leery.exe

You had met him during your first year of college, back when both of you were still figuring out what you wanted from your future. Like you, he was chasing a doctorate in molecular biology, spending countless hours buried in research papers and lab work.

Somehow, through failed experiments, impossible deadlines, and the occasional breakdown over assignments that seemed impossible to finish, he had become your person.

The one person who understood exactly how exhausting this field could be. The one person who could convince you to leave the laboratory for food. The one person who knew when you were stressed before you even admitted it.

Which was why it was slightly ironic that Ryland Grace had spent the last year listening to you talk about someone else.

Aiden Hudson, your college crush since third year.

Grace had heard everything.

The stories. The little observations. The way your entire mood changed whenever Aiden walked by. The way you somehow knew his schedule despite insisting you "just happened to notice."

He never understood the appeal.

Aiden was a mechanical engineering student in the same college. Nice enough, apparently. Smart enough, definitely. But to Grace, he was just the guy who conveniently passed by your dormitory every evening at exactly seven.

A fact you definitely did not know because you had memorized his schedule. At least, that's what you claimed.

So when the day finally came that you decided to ask Aiden out, Grace already knew. He knew because you had spent three days rehearsing what you were going to say.

He knew because you insisted you were "just going for a walk" despite the fact that your walk happened to perfectly align with Aiden's schedule.

And he definitely knew because he was standing far enough away to pretend he wasn't watching.

You acted like running into Aiden outside your dormitory was completely accidental.

Grace watched the entire thing from a distance. It was painfully obvious.

Your conversation with Aiden was awkward, at best. You stumbled over your words. He laughed nervously. Neither of you seemed to know what to do with your hands.

But somehow, it worked.

By the end of it, you had plans to meet a few days before Valentine's Day.

And you were glowing.

You tried your best to act calm as you walked back into your dorm building, pretending you were completely normal.

You lasted approximately five seconds.

The moment you knew nobody was watching, you jumped, punched the air, and quietly celebrated like you had just won a scientific breakthrough.

Unfortunately for you, Ryland Grace was still there.

And he watched as the person who could calmly explain molecular pathways, defend research projects, and survive impossible exams completely lost their composure over one mechanical engineering student.

A small smile formed on his face. Because after years of knowing you, he had learned something.

You were brilliant. You were terrifying when you needed to be. You were one of the hardest-working people he knew.

But moments like this? The moments where you forgot to be everything except happy? Those were his favorite.

“You done?” Grace approached behind you, hands in his fox cardigan’s pockets.

You turned to him with a big smile displayed on your face. “This girl just got a valentine.” 

Ryland looked at you, then at the sky, like he was asking for patience from the universe. “I’m aware. I was unfortunately present for the celebration.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Of what? The fact that I witnessed you rehearse a conversation for three days and almost forget how walking works?”

You gasped. “I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

“Ryland.”

“I’m just saying, for someone who studies molecular biology, your survival instincts disappear around one mechanical engineer.” He shrugs with a smirk as both of you walk to your dorm, your usual hangout spot with him.

You give him a look before entering your dorm. 

“He seems nice.” He plops down onto the beanbag you placed in the corner of your room.

You looked at him suspiciously. “You don’t sound like you mean it.”

Grace opens his laptop to start on a laboratory report. “I mean—” 

“Ryland.” You turn your chair to face him, arms crossed.

“I’m saying you memorized his schedule before you learned his favorite food.”

“That is unrelated.”

“Is it?” He opens a bag of Twizzlers and puts one in his mouth.

You roll your eyes at him, whispering just loud enough for him to hear, “You’re impossible.” Standing up to go to him, stopping just in front of him, your hand reaching out.

“What?” He looks up at you through the rim of his glasses.

“You already know what I mean.”

“Nah.” He continues chewing on the Twizzler in his mouth while typing on his laptop.

“Everything eaten inside of my dorm, I have the right to get a bite of it.” You recite a rule you’ve set for him since freshman year.

He shakes his head, refusing to give you a piece of his snack. “I’ll only give you one once you promise me something.”

“That sounds suspicious.” You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow.

“Promise me that you won't come crying to me when you let him hurt your feelings.” 

You stared at him for a moment.

Because underneath the teasing, underneath the sarcasm and the ridiculous fox cardigan and the stolen Twizzlers and Skittles, Ryland Grace was being serious.

He always was when it came to you.

“You worry too much.”

He smiled slightly. “Someone has to.”

You rolled your eyes, but you smiled anyway. “Fine. I promise.”

Grace nodded, satisfied, and returned to his laptop.

You watched him for a second longer than you meant to before grabbing a Twizzler beside him and returning to your desk to work on a presentation.

Somehow, your best friend always knew exactly what to say. Even when you didn't realize you needed to hear it.

Weeks passed slower than you wanted. You were waiting eagerly for the day of your date with Aiden—spending half of your allowance on an outfit he’ll probably forget. 

And so D-day finally came. Both of you agreed to meet up at three in the afternoon just outside your dorm, but you were already getting ready at nine in the morning. 

You made sure everything was perfect. Hair, makeup, accessories, bag, outfit, and a gift you spent a week making for Aiden.

It was a small petri dish with a bacterial artwork composed of different kinds of colorful bacteria your college allowed you to use. The artwork was mediocre at best; you weren’t exactly the artsy type.

But the point of it was to show him that you cared for him and had the time to make him a gift. 

You hope it would come across that way.

You called Ryland to your dorm to help you assess yourself for your date.

“Woah.” He freezes at your doorstep.

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

“You look like a completely different person.” 

You stared at him for a moment before pointing towards the hallway. “Okay, I’m forever banning you from my dorm.”

He smiled, “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“Then what?” You crossed your arms.

“You just don’t look like…” he paused for a bit, looking up and down at you. “...you.”

You immediately get offended because obviously you spent hours getting ready.

He panics at the sudden change of your demeanor, “No, no, that sounded wrong. I mean— you always wear whatever is comfortable. You always have your hair tied up because it gets in the way when you’re studying. You always forget jewelry because you say it’s impractical.” 

“Seeing you actually try for someone is just… different.”

You finally understood him and went back to the giddy mood before. Grace looks over your shoulder and sees the petri dish gift on your table.

“No way…” He walks past you, into your dorm.

He carefully picks it up. “Oh, now this is cool.” 

You watch him analyze it with a sparkle in his eyes. Looking at the different microorganisms and names them one by one.

The sight reminded you of the time you both got paired up in sophomore year to make the same experiment—he named the artwork ‘Rocky’.

“You made this?” He finally looks up at you.

You walk over to him and grab the petri dish from his hands. “It’s not that impressive.” 

“Are you kidding?” His eyes locked back onto the gift you made. “You spent a week growin this?” 

“Yeah.” You placed it into the small gift bag.

He scoffed in amusement. You look at him.

“What?”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “Nothing.”

“Ryland.”

“I just think it’s funny.”

“What is?”

He points at the gift bag. “You spent a week making biological artwork for someone who probably doesn’t even know the difference between bacteria andarchaea.”

You get defensive, immediately responding, “Aiden is an engineering major. He understands science.”

“I didn’t say he didn’t.” Grace raises his hands.

He pauses for a bit. “I'm just saying…you spent a week making something that only someone who actually knows you would appreciate.”

You stare at him, the words slowly sinking in. 

“But honestly, I think anyone would like this.” Ryland looks at you.

“You think?”

“Yeah,” he pauses. “Because it’s you.”

You blinked. “What?”

Ryland freezes because he didn’t mean to say that out loud. “I mean— because it shows effort. And thought. And... scientific skill.”?

“You almost had a normal sentence.”

“I know.”

“Okay, enough about the gift. How do I look?” You give him a 360 of your outfit.

“You look good.” He smiles softly at you.

“That wasn’t very convincing.” 

He sighs.

“You look really good.” 

You smile at him as he gets embarrassed at what he just said to you. 

He spends a few more minutes in your dorm, giving you dating advice anyone would think is insane.

“Good luck with your date.” He waves at you as you leave your dorm. You wave back, watching him look at you a second too long. 

The clock struck three in the afternoon, and you practically skipped toward the stairs at the entrance of your dorm building.

You had been ready since noon. Which was ridiculous, considering your date wasn't until three. You had checked the time at least twenty times while pretending not to.

Still, you couldn't stop yourself from smiling.

Today was finally happening.

Two years of silently admiring Aiden Hudson every time he walked past your dorm. Two years of knowing his schedule, his favorite coffee order, the classes he complained about, and the fact that he always carried the same worn-out backpack because he refused to replace it.

And now he was actually taking you out.

You looked down at your outfit one last time, smoothing out a small wrinkle that probably wasn't even there.

You had spent hours getting ready. Not because you thought you had to look perfect. Just because you wanted this day to be special.

You looked toward the entrance. Aiden would probably show up with flowers.

At least, you thought he would.

The thought made you smile. Maybe he was the type of person who bought flowers. Maybe he was the type of person who remembered little things.

Maybe—

You checked your phone. 3:15 PM. Still nothing.

You sat down on the stairs, telling yourself not to worry.

Maybe he got stuck somewhere. Maybe his professor needed something. Maybe he was picking up the flowers. That last thought made you smile again.

Because it sounded like something that would happen in a movie.

You waited. 3:30.

You checked your phone again. 3:45.

You opened your messages. No new notifications. 4:00.

The excitement you had felt earlier slowly turned into something else.

Not disappointment. Not yet. You refused to call it that.

Because Aiden was nice. He had agreed to go out with you. Because you had spent two years hoping for this. Surely, one hour wasn't enough to ruin that.

You were just being dramatic. You were a scientist. You dealt with uncertainty all the time.

Waiting one hour for a date shouldn't feel like an experiment with unknown results.

"Sorry, sorry."

You immediately looked up.

Aiden stood in front of you, slightly out of breath.

Except...

He wasn't holding flowers. He wasn't dressed the way you imagined. Gray hoodie. Sweatpants. Hair slightly messy.

You hated that you noticed.

"I got held up. My professor kept us late."

And just like that, every negative thought you had spent the last hour fighting disappeared.

Because he was here. You smiled. "It's alright."

And you meant it.

Because maybe this was better. Maybe he wasn't someone who needed flowers or fancy clothes. Maybe he was just comfortable around you. Maybe that was a good thing.

The cafe was familiar.

Actually, it was almost too familiar. You and Ryland came here all the time after long days of classes and studying.

You knew which table had the best lighting, which drink the cashier recommended, the exact corner where Ryland would sit while complaining about a research paper.

You pushed the thought away.

Today wasn't about Ryland.

Today was about Aiden.

And Aiden was making an effort. He opened the door for you and complimented your outfit. "You look nice," he said.

And your heart immediately jumped, because that was all you needed.

You smiled. "Thank you."

For the next hour, you listened to him talk about his mechanical engineering projects.

You asked questions, laughed when he complained about his professors, and smiled when he talked about his future plans.

Because you liked hearing him talk. You liked seeing him excited and knowing this side of him.

Then, eventually, the conversation turned toward you.

"What about you?" he asked.

You blinked. "What about me?"

"What do you want to do after graduation?"

The question made you light up. "I actually want to pursue research after graduation."

You expected him to ask questions. Maybe about what kind of research, your current projects. Maybe about why you loved biology so much.

Instead, his phone buzzed.

He immediately looked down. "Really? Like forever?" His eyes stayed on the screen as he typed.

You paused. "Maybe." The answer came quieter than you intended.

A few seconds passed before he looked back up.

"Sorry," he said with a smile. "Just my team."

"It's okay."

And it was. You didn't want to be the person who got upset over a text. You didn't want to be difficult.

"I don't know how you do that, though."

You looked at him. "What?"

"Research. Like... forever."

He laughed lightly. "I'd get bored."

You smiled. A small one. Because you knew he didn't mean anything by it.

He wasn't insulting you. He just didn't understand.

And that was okay.

Right?

Then you remembered the gift.

Your hand moved toward the small bag beside you.

You had spent a week making it.

A week carefully choosing organisms, planning the design, making sure everything grew correctly.

A week thinking about how happy he would be when he realized how much thought you put into it.

"I made something for you."

Aiden looked surprised. "You did?"

You pushed the bag toward him, and he opened it carefully.

"It's a petri dish artwork composed of microorganisms."

His eyebrows raised. "Wait..."

He looked at you. "Is this alive?"

You laughed. "Technically."

"Oh." It was a small reaction. Barely anything, but you noticed.

He carefully placed it back down. "That's... actually really unique."

Unique.

A word people used when they didn't know what else to say.

You smiled anyway. "Thanks."

"You really made this?"

"Yeah."

"How long did that take?"

"A week."

His eyes widened slightly. "A week?"

You nodded and he smiled. "You really like biology, huh?"

And for some reason, that sentence hurt more than it should have. Not because he said it badly. Because he said it like he had just discovered something about you.

Like this was a fun little fact. Like he didn't know that biology was the thing that kept you awake at night.

The thing you talked about when you were excited. The thing that made you forget to eat meals because you were too focused. The thing that Ryland had listened to you ramble about since freshman year.

You looked down at your hands. "Yeah."

You smiled.

"I do."

By the time the sun began setting, you had convinced yourself the date went well.

Because technically, it did. Aiden was kind. He paid for the drinks, walked you back to your dorm, apologized again for being late, and told you he had a good time.

Everything about the evening was exactly what you thought you wanted.

So why did it feel like something was missing?

“You know, I never expected you to be something like that.” Aiden stops at the entrance of your dorm’s building.

You turn to him. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. You’re just…” He paused. “Different from what I expected.”

“Is that good?” You laugh weakly.

“Yeah. It’s interesting.”

Aiden waved you goodbye, and you waved back. “I’ll text you.” He shouts as he walks away.

You smile. Because a year ago, that sentence would’ve made you scream internally. But now? It’s just a sentence.

The second you entered the dorm building, you expected to feel excited.

You expected to replay every conversation. You expected to think about Aiden's smile or the way he laughed or the way he looked at you.

Instead, your mind kept returning to something else.

A petri dish on a cafe table.

A scientist with glasses and a fox cardigan holding it like it was something precious.

You hated that.

"Hey."

You looked up.

Ryland was sitting on the floor outside your dorm room, laptop balanced on his knees.

You blinked. "Why are you here?"

He looked offended. "Hello to you too."

"Ryland."

"I was studying."

You looked at the empty hallway. "Outside my dorm?"

A pause. "The Wi-Fi is better here."

You stared. "...You're a terrible liar."

He sighed. "I was waiting."

You smiled at him and sighed before fumbling with the keys to your dorm. You were silent the whole time.

And of course Ryland noticed.

He noticed the gift bag with the petri dish inside was gone. ‘Maybe she really did give it to him’ he thought to himself.

But something was missing as he stared at you fumbling with your keys.

You weren’t carrying a gift bag from Aiden.

He searched for one on your person, but he really couldn’t find one. It definitely wasn’t in your bag; it was too small to fit a gift bag.

You finally open the door to your room and place your bag down with noticeable force.

“How was it?” Grace slowly walks to his beanbag. 

“It was fine.” You stare off into the interesting contents of your table.

He opens a pack of Skittles. “Yeah?”

Normally, you would immediately ask for Skittles once you heard the sound of him opening a pack, but you were simply too ‘tired’.

You hummed in response. “You don’t sound excited.” Grace looked at you.

You walked to your bed and plopped down, face first. “I’m tired.” 

“You were excited this morning.” He bit down on a few pieces.

You stayed silent as you contemplated your life decisions. It was painfully obvious that the date really went up to your expectations.

“Did he like it?” He stops typing.

“Yeah.” You replied, your voice slightly muffled due to your face buried into your sheets.

“Good.” He smiles. “Did he ask about Rocky?”

Your fingers tightened slightly against your pillow.

Silence fills the room again as you realize he also remembered when he named the petri dish artwork you worked on before Rocky.

Not Aiden.

Not the person you spent weeks hoping would notice.

Ryland.

The person who remembered a stupid nickname from a sophomore year experiment. The person who remembered because it mattered to you.

Ryland just stayed silent when he finally realized that you needed the silence. He started to type on his keyboard with less force, the clicking of the keys becoming softer as if even the sound of his work might disturb whatever was happening inside your head.

You waited a year for this day.

A year of imagining what it would be like. You imagined him showing up with flowers. You imagined him loving the gift you made. You imagined coming back to your dorm and telling Ryland every tiny detail while he pretended not to care.

You imagined it being perfect.

You didn't expect it to feel…Empty.

And that somehow hurt more.

Because nothing terrible happened. Aiden didn't insult you. He didn't reject you. He didn't do anything wrong. He was just not what you had hoped he would be.

And maybe that was the most disappointing part.

You had spent so long building up this version of him in your head that the reality felt strangely quiet. You swallowed, trying to force the feeling away.

It was stupid. You shouldn't be upset.

It was just a date. But the more you tried convincing yourself that it didn't matter, the heavier the feeling became.

And before you knew it, your shoulders shook.

Your breath became uneven.

You quickly buried your face further into your sheets, embarrassed by the sudden tears.

You hated crying over things like this.

Especially in front of Ryland.

You were the person who stayed up until three in the morning finishing lab reports. The person who could present research findings in front of professors without shaking. The person who could handle academic pressure, deadlines, and every other problem college threw at you.

But somehow, a disappointing Valentine's date was what broke you.

And Ryland immediately noticed.

Of course he did.

You heard him stop typing. The quiet tapping of his keyboard disappeared completely.

You expected him to say something. A joke, maybe. Something to make you laugh and forget about it.

But he didn't.

You heard him carefully close his laptop and place it somewhere beside him. A few seconds passed, then you felt the edge of your mattress sink.

He didn't ask what happened. He didn't ask if Aiden hurt you. He didn't say, "I told you so."

He just sat there, close enough that you knew he was there, far enough that you didn't feel trapped.

"Hey," he finally whispered.

You didn't answer. Because if you spoke, you knew your voice would betray you.

Ryland seemed to understand. "You don't have to explain."

Your eyes squeezed shut because somehow that made everything worse. You had spent the entire day trying to make yourself seem interesting enough. Pretty enough. Worth choosing.

And now the person who had been choosing you for years was sitting beside you without asking for anything in return.

