Work Text:
“Hi, Rocky.”
For a moment, Rocky believed it. The warm touch, a fond and loving voice, undoubtedly recognizable. He’s here.
“Grace, question?”
Rocky perked up—stood up to listen, but they did not hear a heartbeat—his heartbeat. There is no hand the warmth could have come from, no face to put the voice to. It was empty. Only the small waves that crash on the artificial beach.
Rocky settled back down near the gravestone. It was inevitable, they know, but that did not lessen the the impact when he came to pass. Rocky puts two of his claws above his carapace and makes a long, high pitched sound. Grace had called it crying. It was a way for his people to let out a great deal of emotion. They can be happy and joyous or done out of grief.
“Disgust. Leaky space blob disgust.” Rocky had said.
And Grace would give a chuckle. “Yeah we are, but I’m your space blob.”
It was true. Grace was theirs as Rocky was his. Forever intertwined from the moment they made first contact to the moment Rocky could no longer hear him. His heart had stopped.
…
“Rocky miss Grace.” Rocky nestles closer to the stone. They can stay a bit longer. For Grace. They always watch over each other.