Work Text:
Subspace turns the handle to his wonderful home, all too excited to see Medkit. He always is, this is a daily occurrence. He used to sleep at work, until Medkit moved in with him. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else besides where his favoritest person ever is, obviously!! As he enters, it’s oddly silent. Entirely lacking in anything that could be noise from Medkit. He has most sounds of his memorized. Each little sigh, the way he walks, even the different meanings of the noncommittal noises he makes!!
“...Meeedddyyy?” He calls out, shutting the door behind him. There’s just a lingering silence, stagnant and moldy. Something he had chosen to ignore for some time. Or more that he is blind to, having chosen to drink in the scent of saccharine feelings that have long since rotted. Leaving behind the damp cellar of what truly was.
With a huff, he starts investigating. Fine. Medkit must be out. No texts or anything, so surely he left a note. He always does that, he even prefers it to text! What a cute habit of his; this obsession with old, physical things. Subspace checks the table, the counters… nothing. Confused, he stumbles to the bedroom, as perhaps it was left on the nightstand?
Empty.
Where is everything?
Medkit had been slowly moving all of his belongings into the bedroom, talking about the two moving to somewhere new sometime soon—he had agreed to this!---and wanting to be prepared sooner rather than later. But the two had no plans on moving. So why is everything… gone?
All of Medkit’s stuff, anyway. Nothing of Subspace’s has been moved.
There is no note. There is no Medkit.
He’s in the bathroom before he can really think about it, flushing the evidence of his distress. He’s… hollow now. Empty. Literally, considering that he just threw up.
Of course. Medkit must have never really loved him in the first place. Or even wanted to be around him. Surely he had been stringing him along this whole time, whether out of pity or to play this cruel joke on him. No matter what the motivation is, Subspace knows the truth. There was no love between them. He had been taken advantage of and hurt so severely, and Medkit must not feel bad. Not enough to even leave a note.
He tries texting. He tries calling. Medkit hasn’t blocked his number, which is the worst part. What is this? Why? Were they not happy? He loved him, did he not love him back? Why did he pack up and leave?
An attempt is made to look it up, see why it might have happened. Escaping abusive situations, borderline abusers… surely not. Well, Subspace also knows his way around programming, and he knows Medkit’s logins. Each and every single one, meticulously cataloged, just like everything else about Medkit. It would be so embarrassing to claim he loves him and then just… not know everything.
Medkit’s search history is not much better. But what really stands out is his last three searches. This is the note left behind.
I’m sorry Subspace
Live happily
We just were never compatible.
The other searches are casual, made in fleeting moments, checking things. Like the classification of a crow, when the two were discussing it. Obviously, Subspace had been right. He always is.
And the… other-other searches. Patches, fragments, like the more incriminating ones had been deleted. He knows this was never Medkit’s main account, but he was careful to never log into that one where he could see. And this must be why. To make a clean getaway. To… what? Escape a borderline abuser? Subspace has never laid a hand on Medkit. He has tried his hardest to be good to him. Be good for him. Yelling at people less, being quieter, not referring to people as expendable… so much. It wasn’t enough? Could it… ever be enough?
We just never were compatible.
Subspace sobs, curling up into the space on Medkit’s side of the bed. It still smells like him, the last remaining traces before he vanishes completely. The two had fought as newspawn, yes, but they got past that, didn’t they? Even after everything, they moved through it, stuck together. So… why now?
Shudders and forceful attempts at tears beat through him, yet find no reprieve. No comfort, no being held and told it will be okay. He can’t cry. He lacks the ability to, just like how he lacks lips, and couldn't kiss Medkit. The two had gotten over that quickly, there were other ways to be affectionate, after all. Medkit wasn’t very… affectionate in general, but that had just been something he expressed since spawning in. He did not like being touched, or handled, or anyone standing close to him. Subspace has always been the opposite, yet he had gone so long without affection. The supervisors would provide… some. Scraps of it, just what was acceptable. Never enough. Subspace would get a hand on his shoulder and it would feel like everything inside of him was exploding. Yet nobody was willing to do more with him. Because they were all below him, of course! None would dare to overstep and try to touch a superior!! Not even him. So he accepted what he would be given, and tried to move on.