"I feel stupid," you finally admitted, your voice muffled against your pillow.

Ryland frowned slightly. "Why?"

"Because I got upset over a date."

A pause. "That's not stupid."

"It is."

"No." His answer came immediately.

You finally looked up at him.

Ryland was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his expression softer than usual. "You were excited about something."

You stayed quiet.

"You spent weeks looking forward to it. You spent time making him something because you cared." He glanced toward the empty space on your desk where the gift bag had been earlier. "You were allowed to hope it would matter."

Your eyes watered again.

"And it did matter," he added.

You looked away. "Not to him."

Ryland didn't immediately respond, because he knew better than to say something fake like he doesn't deserve you or you'll find someone better.

Those words wouldn't fix it.

Instead, he quietly said: "Maybe he just wasn't paying enough attention."

The sentence was simple.

But somehow, coming from him, it hurt. Because Ryland had been paying attention.

For years.

“He isn’t a bad person.” You finally mumble out.

“I never said he was.” 

You smile before turning to him. “I need to be alone for a bit.” 

Ryland smiles back at you and nods. You bury your head back into your pillows, feeling your mascara stain your sheets. You’ll worry about it later.

You hear Ryland picking up his laptop and the soft rustling of clothes. You wondered what that was about, but you didn’t really want to look at him with mascara streaks down your face. So you just kept your head buried.

He placed something next to you and felt something soft cover your back.

Then you hear footsteps at your door and before you hear the door click shut he softly tells you: “I’m just down the hallway.” He paused for a bit. “Come if you need anything.”

And with that, you heard the door shut gently.

You sniffled and lifted your head and were greeted by makeup-stained sheets. You turned your head to see an unopened pack of Skittles next to you.

And that fox cardigan over your back.

You stared at the cardigan for a long moment. It smelled faintly like laundry detergent and the coffee he always bought before morning lectures.

It was such a small thing. A stupid thing, really. A cardigan. A bag of Skittles. A quiet promise that he was only down the hallway.

But somehow, those were the things that made your chest ache the most because Aiden had spent one evening trying to get to know you.

Ryland Grace had spent years remembering you.

You spent that night crying in your bed while wearing Ryland’s cardigan and eating the Skittles he gave you. You tried to watch a stupid rom-com movie, but it weirdly mirrored your situation, so you stopped midway.

You realized it was getting late and hadn’t returned his cardigan. Poor guy must be freezing in his room without his cardigan.

The thought of it made you giggle.

So with every strength you had left in you that day, you managed to get yourself out of bed and in front of his dorm’s door.

You didn’t really want to return it. The cardigan was soft; it was comforting.

The hallway was dark, but the small light leaking from the bottom of his door meant that he was still awake. Probably still working on that lab report.

You sighed as you smiled before knocking on his door. 

Hurried footsteps followed, and Grace opened the door.

You looked up at him “Hey.” It came out softer than you intended.

“Hey.” He mirrored you, softly smiling.

“I’m just returning your cardigan,” you paused. “Thank you, Ry.”

Ryland exhaled; he was glad that you looked like you were doing okay. “But you’re still wearing the cardigan,”  he giggles. “How are you gonna return it?”

“It’s comfy.” You look away. “Just temporary borrowing.”

“Ah. A very scientific distinction.”

Ryland lets you into his dorm. It was slightly messy, his navy blue sheets slightly wrinkled, books sprawled around in a somehow neat way, and it had that slight citrus scent of his soap.

You sit down on his bed, and he turns his office chair to face you. “I think I liked the idea of him more than I liked him.” You sigh.

“That happens.” Grace nods, his glasses hanging onto his face.

“I just thought someone would finally understand why I love what I do.” You stare at the floor, feeling his gaze on you.

You couldn’t really see what type of gaze it was, but to Grace, he was giving you the ‘that’s unbelievable’ look.

After a few moments, he finally spoke. “I don’t think you realize how much people notice you.”

“Who notices me?”

“I do.”

You look up at him, confused.

Ryland’s eyes blew wide as he realized how that sounded. "I mean— as your friend."

You giggled. “Right.” 

The next few hours inside Ryland’s dorm were filled with a mix of conversations, jokes, lectures on microorganisms, teasing, and how he thinks water isn’t strictly required for life to evolve.

It was the first time in hours you actually felt like yourself.

The night ended with you alone in your room, smiling. And so was Grace.

He should have been worried about his research proposal. He should have been thinking about his upcoming applications.

Instead, he was thinking about the fact that she had knocked on his door wearing his cardigan.

And apparently into the next morning too.

Because when Ryland woke up, the first thing he did wasn't check his emails. It wasn't review his research proposal.

It was stare at the ceiling and think: She looked better when she left.

Not completely okay. Not magically healed, but better. That had to count for something.

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed.

Ryland: Did you survive?

You stared at the message while sitting cross-legged on your bed.

You: Unfortunately.

Three dots appeared immediately.

Ryland: Good.

You: That's all?

Ryland: Yes.

A pause. Then another message.

Ryland: Be ready in two hours.

You frowned.

You: Why?

The typing bubble appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Ryland: I have planned an activity.

You immediately sat up.

You: That is the most concerning sentence you've ever sent me.

You closed your phone and got out of bed. ‘What does he mean by activity?’ you thought to yourself.

Despite the thoughts and suspicion, you got ready in the two hours he gave you—just enough time to get ready.

After two hours of picking an outfit and doing your makeup, you stepped outside your building. 

Ryland was already there.

His hand shoved into the pockets of his cardigan because at some point during the night, he had somehow ended up with it again.

You narrowed your eyes. “Activity?”

“Activity.” He looked up from his phone and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans.

“Why do you keep calling it that?”

“Because that’s what it is.”

“That’s what serial killers say before committing crimes.”

Ryland sighed. “I am taking you somewhere.”

You raised your eyebrows. “That’s somehow worse.”

Ryland takes you to the cafe where Aiden had taken you yesterday. You give him a look before entering. “Did you bring me here to make fun of me?” 

“N-no!” He turns to you. “I just uh— I just thought you needed cheering up after last night.”

Grace holds the door open for you as you walk past him with a slight smile, processing that your best friend is taking you to the same cafe that Aiden took you to cheer you up.

He lets you choose a table and you choose a cozy corner with a booth. It was far enough from everyone and the noise.

You sit down but he remained standing up, looking at you. “What drink do you want for today?”

Looking up at him, he had a slight tint of pink on his cheeks as the morning sun shined across his face. You had seem him in sunlight hundreds of times. Why did it suddenly feel different today?

“Just the strawberry frappe.” You pull out your wallet, but his hand gently pushes it down.

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiles and walks over to the counter.

As you looked at Ryland talking to the cashier, you couldn’t help but agree with the girls in your department that he is somewhat attractive.

He’s smart, responsible, stayed in shape, had the perfect mix of messy but put-together blonde hair—wait, since when did you rest your face on your hands while looking at your best friend, smiling?

You shake your head and turn towards the window next to you.  

You felt the table shake a little and turn to see him with the strawberry frappe, his coffee, and a cinnamon bun. 

“I didn’t order that.”

He sits next to you in the booth, not across you, but next to you.

It wasn't unusual. Ryland always preferred sitting on the same side whenever the cafe wasn't crowded enough to force him elsewhere. 

“And you definitely don't like cinnamon buns.” You point at the pastry.

“I know.” He places the frappe and pastry in front of you. 

“Then why did you get it?” 

“Because you stare at it every time we come here.”

You stare at him for a bit before thanking him with a smile. As you grab the straw, you notice that he picked the one you prefer exactly: not too thick, not too thin.

You didn’t bring it up as you stirred your drink, spilling a bit on the side of the cup.

“Here.” He hands you extra napkins. “You always spill your frappes.” 

Taking the napkin from his hands, you giggled. “Thank you.”

As you stirred your drink some more, your mind drifted back to what happened yesterday.

You spent the entire date asking questions about Aiden. Then, when it came to you, he just repeated the words: “Interesting.” “Unique.” “Cool.”

Ryland notices you spacing out and speaks up. “Have you heard back from that professor?”

“Oh—” His voice piercing the silence made you jump a bit and look at him. “Not yet. She said she’ll reach out later today.” 

“How about your research proposal?” He takes a sip of his coffee.

“I think…” You stare up at the ceiling for a bit, thinking of a way to describe the current status of your research proposal. “... I just need one more signature from the research head, then I’m done.” 

“He’s such a bum. I can never find him in his office when I need a signature from him.” He giggles.

“Yeah…” You noticed that he’s asking questions about you. “...he is.”

“You’re gonna get approved.” He takes another sip of his coffee.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

You tilt your head. “How?”

“Because I’ve read it.”

“Ryland.” You place your frappe down.

“Three times.”

You blinked.

“Technically four.” He corrected himself.

There was an awkward silence that settled between the two of you, then suddenly:

“Did that professor ever respond to your email about the summer internship?”

You freeze. Because you only mentioned that to him once weeks ago. 

“Uh…” You rack your brain trying to remember what happened with that email. “I think so…Yeah— yeah, I got accepted.”

He gasps dramatically. “And you didn’t tell me?!”

You roll your eyes. “It isn’t impressive.”

He puts his hands on his hips. “Nu uh. Six people in our class got rejected from that internship.” 

The sight of Ryland sitting next to you with his hands on his hips made you laugh out loud. Tears were practically beading at the corners of your eyes from how hard you were laughing.

Ryland just looked at you, smiling. He was glad that he was cheering you up better than he expected.

The next hour was filled with you rambling about your research proposal while he gave you advice on how to finally get it accepted. Ryland also rambled on about his laboratory work.

You don’t know how all that rambling fitted into one hour, but you both somehow made it work.

As you finished your drink and pastry, Ryland looked at his watch. “Ready?”

You looked up at him, confused. “Ready how?”

“I'm taking you somewhere else.” He smiles.

You stared at him for a bit. You opened your mouth, then closed it—you weren’t exactly sure where he was taking you next or why he was taking you places, but you went along with it.

He stood up from the booth and neatly placed your cup and plate into a tray.

You shimmied your way out of the booth and also stood up. “Where are we going?”

“Just follow me.” He smiles. He’s been smiling a lot at you today—huh…

As you walked through the city, he kept asking you questions, and you mindlessly rambled on about them.

The city was packed, so he kept close to you the whole time. Making sure you don’t trip or anything.

Just before you knew it, both of you were standing in front of a bookstore you’ve wanted to visit since sophomore year. “Oh my god.” You stared at the building.

“You never had time to visit it.”

You turned to Ryland, who was standing, hand still in his cardigan’s pockets. You squealed and immediately entered the bookstore.

Your eyes were practically shining as you looked at the books displayed across the walls. You picked up book after book, not noticing that Ryland was picking them back up and carrying all the books that you showed interest in.

You only noticed when he spoke up and pointed at a book. “I think you would like this.”

You looked back at him, surprised that you recognized all of the covers as the ones you picked up and placed back down he carried in his arms.

“Ry—” You stared at him.

He stared back. “What…?”

Your eyes drifted to the familiar cover in his arms, and he noticed. “Oh.” He looked down at the books. “This?”

You nod your head slowly.

“You looked interested in them.” 

You smiled at him warmly. He really does pay attention. 

Your eyes drifted back to his hand pointing at a book. It was a book that you’ve been wanting to read for months. 

“It’s too expensive.” You shook your head and continued walking.

Ryland grabbed it anyway from the shelf and placed it on top of the growing pile of books in his arms.

You sat down at a small table, realizing that Ryland wasn’t following behind you. You shrugged it off, as he might’ve gotten lost in the biology section because you passed by it earlier.

You sat there, absentmindedly watching the people at the bookstore.

A girl laughing quietly as her boyfriend held the stack of books she picked out. Two students sitting on the floor between shelves, sharing a drink while reading the same page.

It was a normal sight. Something you would have ignored on any other day.

Except now you looked down at the empty space beside you.

Your mind wanders back to Ryland.

Throughout the day, he’s been carrying your books, buying you a pastry you’ve been looking at every time you visit the cafe, sitting beside you instead of across from you.

Wait.

He’s been doing things you’ve wanted to do for a while. It isn’t about what he likes.

It’s about what you like.

You had always told yourself that Ryland was just observant.

That he was like this with everyone. That this was just what best friends did.

But as you looked around the bookstore, you started wondering when exactly "being a good friend" started looking so much like this.

He knows that you accidentally spill drinks, the books you like, and even your favorite type of straw.

He knows you hate loud places, easily get overwhelmed in crowds, and exactly how long you need before talking about something upsetting.

He knows you.

Then, you noticed him walking towards you carrying a big paper bag. You looked at him.

His sleeves were pushed up, cardigan draped over his other arm. His stupid glasses were hanging onto his face. The warm lighting inside the bookstore perfectly reflected against the rim of his glasses.

‘'He's pretty.'

The thought came so suddenly that you almost laughed.

Pretty?

Ryland Grace?

The guy who wore the same fox cardigan three times a week? The guy who had once explained an entire evolutionary theory while eating cereal straight from the box?

Since when did you notice his smile?

Ryland stood just in front of you. “Is there something on my face?”

Your eyes blew wide, realizing that your eyes had been lingering in his direction for too long. “No—” You swallowed. “Sorry.”

He raised an eyebrow before handing you the big paper bag that he was carrying. “For you.”

You were confused. Why is this guy giving you a big paper bag that was somewhat heavy?

“What is th—” You look inside the bag. 

You were met with the pile of books you showed interest in just minutes ago. It was neatly arranged inside of the bag. But something was missing from them.

The price tags were gone.

“Ry.” You looked up at him. “No you didn’t—”

He was already smiling and nodding as you looked up. “Yes, I did.”

Your eyes were already tearing up, as the last time you bought books for non-academic purposes was in high school. 

Without thinking, you immediately stood up and hugged Ryland.

“Thank you.” You mumbled into his shoulder.

For a moment, Ryland froze.

Not because he didn't want to hug you back. Quite the opposite.

He just wasn't prepared for the fact that after spending the entire day trying to make you smile, the thing that finally made you happy was something as simple as a hug.

Slowly, carefully, he wrapped his arms around you.

"You're welcome," he whispered.

For a moment, both of you stood there. The warmth from his body was comforting. His arms around you were comforting. 

‘Wait, this probably looks weird.’

You pulled away quickly, suddenly aware of how close you were.

Ryland looked away first, clearing his throat.

"You know," he said, adjusting his glasses, "for someone who claims to be practical, you are surprisingly emotional about books."

You laughed.

And somewhere between the bookstore shelves, the bag of books in your hands, and Ryland standing beside you with that stupid cardigan...

You realized something.

You weren't thinking about Aiden anymore.

You wipe the tears from your eyes and look into the bag again. You are so gonna spend a day reading through as much of it as possible.

“Thank you, Ry.”

He gives you the warmest smile. “I’ll just pick up some books. I’ll be right back.”

You give him a nod and immediately pick up a book from the bag Ryland had bought you.

It was one about a scientist being sent up to space and meeting an alien. It sounded interesting, so you started reading it.

Minutes passed, and Grace brought a stack of books about molecular biology. His eyes were sparkling with joy.

“Already reading your books, I see.” He sat down next to you.

You giggled and looked up at him. “It’s about a scientist being sent up to space and saving the world.”

He nodded in curiosity. “Wouldn’t want to be that scientist.”

“You don’t want to save the world?” You lower your book.

“No. I meant that I wouldn’t want to be sent up to space.” He flips through his book. “Space is terrifying, you know.”

You tilt your head. “Oh really?”

Ryland looks at you through the rim of his glasses, eyebrows slightly raised. “Have you heard about the Fermi Paradox?!”

“No? Tell me about it.” You smiled softly.

“Well, it’s basically the contradiction between the high probability of extraterrestrial life and the lack of evidence for its existence.” He paused for a bit. “If the universe is so old and big… Why haven’t we found anyone?!”

“Maybe we’re just looking for life that looks like us.”

Ryland pauses mid-sentence. “...That’s actually a really good point.”

And just like that, another hour or two—well, maybe you and Ryland lost track of time and spent three hours in the bookstore. Discussing extremophiles, research, microbiology, and how he almost tripped over a stray cord in his dorm.

The two of you were the most animated because it’s where both of your curiosities show. 

You looked around the bookstore again.

The couple by the window sharing a drink. The girl showing her boyfriend a book she liked. The guy carrying the stack of books his partner picked out.

You looked back at Ryland.

He was sitting beside you, explaining why a microorganism surviving in extreme conditions was "basically proof that life is ridiculously stubborn."

And suddenly, you realized something.

This looked like a date.

It felt like one. Except neither of you had called it that.

“The thing I love about biology is that life doesn't care if conditions are convenient.”

You smile. “That's a very dramatic way to describe bacteria.”

“I'm serious.”

“I know.”

He looks at the book in his hands. “Everyone thinks life needs perfect conditions. But organisms adapt. They survive things they shouldn't.”

He shrugs. “I think that's incredible.”

You watch him explain different topics of biology. You had seen Ryland excited before. 

During experiments, debates, the rare moments when he discovered something new.

But somehow, seeing him surrounded by books, talking about life in the universe like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever encountered, felt different.

You understood why people in your department liked him. Unfortunately.

You shook your head.

No.

Absolutely not.

This was Ryland Grace.

Your best friend.

The guy who ate cereal at two in the morning and forgot where he put his own glasses while wearing them.

He notices you smiling to yourself while silently reading your book and gently nudges you with his shoulder. 

You look up at him, holding his borrowed, hard-bound biology book that looks comically big. “What?” You let out a slight giggle.

“Wanna go somewhere else?” 

You blink. “Now, where are you taking me?” You cross your arms, pretending to be suspicious. 

A small smile pulls at his lips. “Follow me.”

“You’re being suspiciously mysterious.”

“I’m always mysterious.”

“You once spent twenty minutes looking for your phone while it was in your hand.”

“That was unrelated.”

You laugh, and he gestures toward the exit.

You gently close your book and place it back into the paper bag. As you reach down to grab it, Ryland is already picking it up.

You raise an eyebrow.

He looks down at the bag in his hand. “It’s heavy.”

