Work Text:
The pneumatics in the door were near-silent. Tweaked and tinkered with until they were as efficient as Cynte could force them to be. His pen stopped mid-stroke, hand fluidly covering the thoughts he was committing to paper when the whisper-hiss of the door sounded.
“What do you want?” Cynte stared forward. Refusing to deign the intruder in his space with even the smallest dignity. He knew who it was, ultimately. The rawness of being abandoned still stinging.
A sigh. “Cynte, we still need to work together.” Karis’ voice sounded tired.
Cynte turned a millimetre, eyes soft where they were still hidden from the other. He said nothing.
Worn, familiar taps pushed farther into Cynte’s quarters, the stick of the rubber still tinged with the vestiges of affection. Another hiss shut the two men in the small room together. The rustle of Karis’ clothing and the mosquito squeak of the brake he never let Cynte tinker with betrayed his positioning in the room as Cynte continued to listen. Another sigh along with the settling of Cynte’s bedding.
A scowl flashed onto Cynte’s face. He turned in his chair. “Get off my bed.” He could already feel the extra wrinkles pressed into the top sheet against his skin. It made his teeth hurt. Karis wasn’t supposed to press his mark in his space anymore. He’d made that clear.
“Talk to me first.” Karis settled further on Cynte’s blanket, wincing when the muscle of his thigh tensed particularly hard.
“There’s nothing for us to talk about,” Cynte lied. There were so many things left unsaid between them. So many things they should have spoken about months ago, things they should have let rest that instead they let fester. Rot pushing into slices of exposed pride. “You left.”
Karis dropped his head onto Cynte’s pillow. It just as hard and unforgiving as its owner. But it had the cling of Cynte’s hair, the faint sharpness of the sterilising alcohol, comforting still with the underlying prick of quartz dust. He missed being allowed to press his nose to the crown of the other’s head, feather light and just as quick.
“I’m here now.”
Cynte’s jaw clenched. The poisoned words slick against his tongue refused to dart out and hit Karis. Basest sentimentality. He should be above it. Vestiges of affection had no place among knowledge, of science, of absolutes… Cnawl did not coddle the weakening of the mind and affection did nothing but weaken. He’d loosened his iron grip on his ideals once. Let Karis in. And he left.
The meat of his throat stuck against itself. Silence in the room making the soft, steady breathing from Karis push to the forefront of his senses. It disgusted him how much he still wanted to hear those slow breaths in the morning. Wanted still to feel the vibrations through Karis when he hummed a small laugh while Cynte’s head was still heavy against his chest, pretending to sleep.
He couldn’t force anything through his teeth except one word: “Why?”
Karis’ breath hitched, trying to buy more time to reason out the most efficient way to relay information. He caught one of the scars on the inside of his mouth between the same teeth that had made them. Pulled himself up to sit. Eye-level with Cynte.
Cynte clenched his jaw. Refused to let his eye wander around the slight disarray of Karis’ hair from laying on his bed again. He could feel the fallen hairs infesting his bed already. Twisting against his intestines and pulling.
“I’m transferring off the asteroid base.” Karis paused for a breath of a moment, heading off the inhale from Cynte to clarify, “Permanently.” Soft hands smoothed against the fabric of his trousers, righting microscopic wrinkles in a poor attempt at self-soothing. “An arcship needs an attending for their cruise. I—”
“You’re leaving?” Cynte choked on the air, it crowded down his oesophagus and bloomed. He shot to his feet, ignoring the weakness in the trembling limbs. “You’re leaving?!” Shards of affection stabbed into his organs. Overwhelming and multiplying, hurt breeding against itself. An untreated boil finally reaching mass.
“Cynte,” Karis’ voice kept calm; kept steady. Quiet against the hurt.
“I knew,” Cynte wheezed against his infected heart, trying to stem the loss of control, “I knew. You planned this!”
“Cynte!”
“You planned this!” His voice raised higher, edges grinding against the vowels. Slipping through the cracks of the pneumatics. “You were never going to stay!” Cynte tightened his hands into fists, pulling and pulling until the tendons ached under the pressure. He tried to breathe, tried to lower his voice. Failed at both. “You are all I have!”
Silence clung to the metal siding of the room. Hummed against the oil clogging the nib of Cynte’s pens. Betrayal pulsed through the roots of his teeth. He wanted to ask how long Karis had been planning on leaving. Wanted to ask how long had he been laying the groundwork for betrayal. Cnawl would expect the pursuit of the answer. Cynte couldn’t force himself to ask.
The door hissed open.
Desire quickly burrowed further behind Cynte’s lungs, shame slithering over top like mucosa. His back straightened. Hard glare fixed on Praví for opening his door.
Praví knew better than to wait for Cynte to acknowledge him. He swallowed, trying to stop his voice from cracking when he spoke and failing. “I… I heard shouting. Everything alright?” The tremble in his hand quickly hidden in his pocket. His eyes flicked away from Cynte unable to handle the unblinking stare, focusing on Karis instead.
Cynte sat back down on his chair. Pointedly turning and picking his pen back up. Dismissal. He didn’t listen to the pair’s exchange. He didn’t answer any questions directed at his back.
He didn’t watch Karis leave.