Chapter Text
“We’re all gonna die anyway. I prefer to do it alone.”
Black solemnly walks away from the Cafeteria, their own words echoing through their head. Nihilistic? Yes. Realistic? …Unfortunately yes.
Brown was attacked and killed while everyone was still in Cafeteria reflecting on Yellow’s ejection. Though Purple and Red argued as Green sat by themselves, no one could have possibly committed the crime while being in two places at once. But the more thoughts that came from attempting to answer this mystery, the more questions resulted. Would an alien crewmate like Orange roaming around still be feasible? Obviously it couldn’t be Orange, but was someone else infected? Is there a lone alien lurking that they haven’t caught yet? Is some other unidentified force killing their crew? Black didn’t know the answer. Everything was too confusing. All they had on their mind was doing their mindless tasks. Better check the Ore-Plus, they thought. It’s the only job I’ll have left before I meet my untimely death.
Entering through the Storage room doors, Black absentmindedly grabs their clipboard where they left it by the Ore-Plus containers and starts working. With the overbearing force of Orange no longer breathing down their conjoined body and neck, there was no need to be thorough. A quick check and leave would suffice.
Black picks up a rock on the ground and briefly inspects it, tossing it away to confirm that no damage has been done to it. After inking the box, however, Black finds themselves reevaluating a truly horrifying sight. The sight of their fallen crewmates strewn across a corner of the Storage floor. The bodies themselves are individually covered by tarps with the intent to be hidden, but noticeable enough to make for a devastating scene when one unfortunate soul lays their eyes upon it.
At that moment, it was Black.
“What am I doing?” questions Black. “This isn’t even Storage anymore. It’s a cemetery that we’re keeping rocks in.” In a fit of anguish, Black tosses their clipboard and pen to the ground, the crash of which rattles and echoes throughout the room. Their dead comrades didn’t deserve to be fated to MIRA’s negligence. These were all people. Their lives shouldn’t be lumped in with the product they died trying to transport. It wasn’t right.
Black can’t bear to look at the scene any longer. They prepare to walk out of the room, but something stops them in their tracks. They slowly turn their head around, finding the body of Cyan amidst the other corpses laid on the Storage floorboards. Black winces. They can’t leave just yet. There’s still something they must do.
Oh, Cyan.
Black waddles their way near the dead bodies and slumps down, sitting beside the body that used to belong to Cyan.
Despite all the time they spent together, Cyan’s talk of emotional wavelengths and uplifting auras remained quite puzzling to Black. Furthermore, they were never much of an outgoing people-person to begin with, much unlike Cyan. Communicating their non-negative thoughts or feelings was a challenge to say the least, and certainly something they hadn’t done often prior to this moment; but to remember Cyan’s spirit, they willingly attempted to speak earnestly. Deep down, they cared about Cyan, a lot. Black just hoped whatever they said next would be heard by them, someway, somehow.
They begin to speak out loud. “Maybe I was too jaded. Maybe if you heard that, you would have told me all about the energy benefits of jade.” They lightly chuckle, humorously imagining Cyan ranting endlessly over one of their dozens of crystals to them. But this bright, imaginative scenario quickly fades as Black remembers that Cyan is not there to respond, facing total silence once again. Black tries to bounce back, dryly exclaiming “pun intended.” This didn’t necessarily help the conversation at hand, but at least Cyan would be able to catch the pun beyond the grave.
As Black continues, they pause to think hard about how they could best apologize for their previous behavior. In their heart, they knew nothing could redeem them. Black pushed Cyan away, with there being no one else to blame but themselves. A lump in their throat forms. How does anyone do this? Black wondered. How am I supposed to say what I mean when I don’t even know how to describe what I feel? It felt cowardly to express these emotions, and their vulnerability felt humiliating, but they had to try.