You dramatically place a hand over your chest. “I am not a damsel in distress, Mr. Grace.”

“It’s still heavy.”

“You carried three stacks of books earlier.”

“Yes.”

“And?” You put your hand on your hips.

“And this is still heavy.”

You stare at him, trying not to smile. Because that was Ryland.

He never made a big deal out of helping you. He never made you feel incapable. He simply noticed something and did something about it.

“You know,” you say as the two of you walk out of the bookstore, “most people would use this opportunity to tease me.”

“I am teasing you.”

“No, you’re not.”

He looks offended. “I absolutely am.”

“You’re literally carrying my books.”

“Because they're heavy.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you keep hanging out with me.” The answer comes too quickly.

“Yeah.”

Both of you pause. Not because the answer was surprising. Because it was obvious.

With just a few steps away from the bookstore, Ryland brings you in front of a museum. 

“A museum?” You turn to him. 

“Not just any museum.” He smiles like a child and points at the sign near the entrance.

You read the sign that he was pointing at. It read “San Francisco Natural History Museum.”

Your eyes blew wide because it meant that the museum probably had science displays inside. “No way…”

Ryland nods, still smiling like a small child. “Yes way.”

The two of you enter the museum, giggling like children who were playing with mud. He paid for your tickets and immediately went to the science section.

You were met with a life sciences exhibit. Deep-sea organisms, ancient life forms, extremophiles were displayed across the room.

You expected Ryland to be interested, as he talked about one of the exhibits back at the bookstore. But you did not expect him to stop walking entirely.

“Ryland?”

He was staring at a display about organisms surviving in extreme environments. “Do you know how insane this is?”

You smiles. “You say that about bacteria every week.”

“Because bacteria are insane every week.”

He starts explaining random facts about each exhibit. You just listen to him and watch his eyes glimmer in amazement.

You were also amused by the different exhibits displayed. You practically read every plaque that comes with each one. 

But for some reason, you liked looking at Ryland more.

Your eyes lingered at him. The way the corner of his eyes crinkled a bit when he smiles. You like seeing him happy.

He points at an interactive DNA exhibit nearby. “Wasn’t this your favourite lesson back in freshman year?” 

You jumped in excitement. “Yes!”

The stations had building blocks where visitors can build a DNA sequence or match traits. There was a tutorial playing on a TV but you didn’t bother with it as you already had the lesson memorized by heart.

As the both of you were playing with the DNA blocks an employee walks up to you. “Good afternoon! Do you need any help?” 

Before you could say anything, Ryland speaks up. “Nope. She’s a molecular biologist.” 

The employee’s eyes blew wide in amusement. You gave him a look. “He’s a molecular biologist, too.” 

“Oh! Well— Enjoy the exhibit then, lovebirds!” The employee walked away before either of you could correct him.

Lovebirds.

The word sat between the two of you.

You suddenly became very aware of how close you were standing. How Ryland was leaning over the exhibit beside you. How his shoulder brushed yours every time he moved. How neither of you immediately said, "We're not together."

You immediately looked away from Ryland after hearing that word. He also fell silent. 

The word distracted you from building DNA sequences, and you placed one in the wrong spot.

“You uh—” Ryland swallows. “You got that wrong.” 

Still looking away from him, “No, I didn’t.”

He points at a block and giggles. “You literally put adenine with guanine.”

You immediately remove the block, as if it was a crime to put adenine and guanine together. “It was an accident.”

“You’re literally a molecular biologist.” He continues to laugh.

"I was distracted."

"By what?"

You freeze. "The exhibit."

"Right." He smiles. "The exhibit."

You finally look up at him and he was covering his mouth to keep himself quiet. He was failing terribly.

The employee returned to check the exhibit, looking impressed. "You two really know your stuff."

Before you could respond, Ryland smiles. "She does."

You look at him. He shrugs.

"What? You do."

And somehow that simple statement means more than any compliment Aiden gave you yesterday.

After some time playing with blocks in the DNA exhibit, you moved on to do a genetics quiz nearby. 

The TV flashed the question. “Which mutation can alter protein function?”

You and Ryland answered at the same time. “Missense mutation.”

You look at each other.

“You copied me.” Ryland puts his hands on his hips.

“I literally said it at the same time.” You also put your hands on your hips.

“Exactly. You copied me faster.”

“You owe me a pack of Skittles, then.” 

Ryland gave you a dramatic gasp as you rolled your eyes. 

The two of you moved on from exhibit to exhibit. Ryland making sure the two of you understand the meaning and significance of each onewith his random facts or a search on Google.

The evolution exhibit was first.

You stood in front of a timeline stretching across an entire wall, showing millions of years of life on Earth.

Ryland immediately started reading every plaque. Every single plaque.

You watched him move from display to display, hands buried in his cardigan pockets.

"Ryland." He didn't answer.

"Ryland." Still nothing.

"Ryland Grace."

He finally looked up. "What?"

"You've been standing in front of that fish for ten minutes."

"It's an important fish." You stared at him.

He pointed at the display. "This thing helped eventually lead to us."

"It's a fish."

"It's our fish."

You burst out laughing. The rest of the exhibit only got worse. Every few minutes Ryland would stop in front of something and proudly announce: "That's our cousin." Or: "Technically we're related to that."

At one point he pointed at an ancient mammal reconstruction. You narrowed your eyes. "If you say that's our cousin—"

"It's our cousin."

"Ryland."

"It's science."

"It's ridiculous."

"It's accurate."

You hated how pleased he looked with himself.

The microscope station was somehow even more dangerous.

Visitors could place prepared slides under digital microscopes and project the images onto large screens.

The moment Ryland realized what the station was, his eyes lit up. "Oh, we're absolutely doing this."

A few minutes later, the two of you had completely taken over one of the microscopes. "Move."

"No."

"You've been looking at that sample for five minutes."

"And?"

"It's my turn."

"You can look when I'm done."

You crossed your arms. "Ryland."

He sighed dramatically and moved aside. You immediately leaned forward. The image on the screen enlarged and showed bacterial colonies.

Your face instantly brightened. "Okay, that's actually really cool."

"I know."

The employee supervising the station smiled. "You two seem excited."

Ryland looked offended. "Excited?"

The employee nodded.

Ryland pointed at the screen. "Do you know how incredible this is?"

The employee quickly retreated. You laughed so hard you nearly dropped one of the slides.

The fossil section was quieter.

Large skeletons towered above the visitors. Ancient creatures frozen in time.

You stood beneath the skeleton of a massive marine reptile hanging from the ceiling. "Imagine discovering that."

Ryland looked up. "Imagine being the first person who dug that up."

You smiled. "Everyone would think you're lying."

"Exactly."

The two of you stood there for a moment. Tiny beneath something millions of years older than either of you.

And for once, neither of you felt the need to fill the silence.

It was comfortable. The kind that only existed between people who knew each other well.

Eventually, the museum staff began directing visitors toward the final exhibit of the day.

The planetarium.

The lights dimmed as everyone settled into their seats.

You and Ryland sat beside each other near the back.

Above you, the artificial night sky slowly appeared. Stars spread across the curved ceiling. Constellations. Nebulae. Entire galaxies.

The narrator began explaining the scale of the universe.

You watched planets drift overhead. Watched stars being born and dying. Watched galaxies collide.

The room became quiet.

For several minutes, nobody spoke.

Then—

"This is horrifying."

You turned toward Ryland.

"What?"

He pointed upward. "The universe."

You laughed quietly.

"Only you would watch a beautiful space show and be terrified."

"I'm serious."

He continued staring at the ceiling. "Do you realize how big everything is?"

"That's the beautiful part."

"No, that's the terrifying part."

You shook your head. "You're impossible."

He smiled. "Maybe."

The stars reflected faintly in his glasses. You should have looked away. Instead, your eyes lingered.

Just for a second.

Then another.

Because somewhere between the bookstore, the museum, the coffee, the books, and the conversations, something had shifted.

You weren't paying attention to the stars anymore.

You were paying attention to him.

And somehow, that felt far more dangerous than the universe above you.

As the two of you left the room when the show ended, the speakers sounded across the museum. It said that there were only ten minutes left before the museum closed.

He carefully placed his hand at your lower back, guiding you to the exit. Neither of you acknowledged it, but the two of you were definitely blushing.

The heat of his palm radiated through the fabric of your blouse. 

It was comforting.

You finally reach the exit and look around. It was dark.

You realized that, somehow, you had spent an entire day with Ryland Grace.

And you couldn’t remember the last time you had been that happy.

After a few moments of silence, you looked up at him. “Where to now?”

Ryland opened his mouth. Then closed it again. For once, Ryland Grace seemed unsure of what to say.

You tilted your head. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“That's never a good sign.”

He let out a small laugh and rubbed the back of his neck.

The museum behind you was slowly emptying as visitors made their way toward the parking lot. The city lights had already begun flickering to life around you.

For some reason, neither of you started walking.

It felt strange.

The day should have ended hours ago.

Coffee had somehow turned into a bookstore.

The bookstore had somehow turned into a museum.

And now both of you were just standing there, neither willing to be the first person to say goodbye.

Ryland looked away first. “There’s somewhere else I wanted to show you.”

You blinked. “There is?”

He nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Why do I feel like you've been planning this all day?”

His ears immediately turned pink. “I haven't.”

“You absolutely have.”

“I haven't.”

“You bought me books.”

“That doesn't prove anything.”

“You bought me a cinnamon bun.”

“You stare at it every time we go to the café.”

“You took me to my favorite bookstore.”

“You've wanted to go there since sophomore year.”

You narrowed your eyes.

Ryland looked away. “Okay, maybe I planned a little bit of it.”

You couldn't stop smiling.

“A little?”

“A scientifically reasonable amount.”

“That means yes.”

He sighed dramatically. “It means yes.”

You laughed. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The city buzzed quietly around you. Then Ryland glanced toward the street and shoved his hands into his cardigan pockets.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

A smile appeared on his face. “It's a surprise.”

He brought you to San Francisco’s waterfront. It was dark out, and the warm streetlights started turning on. It was quiet.

Ryland brings you to a somewhat hidden spot with a beautiful view.

The bay stretched endlessly before you, the water turning almost black beneath the night sky. City lights shimmered across its surface, breaking apart whenever a boat passed through. The Golden Gate Bridge glowed faintly in the distance, its red towers illuminated against the evening fog. 

A thin layer of fog drifted across parts of the bay, softening the city lights and making everything feel quieter than it actually was. 

You were mesmerized by it. As you leaned at the railings, a breeze passed through your hair. Closing your eyes, you were relaxed.

You felt the railings shift a bit, probably because Ryland was also leaning against the railings.

You opened your eyes and looked up at the stars. “The world really is beautiful.”

Comfortable silence landed over the two of you before Ryland spoke. 

“Yeah…” he paused. “It really is beautiful.”

You hummed before looking at him.

He was looking at you.

Not at the stars.

You froze for a moment.

Ryland immediately looked away, almost as if he had been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

"What?" you asked softly.

"Nothing."

You smiled slightly. "You're a terrible liar, you know."

He let out a quiet laugh, looking back at the water.

"Yeah. I know."

For a few seconds, neither of you said anything.

The waves gently moved against the shore below. Somewhere in the distance, a boat passed through the bay, leaving a trail of ripples behind it.

"I was thinking about yesterday."

Your smile faded slightly. "Aiden?"

Ryland nodded.

You looked down at your hands resting against the railing. "I think I was disappointed because I wanted him to see me."

Ryland stayed quiet.

"Not the version of me that looks nice or the version of me who can make conversation." You swallowed. "I wanted him to see the things I care about."

Your eyes drifted back toward the city lights.

"The weird stuff. The things I talk about too much. The things that make me lose track of time."

A small smile appeared on your face. "The things that probably annoy everyone else."

"Not everyone."

You looked at him.

Ryland's expression softened. "Not everyone finds it annoying."

Your chest tightened slightly.

Because you knew what he meant.

"I think that's what hurt the most," you admitted. "He wasn't a bad person. He was actually really nice."

A pause.

"He just didn't know me."

Ryland looked down.

And for once, he didn't have a sarcastic comment. Didn't have a joke. Didn't have a scientific explanation.

"I know you."

The words came quietly.

Almost like he didn't mean to say them out loud.

Your breath caught.

Ryland seemed to realize what he had said, because he immediately looked away. "I mean— as your friend."

You smiled softly. "Right."

But neither of you believed that was the whole sentence.

The wind moved through the bay, carrying the smell of saltwater.

Ryland looked back at you.

"Do you know why I brought you here?"

You tilted your head. "Because you wanted to make me feel better?"

"That too."

He smiled.

"But mostly because I wanted you to remember something."

"What?"

His fingers tightened slightly around the railing.

"That you don't have to make yourself smaller for someone to like you."

You stared at him.

"You spend so much time worrying if people understand you. If you're too much. If you're too interested in things nobody else cares about."

He smiled faintly.

"But I've always thought those were the best parts of you."

The city lights blurred slightly as your eyes watered. "Ryland..."

He looked nervous now. Not the nervousness he had when presenting research or defending an argument.

Something completely different. Something much more vulnerable.

"I don't know when it happened."

A pause.

"I don't know when you stopped being just my best friend."

Your heart stopped.

"But somewhere along the way, you became the person I looked for first whenever something happened."

He looked at you.

"When something exciting happened, I wanted to tell you. When something went wrong, I wanted to know if you were okay. When I saw something interesting, I wondered if you would like it."

A small laugh escaped him.

"Which is probably why I know your favorite straw."

You laughed softly through the tears. "That's such a weird thing to admit."

"I know." He smiled.

"But it's true."

The two of you stood there, surrounded by the lights of San Francisco and the quiet sound of the bay. And for the first time all day, you weren't wondering if someone saw you.

Because Ryland Grace always had.

“Ryland…” You managed to mumble through your tears.

He immediately looked worried. “Was that too much?”

You shake your head. “No.” A pause. “I just can’t believe you noticed all of that.” 

His expression softens.

"Of course I noticed."

"Why?"

He looks confused. "Because it's you."

The answer was so simple.

So Ryland.

You smiled softly, stepping closer until your shoulders brushed against his.

For once, neither of you moved away.

You stared out at the city lights reflecting against the water, letting the quiet settle between you.

"I don't want today to end."

You felt him turn slightly toward you.

"Neither do I."

A smile immediately escaped your lips. It was strange.

After everything that happened yesterday, after spending so much time wondering if someone would ever understand you, you were standing beside someone who had been doing exactly that for years.

Without thinking, you rested your head against his shoulder.

You felt him freeze.

Not because he didn't want you there.

Because Ryland Grace, somehow, was still processing the fact that you were leaning against him.

You couldn't help but smile.

"Ryland."

"Sorry. I just—" He stopped himself.

You laughed quietly. "You're overthinking again."

"I am not."

"You are."

"I am scientifically analyzing the situation."

"You are literally panicking because your best friend is resting her head on your shoulder."

A pause. "...That is an accurate assessment."

You laughed softly.

Then you reached for his hand resting against the railing.

His fingers were warm.

The exact kind of warmth you expected from him.

Your hands intertwined.

For a moment, Ryland only stared down at them. Like he was looking at something impossible.

"Is this okay?"

Your expression softened. "Ry."

"Right. Sorry."

You shook your head, smiling. "You don't have to ask me every time you care about me."

The words made him look back at you. And suddenly, the teasing disappeared. Because he understood.

This wasn't about the hand-holding.

It was about everything else.

The cardigan.

The Skittles.

The books.

The coffee.

Years of small moments where he had quietly chosen you. And somehow, you had only just realized you were choosing him too.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" You smiled.

"I've heard that before."

"Probably from me."

"Mostly from you." He laughed softly.

And there it was again.

That smile.

The one you had noticed earlier at the bookstore. The one you suddenly couldn't stop noticing.

The one that made you wonder how you had spent years looking at him and never seeing him like this. You looked away for a second, embarrassed by your own thoughts.

When you looked back, he was already watching you.

Neither of you spoke.

You didn't need to.

The space between you felt different now.

Not uncomfortable.

Not uncertain.

Just waiting.

Ryland's eyes flickered down for a second before immediately looking back at yours. A silent question. And somehow, you understood.

You slowly leaned closer.

Giving him every chance to move away. He didn't.

Instead, his hand tightened slightly around yours.

And when you kissed him, it wasn't rushed.

It wasn't dramatic.

It was quiet.

Almost like both of you were afraid that moving too quickly would break the moment.

The city continued moving around you. The boats crossed the bay. The lights reflected on the water. The universe kept existing.

But for once, neither of you cared about anything beyond the person standing right in front of you.

His lips were soft.

You never wanted this to end. 

But you thought that he was probably going crazy inside of his mind so you slowly pulled away.

For a while, neither of you said anything. You just stood there. Hand in hand.

The city lights reflected against the water, the wind passing between the two of you, and for once, your mind wasn't racing.

You looked up at him, smiling softly. "Ry?"

"Hm?"

"I think I finally understand something."

His eyebrows lifted slightly. "That sounds terrifying."

You laughed.

"Remember when I said yesterday that I wanted someone to understand why I love what I do?"

He nodded. 

"You already did."

His expression softened. "I always did."

The answer was so simple. So obvious. And somehow, it made your chest ache.

"You know, it's kind of annoying."

"What is?"

"You spent years being the person who knew me best, and I didn't even realize."

Ryland smiled. "To be fair, you were distracted by a mechanical engineer."

You gasped. "Are you still making fun of me?"

"Absolutely."

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. Some things would never change.

The teasing.

The arguments.

The endless conversations about science that somehow lasted until three in the morning.

The fact that Ryland Grace would still steal your snacks and pretend he didn't know you wanted some.

The fact that you would still complain about it while taking half of whatever he was eating.

Except now, there was something different. Now, when you walked beside him, your hands were intertwined. Now, when he looked at you, you knew exactly what it meant. Now, you didn't have to wonder if he noticed you.

He always had.

~

a/n: Another long one haha! This one took me a few days to write, but the end obviously made me squeal and twist and turn like a silly teenage girl.

I hoped you guys liked it! Requests are still open and a reblog and like would be greatly appreciated! Genuinely thankyou for all of the support you've been giving me from the start. See you next fic!! <3

"I just flew through multiple countries in a fighter jet in less than two hours," he said weakly.

