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“Grace?”
…
“Grace?”
“...hm?”
“Grace’s breathing is weak.”
“...I know…”
“Eat?”
He was met with a weak chuckle, morbid.
“That’s… not gonna help, Rock…”
Rocky just sank closer to the ground, discouraged. He knew that. He had watched his friend for too many years to be that naive. Too many months of hearing Grace throw up and bleed and shrink and nothing alleviating any of it. He eventually just inched closer to Grace, who was lying on the floor on his back close to his xenonite tunnels. Xenonite was great insulation, but it still emitted some heat if you got close enough, and Grace shivered when he was too far from it. Or Rocky.
In his tight-fit suit, Rocky positioned his body right up pressing against Grace’s chest and draped one of his arms across the man’s protruding pelvic bones, just to give him some pressure and contact. He could hear the way Grace’s vertebrae and scapulae pressed directly against his mattress. Once upon a time, those bones had been better insulated.
Rocky loafed with three legs while another arm came and gently began stroking Grace’s cheek, making sure he didn’t let his Eridian strength come through too much. Though, he had gotten quite used to this gentleness.
He dragged his warm claw up and down his friend’s face, soothing, and heard Grace’s breathing start to relax. Usually it was quick and shallow and labored.
A tear slipped from Grace’s eye. Rocky read the signs of his body and the quiet hitches of his breath and concluded that he was probably in pain.
“Please,” the Eridian began, “what can I do?”
Grace looked at him the same way he had for a while now. Soft, fond, with a hint of pity.
“Just… stay here.”
Rocky hadn’t been planning on leaving, at all. He wanted nothing more than to be by his mate’s side. He removed one of his arms from under him and brought it to Grace’s forehead and started to stroke his hair, just above the claw on his cheek. He just wanted Grace to feel better.
“You are suffering,” Rocky uttered, almost inaudible. He felt so sick inside. He would take another hopeless 60 years alone on the Blip A over watching this.
Grace didn’t have it in him to lie anymore. Rocky could always tell, anyway. So he just gave a little nod, looking earnestly at his friend with tears in his eyes. He tried so hard to focus on Rocky’s warm claws caressing his face. Rocky always remembered how happy it made him feel.
Rocky began to hum at a low frequency, consistent. He wasn’t speaking, as far as Grace could tell, and his song felt slow and mournful.
They stayed there for some time, Rocky listening to the labored breaths and periodic whimpers that could have been caused by anything at that point. He wondered what Grace was thinking, but didn’t want to force him to speak. Speaking took energy, and energy was a precious resource.
“...Rocky…”
“Yes?” He felt a tiny bit pleased whenever Grace managed to initiate talking. He knew how hard it was for him these days.
“Tell me… you’ll be okay,” Grace breathed. Now he was leaking properly, and Rocky tried to swipe the tears from his cheek. His speech was broken and weak and restricted by his perpetual state of breathlessness.
“What mean?”
Grace didn’t want to have to elaborate. He closed his eyes and scrunched his face as another wave of hurt washed over him. Rocky took his claw away from Grace’s hairline and intertwined their fingers, giving a squeeze. Rocky nuzzled closer to him, quickly starting to sing a lullaby at the frequency that made Grace relax, but his melodic chords came out shaky and sorrowful.
The pitiful sounds that came from Grace’s mouth made Rocky wish he couldn’t hear at all.
It took a few minutes for Grace to recuperate.
“...I’m so tired…” he rasped. He wished he would stop crying.
Grace had been thinking about this for many days now. He had been so strong. He had tried so hard. He kept such a brave face for Rocky throughout all of this. He wanted to live, so much. He wanted to live the rest of his life with Rocky by his side. But living was so hard.
He knew how hard it would be for Rocky, once again left as the sole survivor of a desperate mission. He would drive himself crazy with guilt. Crazy. And Grace knew Rocky loved him, dearly. Forget the space mission. Rocky asked to be his mate. Grace couldn’t even force himself to imagine losing his soulmate.
He was torn from his thoughts by Rocky’s melody.
“Sleep, my Grace. I will watch.”