Medkit compromised with him. As long as touch was not sudden, and he could pull away from it, Subspace could touch him. It was constant, and sometimes Medkit would tell him no. But that was fine. He loves him, so being denied wasn’t the worst, yet it also was. Any time anyone ever says no, it destroys him. Medkit saying no had been so frequent that it stopped stinging so bad, stopped causing him to fall apart.
Surely a sign of Medkit’s feelings. That he has always hated him, and only got with him out of pity. We just never were compatible. Pity. If there’s one thing worse than rejection, it’s pity. Medkit surely knew that, since the two had been in such close quarters for so long. So why pity him instead of just… rejecting him? It would hurt less. So much less. Not… years of pitying attention, pretending to love him, making all these plans just to run away.
Because he had done it to hurt him. Medkit stuck around, hating each moment near him, just to culminate this bitter, hateful attack, to push Subspace into a pit of despair, to laugh and mock from a distance. He was likely even in love with another—he saw the way he looked at other inphernals, he paid so much attention to that—and was off into their arms right now!!!
…But Medkit is sorry for this. He didn’t really want to leave, he just felt that he needed to. Had Subspace been suffocating him? He can change. He really can. Defect from Blackrock, take care of Medkit. Stay at home and do everything for him. He can spend more time at work if Medkit wants. Leave him alone, let him keep the apartment to himself and only bother him once a week. Anything to stay together, anything to not hurt like this.
What if he’s wrong, though? He’s already sent varying texts to Medkit, all under those three branches of reasoning, all rooted under what did I do?
But what didn’t he do?
Medkit is the one who chose to leave, to not try to work it out. Before he even knows what he’s doing, Subspace blocks him, and throws his phone on the bed behind him. It bounces once, twice, then finally gives up near the edge of the bed, teetering on something destructive.
Subspace stands up with an impulsive kind of finality, digs through his clothes, then pushes the phone back to safety as he changes. That cute outfit he hasn’t put on in so long, something he wore to comfort himself, then something to wear on certain dates with Medkit.
Not that he knows where he’s going, but he’s stalking out of the cold apartment, out onto the streets. Where it is cold. And he did not grab a jacket. Not that he needs one, burning up with resolute fire and tension. It is cold. Bitingly so. He is not going back inside the apartment, or he might just give up now.
That’s how he finds himself in a bar.
Cliche, and incredibly embarrassing. He can’t drink alcohol, nor does he want to. So he’s in a little booth, having awkwardly ordered the first drink he looked at, sitting around and moping. He had gotten too cold, and opted for a warm building. Yes, it is quite warm here, more than just the temperature. Warm, private conversations, bubbles of laughter and inside jokes… It makes him envious. He used to have that with Medkit. In private, as Medkit hates PDA. Or… was that an excuse?
“...and he just—moved to Crossroads outta nowhere?! Like, hello, I’ve been seeing you for treatment for weeks, and I get a sloppy, six-word letter that either I make the trip to Crossroads, or you stop…”
Well, there’s very few inphernals Subspace knows of that fits that. Treatment, suddenly moving away. Crossroads. Of course. It only makes sense for Medkit to run away to that lawless place, in case Subspace comes looking.
He won’t. No. In fact, he wants to hear nothing of Medkit. So he scans the room, looking for an empty booth to switch to… is that Hyperlaser? Looking right at him. Sure. He’ll go bother him. He can’t see any other empty booths. Anything to get away from this conversation he’s forced to overhear. Some inphernals simply don’t know how to control their volume. Him included.
When he comes over, slides into Hyperlaser’s booth, there’s an odd tension to the other inphernal’s shoulders, though it looks almost casual. Like he is trying to pretend that nothing’s up, even when there is. That’s not Subspace’s problem. “You have been staring at me quite rudely, Hyperlaser.”
