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The Taumoeba was both your savior and the reason you were losing hope.
Of course, it was going to save Earth and Erid, which was no small feat. It also allowed for meager but essential nutrition for you and Ryland, now that you were running out of food. You’d both been relieved to find out that the Taomoeba could also be used as a food source, and Ryland was so excited that he wouldn’t die after all.
You became a part of this mission knowing all along that you would die, but he hadn’t. He’d sobbed when he realized he had a chance at living.
But as it turned out, the Taumoeba that was keeping him alive was also killing him.
While you didn’t enjoy it, you didn’t have much of a problem with forcing it down. Your arms were thin and your elbows too sharp, but you had enough energy to get through every day. You were beginning to feel the effects of malnourishment in the way that you never felt rested and how your skin was dry and tight, but you managed.
It was different for Ryland.
While it supplied him with some nutrition that his body needed, the Taumoeba just didn’t settle with him very well. Whatever he forced down came right back up. It gave him stomach pains that got so bad that more often than not, you ended up curled on the floor with him sobbing in your arms.
At the same time, he tried to play it off.
Pretended that you couldn’t see how hollow his cheeks had gotten.
Pretended that you didn’t notice how he couldn’t stand for more than a minute without his legs shaking.
Pretended you didn’t notice how his hand instinctively went to his stomach whenever he moved wrong.
You saw it all, and he refused to admit to any of it. You still had just under a year until you would reach Erid, and even if you made it there, you didn’t know how long it would take for Eridian scientists to create safe food for you and Ryland. You just hoped you had enough time, because his light had been dimming lately.
Laughing less, smiling with his eyes less. Somehow talking less, which used to seem impossible.
It scared you.
But you wouldn’t tell him that, because you didn’t want to freak him out or anything. You wanted to be brave for him. This man was drugged and betrayed and forced onto a ship to die. You weren’t going to tell him about how terrified you were.
So instead you stayed brave for him, and when he slept at night you laid awake thinking about everything. About how you might not make it. About how he might not make it. About everything that the two of you went through on this ship, just for you to die in the end, like you were sent to.
You closed your eyes, breathing in deeply. You only let yourself think about these things when Ryland was asleep and couldn’t see you. He was still asleep now, even though it had been the morning cycle for several hours now. He was curled into you, his fingers tangled in your shirt and his face pressed against your shoulder.
You brushed a hand through his hair, feeling the soft, honey colored waves slip through your fingers. His hair was so soft. He was so soft. And that was what made this so unfair. The world really took the softest, sweetest man on earth and sent him off to die, and now he was suffering and you couldn’t even stop it.
Ryland’s head moved against your shoulder, his fingers tightening in your shirt as he started to wake up. You gently rubbed his back, feeling the harsh ridges of his ribs and spine through his shirt.
“Morning,” you said quietly after a moment.
He yawned, his breath hot against your neck. “...mornin.”
You kissed the top of his head and smiled when he nuzzled into the touch. He was always such a cuddle bug, and obviously craved every bit of touch you gave him.
It always made you wonder how much affection he’d gotten back on earth, before everything.
“Grace awake now, question?”
You glanced over at where Rocky was camped out in the corner in his xenonite ball—he still insisted on watching you both sleep. “Yeah, he’s awake now.”
“Good good good. Grace sleep long time.”
Ryland shifted to look up at you. “Long time? What time is it?”
You glanced down at your watch. “Uh, almost one.”
His cheeks tinted a bit pink. “Oh. You didn’t have to stay with me.”
“I wanted to. And you needed the sleep.” You wouldn’t tell him how much it scared you that he slept this much now. It wasn’t laziness, his body just couldn’t handle what he used to be able to. He used to be in the lab constantly, only sleeping for a few hours when you forced him to. Now it seemed like he was asleep more often than not. And while you were always getting after him before for staying up all night and not taking a break, you wished he could still do that. He just couldn’t handle it anymore.
You helped him slowly sit up, and he dropped his head onto your shoulder, sighing. You carded your fingers through his hair and scratched gently at his scalp. “We gotta get up, honey, you’ll feel better once you do.”
He grumbled a bit but let you help him up. You watched him as he pulled off his shirt to replace it with a clean one. His skin was pale, contrasting sharply with the blue and purple splotches that marred his skin. He bruised so easily now.
You swallowed hard once he pulled his shirt over his head. Just a few months ago, that shirt had hugged his body just right, showing every bit of muscle. It was loose on him now.
You had to look away.
In the time it took him to slowly change into sweatpants, you’d gotten out some Taumoeba rations and forced yours down as quickly as possible, just getting it over with. It wasn’t horrible tasting, it was mostly tasteless, but it was still gross and the smell and texture were terrible.
You held out a little container of Taumoeba to Ryland, who just shook his head.
“I’m not hungry.”
You sighed. Either he starved himself, or he ate the sludge and suffered for it. You didn’t really know what to do at this point.
“Ry… you need to try. You’ve barely had anything for days now. I need you alive.”
He swallowed and looked down at his feet, taking the container with a slightly shaky hand.
“Grace stupid. Need eat to live,” Rocky chimed in.
You smirked a bit. “I’m afraid he’s right, Ry.”
“‘M not stupid.”
“Mm. No, you’re the smartest person I know. But smart people can be stupid sometimes, too.”
He didn’t say anything, but he forced in some Taumoeba slurry.
You spent the next couple hours reorganizing all of the storage and supplies. There wasn’t much else to do on the ship– you were sent to space to save the world, not to be entertained. You definitely would’ve died a lot sooner if it weren’t for the Don’t Go Crazy room.