You raised an eyebrow. "Fair point." With a tilt of your head, you motioned for him to follow.

The hallways of Stratt's facility were a maze of concrete corridors, security doors, and fluorescent lights. You had worked there long enough to navigate them without thinking.

Behind you, Grace shuffled along. After a moment, he cleared his throat.

"Do you, uh..." He swallowed. "Do you have anything for nausea?"

You kept walking. "Maybe."

"That's the most hopeful answer I've received all day." You almost smiled.

"The surprise presentation with the most important people in the world didn't really help," he continued. "Turns out that's not great for the stomach."

His voice sounded slightly greener by the second, so you picked up your pace.

Grace had expected a military escort. Instead, he'd been met by someone carrying a clipboard and looking profoundly unimpressed by his existence.

As you walked, employees stepped aside to let you and Grace pass.

"Morning, ma'am." An employee bowed. "Good afternoon, Miss." Another bowed.

You answered each greeting without breaking stride. Behind you, Grace was quiet. "You're important here."

"No."

"That wasn't a question..."

By the time you reached the room Stratt had assigned him, Grace looked like he was one bad turn away from decorating the hallway floor.

You opened the door. The room was small and practical. A single bed. A cabinet. A chair. A table. And sitting on that table beside a glass of water was a packet of anti-nausea medication.

Grace spotted it immediately. His eyes lit up with genuine excitement.

Before you could say a word, he crossed the room, grabbed the medication, and swallowed it with the water.

You watched the entire process unfold. "...You didn't even ask if it was for you."

He lowered the glass. "It was sitting next to a glass of water."

"That's your reasoning?"

"That and you didn't stop me."

You stared at him. He stared back.

"...Fair."

A few seconds passed before you gestured around the room. "This is your room. The bathroom is down the hall."

Grace nodded, already looking significantly more alive than he had five minutes ago.

You sighed. You couldn't believe you were about to say this. Mostly because it sounded ridiculous. But Stratt had been very specific.

"And if you need assistance," you said, forcing the words out, "I'll be right next door."

For a moment, Grace simply blinked at you, then his eyebrows rose. "Wow."

"What."

"Stratt assigned me a babysitter."

"I am not your babysitter." You gripped your clipboard tighter.

"Good." He glanced around the room. "Because that would be embarassing for both of us."

You sigh once again, relieved that your ordered interaction with him was almost over.

"Seven am tomorrow. Conference room. You'll know where it is." You close the door.

With the years you've spent working as Ava Stratt's second-in-command, you couldn't believe that she assigned you to look over a science teacher with a doctorate in molecular biology.

You plan to talk with Stratt tomorrow before she meets with Grace, thinking of lines in your head that you think will make Stratt consider.

You realized that you'd been standing in front of Grace's door for a few minutes, thinking about your plan for tomorrow morning. Before you could move, the door opened.

You were greeted with Ryland's blue eyes, staring at you, confused. "Have you been standing there for the past few minutes?"

Your eyes widened, embarrassed that you were indeed standing there for the past few minutes.

"I have a lot on my mind." You turn to go to your room next door, but he calls to you.

"Where uh— Where are my things?" He looks back at his depressingly empty dormitory.

"Oh." You stop in front of your door. "Staff will bring it to you tomorrow."

His eyes widened. The thought of sleeping in the same clothes he presented in front of a council of the most important people and flew across half of the world simply disgusted him.

"So I'm supposed to slip in this?" He cringed.

You sighed, "There are pajamas inside the cabinet and a free Project Hail Mary shirt just down the hallway."

"What about my pants?!"

You pinched the bridge of your nose both in amusement and annoyance. "You are a molecular biologist, Dr. Grace." You looked at him. "Figure it out."

"That seems unrelated to pants."

You stare at him one last time before closing the door of your dormitory.

~

It was one of those mornings where you woke up feeling strangely optimistic.

Then you saw Ryland Grace's door. The optimism immediately left your body.

You still didn't understand why Stratt had assigned you to him. World-ending crisis aside, he was a science teacher. Yes, he had a doctorate in molecular biology. Yes, he had somehow impressed a room full of the most powerful people on Earth. Yes, Stratt herself seemed interested in him.

But he was still, at his core, a science teacher.

A very tall science teacher. An annoyingly intelligent science teacher. A science teacher currently standing between you and whatever important work Stratt should have assigned you instead.

You arrive at the conference room Stratt had called you and Grace into the day before. Stratt was sitting at the head of the table, sipping her two cups of coffee.

"Stratt." You stood in front of her, not going to your normal spot next to her.

She hummed, not breaking eye contact with her laptop.

"Can you assign Doctor Grace to another staff member?" You try to recite the lines you have been planning in your head since you met Grace. "I have spent months coordinating this entire operation, and now I'm assigned to escort a scientist around?"

Stratt stops typing and looks up at you, interlocking her fingers with her other hand. "You are assigned to an important task."

"So babysitting a scientist is an important task?!" You couldn't believe her.

The security guards in the room looked more tense than you. Up until you were promoted as second-in-comand, you were really the only one on the ship who had the guys to argue with Ava Stratt.

Stratt sighed, saying your last name. "That scientist that you are 'babysitting' is the leading scientist on astrophage research."

You freeze, finally realizing the gravity of the words Stratt had said.

Leading. Scientist. On. Astrophage. Research.

"Good morning, Dr. Grace." Stratt looks over your shoulder.

You look behind you and see Grace in the same pants as yesterday, but is now wearing a free Project Hail Mary shirt.

Your breath hitched, realizing that he might've heard you complaining about him to Stratt. "How long have you been there?"

He stood there awkwardly, "For the record, I also wasn't sure why I was assigned a babysitter."

You looked at him. "You're not helping your case."

Stratt finally stands up from her seat and walks towards the projected image of what looked like a presentation she had prepared. You walk to your seat, having an internal monologue on why you were assigned to look over the now-leading scientist in astrophage research.

She looks over at Grace and gestures to the seat right next to you. "Have a seat."

Grace immediately walks over and sits next to you, plopping down a pen and notepad he had found in his dormitory.

"Alright." Stratt sighs. "I am sure both of you are confused about why I assigned my second-in-command to the leading scientist in astrophage research."

Those words were beginning to feel less like a title and more like a personal attack.

"How did you not know about me?" He whispers to you. "Were you not at the conference yesterday?"

You looked straight at Stratt, not turning your head towards him. "I was organizing the spaceship's systems with Russia and China."

Grace's eyes widened, his voice significantly louder than the whisper he had voiced seconds ago. "Russia and China?!"

You force your eyes shut, feeling Stratt get increasingly annoyed at the only two people she was presenting to not paying attention.

Stratt clears her throat, making Grace sit straight and finally pay attention. "Sorry."

Stratt tapped the remote, and the projected image behind her changed. “Dr. Grace.”

Grace immediately looked up.

“You are the most qualified person on Earth to study astrophage and determine a solution to the Petrova problem.”

Grace nodded slowly.

“And you,” she continued, looking at you.

You straightened slightly.

“You are the only person in this facility who has consistently managed to take impossible objectives and turn them into executable plans.”

You opened your mouth. Then closed it. Compliments from Stratt were rare enough that you weren’t sure that was what just happened.

“Dr. Grace can solve the scientific problem,” Stratt continued. “You will make sure his solutions can actually be implemented.”

She looked between the two of you.

“That is why you are working together.”

Silence fills the room. Stratt tapped the remote again and the image behind her changed. It was a diagram of the Hail Mary

"The mission has one critical limitation." Stratt looked at Grace. "The ship can reach Tau Ceti."

She paused.

"Assuming we can produce enough fuel to get there."

Grace starts paying closer attention to the presentation, scribbling notes at his notepad. "Right now, we know astrophage can be cultivated."

Stratt changes the slide. "The problem is scale."

She looked at Grace "We do not need a sample. We do not need a laboratory quantity."

Another slide appeared. "We need enough astrophage to power humanity's last chance."

"Your task is to determine how to increase production." Stratt looked at Grace. "How to make astrophage reproduce faster. More efficiently."

Then her eyes moved to you. "And once he has that answer, your task is to make it possible."

"Meaning?" You tapped your pen onto the table.

"Facilities. Resources. Personnel. Legal obstacles. Everything outside of science."

Grace stopped writing for a moment and turned towards you. "You do all of that?"

You looked confused. "Yes."

"As part of your job?"

"Yes."

He looked back at his notes. "Interesting."

You sighed, thinking of the amount of work you had to do on top of your existing responsibilities. But your line of thought was shattered by Stratt's next few words.

"Fortunately, we have a lead."

The next slide appeared. A man's face appeared on the screen. You frowned and tilted your head a bit. "Who is that?"

"Dr. Robert Redell."

You hear the frantic scribbling next to you stop, and Grace looks up. "The engineer?" The surprise in Grace's voice made you look over. It was the first time since yesterday that he looked completely serious.

Stratt looked at him. "You know him?"

"Everyone in energy engineering knows him."

Stratt looked amused by his knowledge of this man. She gestures for him to continue explaining.

“Dr. Redell was responsible for developing the most efficient production system currently known.”

The room went quiet.

“He is also currently serving a life sentence.” He silently adds.

You were confused and turned to him. "For what?"

"Culpable homicide," Stratt answers you. "His solar energy project failed. Seven workers died."

"So you want me to get him out." You finally piece together what Stratt wants you to do. It doesn't take much time for it to figure out due to the years you have spent working with her.

"Yes." She didn't hesitate. "You have the authority to negotiate his pardon."

Stratt stared at you intensely. "Use it."

Grace looked at you again "You can do that?"

You frowned. "Yes."

"Legally?"

"Yes."

"Internationally?"

"Yes."

A pause. "That's a very large amount of authority."

You shrugged. "It's my job." He looked back down at his notes. "I think your job is more complicated than mine."

Out of all of the insane tasks Stratt has given you, this one really took the cake. Breaking out a convict to help save humanity? Yeah, definitely a normal day in Stratt's ship.

"Dr. Redell is brilliant," Stratt says, killing off the silence that was growing as you slowly realize the task at hand. "He is also the reason seven people are dead."

"I don't trust him." Grace interrupts.

She looked at Grace. "But I trust his work."

"So, in short." You look down at your notes. "I break out an engineer convicted of culpable homicide from prison and handle all the legal logistics stuff..."

"...so that we have enough fuel to power astrophage reproduction and create 2.4 million kilograms of it." Grace adds, also looking down at his notes.

"Yes." Stratt replies.

"Great," you stand up. "Easy enough."

Grace looks up at you while Stratt packs up the conference room for another meeting. "How is breaking someone who has a life sentence out of prison easy?"

"It's a joke, Dr. Grace." You cleaned up your belongings and started heading out of the conference room.

You stop in the middle of your step, realizing something, "Stratt, question." You turn to look at Stratt, who was typing away at her laptop, sipping her second cup of coffee.

She hums as a reply. "Why aren't you the one breaking the guy out of prison?" Your question made Grace and the guards freeze.

Grace looked between the two of you.

He wasn't sure what surprised him more — the fact that you questioned Stratt, or the fact that Stratt didn't immediately shut you down.

Stratt never really looked up from her laptop, simply replying with, "You have a third of my authority. Use it." She takes another sip of her coffee. "I have meetings with—"

"With other scientists and engineers regarding the Hail Mary. Yeah, I read it from your schedule." You cut her off, surprising Grace with how you're still alive.

"Go along now." Stratt orders, and both of you head towards the lab that Stratt had assigned to Grace.

As you placed your bag on the lab's cold, metal bench, Grace spoke up. "So..."

You glanced at him, "So?"

"You can apparently negotiate pardons." He slowly puts on his lab coat.

"Apparently."

"And coordinate with multiple countries?"

"Yes." You answer as you spill out your belongings on your desk.

"And Stratt trusts you."

You stopped arranging your things and looked at him, "Is there a question there, Dr. Grace?"

Grace shrugs and claps his hands after putting on his gloves. You sit down at your desk, and he heads to the lab proper. You press the microphone beside you, turning it on to communicate with the scientist in the laboratory.

"Alright." You open your laptop. "When can you finish the experiments so we can fly to New Zealand?"

Grace stops setting up his equipment and looks at you through the laboratory's glass. The word 'fly' simply sent shivers down his spine after almost passing out multiple times in a fighter jet yesterday. "Why on Earth would we need to fly to New Zealand?"

You look directly at him through the glass. "...to collect Dr. Redell. Duh."

He opens a pack of Twizzlers and puts one in his mouth. "Can you give me one week?"

"One week is simply too long." You type away at your keyboard. "And you're obviously trying to stall flying."

Grace sighs. "Try flying across the world in a fighter jet!"

"I've already done that."

Two days have passed since you and Grace were paired together. You finalized all of the details you need to collect Dr. Redell from Auckland Prison in New Zealand.

Now, all you need is to convince Dr. Ryland Grace to go with you.

"Put this on. We're going to New Zealand." You plop down a flight suit on Grace's desk, making him jump.

Grace looked at the flight suit. Then at you. Then back at the flight suit. "I feel like we skipped an important part of the conversation."

You gave him a look that he immediately understood.

He groans, knowing this day would eventually come. "Right now?"

"Yes. Meet me at the runway in five minutes." You walk away, making Grace question what he was doing with his life.

He looked at the flight suit in his hands.

Two days ago, he had been teaching middle school.

Somehow, he was now preparing to fly internationally to retrieve a convicted engineer because humanity needed fuel.

He finally meets up with you on the runway, full suit on. You jump into the fighter jet you ordered to pick you up. Grace immediately clocks the jet as the same jet he rode three days ago.

"Oh. I am not going."

"Do you want the fuel for your astrophage reproduction or not?" And against his own will, he gets into the fighter jet with you.

The next hour was filled with muffled screams of Grace next to you while you thought about how to get the engineer out of prison. Then you suddenly remembered that you forgot to give Grace anti-nausea medication.

You glanced over at him once you touched down in New Zealand. The scientist was pale again, and you made a mental note to never forget the medication twice.

You immediately head towards Auckland Prison. Everything was going according to your plan, but you didn't expect that the thing that would disrupt your plans was an extremely stubborn guard at the entrance.

"Please. I ask you once again." The guard sighs. "I understand your clearance, ma'am. But it is procedure for us to pat down every guest."

"I'm aware."

Grace looked between you and the guard.

He had spent the last hour inside a fighter jet, survived your travel schedule, and now he was standing outside a prison entrance arguing about security procedures.

"I'll go first."

He goes through security and gets a pat-down. Unsurprisingly, the guards find nothing on him. It was now your turn—again.

You sigh in annoyance and hand the guards your ID. The guard reads your name and your position in accordance with Project Hail Mary.

The guard hands back your ID slowly, now letting you pass through the metal detector—no pat-downs.

Grace whispers to you as you head towards the visitation room of Dr. Redell. "You know, most people would be upset about going through security after having that level of clearance."

You looked at him. "Most people don't work with Stratt."

You and Grace sat down, with Dr. Redell on the other side of the glass in handcuffs. "What do you need?" His raspy voice asked.

"You are getting released today, and we are taking you to Eva Stratt's ship…" You dropped the bomb on him, just as Stratt ordered.

Grace was as surprised as Dr. Redell. "I— I'm sorry. What?"

You explained to him the mission at hand and what was at stake. You did your best to withhold information that was classified while Grace sat quietly beside you. Dr Redell's face contorted and twisted in all kinds of emotions.

Redell stared at you. "You understand what you're asking, right?"

You tilted your head slightly.

"You are asking me to walk out of prison and build something that could determine the survival of humanity."

"Sorry about the sudden information." Grace apologizes quietly.

Redell stared into the wall. "You know what happened the last time someone trusted my work?" A short silence followed.

"Seven people died because of my work." He warns.

"I know." You exhale as you hand the officer the papers with more importance than anyone could've ever imagined. "Eva Stratt trusted you to finish what you started."

Redell looked at you. "Do you?"

The question caught you off guard. Because the answer wasn't as simple as Stratt's.

You pause for a bit. Grace didn't say anything, but you noticed his eyes flick toward you. He noticed. Of course he noticed.

"Your work," You finally replied. "Yes."

A pause. "The rest..." You glanced down at the documents. "That's something you'll have to prove."

The next few hours were followed by multiple pieces of paperwork inside the chief officer's office. As you were signing papers for Dr Redell's release, Grace gave the officers an awkward smile. "Sorry for the trouble."

One of the officers blinked. After everything they had witnessed, this was somehow the strangest part of their careers.

As you walked out of the prison, Grace looked at you. "So..."

You already knew that tone of his, "No."

"I didn't even ask anything."

"You were going to." You look at him, standing next to you.

"I was going to ask if you always casually release convicted engineers from prison." He looks at you, a soft smile on his lips.

"Only when humanity is ending."

Grace nodded slowly. "Good to know that's your limit."

You fly back to Stratt's ship. Grace is finding new ways to say 'I hate flying in a fighter jet' next to you. And Dr. Redell flew in a separate fighter jet for safety reasons.

As you hopped down the jet, you were met with different staff asking for your clearance and signature on documents. Grace slowly followed behind you, puking in an inverted traffic cone.

You reach the door of Stratt's conference room and stop to look at Grace. "You okay?"

He looked up, one hand on the wall to ground him. "Y-yeah.." His cheeks immediately puffed up. "One second." He managed to mumble as he ran towards the nearest bathroom.

The interaction left you with a small smile as you entered the conference room. "Dr. Grace will enter in a few minutes. He just needs time to uh—"

"I understand." Stratt looked at the empty doorway.

"The fighter jet was unnecessary."

You looked at her. "You were the one who approved it."

"Yes."

A pause. "It was still unnecessary."

You didn't notice that you were still slightly smiling while sitting down next to Stratt. She watched you for a moment. "You're smiling."

Your expression immediately disappeared. "No, I'm not."

After a few minutes, Grace and Rendell entered the room as promised and sat down to listen to Stratt.

Stratt looked at the three people in front of her.

The engineer she had pulled out of prison. The scientist who was responsible for saving humanity. Her second-in-command, who somehow looked the least stressed.

"Good. We're all here."