Due to Medkit’s positive influence, Subspace has been treating his… co-workers quite well. Much better than before, at least. Enough to be civil, almost make… friends. Hyperlaser especially so. To the point he lacks the urge to talk down to him and belittle him like he did before. To the point Hyperlaser has reached out to contact him a few times, inviting him places. Always being shut down, since all Subspace wanted was to be around Medkit. Not anymore! Next invitation, he will agree.
“You being here is a surprise, Subspace. You have mentioned a lack of interest in drinking.”
Subspace stares down at his hands, then forces himself to look at Hyperlaser’s helmet again. “Yes. I still have no interest in it. It was… cold outside. That’s all.”
Hyperlaser is silent for a while, and he drags a gloved finger along the rim of his half-empty glass. There’s a straw in it, likely so he can drink without taking his helmet off. “Do you not have a jacket?”
Ugh. Embarrassing. “It’s none of your business!” He snaps, then pauses. “...I do. I have a jacket. At… home.” It’s not even home anymore. Not while it’s empty, missing what made it comfortable. Why would he ever want to go back? Perhaps he doesn’t. He should gather his belongings and move back into his lab fully. But he got so many new things for the apartment, it would be a waste. He’ll just have to take it over. Cut out the weeds of Medkit, plant the flowers of Subspace. Take over each space where Medkit had begrudgingly put something of his after Subspace begged enough. All empty, voids of what once was. What should have been forever. Medkit promised weekly to never leave him. What a lie that was, such a cruel one. Forever, until he wanted to leave. Without saying anything.
“Why did you not wear it?” It’s an innocent question, really, asked with genuine curiosity.
Genuine.
“I did not feel the need to.” He manages to bite down the rude remark he wants to make, entirely for the sake of being nice. He came over to Hyperlaser’s booth and sat down without asking, already snapped at him, and he’s still trying to be better. To prove to himself that he’s better, that he doesn’t need Medkit. “...Now I do.”
There’s some hesitance, seen in how Hyperlaser’s fingers stutter against the glass. Brief, then he lets go of it entirely. “What did you really come here for, Subspace?” Blunt, in a way that stings so deeply. Being read by someone is humiliating, especially someone he doesn’t reveal everything to. Medkit reading him was so different. He was just… so empathetic, too much, and let Subspace present everything to him, analyzed every nerve and vein with so much care, and read him with love. Or fake-love. All to mock him.
“I just… wanted to go out! It was cold, and I needed to warm up, so I came here! That’s it.”
“You never want to go out. Did something happen?”
Silence. Long and cold. Though not stagnant, as Hyperlaser stands up, grabbing the neatly folded jacket next to him. “You should go home, Subspace.” Maybe knowing he’ll protest, or deny or fight, Hyperlaser’s already offering his jacket. Using shock to silence him. “My coat, take it with you, stay warm. Return it to me tomorrow.”
He stares for a while, then shakily reaches up to take the coat. Warm, used. His jacket is at home, he could have easily taken it. It was self-punishment to do any of this. Wear an outfit not made for the bitter chill, that snow easily seeps through, and walk around until he can’t take it anymore.
Yet Hyperlaser is willingly undoing all of that. Offering him a warmth he would be insane to refuse.
“You need this more than I do. Or are we forgetting about your burns now?”
“It won’t kill me.”
“And me being cold will?”
A small huff of laughter, heard mostly through the muffled echo from his helmet. Something in Subspace crumbles, like an in-construction wall getting knocked down.
So he stands up, puts the coat on. It’s practically the same size as his, so it fits comfortably. Just a bit of a nuisance against the Rot. His would be, too, if not for when Medkit spent so much of his time messily sewing a layer of silk into it. He had to redo it so many times, and it would have been much more efficient to pay someone else to do it, yet it was so caring. Done for the sake of affection rather than need.
Silence settles in like another layer, the two just looking at each other. “Tomorrow at what time?” Subspace breaks it, to figure out where he has to plan a detour in his schedule.
