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Why am I doing this?
I can feel Subspace’s eye boring into me. He’s watching my movements carefully as the warm water fills the bath. It would’ve felt truly intimate, an act of affection between two lovers, if not for his inherently abrasive demeanor. He’d always been so quick to diminish me, extinguish any flick of an idea I’d ever had when we were still bright, young Inphernals on the path to being Blackrock’s future scientists. I don’t much mind it now, as I know our time left together is finite. I let myself relax into the water, as I allow my remaining eye to drift upwards, looking at him fully. The non-affected parts of his body were sallow, malnourished. His ribs were visible, his knuckles pale, and his intact eye had a dark circle underneath it. My gaze lingers, even when he’s in front of me, he notices, I know he does.
“It never manages to astound me you’re still pursuing your career in this state,” I say. I hear a low grumble come from his throat, likely his vocal cords & remaining jawbone’s attempt at a laugh. Subspace couldn't admit he was dying. His own denial influenced how I perceived his condition as well, however seeing him so exposed now made me realize the severity of it all. Once that rot reached his brain, it was over for him. I suppose that stirred some subconscious guilt within me, that with this healing power I could do nothing to save him. Only stay by his side & watch him get weaker by the day, even though he's hurt me so severely, he's more of a wounded animal than a threat to me anymore. I have no resentment in my mind, nor my heart, but more-so grief for someone who hasn't yet passed.
It was perplexing to me, why Subspace would hurt himself by embracing me, bathing with me, and overexerting what little energy he had to spend those moments with me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Subspace directly say “I love you,” to me. Neither of us were the best at earnestly expressing ourselves with words. He wasn’t born cruel, I knew that, simply a product of a corrupt environment. I wonder how he, how I, could’ve turned out if born into a different life. I suppose it was a comforting thought, the possibility that there’s an unfathomable amount of varying universes, and in one of them both of us are happy.
I realize I’ve been operating on autopilot when I feel warm water rinse my hair. It brought me back to reality, I notice also Subspace has been quiet throughout the entirety of this moment. I get out, dry myself off, and get dressed. I murmur something about making tea for the both of us, while I leave Subspace alone. Sometimes it bothers me, the thought of what happens when I don’t have him in my life anymore. I’ve prided myself on being independent, and I wonder why it makes me so grief-stricken to imagine my life without him. I should see him as nothing but a parasite; like a male anglerfish fusing with me permanently, losing the majority of his body’s functions, dying without me in his life.
I set two cups on the counter, filling them with water, letting teabags diffuse into them. The unpleasant sound of a spoon against the ceramic was worth the proper taste of well-made tea. I hear the bathroom door shut, Subspace must be out. As I predicted, he was, sitting on the bed. I set the tea on the end table, give him a chaste kiss on his head, and sit on the opposite side. His exhaustion must’ve gotten the better of him, on normal days I’d have to listen to his…bitching, for lack of a better term, for trying to care for him. He had his biografts to do that, of course. Consider it the healer mindset to want to make his inherently painful state at least a slight bit comfortable.
Many rhetorical questions went unsaid by the both of us, I could practically see him holding back the urge to spat, “What do you get out of doing this?” I’m not quite sure I could verbalize the answer if he did.