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The first time Ryland notices it, he thinks he’s imagining things.
A shimmer beneath his skin. A pulse of dull blue under the veins in his wrist that vanishes the second he stares too hard at it.
He doesn’t mention it to Simon.
At first, it’s easy to hide. Long sleeves. Gloves. Pretending the nausea is just another side effect from months trapped in that cursed coffin beneath the ocean. Simon doesn’t push too hard, though Ryland catches him watching sometimes— dark eyes heavy with concern, lips pressed into a thin line like he’s biting back questions.
Ryland hates that look.
Because Simon already saved him once.
He doesn’t deserve to have to do it again.
The thing in the ocean flashes across his mind in pieces: dark red blood, impossible eyes, the sound against the hull like something breathing. Then the radiation. The sickness afterward. Weeks of fever and hallucinations while Simon sat beside him reading scripture under his breath because neither of them knew what else to do.
The changes get worse slowly, then all at once.
His temperature fluctuates violently. His pupils stop looking quite human in dim lighting, stretching too wide, reflective in the dark. Sometimes he wakes up choking on seawater that isn’t there. Sometimes his fingertips split with glowing fractures beneath the skin before sealing themselves shut minutes later.
And the dreams.
God, the dreams.
Pressure. Endless black water. Something massive moving beneath him.
Calling to him.
Ryland starts avoiding Simon after that.
It isn’t hard at first. Simon spends most mornings buried in engine parts in the workshop behind the little coastal house they’d settled into. Ryland simply claims he’s tired, sick, overwhelmed. Simon accepts it with reluctant gentleness every single time.
Which somehow makes Ryland feel worse.
By the fourth day, Ryland can barely stand to look at himself.
The mirror shows patches of strange bioluminescence spreading faintly across his ribs. Not enough to fully glow yet, but enough that in darkness he casts an eerie dim light against the bathroom walls.
Monster.
The word loops endlessly in his head.
Not human.
Not anymore.
So Ryland hides.
It’s stupid, objectively. Embarrassing, even.
But sometime after midnight Simon wakes to an empty bed, and Ryland is already curled beneath a pathetic makeshift fort built from blankets, couch cushions, and a flashlight-less camping lantern in the corner of the storage room.
Like hiding will somehow stop Simon from seeing him.
The door creaks open.
“Grace?”
Ryland freezes instantly.
Simon’s voice is rough with sleep and worry. “Angel?”
“No.”
It comes out too fast.
Too sharp.
Simon pauses.
Then softer, “No…?”
“Don’t look at me.”
Silence.
Ryland curls tighter into himself beneath the blankets, heart pounding so hard it hurts. His skin flickers faintly under the fabric like trapped deep-sea light.
“Ryland,” Simon says carefully, “what happened?”
“I said don’t look at me.”
There’s a tremor in his voice now. Humiliation crawls up his throat hot and choking.
He hears Simon step closer anyway.
The fort shifts slightly as Simon kneels outside it.
“Angel,” he murmurs, “you’re scaring me.”
Ryland laughs weakly, and it sounds dangerously close to a sob.
“You should be scared.”
Another pause.
Then, incredibly gently, Simon lifts one edge of the blanket.
Ryland immediately turns away, arms wrapping around his head.
“No, no, no— Simon, please—”
The glow beneath his skin illuminates the cramped little space in dim blue streaks. His hands don’t fully look human anymore. Thin translucent webbing stretches faintly between trembling fingers, and glowing fractures trace up the sides of his throat like veins of light.
For several horrible seconds, Simon says nothing.
Ryland’s stomach drops.
Of course.
Of course this changes everything.
Then Simon quietly crawls into the fort with him.
The blankets shift awkwardly around broad shoulders and grease-stained clothes as Simon wedges himself into the tiny space without hesitation.
Ryland stares at him.
“What are you doing?”
Simon looks genuinely offended.
“You built a fort without me.”
Despite everything, a broken sound escapes Ryland that might’ve once been a laugh.
Simon reaches forward slowly, carefully, giving Ryland every opportunity to pull away.
When Ryland doesn’t, Simon cups his face gently in both hands.
His palms are warm.
Solid.
Human.
“You listen to me now,” Simon says softly, eyes unwavering even as blue light reflects across his skin. “I dragged you out of hell once already. You think glowing a little is gonna make me leave?”
Ryland’s eyes burn suddenly.
“You don’t understand,” he whispers. “Something’s wrong with me.”
“Yeah,” Simon says immediately. “Probably. Radiation poisoning. Sea monster nonsense. Government experiments. I don’t know.” His thumb brushes carefully beneath Ryland’s eye. “But you’re still you.”
Ryland shakes his head hard.