You were sitting cross legged by a storage bin, counting everything inside. Ryland had been behind you going through another container, but he’d been quiet for a bit. But that was becoming normal lately. “Do you think we really needed this much shampoo? I don’t know why they sent us with so much,” you said, digging through the numerous containers in the bin.
“Grace sleep, no answer,” Rocky said.
You immediately turned your head to look at him.
He was curled up on the floor by the bin he’d abandoned going through, his arms wrapped around himself and his knees pulled up like a child.
He wasn’t moving.
You clambered over the bins that separated you, reaching him in a second. Your shaking hands pulled the hood of his sweatshirt back so you could see his face.
“Ry? Ry, look at me,” you demanded, your heart pounding.
His eyes slowly opened. They were watery and unfocused. You let out a shuddering sigh and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer to you.
“What’s hurting, baby? Your tummy?”
He nodded so slowly that you barely registered it. You brushed his hair back from his cold forehead and pressed your lips there.
“Breathe through it, baby.”
Fat tears escaped his eyes and rolled slowly down his cheeks. You pulled him closer until he was practically in your lap, curled up like a little kid. You kept one arm around him, and your other hand moved to his stomach, feeling how it was clenched in pain. You slowly, gently rubbed his stomach, trying to help ease the pain, and he whined softly.
“Shh, I know. I know, baby. It’ll pass, I promise.” You couldn’t really promise that, but you told him anyway, hoping it would help soothe him.
His breathing picked up, and he let out the smallest, most pathetic whimper you’d ever heard. You swallowed against the painful ache in your throat and willed yourself not to cry.
“You’re doing good, Ry. You’re doing so, so good.”
“Gonna-gonna be sick,” he gasped.
You reached for a bin that you’d thankfully just emptied, pushing it under his chin right as he started to vomit. It was violent, and his body shuddered with every heave. You held the bin with one hand, using your other to rub his back, trying to soothe him even just a bit.
You ignored the blood in the bin, pretending it wasn’t there. There was nothing you could do. Armando couldn’t help with this kind of thing.
Ryland sobbed when it was over. You set aside the bin and pulled him back into your arms. He curled into you immediately, his face buried in your chest and his fingers weakly clinging to your shirt. You wrapped your arms tightly around him, pressing your face to the top of his head.
“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so so sorry,” you whispered into his hair.
He shuddered, clinging to you tighter and letting out another sob. You rocked slowly, rubbing his back, shushing softly. You felt helpless.
“You want your song on?”
He nodded, burying his face in your shoulder.
“Mary, play Blackbird by the Beatles.”
You’d found him listening to it sometimes when he couldn’t sleep, and you’d figured out since that it often calmed him down. His grip on you eased just a bit as the song started playing. You pressed a kiss to the crown of his head and rocked gently with him in your arms.
“There you go,” you murmured.
He made a small sound in the back of his throat and his body started to relax slightly. You felt his stomach slowly unclench under your hand.
“You did so good,” you said as you pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“Tired,” he mumbled.
You sighed and ran your fingers through his hair. “I know, honey.”
You hummed softly along with the song, scratching gently at his scalp. He sighed into your shoulder and closed his eyes. You were glad it was over. Sometimes these episodes only lasted a few minutes, like today’s, but a couple times before it had taken him a couple hours to settle down again.
You wondered how much longer this would go on until his body gave up.
Ryland murmured your name, and you looked down at him. “Yeah, baby.”
He pulled his face from your shoulder to look up at you, his eyes red and half-lidded but slightly clearer than before. “I just really love you,” he said quietly. “And… you’re just… you’re so good. Helping me like this when I’m… being pathetic.”
You shook your head. “No. You’re not being pathetic. You’re hurting.” You pushed his hair from his forehead, pressing a quick kiss to his clammy skin. “And I love you too.”
His lips curled up weakly, his smile like a tiny bit of sunshine coming from his deathly pale face. “If we get to Erid… we should build a sandcastle at the beach.”
“When we get to Erid, we will.”
He swallowed and let out a sigh, his warm breath tickling your cheek. “Promise?”
You nodded, stroking his hair. “Promise.”
He shakily lifted his pinky finger and you let out a watery laugh, hooking your pinky around his. You brought your linked pinkies to your lips. His head settled back against your shoulder, seemingly losing the energy to hold it up anymore.
“‘M tired…”
You nodded, leaning against the bin behind you as his eyes closed. “I’ll watch you sleep. But you have to wake up, okay?”
“Mhm…”
“Promise me you’ll wake up, baby.”
“Promise,” he mumbled.
You nodded and kissed the tip of his nose. “Okay, Ry. Go to sleep.”
His grip loosened from your shirt and you watched the slow rise and fall of his chest. You pressed kiss after kiss to his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, silent tears rolling down your cheeks as you fought to keep down the cries that wanted to escape your throat. Instead you sat there, holding him in your arms, whispering to him about how you loved him so much, how much you loved how he never wore his glasses right and how much he loved his stupid science jokes and even how he did stupid things like eat raw ramen covered in mustard.
“Grace wake up soon?” Rocky questioned from the corner, uncharacteristically quiet.
“Yeah,” you lied quietly. “He’ll wake up soon.”
He didn’t, but when you and Rocky got to Erid, you sat at the frigid beach wearing his knit cardigan and talked to the waves for hours on end as if it were Ryland.
Telling him how brave he was, how loved he was.
You built him a small sandcastle near the shore and watched as the waves washed it away.