“Noon.”
Casual, so casual. Medkit was rarely ever casual like that, always so… posh. Stiff, even in his vulnerable moments. Never really relaxed, like the feeling wasn’t one he could experience. While his body could melt, his mind never could.
Subspace nods. “Noon it is. Not a minute late, or perhaps you won’t get the coat back at all.” A more playful version of his old threats.
Hyperlaser nods. Twice. Usually, he only nods once. Hesitant over something. “Your outfit,” it almost feels blurted out, but he knows how heavily Hyperlaser thinks on everything. “It looks good on you.”
“Of course!! I always look good! It’s natural.” A haughty playing off of the compliment, but it burns. It burns so deeply and scorches his brain, leaving permanent marks of char that will never recover. “Don’t be late.” Ending the conversation there, unable to handle it for a moment longer. Walking off quickly.
Since there’s no protest, he can only assume the desire to end the conversation was mutual. And he’s all too quick to go home, hastily zipping up the jacket perhaps a third of the way back, having been so warm he hadn’t realized it was unzipped.
He doesn’t even bother taking it off, just frantically kicking off his shoes and checking. Is Medkit back? Maybe he changed his mind? No. Nothing. There’s a key on the table he ignored earlier. Medkit’s key to the apartment. He turns quickly, darting to the bedroom and throwing himself under the blanket. His side, he wouldn’t be able to bear being on Medkit’s right now.
While his original plan was to cry, be wracked with sobs that have no physical escape, he finds himself… oddly calm. Focused on the smell of cat and something vaguely electric. Mostly that last part, because it bewilders him. What could that be? What has Hyperlaser been messing with? It takes an embarrassing amount of time to puzzle out that it’s most definitely his gear. In his defense, his mental state is currently not the best. He’s all… distracted by everything! Medkit just abandoned him!!
Subspace aggressively sits up, unzipping the jacket and… what an odd impulse. Instead of laying it on his bed, he gets up and sets it lightly on a chair out in the kitchen. If Medkit comes back, he hopes he sees it and thinks Subspace has moved on, and that he didn’t mean anything to him at all. Otherwise, he would give back in and do anything to have him again, if Medkit even gave him the vaguest impression that he might stay.
He wakes up in the middle of the night, missing the comfort of Medkit sleeping beside him. He looks over, and the absence is painful. Without even really knowing what he’s doing, he grabs the jacket again, curling up on the couch, using it as a blanket. The couch itself is almost uncomfortable for this. Soft, comfortable against his skin to sit on… yet not good for sleeping, not like the bed. But he can’t bring himself to sleep there now, especially not with Hyperlaser’s jacket.
Waking up alone in the morning, no smell of Medkit brewing coffee at an absurd hour, is devastating. How is he supposed to go about his daily routine if half of it is missing?
Not that he has the time to mope. No. He has work to do. Work that he loves. Work that won’t change even with the gaping chasm in his life. The hole that will only continue to grow.
So he goes about his morning routine, pausing many times to figure out how to do something while alone. He used to have Gamma for all this. Then Medkit. Now nothing. For today. He’ll start taking Gamma home, as he really shouldn’t do these things without the assistance.
…He finds his mind wandering to what Hyperlaser’s routine is. Mostly because there’s a coat draped over his shoulders like a cape. He’s in his uniform, so he deliberately made this choice. Solely to remind him to return it. Yes. That’s all. There’s no thought in his mind at all to keep it, or swap it out with his—though perhaps silk-lining could be useful for Hyperlaser as well? He’ll think about it. Not switching jackets. Not that. But perhaps… paying for someone to line his with silk. Subspace doesn’t have the ability to… or perhaps he could with pieces of Gamma…
What is he thinking? Back to getting ready.
The day is so monotonous. He can’t even derive his usual pleasure from work, just counting down the time until noon. Thirty minutes beforehand, he takes off the coat, setting it on a counter. He brought his own jacket, as the forecast warns of a very sudden temperature drop around the time he goes home. It’s on another counter, so he won’t mix them up. Even if he slightly wants to.