“You didn’t see what happened down there.”
Simon’s expression softens into something painfully tender.
“No,” he admits quietly. “But I see you now.”
That almost breaks him.
Ryland folds inward with a strangled sound, hiding his face against Simon’s shoulder as the shaking finally starts. Simon immediately wraps both arms around him, blankets and all, holding him together so tightly Ryland thinks he might fall apart otherwise.
“There you are,” Simon whispers into his hair. “There’s my angel.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
The glow beneath Ryland’s skin pulses weakly in the darkness between them.
Simon doesn’t flinch once.
Instead, he presses a kiss against Ryland’s temple and murmurs, “We’ll figure it out.”
Ryland’s breathing slowly evens out against Simon’s shoulder, though the trembling never fully stops.
Simon keeps one arm wrapped tightly around his waist while the other strokes carefully through sweat-damp curls. The tiny blanket fort glows dim blue around them now, Ryland’s changing body turning the enclosed space into something almost underwater.
Neither of them speaks for a long while.
Then Ryland whispers, barely audible:
“You should’ve left me there.”
Simon goes completely still.
“No.”
“You didn’t know what I was bringing back with me.”
“That didn’t matter.”
Ryland laughs weakly against his shoulder. “Easy to say now.”
Simon pulls back just enough to look at him properly.
“No,” he says quietly. “Not now. Then.”
Ryland avoids his eyes immediately.
Simon sighs softly through his nose before leaning his forehead against Ryland’s.
“When Rocky and Adrian picked up the signal from the Lung, we thought it was junk at first.” His thumb rubs slow circles into Ryland’s side beneath the blanket. “Half-broken systems. Radiation spikes. Life support barely functioning.”
Ryland’s glowing fingers tighten slightly in Simon’s shirt.
“Then Adrian said there was a human inside.”
The memory visibly passes through Simon all over again.
“I don’t think I’ve ever moved that fast in my life.”
Ryland swallows hard.
Simon gives a quiet, humorless laugh. “Rocky kept yelling at me to slow down because I almost crashed the damn shuttle trying to get there.”
“You crashed anyway,” Ryland mutters automatically.
“A little.”
“A little,” Ryland echoes faintly.
For a second, something warm flickers between them.
Then Simon’s face softens again.
“You know what I saw when we finally got the hatch open?”
Ryland immediately shakes his head.
“Not a monster,” Simon says before he can spiral again. “Not some terrifying deep-sea thing.”
His hand cups Ryland’s jaw carefully.
“I saw a terrified man trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t dying.”
Ryland’s eyes sting.
Simon continues quietly, voice rough around the edges now.
“You could barely stand, angel. You kept apologizing.” He smiles sadly. “Adrian was trying to check your vitals and you were apologizing to him for bleeding on the floor.”
Mortification flashes across Ryland’s face.
“Oh my god.”
“You also cried because Rocky called you ‘squishy human friend.’”
“I was heavily concussed.”
“You cried a lot, actually.”
“Simon.”
“I thought you were gonna die.”
That kills the tiny thread of humor instantly.
Simon’s voice cracks slightly on the confession.
The silence afterward feels heavy and honest.
“You got so sick after we brought you aboard,” Simon says more quietly. “Radiation poisoning, organ damage, decompression issues— Adrian practically lived in medbay for two weeks.” His expression twists with remembered fear. “There was one night your fever got so high Adrian thought your nervous system was shutting down.”
Ryland stares at him.
Simon looks exhausted just remembering it.
“I sat beside your bed listening to those monitors for three straight days because every time I left the room something happened.”
Ryland’s throat tightens painfully.
“You don’t understand,” Simon murmurs. “I already know what it’s like to watch you become something unrecognizable.”
Ryland freezes.
Simon brushes trembling fingers carefully over one of the glowing fractures at his throat.
“When I found you, you were half-dead, irradiated, terrified, and fresh out of a machine that should’ve killed you.” His eyes lift back to Ryland’s. “And I still fell in love with you.”
Ryland makes a small wounded sound.
“So no,” Simon says firmly, voice gentle but unwavering. “I am not leaving because your skin glows now.”
The blue light beneath Ryland’s skin flickers unevenly.
Simon smiles softly.
“If anything,” he says, “this is honestly less concerning than the giant murder ocean.”
A startled laugh breaks out of Ryland before he can stop it.
“There he is,” Simon whispers immediately, relief pouring through the words like sunlight. “That’s my angel.”
Ryland ducks his face again, overwhelmed and embarrassed all at once.
Simon just holds him tighter.
Outside the fort, the house creaks quietly in the night wind.
Inside, wrapped in blankets and dim blue light, Ryland finally lets himself believe that Simon means it.