“I’m sorry.” Black’s words of sincerity linger in the air like a weight being lifted off a dove’s wings. “You were always nice to me. You were nice to everyone. You wanted us to share a passion for rocks, and I stonewalled you.” It was a cathartic experience, but a relieving one releasing their thoughts into the world. This must’ve been how Cyan felt, since they always shared what was on their mind, yet they were stonewalled by Black regardless.
“...Pun intended.” Once again, Black hopes the pun comes across for any nearby listeners, if there were to be any; but this time, a real sadness creeps upon these words, and no more are said.
They sat in silence a while after that, looking at the remnants of a person who very well could have been their friend. They were happy… And now they were gone. What made them deserve such a cruel fate?
They look down again. However, this time, when gazing over Cyan’s body, something different stood out.
Black reaches for Cyan’s dream journal, sliding it out of their backpack. Black thumbs the cover page, looking over it intently. It was adorned with bright, bold pastel colors and lettering with Cyan’s name on it, decorated with a drawing of a crewdolphin. It was absurd, but charming nonetheless. “This your weirdo notebook?” Black knowingly asks this rhetorically, but part of them still lies awaiting a response they know will never be received. They briefly wallow in their sadness, unable to move their body, sitting with the realization that their only partner was taken from them. Black lets out a shaky breath. Maybe, just maybe, by reading this dumb notebook, a part of Cyan would stick with them.
But just as they start to open it, a sudden wave of uneasiness hits Black. With the journal not even halfway open, Black shuts it tight. They ponder for a moment. No. No, this isn’t what Cyan would want. Black’s thoughts were now racing through their head. I never showed them any interest. This is what I get. What gives me the right to fly through their personal diaries as if I wasn’t the one crewmate who shut them down entirely?
Their grip on the journal tightens. Black grits their teeth.
I’m not a good person. I was never a good person. I will never be a good person.
Their breathing accelerates, with their negative thoughts frantically circulating through their head, consuming their conscience. Now holding tightly to the journal, Black catches their breath, easing themself into a regular respiratory rhythm. Hands still shaking, they loosen their grip on the journal, sinking further into their seated position, their eyes looking down upon their own body.
“You’re right. I don’t deserve to be happy… Not after what I did to you.”
They set the journal down to their side and place their palms on their face. Exasperated, they release a deep sigh. No one is here to save them. No one can wind back the clock so they can fix the many mistakes they’ve made. An innocent life was taken from them because they couldn’t stop being negative all the time. Pitiful.
Black turns back to take another look at Cyan’s hand peeking out from underneath their resting place. It felt wrong, seeing them like this, unable to use their cheerful demeanor to prevent the horrible fate they were met with. It must’ve been awful, Black thought. Why couldn’t I have just been there in Electrical? I could’ve prevented this whole thing if I kept my mouth shut.
Eventually, the thoughts begin to clear as Black composes themselves. They pull down the filthy, beige tarp stained with splotches of red, uncovering their deceased friend. They rest the tarp on the upper half of Cyan's waist, finally able to see part of their body. Black stares at the back of their head, eyeing the crumpled crown of flowers that still remains on top. Directing their gaze downwards, they see the amethyst necklace laying on the ground over Cyan’s right shoulder, lifting it off the metal flooring with their two large fingers. They study the crystal, placing it directly in the center of their vision, toying with the string by twirling it between their thumb and index finger. This time, a different thought crosses their mind. Maybe the talk of star signs and spirits and gems never mattered to anyone else, but they mattered to Cyan.
Black’s eyes droop, and their hands become limp. They vaguely stare at the back of Cyan’s head once again. Their hand clenches into a fist, burrowing the amethyst crystal inside it. The feelings burning inside were near indescribable. They felt nothing but resentment towards the entity that did this, nothing but sorrow for the loss of what could have been a great friend, and nothing but confusion over the entire situation. All of these pent-up emotions culminated in a fit of rage. Black squeezed the gemstone in their hands as hard as they could, but it showed no signs of breaking anytime soon. Instead of restraining themselves, Black held onto the amethyst in one hand and, channeling all of their strength, curled their other hand into a fist and smashed it against the ground. They let out a scream of unadulterated agony, trembling, shivering in the cold abyss of loneliness. They lift their fist up. Naturally, there was no dent on the metal floorboards.