Once Hyperlaser shows up, he quickly abandons his work. It’s embarrassing. Gamma mentions him waiting outside, and he gets up so fast that half of his papers spill onto the floor. Zero cares, just a rapid pace over to the coat, and then out the door. He’s more… casual in his approach, not wanting to seem eager. “You’re late.”
He’s not sure of the time himself. He hadn’t checked.
Hyperlaser perks up at the sound of his voice. Literally. “I am ten minutes early.”
Oh.
Subspace is checking the time next time. Everything burns and he needs to die. “Yes, being early hits the integer limit, and loops back around to being late. You did it to yourself. This is mine now.” He HATES integer limits with a passion, numbers should never be limited. But sometimes they are necessary, unfortunately.
It gets a laugh out of Hyperlaser, a small, quiet chuckle, really, and it’s more than enough to save Subspace from his doom and despair. “I wouldn’t be able to stop you. If you kept my coat.” It’s really just the standard one KORBLOX provides to all employees. Subspace wears it with pride, and Hyperlaser likely doesn’t see a need for a personal coat. So he could easily get a new one, claim he lost it and get it for free, for his health. The higher-ups wouldn’t like to lose a valuable soldier—their last one, really—to something so simple.
As much as he impulsively wishes to really keep it, Subspace hands it back. “Take it, before I decide you aren’t worthy of my grace and generosity!” A small part of him, insane and incredibly unwanted, desires Hyperlaser to say no, to make him keep it. But he takes it, and he’s almost relieved.
He puts it on, sparking curiosity in Subspace. Pauses, tilts his head slightly, but doesn’t say anything. Not right away, at least. Stands there for some time in slightly awkward silence, then stands straight. “You wore it home.”
“Of course. I’m not stupid! What, did you expect me to carry it home out of spite?” His heart is racing, which would probably be painful if not for medication. How does he know? How can he tell? It still smelled like Hyperlaser before he took it off, so there’s no way it smells like him, or anything like that. He hopes. He really hopes, actually. It would be so horrifying that he would have to never talk to Hyperlaser ever again.
There’s more silence. He’s getting real tired of silence. But he’s just going to stand here until something happens, because… he’s not sure. He really isn’t. “No, I did not expect anything of you, Subspace.” There’s more silence. And more silence. And more silence. Subspace almost considers leaving, if not for how curious he is over the tension in Hyperlaser’s shoulders, how he’s clearly hesitating over something. “Are you busy?”
Even more silence. This time, it’s from Subspace’s brain screeching to a halt, after being a train moving at a steady pace all day. “Excuse me?” He doesn’t mean for it to come off so rudely, and quickly tries to come up with a nicer way to put it. “I am. I’m always busy! I’m the Subspace T. Mine!! My work is constant and necessary, and I am never not working!” But there’s surely a reason for him to ask. “...I suppose I… could be persuaded away from my work! Just for a short time! Though I cannot fathom anything worthwhile to be pulled away from what is a very important duty.”
Almost immediately, Hyperlaser asks, “lunch.” Well, that part isn’t the question. The next part is. “Is lunch something that could persuade you?”
“...In… what context? ‘Lunch’ is a broad word, Hyperlaser!” And he can’t exactly eat. Or taste. So the answer, in most contexts, is no. “Lunch won’t get me out of my laboratory! Yet—”
Gamma, the terrible invention that it is, chimes in. “Creator! The filtration system has been active all day, why not just invite Hyperlaser inside? :D”
Once again, silence. Always awkward pauses with these two, hesitating over words and never quite knowing what to say. “...You know why, Gamma! You—” Subspace cuts himself off with a groan, crossing his arms. “Fine. Whatever. Ruin my work.” Walks off, more like throws a temper tantrum mentally and stomps off, but he’s going to be nice. He’s not an angsty teen.
Hyperlaser, oddly, seems too hesitant over this. Not what he wanted. If he didn’t want to spend time with Subspace, why did he ask in the first place?! “Do you not want to eat elsewhere?”