The meeting consisted of Stratt explaining the mission further. You could only imagine the things running through Dr. Redell's mind right now.

Evening finally falls over the ship as you clock out of work and head towards the highest point of the ship to breathe.

The silent sounds of the ocean, the birds flying across the sky, and the shine of the moon calm you down. After a stressful day at work, you retreat to this spot.

You hear faint footsteps emerging behind you, and you look over your shoulder. Grace stood a few feet away, hands shoved into the pockets of his cardigan.

"Hey." He greets you in a tone you haven't heard from him yet.

"Hi." Your response came out softer than you intended.

"Couldn't sleep?" He leans on the railings a few feet away from you.

You stare at him. "Humanity is dying."

He pouts, slightly nodding. "Fair point."

Silence immediately followed as both of you looked at the view of the ocean. The sound of waves crashing on the side of the ship calmed you down.

"You come up here often?" Grace says as quietly as possible.

"Most nights."

"Why?" He turns to you.

You looked out over the ocean and leaned your cheek to your hand. "Because nobody can find me."

You can see Grace looking at you a second too long in your peripheral vision before looking out into the ocean. He expected for you to add something else to your reply but was met with another wave of silence.

"You're quieter up here." He says, still looking out into the view.

"I'm always quiet."

Grace snorted. "No."

You looked at him, confused. "No?"

"At work, you're terrifying."

The thought of people being terrified of you made you laugh. A real laugh—one you hadn't heard from yourself in a while. Not because you enjoyed it. But because nobody had ever actually said it to your face.

"You're the first person who's told me that."

Grace looked genuinely surprised. "Really?"

"Most people are too scared."

"I wasn't." Grace leaned against the railing.

You looked at him. "You called me a babysitter."

Grace smiled. "Yeah." A pause. "And for the record, I don't think they're scared of you."

"No?"

"I think they're scared of disappointing you."

You smile at him weakly, his words slowly sinking in. You look back at the ocean for the last time.

It's quiet.

Just how you like it.

"Goodnight, Grace." You properly stood up.

He smiles back at you, wishing you goodnight as well.

"Don't tell other people about my spot." You tell him as you walk to your dormitory.

You could hear him giggle. "So I get special access?"

You didn't really answer him, but you just nodded to yourself as you went down the stairs.

The next few weeks blurred together.

Between Dr. Redell's engineering requirements, international negotiations, and Stratt's ever-growing list of impossible demands, sleep became something you vaguely remembered experiencing.

Your days consisted of conference calls with people who had entire countries behind their names, signing documents that could change the course of history, and somehow convincing officials that releasing a convicted engineer was a reasonable thing to do.

The most frustrating part was that every problem somehow became your problem. A missing component? Your problem.

A country refusing to approve the use of certain technology? Your problem.

A disagreement between engineers over the design specifications? Somehow, also your problem.

Grace had initially thought Stratt was the terrifying one. He was beginning to realize he had been wrong.

Stratt was terrifying because she was impossible to argue with.

You were terrifying because people actually listened when you argued back.

One day, Grace walked into your office while you were in the middle of a call. He had originally come to ask about one of Redell's equipment requests, but stopped the moment he heard your voice.

"No, Minister, I understand your concerns."

You were sitting behind your desk, one hand scrolling through documents while the other held your phone.

"Unfortunately, we don't have three months for approval." A pause.

"No, I'm not dismissing the importance of your regulations. I'm explaining the importance of time."

Grace quietly leaned against the doorframe, watching. You looked completely different from the person who stood beside him on the ship's observation deck.

Up there, you were quiet. Calm. Almost impossible to read.

Here, you were something else entirely. Sharp. Confident. Unshakable.

"We have approximately a planet's lifespan to solve this problem. So unless your government has discovered a way to negotiate with extinction, I suggest we continue."

A long silence followed.

Then: "Thank you. I will expect the signed documents by tomorrow morning."

You ended the call. Only then did you notice Grace standing there.

You stared at him. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You were definitely thinking something."

Grace walked further into the room, a small smile forming on his face.

"I was just wondering how many people you've casually threatened with the end of the world."

You crossed your arms, leaning against the wall beside your desk.

"I don't threaten people."

"You told a government official that humanity would die if they didn't sign a paper."

"That was a fact."

"Terrifyingly effective fact."

You rolled your eyes, but he noticed the small smile you tried to hide.

After weeks of nonstop work, your thoroughly thought-out plan cracked one after another. A country delays sending a critical component. A shipment was lost. A legal agreement falls apart. A design change means they have to restart weeks of planning.

Everyone immediately turns towards Stratt at first. When all of the intimidating and major problems have been settled by Stratt, she assigns you the task of actually making it work. “Fix it.” “Handle it.” “Figure it out.”

Grace watches it unfold.

He sees Stratt give you another next-to-impossible task, and you just say: “Understood.” Like always.

“We don’t have time for exhaustion.” Stratt’s voice was stern.

And with every strength of your body you reply, “I know.” 

Everyone sees the competent second-in-command. Grace sees the person underneath. Grace notices your hands shaking for the first time. 

But later that night, Grace walks past your dorm and hears something. Not loud crying. Not dramatic.

Just someone trying really hard not to make a noise.

He stops because it doesn’t sound like you. 

You are the person who calmly tells ministers and presidents they have a deadline. The person who argues with Stratt. The person who doesn’t even flinch during crises.

He had never heard you sound so small.

Grace doesn’t immediately enter, because this is the same person who told him: “Because nobody can find me.” So he understand your hiding place. 

Instead, he sits outside your door. Not knocking. Not forcing you to talk. Just there.

A few minutes pass, and he hears your voice through the door. “Grace?” He lifts his head, noticing your voice is quiet.

“You know you’re terrible at hiding, right?” 

A pause follows, then he replies, “Ironic coming from the person whose favorite place is somewhere nobody can find her.” And that’s when you realize he knew.

He slowly turns the doorknob to your room. His figure slowly showed itself from the doorway, and you immediately wipe your face and sit straight up in your bed. “I’m fine.”

“No.” He gently closed the door behind him, standing just at the entrance of your small and cramped dormitory. 

“Grace.” You realized you’ve been calling him Grace for weeks now. Not Dr. Grace.

“No, seriously.” And for once, he isn’t joking.

“You don’t have to convince me you’re okay.”

You look away, pretending to be look at your very interesting contents of your nightstand. “Everyone else needs me to be.”

For once, Grace doesn’t immediately have a joke. Because he understands—Maybe too well.

He had spent weeks being told the same thing in different ways. “You’re humanity’s best chance.” “You have to figure this out.”

But the difference was, people told him he was important. People told you that you were responsible. And those were two completely different things.

Grace slowly walks further into the room, careful not to make any sudden movements. Like approaching a scared animal. Except he knows if he says that out loud, you would probably throw something at him. 

“You know what’s funny?” he says quietly.

You glance at him.

“I thought Stratt was the scariest person on this ship.” 

Despite yourself, you almost smile. “You still think that.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t”

That makes you look at him, because you know exactly what he means.

“Everyone listens to Stratt because they’re afraid of what happens if they don’t.” He pauses.

“They listen to you because they trust that you’ll figure it out.”

You look down. “That sounds like a compliment.”

“It is.”

“Feels like a lot of pressure.”

Grace's expression softens. “Yeah.”

A silence settles between you. Not uncomfortable—Just honest.

Then: “You know, when I first got here, I thought you were terrifying.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You have mentioned this multiple times.”

“I'm aware. It's a very important scientific observation.”

“You're impossible.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn't a compliment.” 

“I know.”

And for a second, you almost laugh. Almost. But then your expression falls again. “I don't know what happens if I fail, Grace.”

The use of his name makes him stop. Not Dr. Grace—Just Grace.

“I know everyone says humanity depends on this mission, but..." You swallow. "...what if I'm the reason it doesn't work?"

And this is where Grace realizes something.

The person who could negotiate with entire governments. The person who could walk into Stratt's office and argue with her. The person everyone viewed as impossible to break. Was terrified of disappointing everyone.

Instead of words of encouragement you expected from Grace he asks you a question “You know what I realized?”

“What?”

“You’re really bad at giving yourself the same patience you give everyone else.”

You look at him with puffy eyes and a stuffed nose. “That’s not very useful advice.”

“I didn’t say it was useful. I said it was true.”

Silence immediately followed as Grace looked around your room. The room is exactly like he imagined. Clean. Organized. Practical. No personal things.

He realizes that you built your entire life around being useful. Not happy. Useful.

“You should sleep.” He finally breaks the silence.

You give him a tired look. “That's rich coming from someone who spent three days studying astrophage without sleeping.”

Grace points at you. “See? This is exactly what I'm talking about.”

“What?”

“You deflect.”

“I do not.”

“You absolutely do.”

A small smile appears on your face. The first real one in hours. Grace notices, but he doesn't mention it. He just sits down on the floor beside your bed. You stare at him. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you sleep.”

“You're sitting on my floor.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because apparently nobody can find you here.” A pause. “And someone should”

You stare at him sitting on the floor. "You're ridiculous."

"Probably."

"You have a lab waiting for you."

"The astrophage isn't going anywhere."

You raise an eyebrow. "That's a bold statement from someone who has spent the last three weeks acting like it might disappear if he stops looking at it."

"Okay, fair."

He adjusts his position against the wall.

"But for tonight, the project can survive without us."

~

The next morning rolled around, and you turned over to see your empty floor. You didn’t remember much of last night. You just remembered dozing off as Grace played with his cardigan’s edges on your floor. 

You sigh as you get up and get ready for the day. As you opened the door to the conference room and passed by Grace.

“Good morning” He greets you with a smile

“Good morning, Dr. Grace.” He pauses. Dr Grace. Not Grace.

The meeting was a status update on the ship. It was around eighty percent done, according to the reports of the engineers who worked on it.

Suddenly, a legal problem arises. You looked at your copy of Stratt’s schedule, and it was absolutely packed. And without a beat, you grab the problem so that Stratt had less to worry about. “I’ll handle it.”

Grace looks up immediately, interrupting you. “No.”

Everyone turns their attention to the scientist who just interrupted the second-in-command. You slowly look at him. “...Excuse me?”

Grace immediately realizes he just challenged you in front of everyone. "I mean— statistically speaking—" 

You narrow your eyes. “You’re making this worse.”

“I know,” He lowers his voice. 

Everyone in the conference room was shocked because they have never seen anybody other than Stratt talk to you like that.

After the meeting, Stratt asks you to stay after everyone left. Once the room was empty, with just you and Stratt, she asked. “Dr Grace seems to have developed an unusual influence over you.” 

You immediately tensed up, your stomach surprisingly feeling like it just dropped to the ground. “He is useful.” You manage to blurt out.

Stratt raises an eyebrow. “That was not my question.”

A few nights later, you find yourself standing at the observation deck again. Except this time, you hear footsteps behind you. You don’t turn around. “You’re getting predictable, Grace.”

“I prefer consistent.”

A small smile forms. "I never said you could come here whenever you want."

He stops right beside you. "No." A pause. "But you didn't tell me to leave."

You look at him, and he's right.

“And I definitely did not see you nodding to yourself when I asked the first night I found you here.” He smiles and looks out into the ocean. 

Your eyes widen, not expecting him to actually see you nod to yourself. “So you were looking at me that night?”

“Observing.” He replied a second too fast. 

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s a concerning answer.” You looked back toward the ocean.

The strange thing wasn't that Grace kept showing up. The strange thing was that you'd started expecting him to.

A month ago, this place had belonged to you. Now, whenever you climbed the stairs, part of you automatically listened for a second set of footsteps. You weren't sure when that had happened.

You close your eyes. The sound of the waves danced with the thought of you being partly responsible for humanity’s survival in your head. Just a few more months, you thought to yourself.

A few more months of stress, and then this can finally be over.

You hope.

“You know,” Grace breaks the comforting silence.

You turn to face him, your hair dancing in the ocean breeze.

“I worry about you,” he said quietly.

The words hit harder than they should have. Not because nobody worried; people worried all the time—the mission, deadlines, or whether you could solve their problem…

Grace was the first person who seemed worried about you.

For a moment, the only sound was the ocean. You looked away first. “That’s a terrible use of your time.”

The response came automatically. Deflection. The same thing he'd accused you of doing the other night.

Grace sighed. "See?"

You groaned quietly. "I hate that you've started noticing when I do that."

"I know."

"Stop it."

"No." That earned a reluctant smile from you.

Grace leaned against the railing, watching the horizon. "You know what everyone says about you?"

You immediately looked suspicious. "That sounds dangerous."

"Probably."

"Grace."

He pointed at the ship behind you. "They all think you're impossible." You frowned. "That's not true."

"It is."

"I'm standing right here."

"Exactly."

You rolled your eyes. "Very convincing argument."

Grace laughed softly before his expression settled again. "Nobody ever asks if you're okay."

The words landed harder than the first ones, because he was right. People asked for approvals. Signatures. Clearances. Solutions.

Nobody asked if you were okay.

Not because they didn't care. Because somewhere along the way, everyone had started assuming you always would be.

"You don't have to keep doing that, you know."

You looked at him. "Doing what?"

"Acting like you're carrying all of this alone."

You stared out at the ocean. The moon reflected across the water in a silver line stretching all the way to the horizon. "Someone has to."

Grace shook his head. "No."

His voice was quiet. Certain. "They just convinced you that it has to be you."

You didn't have an answer for that, which was annoying. Because Grace usually gave you plenty of things to argue with. Tonight wasn't one of those nights.

A comfortable silence settled between you again. After a while, Grace spoke. "For the record..."

You already knew that tone.

"What?"

"I still think you're terrifying."

You laughed.

A real one this time.

And for some reason, that seemed to make him smile more than the joke itself.

“Thank you, Ryland.” You told him once the both of you settled down from the laughter. 

Grace was taken aback by the sudden change of nickname. He had never heard anyone on this ship call him by his first name.

“I thought Stratt gave me a babysitting job when I was assigned to you.” You step closer to Grace, your shoulders now touching. “Turns out, you were the answer to make things easier on the ship for me.”

Grace went unusually still beside you.

The ocean continued crashing against the side of the ship below, but for a moment it felt strangely distant.

"Wow."

You frowned. "What?"

He looked at you. "I spend weeks trying to convince you to take breaks, and suddenly you decide to say something nice?"

You immediately regretted speaking. "Forget I said anything."

"Absolutely not."

You groaned and leaned against the railing. "Ryland."

"Nope."

"It wasn't even that nice."

"It was to me." The reply came so quickly that you weren't prepared for it.

Neither was he, judging by the way he suddenly became very interested in the ocean.

A silence followed. Not awkward. Just different. Softer.

You found yourself studying his profile in the moonlight. The cardigan. The messy hair. The scientist who somehow kept appearing whenever your world felt like it was falling apart. The scientist who sat on your dorm floor until you fell asleep.

The scientist who worried about you.

"You know," you said quietly.

"You're significantly less annoying than when I met you."

Grace looked horrified. "That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"That's concerning."

"I'm framing it."

"You can't frame a conversation."

"Watch me." Grace poked your side, making you jump.

You let out a short giggle, and he smiled at you softly. “What was your favorite subject in school?” 

“What?”

“What?” 

“Why would you ask that?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Because I realized that I know your clearance level, blood type, and probably your Social Security number.” 

You smack his arm. “You do not know my Social Security number.

“I could probably get it.” You were about to speak, but he immediately follows up. “But I don’t know your favorite color.”

Ryland Grace has made you silent once again.

Nobody had asked you normal and mundane questions in years. People asked what you could do. What problem you could solve. Whether you could get approval from a government halfway across the world before morning.

Not who you were.

The realization sat strangely in your chest. Grace noticed your hesitation immediately. "Oh no."

You blinked. "What?"

"You don't know."

"I know my favorite color."

"That was not a confident response."

You rolled your eyes. "It's (insert your favorite color here)."

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You made that up."

"I did not."

"You took too long."

"I haven't been asked that question since I was fourteen."

Grace stared at you for a second before laughing. "That's actually kind of sad."

You pointed at him. "Careful."

"Or what?"

"I'll tell Stratt you're wasting company time."

He gasped dramatically. "You wouldn't."

"I absolutely would."

"You've changed."

"You called me terrifying."

"You are terrifying."

You found yourself smiling again. The conversation should have ended there. Instead, Grace leaned his elbows on the railing. "Favorite movie?"

"What is this?"

"A conversation."

"It feels like an interrogation."

"That's because you're terrible at being interviewed."

You groaned. "Fine."

And somehow the next hour passed like that. Favorite movie. Favorite food. Favorite season. The first thing you wanted to be when you were a kid. The worst haircut you ever had.

Questions so ordinary they felt foreign. Questions nobody had cared enough to ask.

At some point, you realized you were answering without hesitation. Grace stopped looking at the ocean and started looking at you.

Suddenly you noticed small parts of him that made him human. The slight citrus scent of his soap, the red watch he had on his right wrist, a mole near his left eye, how he periodically wipes his stubble under his nose.

At some point, you stopped checking the time.

And when you finally glanced at your watch, your eyes widened. "Ryland."

He immediately looked concerned. "What happened?"

"It's almost midnight."

He blinked. "Oh."

Both of you stared at each other. Neither of you had noticed. For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then Grace smiled. The soft kind. The one he only seemed to wear when it was just the two of you. "Look at that."

"What?"

"You took a break."

And somehow that made your chest ache more than all the serious conversations you'd had tonight. Because for the first time in weeks, you hadn't spent an hour being humanity's second-in-command.

You had just been you.

And somehow, Ryland Grace had made that happen without you even noticing.

The months have been absolute torture for everyone working on Project Hail Mary. But as you said, everything was made easier with Ryland Grace by your side. He was there with you and Stratt for every big scientific breakthrough and important meetings.

He’s practically the second second-in-command, which you don’t mind sharing the position.

The bond between the two of you also grew. Nights on the observation deck practically became a routine for the both of you. A chance to wind down and take a breather from all of the paperwork and experiments.

A month was left before the ship get sent off to space, and Stratt arranged a party room for the staff on board. “To shake off the nerves,” she said.