So they pummel the ground again. And again. And again. And again. They keep slamming their fist against the metal, each consecutive one with more force than the last until they couldn’t continue any longer. It was all too much to fully comprehend. Black lifted up their hand to view their knuckles, bruised and bloody. On the verge of tears, they still managed a small smirk when viewing the decently small dent they created on the floor, even though it was covered with drops of their blood.
They choke on their words, struggling to get any out. Their voice becomes hushed. Black attempts to say something, anything, but all that escapes is the air from their breath.
Black gives themselves a few moments to think. What would they want to tell Cyan after all of this time? What did they need to know? And how could they say it?
“…”
“I'll miss you.”
It was the only thing they could say, and it was undeniably true. They would miss Cyan more than anyone could possibly imagine, especially considering how Black treated them throughout their time spent together. The way Cyan smiled, their constant insistence on maintaining “good vibes”, their excitement when rising to the task for any given situation. In retrospect, there was nothing bad that could have been said. If only they had lived long enough for Black to finally understand them.
Black contemplates in solitude, swallowing their guilt deep inside to their gut. Cyan didn't deserve this… No one did.
These conflicting emotions were too much to handle all at once, with their vision now blurred by the swelling of tears. Black diverts their attention away to wipe the tears off their visor, taking multiple sniffling deep breaths to recenter themselves. They take one last look at the crystal before setting it back where it used to lay, precisely adjusting it to be slightly tilted to the east as if to rewind the moment back in time. With a melancholic sigh, they begin gently tugging at the tarp to conceal the body once again.
But they couldn't go through with it. Black lets go of the tarp, and after giving it some thought, they grab Cyan’s shoulders. A few seconds later, Cyan’s body is overturned, with their blank expression now facing towards them. Looking at Cyan, face to face, was rather upsetting, but in its own twisted way, it was somewhat relieving. Of course, there was the blood and scarred tissue caused by the alien, or whatever other thing it is, across their eyes and most of their face. Their visor was completely cracked, only hanging on by a thread, and their expression was uncomfortable to look at for an extended period of time; but the act of looking at them, observing them in a state of peace and quiet, made Black a bit more comfortable.
Regardless, Black reaches towards Cyan’s face. “What do I do?”
Black places their hand on the smooth, beanish head of Cyan, gently moving their hand downwards as if they were feeling the silky fur of a wild animal.
Suddenly, Black’s hand stops moving.
A feeling.
That’s not right. No, it can’t be right. They quickly take their hand off of Cyan’s body. Someone must be coming.
But as they sharply turn their body behind them, no being is in sight.
They lay down with their head turned to the side and their hands placed against the floor, but don’t feel anything. No footsteps, no irregular beats, nothing. Just the low rumbling of the engine blasting off through the starry abyss of space.
Black stands up, deep within their thoughts.
Surely not… But what if…?
Black gets on their knees and darts their gaze back at Cyan. With swiftness, they grab hold of the remainder of the tarp and fling it out of sight; and without hesitation, Black lays their hand on Cyan’s chest. Their head pressed against Cyan’s body as well, Black holds their breath and listens carefully.
“…”
“…”
“…”
A beat.
Black’s heart nearly sinks to the bottom of their feet. They hunch back into a standing position as their thoughts start spewing out. Their breathing quickly becomes frenetic as their heart races. This… This can’t be happening! Black reflected. How could no one have noticed?! They place their head down again to verify that this was real. Black holds their breath again.
“...”
“...”
A heartbeat.
There was no doubt about it, and no time to lose. Black hurriedly scoops up Cyan, using both of their hands to cradle their body. Almost stumbling and tripping over immediately from the weight, Black regains their balance and steadily lugs Cyan as fast as they are able towards the Cafeteria.
“Don’t worry. You’re gonna be okay.”