…Was Hyperlaser trying to get him to…? “No. I do not. I simply—” he cuts himself off, sighing all dramatically as Gamma comes bouncing over to him with the IV pole. Holding still through that whole process, also choosing to not look at Hyperlaser. “‘Lunch’ would be inconvenient elsewhere.”
Apparently not at all taken by surprise, or just able to hide it very well, Hyperlaser nods, taking a few decisive steps into the lab and… stopping. As if frozen. “I see. I did not plan for this outcome. You tend to not like anyone being in here.”
Gamma’s still doing… things. Subspace is not quite sure what the Biograft is up to. “I do not. I simply… tolerate you being in here. Because! Your pathetic request was simply so sad, I would feel bad if I said no!” Rude, defensive, and he tries not to be obvious about glancing at him, seeing if he’s offended him at all. He hopes not. Which is an odd feeling, considering how he tends to not really care for that type of thing. If he hurts someone, he hurts someone. That’s their fault for being sensitive. Or… that’s what he tells himself, at least.
All of a sudden, Gamma’s real close to Hyperlaser whispering to him before practically skipping off as the inphernal tenses, stiffening up completely. Forcing himself to relax with a shaky exhale that’s loud enough for Subspace to hear. Freezes up, likely embarrassed about that, and tries to calm down again. More… silently. “I see. Thank you, Subspace.”
Strange. Simple little things like that seem so much more exciting now.
“Ha! Of course, of course! You do owe me your gratitude, for I have so many better things to do than entertain you.”
Silence. Hesitantly, almost timid, Subspace creeps over to the little chair setup he has, the one necessary for his… periods of rest. Plops down in his usual chair, and makes the split-second, totally-not-impulsive, decision to gesture towards the other free chair. “Well? Sit down.”
Usually, that chair is reserved for Gamma. Medkit had defected from KORBLOX after the… accident, and he still cannot fathom why. Especially since he has been so unhappy since then. He has… some sort of job, though he never told Subspace who he worked for. Just that he was practically a doctor, no matter how much he hated that. Why? Why be unhappy like that? Anyway, Medkit never came to visit, devastatingly. That was the original purpose of the chair. Repurposed for when Gamma has to entertain him while he’s unable to work.
Hyperlaser is quick to follow Subspace’s demand, coming over and sitting so properly and rigid in the chair. He has vague enough memories to know that the soldiers were trained to do that. The scientists are trained similarly, to maximize good posture for as long as they can before the base instinct to hunch over takes over. Subspace is, unfortunately, not above that.
More silence. It’s always silence. Subspace is so tired of silence, he’s going to do something rash and stupid. “I suppose someone like you wouldn’t be busy after work.”
That did not fix the silence problem. “I am not. Are you?”
So they’re both having the same idea? Or similar ideas. “No. And you owe me for my generosity! So! You will go to…” he trails off, standing up to write something down. An address. Walks back over and drops the paper in Hyperlaser’s lap, and watches it flutter about, distinctly aiming somewhere other than his lap, before the inphernal grabs it. “There. At seven. Do not be a minute late, and you are allowed to be ten minutes early. Any sooner, and you will be the one paying!”
Assumedly, Hyperlaser stares down at the paper. Subspace can’t tell with that helmet on. “I see.” There’s a slight, shaky edge to a normally sturdy tone. Something solid, in the way that emotions do not alter it. Yet this has shaken that.
Does it seem like a date? Subspace surely hopes not. “No need to dress up, don’t get your hopes up! I know that Subspace T. Mine is highly desirable, and—...this is just… pity! Pity towards someone who is sad and alone.”
Hyperlaser nods. Stays quiet for a few seconds. “...I see.” Has he noticed the missing segment of Subspace’s usual egotistical spiel? “I would not put it like that. Sad and alone.”
