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At some point, Darem stopped hearing words and started hearing reasons to leave.
Caleb had been at it since the first bell. It wasn’t anything direct, anything you could pin down, just the steady drip of it across every hour. By lunch he was still going. Darem would have left, but Sam, Ocam, and Genesis had joined them at the table, and leaving now would mean explaining why.
He had no choice but to put up with Caleb’s presence.
The din of the lunchroom filled the Atrium. Silverware against plates, trays landing with a clatter, the low overlap of a dozen conversations. Darem picked up another oyster dripping with hot sauce and tipped it back, slow on purpose.
Caleb’s face twisted.
“Do you always have to eat those hideous things?”
“Only when you’re around.” Darem reached for another, eyes still on him. “Besides, Khionians are literally aquatic. Why shouldn’t we eat shellfish?”
“Says the one with a banana allergy.”
Darem rolled his eyes and reached for another.
“You know, I think you’re the only one I know who actually likes those things.” Caleb’s mouth curved. “I guess it makes sense. Fish eating fish.”
Darem’s gaze snapped back to him. “Your point?”
Ocam glanced between the two mid-bite. “You know he eats those things just to piss you off, right?”
Darem glared at Ocam.
Curse his freaky empath powers.
“Careful,” Caleb said, leaning in just enough to crowd the space between them, “wouldn’t want you going off the deep end. Although I suppose that’s more your territory than mine.”
A snort broke from a nearby table. Someone choking back a laugh mid-drink.
Darem was well aware of Sam watching with interest, unable to eat anything as a hologram.
Darem glared until it stopped. When he looked back, Caleb hadn’t moved. If anything he’d settled further in, eyes sliding briefly to the cadet who’d laughed before drifting past Darem entirely. Like he wasn’t worth landing on. His hand closed around the last oyster, shell digging into his palm.
“Hey, Jay-Den?"
Beside him, Jay-Den glanced up.
“Yes?”
“It’s just…” Caleb’s voice dropped, conversational, almost friendly. “You’re odd for a Klingon. Going into medical… really?”
Jay-Den’s expression didn’t shift. He growled, low and almost bored. “We’ve known each other how long, and this is only now occurring to you?”
Darem caught Jay-Den’s eye. “He’s been like this all day,” he said, not looking at Caleb.
Caleb turned to him anyway. “You know he’s not even a true Klingon, right? I mean — what Klingon chooses medical over something honorable?”
Jay-Den rumbled beside him. Darem’s hand found his leg and gave it a grip.
It was one thing to come at him, but Darem drew the line when Caleb decided to go after his boyfriend.
Either of them.
A chair scraped as Genesis stood up, palms against the table.
“Boys, boys, settle down. We all love a good size compensating competition as much as the next, but this is going too far.”
If Caleb heard, he didn’t let on. He leaned back like he’d already won. “But you know he’s just the safe version, right? Because the real thing would scare you.”
Darem’s chair scraped back hard enough it tipped and clattered to the floor. He was on his feet before he’d decided to stand. He snapped around and stormed off through the mess hall. Other cadets swiftly moved out of his way.
“Darem!” Jay-Den called. It barely registered.
He stomped down the pristine corridors, feet seeming to know where they were going before he did. His pulse hammered in his ears.
He was vaguely aware of Commander Reno’s familiar gold uniform coming around the bend.
“Oh, hi Cadet Re—okay bye.”
He pushed on.
The corridor felt too narrow, too dry and stale. His jaw clenched as Caleb’s voice replayed anyway. You know he’s just the safe version. Because the real thing would scare you. His breathing hitched and threatened to cross into something faster.
“Darem!” Jay-Den’s rough cadence was close. A hand grabbed his wrist and stopped him cold. He whipped around.
His Klingon.
“I-I’m fine.” The words came out automatically. His breathing was already coming in fast.
“Darem, you obviously are not. Has Caleb been on you all day?”
“He…he has.” The walls felt like they were closing in. He glanced at the exit doors just a couple of metres down the hall.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to worry. I k-know medical has their midterms soon.”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Darem.”
“I-I just need to get outside before I punch someone.” He glanced back toward the doors.
Jay-Den chuckled lowly. He let go of his wrist, but for a moment his fingers held a breath above Darem’s pulse point before dropping. Above them, the ten minute warning sounded.
“Alright. But let me know when you…” A pause. “Feel better.”
Darem nodded. He wouldn’t be the first cadet to skip a class. “Go give Caleb hell for me, okay?”
Jay-Den smiled briefly. “I will.”
Darem turned toward the doors. His boots echoed as cadets streamed around him.
He pushed through and stopped.
Salt.
The smell hit him before anything else. It was sharp and familiar and exactly right. From up on the hill the Bay spread out below him, vast and glittering and welcoming.
The warmth of the afternoon hit him just as hard—typical dry Californian heat.
His feet moved before the thought had even formed.
They seemed to be doing that a lot today.
The courtyard was mostly empty. There was a flicker of guilt for a brief moment and then the breeze hit him again and it was gone.
He was at a trot before he reached the hill, a full run by halfway down. He found a bench, shrugged off his jacket, pulled off his boots. Shirt next, then pants, socks last. Left them in a pile. Not particularly his problem right now.
Darem turned to face the ocean.
It wasn’t Khiona’s familiar waters, but it’d do.
He skirted the concrete edging onto the sand, feet sinking with each step. The water reached him before he reached it lapping at his feet. He stopped and looked down.
Predictably, they were already changing.
Dark blue crept up from his ankles, scales catching the light. He watched it happen with the particular resignation of someone who had long since lost that argument with his own body.
He glanced around and saw nobody. He supposed that was a relief. Darem hated his aquatic form.
Darem strode forward and the water took him. Blue scales overtook his entire body as he submerged, going deeper until the surface was just a shimmer above him.
He was tired.
He was done.
The North Pacific Ocean had never once said a single thing to annoy him.
Caleb could have the surface.
Darem could have the ocean