Ryland goes quiet after that.
Not the tense, panicked silence from earlier.
Just overwhelmed.
Simon can feel it in the way Ryland curls closer without seeming to realize he’s doing it, forehead tucked beneath Simon’s chin while the faint blue glow beneath his skin pulses slowly in the dark.
For a while, Simon simply holds him.
Then, softly:
“You know what the first thing you did after Adrian stabilized you was?”
Ryland groans immediately. “Please don’t say something humiliating.”
“Oh, it was deeply humiliating.”
“Simon.”
“You bit me.”
Ryland jerks back in horror.
“I did not—”
“You absolutely did.” Simon sounds delighted now. “Not hard. More like…” He gestures vaguely. “A deeply distressed warning nibble.”
Ryland hides his face in both hands.
“Oh my god.”
“You hissed too.”
“I was traumatized!”
“I know,” Simon says gently.
The teasing fades from his voice as quickly as it came.
Ryland slowly lowers his hands again.
Simon watches him carefully before continuing.
“When you first woke up on Erid, you were terrified of everything.” His thumb strokes absently along Ryland’s wrist. “Not cautious. Terrified.”
Ryland looks away immediately.
“You couldn’t handle people touching you at first. Loud noises made you panic. Half the time if a door opened too fast you’d bolt.” Simon’s expression softens with painful fondness. “The first week, you kept trying to hide under furniture.”
Ryland mutters something mortified into the blanket.
“What was that, angel?”
“I said the vents looked safe.”
Simon bites back a smile.
“They did apparently look safe because Adrian found you in one three separate times.”
Ryland groans louder.
“But that’s my point,” Simon says quietly.
Ryland stills.
Simon shifts slightly so he can look him fully in the eyes.
“You think this changes things because you’re scared of becoming something inhuman.” His fingers brush carefully against the glowing lines under Ryland’s skin. “But I’ve already watched you claw your way back to yourself once.”
Ryland’s expression falters.
“You don’t remember how bad it was,” Simon murmurs.
And maybe Ryland doesn’t.
Trauma has a way of softening edges sometimes. Blurring things mercifully.
But Simon remembers.
He remembers finding Ryland flinching from his own reflection in the medbay monitor.
Remembers Ryland waking from nightmares so violently Adrian had to sedate him twice.
Remembers the screaming.
Not angry screaming.
Terrified screaming.
The kind pulled from somewhere primal.
“He wouldn’t let anyone near him at first,” Adrian had whispered quietly one night outside medbay while Simon sat on the floor with his head in his hands. “Not even Rocky.”
And Rocky had adored Ryland instantly.
Simon remembers the first time Ryland looked at him directly after the rescue.
Not with recognition.
With fear.
Like Simon himself was another monster crawling out of the dark.
“I couldn’t even hand you water without you shaking,” Simon says softly now. “You cried every time Adrian had to do blood draws. You apologized constantly for taking up space.” His mouth twists painfully. “You kept asking if we were going to throw you back.”
Ryland’s face crumples a little at that.
Simon reaches up immediately, brushing tears from beneath glowing eyes before they can fall.
“But then,” Simon says, voice warming gently, “you started trying.”
Ryland watches him quietly.
“You started sitting with Rocky during repairs.” A faint smile tugs at Simon’s mouth. “Even though his singing scared the hell out of you.”
“It was loud.”
“It was opera.”
“It was terrifying.”
Simon snorts softly.
“You started helping Adrian organize the medbay. You started sleeping without barricading the door.” His hand settles over Ryland’s heartbeat. “You laughed eventually.”
Ryland’s eyes lower.
“I remember the first real laugh,” Simon says quietly. “You looked shocked afterward. Like you forgot you still could.”
The blanket fort is silent except for their breathing.
Simon leans forward slightly until their foreheads touch again.
“So don’t sit here and tell me you’re becoming a monster.” His voice is low and certain. “I watched you survive impossible things and still stay gentle.”
Ryland’s breath catches.
“You know what I saw after all that fear?” Simon whispers.
Ryland shakes his head slightly.
“A man who still apologized to spiders before putting them outside.”
A watery laugh escapes Ryland.
Simon smiles immediately.
“A man who cried because Rocky made him a blanket.” Another kiss against Ryland’s forehead. “A man who still gets flustered every time I call him angel.”
Ryland flushes faintly blue beneath the glow.
Simon’s expression turns achingly tender.
“Whatever’s happening to your body,” he says softly, “it doesn’t erase who you are.”
Ryland’s eyes shine dangerously again.
Simon brushes their noses together gently.
“You fought so hard to stop being afraid,” he murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere just because you’re scared again.”