That reminds him… “Right, yes. You do have that little… animal.” Something he has, admittedly been slightly jealous over. A cat. Subspace could never have one, not with his rot. Though, even before that, animals tended to not like him. Never. Cat scratches, dog bites… if he tried to get close to an animal, it would attack. No matter how slow and gentle he went, no matter how many examples he followed. Perhaps it was just meant to never be. Perhaps he was meant to be sad and alone forever.
Another nod from Hyperlaser. “I do.” He showed him a few pictures once. It was… a small moment of bonding. Hyperlaser showed emotion in a way he hadn’t seen him do before, though it was slim and contained. “Do remember to bring your coat this time, Subspace. It would be inconvenient to have a habit of borrowing mine.”
Perhaps not sad and alone.
“This whole meet-up will be an inconvenience for me, I believe you would be fine if I forgot!” Subspace fidgets for a few seconds. Something he never does, something that the higher-ups frowned upon. Nerves show weakness. “If there are no pictures of your little pet, consider it over before it even starts.”
Silence. This time, not unbearable. This time, almost comfortable. Hyperlaser laughs, sliding his phone out of his coat pocket. “I can show you them now. If you would like.”
“Yes! I—That would be convenient. How clever of you, Hyperlaser. Perhaps the first sign of intelligence you have shown in a long time, even! Come here, then, let me see.”
Hyperlaser almost shoots up out of the chair, oddly enough, already coming to stand next to the chair. All too excited to talk about his cat.
Before that can go anywhere, Gamma comes barging back in. “Creator! I brought LUNCH for Hyperlaser! :D” The Biograft pauses, head tilted slightly as it carries a tray. “...Based on relevant evidence, I am assuming we are looking at the ‘cat pictures’ that Subspace likes to talk of?”
He almost screeches, no matter how bad that would be for his rotting throat. “I have mentioned them once. Do not believe Gamma, it lies. It lies for personal gain and ‘preferred results’. It does not have the feelings necessary for either of those things.”
Subspace is going to dismantle Gamma. “I suppose the photos may wait for later! Eat, it would be most unpreferred for you to die before tonight.”
Devastated, Hyperlaser pockets his phone, taking the tray from Gamma with a slight nod.
Is he really about to eat standing up.
“Sit down, Hyperlaser! Chairs can be cleaned, you just look sad standing around.” It may have to do with the helmet? “I will—work. Look at papers! Gamma will do the same. Come, Gamma, we have business. And you will stay out of the conversation, and that is an order.”
It feels… odd. Respecting a boundary. But Subspace feels no need to cross it, no matter how currently… intrigued by Hyperlaser he is. A temporary, fleeting feeling, but it possibly could lead to… more. Like a friendship. That would be… nice, he assumes.
Conversation flows smoothly, which is also odd. Having someone to talk with while planning out a project. And he cannot help but look forward to tonight. It’s all too similar to how he used to be with Medkit, back as newspawn, but less one-sided. Less of Subspace talking at Medkit, and more of Subspace talking to Hyperlaser. Never the same, no, what he had with Medkit was special in a way he’ll never have again—hopefully literally, considering some of what the two went through together!
Tonight… should he dress up? It would be an opportunity to mock Hyperlaser, just a little… of course, it’s nowhere to be dressing fancy to, but that’s a separate thing from dressing up. Subspace will figure that out thirty minutes prior, in a panicked flurry. Or he’ll make Gamma decide, since he’s taking the Biograft with him.
As soon as Hyperlaser ends up leaving, he regrets not forcing him to stay longer. Until Gamma tells him how long he had been here. It did not feel like hours. Somehow, he managed to stay productive.
…Except for that small drawing in the corner of his planning. Subspace is better than that, hasn’t doodled in many years, such a nasty habit, yet Hyperlaser made him lower his guard, fall back into a dreadful time and resource wasting activity. It’s a cat, a shoddy replica of Princess—he learned the name in conversation, finally—and her wonderful fat glory. Subspace is mostly looking forward to seeing more pictures of her than seeing Hyperlaser again. That is what he tells himself, at least.
For now.