Four weeks of complete partying for the staff, including you and Ryland; which are people who are not the type to party around—but could definitely use a drink or two.

Exactly a week before take off you managed to drag Ryland into the room. You didn’t know what came over you but you wanted to have fun, even just for a bit. 

He sat down by the bar with his notebook and beer in front of him. You socialized with the people you’ve been working with for years. They have never seen you this extroverted before.

Perhaps someone really do bring out the best in you. 

They witnessed you talking, smiling, joking around, and actually enjoying yourself. A version of yourself you’ve never let anyone on the ship see until now. 

Grace watches you, smiling at himself, realizing that you’re finally letting your guard down after years of pent-up stress. The two of you exchanged a few glances across the room, nodding and smiling at each other every time. 

And your stomach did the weird flipping thing every time, too.

You decided to ignore that. It was probably the alcohol. Or exhaustion. Or the fact that you had spent the last few months sleeping less than a healthy person should.

It was definitely not because Ryland Grace was standing across the room, smiling at you like you were the most interesting thing he had seen all night.

Definitely not.

"You're smiling." You immediately turned around. One of your coworkers stood beside you, holding a drink and looking far too amused.

"I am not."

They raised an eyebrow. "You are."

You looked back toward the room, where Grace was now explaining something to another scientist, his hands moving animatedly as he talked.

The same scientist who used to complain every time you dragged him into a fighter jet.

The same scientist who once called you his babysitter.

The same scientist who sat outside your door because he knew you didn't want to be alone.

"I think he's good for you." The statement caught you off guard.

You looked at them. "What?"

Your coworker shrugged. "Nobody has seen you like this before."

You looked down at your drink. "Like what?"

"Happy."

The answer was so simple that it almost bothered you. Because it was true.

Grace had seen you in almost every possible situation. He had seen you argue with government officials. He had seen you negotiate impossible deals. He had seen you walk into Stratt's office and challenge the most intimidating woman on Earth.

He had seen you cry. He had seen you exhausted. He had seen you scared. But he had never seen this.

You laughing. Actually laughing. Not the small amused smiles you gave him when he made a joke. Not the quiet smiles you tried to hide.

A real one.

The kind that made people around you smile too.

And maybe that was the moment Grace realized something.

He had spent months thinking his job was to make things easier for you. To help you carry the weight.

But somewhere along the way, he had started looking forward to the moments when you didn't need him to.

When you were just happy. And that was a problem. A very scientific problem. Except, unfortunately, there was no obvious experiment to solve it.

The music slowed down, and Stratt took the mic in front of everyone. Everyone thought that she was about to give a speech or an announcement.

They did not expect her to sing.

Everyone was cheering and raising their glass as the normally composed and serious commander sang into the mic. Finally seeing your boss tone down and forget the mission for a bit warmed your heart. It truly did.

By the end of the song, she looks at you and Ryland and nods, acknowledging all of the work both of you endured for the project. The two of you raise your glasses, smiling as she left the room.

The room slowly returned to its usual noise after Stratt left the microphone.

People laughed. Drinks were raised. Someone started arguing about whether the song choice was actually good or if everyone was just too terrified to tell Stratt otherwise.

For once, nobody was talking about astrophage. Nobody was talking about Tau Ceti. Nobody was talking about the possibility that they might fail.

They were just people.

You looked around the room, almost unable to recognize it. A month ago, this place would have felt unnecessary. A distraction. A waste of valuable time.

Now, you understood why Stratt had done it. Everyone needed a reminder of what they were fighting for. Not just humanity.

Each other.

A song started playing, and a few people moved toward the open space in the middle of the room.

Grace watched them. Then watched you.

"No." You immediately narrowed your eyes, looking at him.

"I didn't say anything." 

"You were about to."

"I was just observing."

"You learned nothing from me saying that answer is suspicious."

He smiled.

"Would you dance with me?"

You stared.

The scientist who hated flying. The scientist who complained about fighter jets. The scientist who once needed anti-nausea medication just to survive a trip across countries…

…was asking you to dance.

"Ryland."

"Yes?"

"You know I don't dance."

"Do you know that, or did you decide that because nobody asked?" You hated that he was getting good at this.

Before you could come up with a response, he extended his hand. "Come on."

You stared at it. Then at him. "Ryland."

"Yes?"

"I am not dancing."

"You already said that."

"Because it's true."

"And yet you're still standing here."

You looked down at his hand. It was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous.

You were standing in a room full of engineers, scientists, and people who had spent months working on humanity's survival. You had negotiated with governments. You had handled crises that made entire organizations panic.

And somehow, this was the thing making you hesitate.

A hand.

A dance.

A moment where nobody needed anything from you.

With every embarrassed cell in your body screaming at you to retreat, you finally placed your hand in his.

Grace smiled immediately. Not a teasing smile. Not the amused one he usually wore when he caught you avoiding something.

A genuine one.

And somehow, that was worse.

"Don't make a big deal out of this."

"I didn't say anything."

"Your face did."

"My face is very supportive."

"Your face is annoying."

"Also supportive."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't stop the small smile forming. The next thing you knew, both of you were standing in the middle of the room.

His hands rested carefully on your waist, almost like he was afraid you would decide this was a mistake and walk away. Your arms rested on his shoulders, your fingers lightly gripping the fabric of his cardigan.

The dance was awkward, at best.

Grace was clearly overthinking every movement. You were clearly overthinking every movement.

At one point, both of you stepped in the same direction and nearly collided.

You immediately pulled back. "Sorry."

"You apologized?"

"You almost fell."

"Because you stepped on my foot."

He paused. "...I did?"

"You did."

You looked genuinely offended. "I have negotiated international agreements, and I can't even dance?"

Grace laughed. A real laugh. "You are comparing diplomacy to moving your feet to music?"

"Both require coordination."

"That is not how dancing works."

"Clearly." He shook his head, still smiling.

And somehow, the awkwardness stopped mattering. Because for once, you weren't trying to be good at something. You weren't trying to prove that you deserved your place on this ship.

You were just standing there with Ryland Grace, moving badly to a song neither of you would remember tomorrow.

And it was enough.

"You know," Grace said quietly.

You looked at him. "What?"

"I'm glad you came tonight."

The words were simple. But they meant more than they should have. Because a few months ago, you would've found an excuse not to come. A few months ago, you would've said there was work to do. A few months ago, you would've stayed in your office until someone forced you to leave.

Instead, you were here. Dancing badly. Laughing. Existing.

"I am too," you admitted.

Grace's expression softened, and neither of you said anything else.

You didn't need to.

~

“Three days, huh?” Stratt looked at Grace, coffee in hand. 

He paused for a bit. Processing that months of tortuous work is finally coming to a conclusion. “Yeah.” He looked down at his coffee. “What are you gonna do for the next twenty years? You got a plan?”

Stratt smiles softly as explosions blew behind her. The shockwave putting Stratt and Grace on to their backs.

She immediately gets up and runs towards where the explosion had come from. Pulling out a phone to dial you. Grace was following close behind her. 

Your main office on the mainland was significantly closer to the astrophage facility where the explosion had come from.

The phone barely rang once before you answered. "Stratt."

Your voice was already moving before she could say anything. She looked at Grace for a moment, almost surprised by how quickly you had responded. "There's been an incident at the astrophage facility."

"Casualties?"

"Unknown."

"What caused it?"

"We're still determining that." You were already standing.

Grace could hear the sound of movement on the other end of the call. "Send me the latest reports." Stratt orders.

"You are not going there." The words came immediately. Both Grace and Stratt froze slightly.

Because that wasn't the voice of someone asking. That was the voice of someone who had already made a decision.

"I'm closer."

"That doesn't matter." Stratt says sternly.

"It does."

Stratt replied to you with your name. The use of your name made Grace look at Stratt. He had heard Stratt call people by their names before, but never like that.

Not as an order. As a warning. You didn't answer immediately. Then: "How bad?"

Stratt looked toward the smoke rising in the distance.

"We don't know yet."

A pause.

And then your voice became quieter. "Send me the information anyway."

Grace and Stratt saw the small silhouette of you running towards the facility in the distance. Grace watches Stratt hang up. 

"What happened?"

Stratt looks at him. "The facility had an accident."

His stomach drops. "An accident?"

She doesn't answer.

Because both of them know what that word means in a project like this. An accident can mean delays, failure. An accident can mean people don't come home.

Guards tackle you to the ground, restricting you to go nearer the facility. Grace saw this unfold in the far distance and immediately takes off towards you. “Grace!” Stratt calls him.

He arrives and you were already standing up and staring at the ruined facility as the smoke comes down. He notices your hands. The same thing from before. The shaking but this time is worse.

He quietly steps beside you. “Hey.” 

You don’t look at him. “Now now, Grace.”

Normally he would listen and step back, but he knows you. “You know exactly what you said last time.” 

That makes you look at him, and he gives you the same expression he had when he sat outside your dormitory months ago.

Grace escorts you to a safer facility, his hand intertwined with yours to keep you grounded. 

Normally, you would have made a comment about how unnecessary it was. About how you were perfectly capable of walking on your own. About how there were probably dozens of more important things he should be doing.

But right now, you didn't. Because your mind was somewhere else.

It was inside that facility. With every machine. Every calculation. Every hour you spent making sure this project stayed alive.

Three days before launch. And suddenly, everything you had built felt like it was slipping through your fingers.

You stared at the walls as you walked.

A clipboard.

A broken piece of equipment.

A scientist rushing past.

Everything became something else.

Something that could be evidence.

Something that could mean failure.

"Hey."

You didn't respond.

Grace squeezed your hand slightly. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind you that you were there. "You're doing it again."

Your eyes slowly moved toward him. "Doing what?"

"Leaving." The answer catches you off guard.

"What?"

"You're here." He gestures around you. "But your brain is already in that building trying to solve every possible outcome."

You looked away.

Because he was right. Again. You hated how often he was right.

"I don't have time for this."

Grace's expression softened. "For what?"

You looked at him. "For being scared." The words came out quieter than you intended.

And for once, Grace didn't joke. He just looked at you.

You swallowed. "Three days, Grace."

"I know."

"Three days."

"I know."

"And if we can't fix this—"

"We will."

You looked at him sharply. "You don't know that."

"No." The honesty surprised you.

"I don't." A pause. "But I know you."

You stayed quiet. "I've watched you solve problems nobody thought were solvable. I've watched you convince people who didn't want to listen. I've watched you make impossible things happen."

His thumb moved slightly against your hand.

"You don't get to decide this is the one thing you can't handle before you even try."

You finally caught up with Stratt in a nearby facility, and you immediately straightened.

Grace noticed the mask returning. The second-in-command returning. He hesitated before letting go of your hand to let you walk beside Stratt.

A scientist hands everyone reports. Everyone’s heart dropped with every word they read. Grace could only imagine what was going through your mind at this moment. 

“One nanogram of Astrophage just— isn’t enough to blow up a building.” He explains to Dr. Lokken. 

“Someone must have given him one milligram.” Dr. Lokken pauses. “By mistake.” 

Everyone in the facility’s hallways was letting your group through, walking hastily towards a conference room. 

“A measuring mistake killed my entire science team!” Commander Yao complained, visibly distraught. 

Stratt speaks up next to you, looking forward, serious as ever. “Doesn’t matter we have to launch.”

Everyone finally arrives at the conference room. You simply couldn’t believe that was unfolding. 

“If we miss the orbital window, it’ll set us back months.” Dr Leclerc sets his coffee down onto the table. 

You read the report multiple times. Scanning for a solution to another impossible problem. “Commander Yao,” You speak up, trying to steady your voice. “DuBois is still alive; Shapiro is deceased. We only lost the backup science specialist.” 

Commander Yao was still tense. “Well, what if something happens to DuBois!” He frantically waved his hands around.

“Well…” you trail off, racking your brain for solutions as it is your job for years at this point. “...we find another backup science specialist.” 

“We only have three days!” Ilyukhina reminds you.

“We don’t need to find a backup.” Stratt breaks off the argument that was starting. 

Yao and Ilyukhina look at her, confused. 

She was staring at — something? Someone? You followed her gaze, and it led to…

Ryland Grace.

“We already have one.” 

The room goes silent.

For a moment, Grace doesn't realize everyone is looking at him. Then his eyebrows slowly raise.

“No.”

You glance at him. “Grace—”

“No.” He repeats, pointing at himself. “Absolutely not.”

Stratt remains completely calm. “Dr. Grace.”

“I put the not in astronaut!” He gestures at himself. “That was intentional!”

Nobody says anything. Grace looks around the room, realizing no one is laughing. Because Stratt is serious.

“You are the most qualified backup candidate available.” The word backup seems to catch his attention.

“Backup,” he repeats slowly.

“Yes.”

A small breath leaves him, almost relieved.“Okay. Good. Backup. That’s different.”

You almost smile.Then Stratt continues.

“If Dr. DuBois survives and remains capable of completing the mission, you will remain on Earth as the primary astrophage researcher supporting the project.”

Grace nods quickly. “Right. Exactly. That makes sense.”

He points around the room.

“That is what I was expecting. I solve the problem. I help prepare the mission. I stay here. Everyone is happy.”

A pause.

“But if something happens…”

The room gets quieter. Stratt doesn't answer immediately. She doesn't need to.

Grace understands. His expression changes. Because suddenly the word backup doesn't sound as simple anymore. “You mean I would replace him.”

“Yes.”

Grace looks down. For the first time since you met him, he doesn't have a joke ready.

You notice immediately.

“The Hail Mary needs someone who understands astrophage,” Stratt explains. “Someone who can adapt.”

Grace lets out a quiet laugh, but there is no humor in it. “That's a very terrifying way of saying 'in case everything goes wrong, we need you.'”

“Accurate.”

“Stratt.”

“Dr. Grace.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I understand the logic. I do.” He looks at the reports scattered across the table. “If DuBois is unable to go, the mission cannot continue without a scientist.”

He pauses. “But I was never supposed to be that scientist.”

Nobody answers. Because everyone knows.

You look at him. And for the first time since you met him, Grace doesn't look overwhelmed by the work.

He looks overwhelmed by the possibility. Not by space itself. By the idea that someone's life could suddenly become his responsibility.

“The Hail Mary needs a backup scientist,” Stratt says.

Grace looks at her. “There are thousands of scientists.”

“Not with your understanding of astrophage.”

“That’s what you said before you dragged me into this project.”

“And I was correct.”

He looks away.

Normally, you would let Stratt handle this. Normally, you would stand beside her and support whatever decision needed to be made.

But this isn't a negotiation. This isn't a legal obstacle. This isn't something you can solve with a signature.

This is Ryland Grace.

The man who sat outside your door because he knew you needed someone nearby.

The man who reminded you that you were a person before you were a position.

The man who somehow became the one person on Earth who could tell you to stop carrying everything alone.

“Grace.” Your voice makes him look at you.

Everyone notices. Because nobody calls him that. Not anymore.

You step closer. “You don't have to think about it like that.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Like what?”

“Like you're already being sent.” A small silence. “You're here because you're the best person to have if something goes wrong.”

He looks down. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

“I know.”

A tiny smile appears. “Wow. Very reassuring.”

You almost laugh. “But you don't have to prepare for a disaster that hasn't happened yet.”

Grace looks at you. And maybe that's what makes him listen. Because everyone else in the room is preparing for the worst-case scenario.

You are the only person reminding him that the best-case scenario still exists.

A few moments pass. Then he exhales. “I hate that you're making sense.”

You shrug slightly. “People say that a lot.”

A small smile forms on his face. “Yeah. I noticed.”

The next three days were the most stressful ones of your life. That was saying something, considering everything you had endured for Project Hail Mary. But no negotiation, crisis, or impossible deadline prepared you for the reality that someone you cared about might be the one leaving Earth. 

For Grace, the next three days felt strangely unreal. He had spent months preparing for every possible outcome of the mission. Astrophage calculations. Fuel requirements. Equipment failures. Emergency scenarios. He had memorized numbers, studied data, and prepared himself for every scientific problem that could appear.

But somehow, none of that prepared him for the way you looked at him.

Everyone else saw the backup scientist. The contingency plan. The person who would step in if everything went wrong.

You saw something different.

You saw Ryland.

The man who hated flying. The man who still couldn't believe he had somehow ended up involved in a project that would decide the fate of humanity. The man who preferred teaching kids about science over becoming humanity's last possible option.

And that was what made it harder.

Because Grace knew you.

He knew that you could stand in front of world leaders without hesitation. He knew you could argue with Stratt and walk away alive. He knew you could solve problems that seemed impossible.

But he also knew the person who sat alone on the observation deck because she thought nobody wanted to find her. The person who cried quietly behind a locked door because she thought she had to be strong for everyone else. The person who finally started letting someone stay.

And now he was the person who might leave.

Grace hated that.

Not the mission. Not the science. Not even the possibility of being chosen.

He hated the thought that the one person who had spent months convincing him he didn't have to carry everything alone would now be forced to carry the fear of losing him.

Every time he saw you reviewing launch documents, every time you checked another system report, every time you acted like this was just another task to complete, he noticed.

The small pauses.

The way your eyes lingered on him before looking away.

The way you asked if he needed anything, even when you were clearly the one who needed something.

And for once, Ryland Grace didn't know how to fix it.

He could explain astrophage. He could solve equations. He could teach a classroom full of children about science.

But he couldn't find the right words to tell you that he was scared too.

So he did what he always did.

He stayed.

Even if it was only for three more days.

Launch day finally came.

And to your relief, your prayers were answered. Martin DuBois remained the final scientist assigned to the mission.

You and Ryland had never sighed with relief so deeply before.

For the first time in weeks, the weight sitting on both of your shoulders lifted. Not completely. Never completely. The mission was still happening. Humanity was still depending on three people leaving Earth behind.

But Ryland wasn't going.

Not unless something went wrong. And for once, something had gone right.

The farewell ceremony was overwhelming.

Every major news channel had the livestream running. Every social media platform was filled with messages from people across the world watching the crew prepare for their departure. People who had never met them. People who only knew their names and what they represented.

A chance.

A hope.

A final attempt.

The crew stood together as Stratt delivered her final speech.

She wasn't the intimidating project director everyone knew her as.

Not completely.

