But Olimar softened when he saw Louie’s face.
“Are you okay?”
“I wanted to, uh…”
Olimar sat up. The blanket fell to his waist. Though the room was barely lit by the glow of systems on the walls, Louie saw he was wearing at least a t-shirt and (he assumed) shorts. Maybe he wasn’t. The thought both excited him and gripped him with guilt.
“I’m listening,” Olimar said.
“To apologize. For what I said earlier. It was rude.”
Olimar smiled tiredly. “Oh, no offense taken. I realized I’d walked into a touchy subject. I’m sorry for my insistence on discussing it.” He was so humble, so cute even admitting mistakes. Louie clasped the sheets and pulled himself a little more forward. In his head, he urged more praise, more compassion, whether he deserved it or not. Olimar glanced up at him. “But please, let me know if you do decide you’d like to discuss it. Okay?”
“I will,” Louie said. “I promise.”
The speech hung in the air. Louie wanted to say more, but didn’t know what to add. So Olimar watched him evenly through the darkness. They stayed like that for a while. Though Louie was used to broad silences, he needed to at least finish this.
“Do you mind if I sleep here?” he said. Playing a kind of pitiful angle wouldn’t win him adult points, but it would break the barrier. Maybe he could convince himself to spit it out. Olimar seemed surprised at the request but regarded Louie warmly. It worked after all. All was right with the world.
“Sure. If that’s what you need right now, I don’t mind.” Olimar patted the bed next to him and scooted over to make room. He pulled back the covers enough to reveal shorts - well, not everything could be right with the world, Louie figured. And anyway, he was wearing the same. He brought his remaining outcast leg onto the mattress and lay down, quickly pulling the covers over himself as well. The trapped body heat from under the blanket washed over him in a wave. He couldn’t help but let out a comforted sigh. His mouth shut immediately, but not before he caught a quick glimpse of an unfamiliar expression on Olimar’s face. What was that? Intrigue? Nervousness? Some kind of emotion that he couldn’t place as positive or negative. He didn’t have long to ponder it, as Olimar turned on his side facing away.
“Good night,” Olimar said.
“Night… captain,” Louie said.
A small chuckle came from Olimar as he settled in for bed again. Louie found himself wishing that laughter was never-ending. Oh, how that laugh might change him. How it might make him a better man. While he fantasized, Olimar’s breaths grew longer and deeper as he fell into sleep. When Louie was quite sure that Olimar wouldn’t wake up, he carefully moved closer, shifting to face Olimar’s back. He kept a sliver of distance between them; as much as he wanted to actually touch him, he would restrain himself. Let’s wait until he’s awake. I’m not a complete creep. Just as the excitement of being close had spurred him on, it equally swayed him into a comfortable sleep, one free of awkward apologies and romantic tension.
Thankfully.