Grace couldn’t keep it in anymore. He would burst. Or worse, he would just go, guilty, and Rocky would never understand. He had to make him understand.
“...Rocky… I don’t know if I’ll…”
That made Rocky stand up abruptly, appalled. He let go of Grace’s hand. “Do not say that. Do not be stupid.”
Grace started to cry harder, and Rocky sat back down quickly to resume their contact.
“Please, do not cry,” Rocky begged. He knew it could be bad for Grace’s breathing.
“You’ll… *hic* …get to Erid…” Grace tried to take a deep breath. “...and be okay.”
“Please do not say that.”
“Tell me… you’ll be okay.”
“I will not.”
“Rocky…”
“I will not.”
“You’ll be with… Adrian… your species…” A cough. “...you’ll be okay. Promise me… you’ll be okay.”
Silence. Grace could feel Rocky staring at him, beyond hurt. The man felt frustration bubbling inside his tiny frame. Rocky was supposed to understand how much he was suffering.
“Please…!” he wheezed as hard as he could. “I can’t do this…!”
“I will not be okay!” Rocky shouted suddenly. “Rocky will not be okay. If Grace dies, Rocky will not be okay.”
Grace could hear the wavering of his chords and his claw gripping his hand like his life depended on it. There was a beat of silence as Grace’s crying turned into sobbing. Why couldn’t he understand?
For many minutes, the only sound in that godforsaken ship was Grace’s weeping. He was quickly realizing how absurd he was being. How could he ask such a thing of Rocky-
“Please do not give up, my sweet Grace.”
He had never heard Rocky’s voice so quiet, so desperate. Grace just closed his eyes and choked on his tears. Everything hurt so much. He wasn’t living. He was a corpse with a pulse well on its way out. He was never supposed to live this long. His voice came as a choked whisper.
“Please just let me die… tell me you’ll be okay…”
This time, Rocky didn’t respond. Grace felt him sigh and squeeze his hand so hard it was starting to hurt. The Eridian’s grip was shaking.
Rocky suddenly let go and, as gently as he could, began to lift Grace up. First he sat the man up, trying to ignore his whimpers, and then dug his arm underneath the mattress until he could pick Grace up with him on top of the mattress, and carried him bridal style. Grace was very light to him, especially now.
He carried him to the Mental Health room and the screens lit up with the beautiful sights and sounds of the ocean all around them.
He softly set Grace down and redid the blanket so that he was as warm as possible, and then settled back against him to resume the soft touches on his face and hand. He hoped that it helped Grace, even a little bit.
“I love you very much, Grace,” Rocky said, impossibly quiet.
“...I love you too-”
“I will not let you die. Even if you want that. You will hurt Rocky very much.”
Grace closed his eyes again, tortured. He realized he wasn’t going to win this. He couldn’t die knowing that. He couldn’t. He always knew Rocky wouldn’t be okay. He just desperately wanted to hear that beautiful lie so he could pretend.
“You can’t just… keep me alive…” Grace whispered.
“I can try. I can… hurt you.” Rocky knew adrenaline. He knew ventilators. He could make things. The thought of these options made him sick.
Grace stared, almost in disbelief. Blood trickled from his mouth and he tasted it on his tongue. And he made peace, because he wouldn’t make Rocky the cause of it.
“I am sorry,” the Eridian hummed, so sadly. He meant it. “I will not let you die.”
Whatever rational part of Grace’s mind that still existed managed to come through. Rocky was right. He was always right.
His eyes shone and he blinked slowly like a cat. He couldn’t say out loud that he would try. It would only make him think more of the suffering and he just couldn’t. So he hoped Rocky would understand.
Rocky understood. He tilted his carapace towards Grace’s face so that it rested near his neck, affirming.
“...I’ll try,” the man whispered anyway, lips trembling. Devastated by the thought of having to live another day. Nevertheless, he brought his lips together and Rocky tilted a little further so that Grace could press a kiss against his suit. Somewhere, buried deep and intangibly, was gratitude.
Rocky nuzzled closer and cupped his cheek.
“Thank you.”