Her voice was still firm. Her words were still precise. But underneath it was something you rarely heard from her. Pride.

She spoke about sacrifice. About courage. About the fact that these three people were leaving behind everything they knew for a planet that might never know the full extent of what they gave up.

Commander Yao.

Ilyukhina.

Martin DuBois.

People you had worked alongside for years. People who had spent countless sleepless nights solving problems that seemed impossible. People who had trusted you to make sure every piece of their mission was ready.

One by one, they approached the team before being escorted away.

Yao gave Stratt a firm handshake before turning toward you. "You were difficult to work with."

You raised an eyebrow.

He smiled slightly. "But I would not want anyone else handling this mission."

The words caught you off guard. Coming from Commander Yao, that was practically a declaration of affection.

"You better come back," you told him.

His smile softened. "We'll try."

Ilyukhina was next.

She hugged you before you could prepare yourself for it.

You froze. Physical affection was not something you were used to receiving, especially from people you worked with.

"You worry too much," she told you.

You almost laughed. "That's ironic coming from you."

"Exactly why I know."

Then came DuBois.

The man whose backup status had almost changed the entire course of history. He looked between you and Grace.

"You two caused enough trouble before launch," he joked. "Try not to create more while we're gone."

Grace immediately looked offended. "I was not the trouble."

You looked at him. He paused. "...Okay, sometimes."

For a moment, everything felt normal. Not like a final goodbye. Not like sending people into space.

Just coworkers teasing each other before returning to work.

Maybe that was what made it harder. Because eventually, the jokes ended. The smiles faded. And one by one, they were escorted toward the room that would begin their journey.

The room that would put them to sleep for years.

You stood there watching them leave.

Watching the people you trusted walk toward something none of you could fully understand. And suddenly, everything became too much.

The cameras. The speeches. The cheers from people watching around the world. The knowledge that these three people were carrying every hope humanity had left.

You needed air. You needed silence. You needed somewhere that wasn't filled with people pretending they weren't terrified.

So before anyone could stop you, you left.

The observation deck was exactly how you remembered it.

Quiet.

The ocean stretched endlessly beneath the ship, the waves moving calmly despite the chaos happening above them.

It was strange. How the world could feel so peaceful when everything was changing.

You leaned against the railing.

A few months ago, you came here because nobody could find you. Because nobody knew you needed a moment away.

Now, you weren't sure if you came here because you wanted to be alone.

Or because you knew someone would find you.

You heard familiar footsteps behind you.

You didn’t have to turn around.

“You know,” Grace says quietly, “I’m starting to think this place is less of a secret hideaway and more of a really inconvenient meeting spot.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself.

“You found it.”

“I did.”

“That was the problem.”

He laughs softly, but it fades quickly.

For a moment, neither of you says anything.

The ship was quieter now. Almost strangely quiet.

For months, this place had been filled with people rushing through corridors, engineers shouting across rooms, scientists arguing over calculations, and Stratt giving impossible orders like they were simple requests.

Now everyone was at the launch site. Everyone was watching. Everyone was saying goodbye.

You looked out at the ocean, trying to process the fact that in a few hours, the Hail Mary would leave Earth.

Without him.

You should have felt relieved.

You did feel relieved.

But there was something else sitting beside it.

Something heavier.

“I thought I’d be happier,” you finally admitted.

Grace looked at you. You hated how quickly he noticed things now. “Happier?”

You nodded slightly. “When DuBois was confirmed. When Stratt told us the mission could continue without you.”

A pause. “I was relieved.”

“Yeah.”

“But…” You didn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t need to.

Grace looked down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his cardigan. “I know.”

Your eyes moved toward him. “I know because I felt the same thing.”

That surprised you. “You did?”

He smiled sadly. “You think I wanted to go?”

The question caught you off guard. “I thought…”

“That I was terrified of not being the one to save everyone?”

You stayed quiet. Grace looked toward the ocean. “I was terrified because I thought everyone had already decided I was going to be something I wasn’t.”

His voice became softer. “The scientist. The solution. The person who fixes everything.”

You looked away. Because you understood. Too well.

“But then I realized something.”

“What?”

He looked at you. “I already had someone doing that.”

Your breath caught slightly. “Grace…”

“You.”

The word was simple. But somehow it carried more weight than anything else he had said.

“You’ve been doing it the entire time.”

You looked down, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “I was just doing my job.”

“No.” His answer came immediately. And it sounded so much like you when you argued with him that it almost made you smile.

“No, you weren’t.”

A silence followed.

Then the alarm from the ship’s communication system interrupted the moment. A launch announcement. Both of you looked up.

It was time.

The launch site was overwhelming. There were cameras everywhere. People everywhere. The entire world was watching. You stood beside Stratt as the crew was brought out one final time before entering the facility.

Commander Yao.

Illyukhina.

DuBois.

People you had spent years working with. People you had argued with, negotiated with, and trusted with the survival of humanity.

You stood there. Still and composed. Like everyone expected you to be. Until you felt someone beside you.

Grace.

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. Because he knew how hard it was to watch people leave. He knew how hard it was to pretend you weren’t scared.

The countdown began.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Your hands tightened slightly. Not because of the launch. Because of everything it represented.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Grace looked at you.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

The engines ignited. The ground shook beneath your feet.

The Hail Mary began its journey.

And for a moment, everything went silent. The cheers. The cameras. The people around you. The entire world watching. None of it mattered.

Because all you could see was the rocket leaving the ground.

The rocket that was supposed to take him.

The rocket you spent months preparing for.

The rocket you had spent months convincing yourself you could watch disappear.

Your breathing became uneven before you even realized it. Because suddenly, all those nights of watching Grace sit beside you on the observation deck came rushing back.

Your hand moved before you could think. You reached for him.

Grace looked down at your hand, then back at your face.

And the expression on his face changed immediately.

Because he knew. He knew this wasn't about the launch.

It wasn't about the mission.

It partly wasn't about humanity.

It was about the fact that for the first time in months, you were allowing yourself to admit how scared you had been.

His fingers intertwined with yours.

And that was it.

That was the thing that finally broke you.

Your shoulders shook slightly, and before you could stop yourself, before you could put the mask back on, you stepped closer.

Into him.

Grace froze for half a second—Not because he didn't want to hold you. Because he had never seen you allow yourself to need someone.

Then his arms wrapped around you. Slowly. Carefully.

Like he was afraid that one wrong movement would make you pull away and pretend this never happened.

You buried your face into his shoulder.

And for the first time in years, you stopped trying to be strong. You cried quietly.

The kind of tears that came from years of exhaustion, fear, and the weight of knowing that someone you cared about was almost sent somewhere you might never see him again.

Grace didn't say anything. He didn't tell you everything would be okay. He didn't give you some impossible promise. He just held you.

Because he understood.

He had spent months being treated like the person who would save everyone. But right now, he wasn't humanity's last hope. He wasn't the scientist who could solve impossible problems.

He was just Ryland.

And you weren't Stratt's second-in-command. You weren't the person everyone turned to when things went wrong.

You were just you.

The rocket continued climbing higher.

The Hail Mary became a smaller and smaller point of light against the sky. And still, neither of you moved. Neither of you cared that Stratt was watching. Neither of you cared that cameras were capturing the moment.

Because after months of preparing for a goodbye that almost happened...

You finally let yourself understand something.

You weren't afraid of him leaving Earth.

You were afraid of a world where Ryland Grace wasn't beside you anymore.

The rocket disappeared. The mission had begun. And somehow, the hardest part wasn't watching him leave.

It was realizing how much you wanted him to stay.

~

a/n: what an absolute UNIT of a fic to read through. Honestly couldn't hold myself back while writing this one. I ENJOYED IT SM.

I hope guys loved this one as much as I do. Requests are still opend reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated!! THANKYOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF THE SUPPORT! <3 Greatly greatly appreciate it. See you next ficc!! <33

Grover Cleveland Middle was hosting parent-teacher consultations in the gymnasium, which meant the usually quiet space was now filled with conversations, stacks of student reports, and the occasional nervous parent. Tables were lined across the room, each one occupied by teachers waiting to meet with families.

You had been paired with Mr. Grace for the Science-Math consultations.

It wasn’t surprising. If there was one teacher everyone knew at Grover Cleveland, it was Ryland Grace. The science teacher was practically adored by the students—partly because of his enthusiasm, partly because he had a way of making every lesson feel like an adventure.

You arrived ten minutes early, mostly because you knew Mr. Grace’s definition of “early” was dangerously close to “exactly on time.”

Not that you were surprised.

Ryland Grace was brilliant—there was no denying that. He could explain complicated scientific theories to a room full of twelve-year-olds and somehow make them sound like the most fascinating things in the world. But organization? Scheduling? Remembering where he placed his own materials?

That was another matter entirely.

“You’re early.” Ryland finally shows up, two coffee cups in hand

You look up from arranging the student reports. “You’re late.”

He glances at the clock. “I’m three minutes early.”

“You’re three minutes late to my version of early.”

He pauses, considering this. “That sounds like a math teacher answer.”

“Because it is.”

“Fair.”

He sits down next to you and sets a coffee cup beside your papers.

"What's this?" You turn to him.

"Coffee."

"I can see that."

"Then I'm glad we're both starting strong today."

You give him a look he knows the meaning of. He smiles lightly before pointing at the cup. "It's yours."

You blink. “How did you know my order?”

Grace looks genuinely confused by the question.

“You get the same thing every morning.”

“You noticed that?”

“I notice patterns.”

The parent meeting event at Grover Cleveland Middle finally starts. The gymnasium, which had been filled with the quiet shuffling of teachers preparing their materials moments ago, quickly became alive with conversations. Parents moved from table to table, carrying questions about grades, assignments, and their children's progress.

The first few families approached your table with the usual concerns. Missing assignments. Upcoming projects. Test scores. Questions about how their child could improve before the end of the term.

And somehow, despite having never officially planned out how you would handle the consultations together, you and Grace fell into a rhythm.

You handled the details.

Grace handled the explanations.

When a parent asked about their child’s recent test grade, you were already flipping through the organized stack of reports in front of you, pointing out areas where they had improved and where they still needed practice.

“Their calculations have gotten much better,” you explained. “The main thing they need to work on is slowing down and checking their work before submitting.”

Grace leaned forward, adding, “Which is actually a really common issue in science as well. They understand the concepts, but sometimes they rush because they’re eager to get to the answer.”

The parent nodded, visibly relieved.

“So they’re not struggling because they don’t understand?”

“Not at all,” Grace said immediately. “They’re curious. That’s a good thing. We just need to help them build the patience to match that curiosity.”

You glanced at him briefly.

That was something you had noticed about Grace since you started working with him. He never spoke about students as if they were problems to solve. He always spoke about them like they were people still learning how to grow.

Another parent arrived before you could dwell on it for too long, and the cycle continued.

Question after question. Student after student.

By the time the next family approached, you realized something.

Working with Ryland Grace was surprisingly easy.

Annoyingly easy.

The next family approached your table just as you finished discussing a student's recent science project.

The parents had come in with a few questions about their child’s grades, but the conversation quickly shifted into something much easier. Their child had improved significantly over the past few months, and both you and Grace were more than happy to explain why.

You pointed out the areas where they had grown academically, while Grace added small details about their curiosity during experiments and class discussions.

By the end of the conversation, the parents looked more relieved than when they first sat down.

The mother smiled, looking between the two of you. “You two make a wonderful team.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Grace beat you to it.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

You glanced at him. Of course, he would accept that like it was a scientific observation rather than a compliment.

The parent gathered her things, still smiling.

“So, how long have you two been married?”

The silence that followed was immediate.

For a moment, you wondered if you had misheard her.

Grace blinked.

Once.

Twice.

His expression shifted into the same look he had whenever he encountered a problem he couldn’t immediately solve.

“We’re not—”

“No,” you quickly interrupted, perhaps a little too quickly.

The parent’s eyes widened slightly.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I just assumed.”

“It’s alright,” you said, forcing a small laugh. “It’s a common mistake.”

A common mistake.

You weren’t entirely sure why you said that.

Because really, it wasn’t the first time someone had commented on how well you and Grace worked together.

Just never quite like that.

Beside you, Grace adjusted the papers in front of him, seemingly unaffected.

“We do collaborate well,” he said thoughtfully. “Our teaching approaches complement each other.”

You turned to him. “That is a very Grace way of saying we work well together.”

He looked at you, confused. “Is that inaccurate?”

You stared at him for a moment before shaking your head.

“No. It’s not.”

The parent laughed softly, clearly amused by the exchange.

“Well, either way, your students are lucky to have teachers who care this much.”

After she left, you looked down at the reports in front of you, trying very hard not to think about the fact that a complete stranger had looked at the two of you and immediately assumed—

No.

Absolutely not.

You were coworkers.

Friends, maybe.

Good coworkers.

That was all.

“Do you think we give off a married impression?” Grace suddenly asked.

You nearly dropped your pen.

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because she assumed we were.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

Grace tilted his head slightly.

“Statistically, people usually make assumptions based on observable patterns.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you analyzing our relationship right now?"

“Not relationship,” he corrected. “Our teamwork.”

You stared at him.

A small smile appeared on his face. “Though I suppose the distinction is important.”

And somehow, that made it worse.

~

a/n: HIII!! It has been a while since I posted somethingg huhu. I've been busy with college and moving into a dorm and stuff. Super sorry about that and the short fic for today. But I promise once everything has settled, your Ryland Grace fanfics will be back into its regular program

You had argued.

You had nearly died.

He had confessed.

And to his complete surprise—and yours—you confessed too.

Things aboard the Hail Mary were... different now. Better, in some ways.

The silence that had settled over the ship after your fight had disappeared, replaced by familiar conversations, shared meals, and Rocky's endless commentary about "happy human noises." But there was a new kind of awkwardness now. Every accidental touch lingered a second too long. Every glance made one—or both—of you look away. Every "good morning" somehow felt much more complicated than it had before.

Neither of you really knew how to be scientists... and something more... at the same time.

So, naturally, you did what both of you did best.

You pretended nothing had changed.

The cast on your ankle made it impossible for you to go back out onto the hull and finish attaching the oxygen recyclers. So, Grace gladly volunteered to do it for you.

"Looks like your name is collecting titles now." You try your best to help him out of the EVA suit after the mission.

He hums in confusion, finally removing the last piece of equipment from his body.

"Doctor Captain Engineer Ryland Grace." You poke at his side.

Grace jolts from your finger, "Does that mean I did a great job repairing the recycler?"

"Well... Technically, I repaired it two weeks ago." You lean onto the entrance of the EVA room, as your cast is making it hard for you to balance. "You just attached it back onto the hull."

"That was a very important attachment, Engineer." He crosses his arms.

"Yes, Ryland. Very brave. You connected a cable."

He raises a finger, "A cable that determines whether we have oxygen."

You roll your eyes at the sight of your 'crewmate' looking like that one meme you've seen from Earth's archives. "Okay, fine. Doctor Captain Engineer Ryland Grace saved humanity by connecting a cable."

"Thank you." He bows a curtsy.

"You are impossible." You shake your head and turn to waddle your way into the lab.

He notices you struggling and immediately picks up your crutch, giving it to you. "Why aren't you using your crutches?"

"I look funny with them."

"You know, statistically speaking, people with ankle injuries who refuse to use mobility aids have a higher chance of—"

"Ryland." You talk over him, grabbing the crutches from his hands.

"—making recovery longer." He trails off.

"You're doing the teacher voice."

"Because you aren't listening."

"Because you're lecturing me."

"Because you aren't listening." He repeats.

Both of you finally arrive at the lab, Rocky turning towards you. "Grace finished attaching cable? Question."

You giggle. "See? Even Rocky thinks the same as me."

Grace rolls his eyes, a soft smile on his lips. He watches you struggle to get onto the high stools for half a second, clearly debating whether to help or let you do it yourself.

"Need assistance?"

You look at him. "Are you asking or telling?"

He pauses. "...Asking."

"Then yes."

He grabs your forearm. "Yes, Rocky. I fixed it."

"Amaze amaze amaze!" Rocky does his jazz hands, relieved that the ship is back in its peak shape.

His cold fingertips against your skin sent a weird feeling in your stomach. Could it be that the Ryland Grace is giving you silly butterflies in your stomach?

"Grace assists friend frequently now." Rocky chirps.

Ryland freezes and turns to him. "What?"

"Before confession: Grace assists friend but claims it is logical decision."

You immediately laughed while Grace was already regretting everything. "Rocky—"

"After confession: Grace assists friend and admits emotional reasoning."

"Rocky."

Grace notices that he was still holding onto your forearms and immediately lets go. You clear your throat. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Silence followed.

Rocky's translator pierced through the silence immediately after. "Why humans become quiet after simple exchange? Question."

"Rocky."

Rocky stops talking and goes back to work on whatever xenonite project he was doing before the two leaky space blobs interrupted him.

"Hungry?" Grace sighs. But his question was more of a statement when you see him already walking out of the lab.

You giggle to yourself. "Yes."

He comes back with a tray and food in hand, placing it on the table in front of you. "You know you don't have to keep doing this."

Grace immediately looks confused. "Doing what?"

"Taking care of me."

Grace pauses a bit, processing why that's even a question. "You say that like it's an inconvenience."

You smile softly at him, "Thank you."

You stare at him for a bit before grabbing the oatmeal Grace had prepared for you. He has been helping you a lot in the two weeks of you being in a cast.

The thought of him preparing and bringing you food, giving you your crutches, and helping you move around the ship left a small smile on your lips.

Ryland notices you smiling to yourself as he sits down next to you. He doesn't say anything, but just looks at you. Memorizing the expression you have on your face, glad that he can help you recover.

He had spent months memorizing your expressions without realizing it. The difference between your annoyed face and your joking face. The way your eyebrows moved when you were trying to solve a problem. The tiny smile you tried to hide whenever he said something ridiculous.

But this one was different. This was the expression of someone who felt safe.

"Rocky retrieve tools." The Eridian gets up. "Humans require alone time."

"Who taught you that?" Grace looks at him.

"Mary."

The footsteps of the five legs of the Eridian slowly fade out as he disappears into the ship.

