Work Text:
AstroDude sat in the small bunk of his spaceship, clutching the small photograph he'd managed to slip onboard along with the rest of his personal items. He stared at the photo of his beautiful, stunning wife, and his brilliant son, and he couldn't help but wonder;
Why did I choose this line of work?
He stared at the photograph, hands shaky as he took everything into consideration. His life was, essentially, perfect. He had a loving family waiting for him at home, when he did return. He was in a good, financially stable state. He had a good job, even if it meant he had no return date on his missions, or if it meant he wasn't guaranteed a safe return, or if it meant he was constantly away from his family.
AstroDude sighed. He'd be fine. He'd always been fine. With a grunt, he pushed himself up, uncapping the orange pill bottle he'd been prescribed after repeatedly describing "talking planets" to Houston. But the medication didn't work, and the contraband (alcohol) he'd snuck on didn't work either, and he knew that, deep down, space had changed him; and not for the better.
He stood there, before emptying out a few of the red-and-blue capsules into his hand. He didn't pay attention to how many, instead quickly popping the handful into his mouth. He swallowed dry.
"Sorry, honey." His voice cracked, and he shook his head, quickly cradling it. His hands ran through his once-neat black locks as tears began to swell in the corners of his eyes. "Lord, you'd... you'd be so, so disappointed in me."
After a few minutes of moping, AstroDude found himself reluctantly trudging into the front of his ship - the cockpit - to check in with the Computer and Houston. He didn't necessarily want to do either of those things, but he knew how his boss was, and he decided it was best to just go along with whatever it was he was told to do.
He seated himself in his cockpit, sighing as he flipped a few switches and adjusted a few dials. The computer screen extended itself from its place in the wall of his spacecraft, and he winced at its close proximity. "Hey, Computer. Do you have any updates?"
"1 missed call from Houston."
AstroDude groaned. "Great. Computer, call Houston."
After what seemed like hours of ringing, Houston eventually picked up. He seemed.. hesitant, to say the least. "Oh. Heh-heh. Hey, AstroDude..."
"What is it, Houston?" AstroDude glanced at the computer screen, before continuing to tinker with the machinery and inside of his spacecraft. He didn't appreciate Houstons antics at the moment, and he wished his boss would just get this painfully awkward phone-call over with.
"Right. Your, uh... your wife died, buddy."
And then sar came and freakinG KILLED EVERYBODY!!!!! AHHH