Silence envelops the room, the two of you eating next to each other. A few weeks ago, silence between the two of you felt unbearable. Now, it felt like home.

The one cold and sterile lab lights grew warmer. The hard surface of the lab stools became softer. Then you finally realize—

Grace was never mad at you because he wanted to be the one to fix the oxygen recycler.

He knew the risks of going out onto the hull after passing an asteroid cluster.

He didn't want you to be in danger.

He wanted you to be safe.

"Do you regret it?" You finally speak up.

Grace looks up at you. "What?"

"Telling me."

And Grace immediately knows what she means. He pauses for a while, then "No."

You were about to open your mouth to say something, but he spoke again.

"I regret not telling you sooner because I wasted time pretending you weren't important."

You look at him, but Grace wasn't looking at you. Somewhere along the conversation, he looked away, avoiding eye contact with you. You sigh, and before you can think about it, you hug him.

Both of your stools were inches away from each other, so he catches you. You bury your head into his shoulder, and he gently wraps his arms firmly around you.

"Your ankle—"

"Ryland."

"Right. Sorry."

You both stayed, hugging each other. The position was a bit awkward, yes, but you couldn't bring yourself to let go. The rise and fall of his chest slowed down after a few minutes, and you let out a shaky breath.

You realize all of the small things he has been doing for the past few weeks to help you recover.

He heats up your food to the exact temperature you like, he adjusts the lab stool because he noticed your cast made it uncomfortable, and he moves your tools closer to you.

You finally pull away from the hug. "You know, you have a very strange way of showing affection."

"I have a strange way of showing everything." Both of you chuckle.

He stands up, grabbing both of your trays to clean up. "I'll do it." You insist.

"Absolutely not."

"Ry, my hands work just fine." You raise your arms, showing him.

He looks at both of your arms and shrugs, "Your argument has been noted."

"And?"

"Rejected." He walks out of the lab.

You groan, feeling guilty that he has been taking care of you a lot. You were the engineer of the ship. You were the one who was supposed to be fixing things.

Grace hears your groan from the hallway and shouts loud enough for you to hear, "You fixed our oxygen system. You saved this mission. You don't have to prove your worth every day."

You didn't expect it and it absolutely melted your heart, making you lay your head onto the table. Definitely not to hide the slight change of color on your cheeks.

The weeks after the accident passed differently than the ones before it.

Before, every day on the Hail Mary felt like survival. Every conversation had a purpose. Every experiment had a goal.

Now, somehow, the smallest things became the moments you remembered the most.

The way Grace would silently place your crutches beside your bed before you woke up. The way your meals somehow appeared before you admitted you were hungry. The way he always said he was "just making sure" whenever you caught him checking on you.

Ryland Grace was terrible at saying things.

But apparently, he was very good at showing them.

One example was when you woke up in the middle of the night because your ankle hurt. Then you realize there's an extra blanket over you, but you don't remember grabbing one.

You slowly got up and saw Grace, sitting on his bed and staring at a laptop.

"Did you put the blanket over me?" You rub your eyes.

He looks over at you, "You were cold."

"Grace gave friend his blanket. Grace is cold." Rocky taps his hand in the corner.

"Rocky."

"What? Fact."

Then you notice the screen displayed on the laptop he was staring at. It was your vitals.

"Ryland."

He hums.

"Are you monitoring my vitals while I sleep?"

He freezes.

"No. I was monitoring the ship." The display suddenly switched to what looked like the ship's diagnostics. "You just happen to be part of the ship's current medical situation.

And you just stare at him because that's the worst excuse you've ever heard.

Another example is when he leaves you sticky notes around the ship.

Some days, he sleeps in due to the exhaustion of the Tau-moeba research. You let him, but he never forgets to place your crutches near your bed with a sticky note saying: "Eat before you start working."

And when you were the first one to work on the lab, you noticed your tools were placed on the table rather than the higher shelf you normally place them on.

And of course, there's a stick note with a note written: "I placed your tools here because you can't reach the shelves yet. I hope you don't mind. :)"

Another example was how he started learning your limits before you even admitted them. You hated asking for help, and Grace knew that.

He knew it because every time you needed something, you would stare at it for a few seconds longer than necessary, debating whether struggling alone was worth proving a point.

So he started appearing before you could ask.

Like the time you tried to reach one of the higher cabinets in the lab.

You had balanced yourself against the counter, stretching your arm as far as it could go, your cast making the whole process ten times more difficult.

"You know," Grace's voice suddenly came from behind you, "watching the ship's engineer almost fall over because she refuses to ask for assistance is a fascinating scientific observation."

You immediately turned around. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough."

You narrowed your eyes. "Were you just watching me struggle?"

"No." A pause. "...I was assessing the situation."

"Ryland."

"Fine. I was watching you struggle."

You rolled your eyes, but there was no annoyance behind it anymore.

He walked over, grabbed the container you were trying to reach, and placed it in your hands. "There."

"Thank you."

He nodded, satisfied. Then he walked away.

You stared after him. "That's it?"

"What?"

"No lecture?"

Grace looked confused. "About what?"

"About how I should've asked for help."

He shrugged. "You were going to eventually."

"You have that much faith in me?"

"No." He adjusted his glasses. "I have that much faith in your stubbornness." You laughed.

A real laugh.

And Grace immediately looked over at you. Not because he hadn't heard you laugh before. Because he missed it.

Another time, you woke up and found your crutches missing from beside your bed.

For a brief moment, panic filled you. Until you noticed them carefully placed beside the door. Along with a small note.

Good morning. You looked uncomfortable sleeping with them beside you, so I moved them. Also, please eat breakfast before attempting to fix anything.

You stared at the handwriting for a few seconds. Then you looked across the room.

Grace was already awake, sitting at his desk and working.

"You moved my crutches?"

He didn't look away from the laptop. "Yes."

"You know you could've just told me."

"You were asleep."

"And?"

"And you needed sleep."

You blinked.

Because somehow, after months of surviving on the Hail Mary, you had forgotten that someone could care about something as simple as letting you rest.

"You're weird."

Grace finally looked over. "I've been told."

You smiled softly. "By me."

"Frequently."

The last one was the most obvious, and Rocky noticed first.

Of course he did.

The Eridian was walking into the lab when he saw Grace adjusting the height of one of the chairs. "Grace modifying furniture. Question."

Grace froze. "It was necessary."

"Why?"

"Because she can't comfortably sit on the original one yet."

Rocky tilted his carapace. "Grace cares for friend."

Grace opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "That is not—"

"Grace love friend."

"Rocky."

"Grace deny obvious facts."

"I am not denying anything."

The Eridian paused. "Grace admitting?"

Silence.

You, sitting nearby, watched the entire exchange with a growing smile. And Grace noticed. "What?"

"Nothing."

"No, what?"

You shrugged. "Nothing."

He narrowed his eyes. "You are using my own response against me."

"Maybe."

A small smile appeared on his face. And there it was again. That tiny expression you had memorized months ago. The one that meant he was happy. The one that meant he felt safe.

The one that meant, despite being millions of miles away from Earth, despite everything that had happened, despite the mission and the impossible odds—

You had somehow found a home.

~

a/n: Definitely did not end the fic based on my favorite line of the song. I for sure found my new favourite song after writing this fic nyehehehe. Ryland DEFINITELY listens to Look After You and other songs like it.

TYSM for all of the support you have been giving me! Requests are still open, and a reblog or like would be greatly appreciated! Thank you so much for reading and see u in the next fic! <3

"You've begun to feel like home."

Ryland and Rocky follow closely behind her, equally distressed at the sudden warning. "Shit." You curse under your breath.

"What is it?" He leans down behind you, trying to get a look at your monitor.

"One of the oxygen recyclers has been damaged by a stray asteroid." The monitors show one of the five oxygen recyclers hanging onto the ship by a cord.

"I need to fix it." You immediately stand up from your chair, but Grace stops you, holding your wrist. "It's too dangerous."

You look back at your crewmate, annoyed, because you are wasting time as you speak. "Grace." You say, sternly. "Having less oxygen on the ship doesn't sound too comforting, does it?"

His grip tightens on your wrist, not letting you go. "It's on the most dangerous part of the hull, next to one of the thrusters." His free hand points at your monitor. "You could get hurt."

The grip on your wrist grows more uncomfortable by the second, making you retract your arm to free yourself. "What do you want me to do?!"

"I'll fix it." Grace insists.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, growing more annoyed. "Grace— I literally invented them for the spaceship back on Earth."

Grace grows silent, knowing you are more qualified to fix the ship. But he insists on not letting you go out.

"Do you not trust me?!" Your voice slightly rises.

Rocky notices the change in the tone of your voices, immediately recognizing it was an argument. He leaves the cockpit to give both of you privacy—Mary taught him that one.

Grace was surprised by the sudden change of tone, "You literally— You could die!" He scolds you.

You sigh, realizing that Grace is never gonna let you go out there, "But this ship— This mission is the only hope Earth has." You pause.

"We need to make sacrifices, Ryland!" You practically shout loud enough that Rocky can hear it from the other side of the spaceship.

Grace was taken aback by your anger, him growing angrier too at your stubbornness.

"Okay, look—" He forces out an attempted calm tone. "I'll let you go. But—" Ryland breathes out.

"Thank you!" You cut him off, flailing your arms around.

"But you can only go once we're through this asteroid cluster." He stares at you through the rim of his glasses. "Because if you go now— You could..."

"I could get what, Ryland?!"

"Just— Agree with me so we can be done with this and stop wasting oxygen."

"Oh. So you think I'm a waste of oxygen now, huh?" You cross your arms.

Grace never meant it that way. It only sounded like it did, but you interpreting it that way hurt him.

"Just let the ship pass through the asteroid cluster, then you can go out and do whatever you want." He sighs in anger, walking out of the cockpit.

You sigh, silently agreeing that he was right. It was a waste of oxygen arguing about what time is safest to fix the recycler. Plopping yourself back down onto the chair, you stare at the monitors, processing the first fight you had with your crewmate.

The next few days were torturous. No teasing, no jokes, no laughing, no meals together. It was the longest wait you had to do for the asteroid cluster to pass the ship.

The experiments requiring two humans were awkward, to say the least. "Spectrometer." Grace points at it, across the lab. You drag your feet to get it and hand him the tool with noticeable force.

Rocky was also more silent than normal when hanging out in the lab with the two humans. He resorted to talking either to Armando or Mary about the two leaky space blobs.

And yes, you both indeed were leaky space blobs.

You silently cry yourself to sleep at night. You didn't regret wanting to fix the recycler. You knew you were right about that. What you regretted was the look on his face when you raised your voice.

Because for the first time since waking up on the Hail Mary, Ryland Grace didn't look like a scientist solving a problem. He looked hurt.

Grace was also deeply affected and concerned about how he worded his argument to you. He tries to distract himself with astrophage research, but later breaks down on the laboratory floor when no one is there.

After the asteroid cluster passes, you finally have the opportunity to fix the oxygen recycler. You get ready in the EVA room, putting on your suit. You look over and see Ryland doing the same thing.

"I thought you were the one to be on comms while I go out and fix it." You say in a forced monotone voice.

He jumps a bit from your voice, not expecting a conversation between the two of you. Grace had his back turned towards you and didn't look back at you when you spoke up.

It took him a second to reply, swallowing his tears. "Just in case."

"Just in case, what?"

"Just in case something happens."

You scoff silently, not wanting to argue further, as you click on your helmet. "Ready."

His footsteps were heavy against the metal floor of the spaceship as he headed towards the cockpit. You admit to yourself, he did look funny waddling in his EVA suit towards the cockpit.

A small smile escapes your lips, but you force it away, not wanting Grace to see you smiling at yourself during an argument.

"Why Grace in suit? Question." Rocky tilts his carapace at Grace. "Just in case I need to save her, Rocky." He sits down at the captain's chair, switching on the intercoms.

"Grace care for friend. Grace love friend." Rocky's translator echoes throughout the intercoms. "Wha—" Your voice gets cut off from the comms when Grace immediately turned it off.

You stared at the static for a moment, confused. Then you looked down at your communicator. "Grace?"

No answer.

On the other side of the ship, Grace closed his eyes, already regretting everything.

"Rocky." He turns towards him. "Her and I aren't okay. It would be great if you don't say that right now."

The eridian grows more confused. "But Grace and friend vitals okay. Why not okay?"

"Emotionally, we aren't, okay?"

"Oh. Humans confusing."

Grace looked away. "Yes. We are."

He hesitated before turning the comms back on. The moment the connection returned— "What did Rocky say?"

Grace froze.

Because lying to you had never been easy.

Not when he had spent months learning every small expression on your face. Not when he knew exactly how you sounded when you were joking, frustrated, scared, or pretending not to care.

"Nothing." The answer came too quickly, and you immediately noticed.

You sigh, and the air lock finally opens. You step out onto the hull and start to slowly walk towards the damaged oxygen recycler.

The mission was filled with silence. It threw you off. Because normally, it would be filled with either you or Grace telling stories to keep the other outside the ship company.

You finally reach the border of the safe part of the hull and the dangerous part of the hull. Grace hesitates to say anything, but as you step into the danger zone, he mutters, "Careful."

"What?" You struggle to decipher what he had just said.

He swallows and mutters again, enough for you to hear, "c-careful."

The word was quiet. Almost swallowed by the static between you. You froze. Because after days of silence, after days of pretending that the distance between you didn't bother either of you, that was the first thing he had said that sounded like the old Ryland.

"Thanks." The reply came softer than you intended.

A pause.

Then: "You're welcome." And for a moment, neither of you knew what to do with the fact that talking didn't hurt.

You finally reach the oxygen recycler, the thruster just a few feet beside you. Grace looks over at the monitor displaying your vitals, reading that your heartbeat was climbing at an alarming rate.

"Is friend okay?" Rocky was worried.

"Hey—" He hesitates again. "Calm down."

"I know."

You technically weren't scared of the thrusters being just a few feet ahead of you. I mean— Yes, it was in fact a scary sight, seeing flaming red circles ready to toast you alive, but you were almost used to it due to having to repair the hull multiple times.

The reason for your heartbeat climbing was the fact that you were required to talk with Ryland. Your survival depended on it. You're not allowed to avoid it anymore.

You finally got to work on the recycler. Normally, something like this mission, your heart rate would go down a bit. But no. And Grace, of course, notices.

"Your heartbeat is still increasing." He looks at the feed of the camera attached to your helmet.

"Maybe because I'm standing next to a giant engine." You pull out your wrench.

His answer comes too quickly, "No."

You stop unscrewing the device. Grace is staring at the feed and readings, but he isn't looking at the numbers anymore.

"It's not the thruster." Silence followed.

Because, of course, he knew.

Ryland Grace always knew.

You were almost done reconnecting the recycler. "Almost there," you muttered, tightening the last bolt. Grace was about to answer when Mary's voice interrupted.

"Warning. High-velocity object approaching." Neither of you had time to react.

SNAP

Another asteroid hits the recycler, snapping the remaining support cable.

The recycler lurched free, spinning wildly on its remaining cable before whipping across the hull.

It slammed into your side with enough force to rip your hands from the ship.

Your camera cuts into static, Grace completely losing sight of you. "HEY!" He calls out to you. Silence.

"ANSWER ME!"

Nothing.

"Come on..."

Still nothing.

"Ahh shi— Rocky, suit. Now." He rushes to the airlock. "Keep the ship stable."

Rocky was equally distressed. "Friend okay? Question." He asks through the intercoms.

Grace clicks his helmet on, "I don't know, buddy." He heads out the airlock, the vast space staring at him.

"HEY!" He shouts out to you.

You flutter your eyes open, hearing a ringing in your ear, and your vision blurry. You blink a few times and see that you were several meters away, the tether wrapped around a hull support.

One of your legs is twisted underneath a structural brace. You planted your other foot against the hull and pulled with everything you had.

For one hopeful second, the brace shifted.

Then—

CRACK.

White-hot pain exploded up your leg.

"ARGHH!" Your groans echo in the intercoms. "Friend!" Rocky's translator echoes. "Talk to me!" Grace's voice was full of distress, and what sounded like him was on the verge of tears.

You broke your ankle, trying to break free from the structural brace. You couldn't hold it in anymore as tears started to fall down your face. Everyone on the ship can hear your sniffles.

"Where are you!" Grace was frantically searching for you across the hull.

He finally looked behind him. And there you were. Curled against the hull, one leg trapped beneath twisted metal, tears floating inside your helmet.

For one terrifying second, he couldn't move.

Then instinct took over.

He hurries over to you, a broken part of the ship in hand. "Took you long enough." You manage to spit out through your tears.

Grace lets out a shaky breath. "Don't do that."

He doesn't waste any more time before smashing away the structural brace that trapped your broken ankle. It finally breaks off, and you start floating away.

"Ry!" The unused nickname for days escapes your lips in panic.

Grace immediately reaches out to catch your hand, pulling you towards him. "Hey.." His voice came out softer.

He looks down at you to assess if you have any injuries. He notices the ankle that is angled wrong.

"I've got you." He carries you in one of his arms, the other stabilizing him to the hull.

He slowly makes his way towards the airlock, apologizing every time you wince in pain.

"Sorry."

A few steps. "Sorry."

He adjusts his grip on you. "I know. I know it hurts."

Another wince. "I'm so sorry."

Grace slowly sets you down in the EVA room, then closes the airlock.

His gloved hands trembled as he unlocked your helmet. The moment it came free, he cupped your face for only a second, as if reassuring himself you were still there.

Then he remembered your ankle.

You bite down on your arm to silence yourself through the pain. "I left you alone..." He mumbles loud enough for you to hear.

"Ry..." He looks up at you, tears drenching your face. "Not now."

Rocky's ball hurriedly rolls towards the EVA room. "Armando. Now now now." Grace remembers they have a robot nurse onboard, picking you up to carry you to the dormitories.

Every hurried step of Ryland felt like someone was punching your broken ankle. It made you wince and cry even more. Resulting in Grace apologizing for every step.

The three of you finally reach the dormitories. He gently places you down. Armando remained motionless beside the bed, patiently waiting for the patient's suit to be removed. "Help her!" Grace commands the robot.

"Grace stupid. Armando and friend need privacy because friend need to change to medical dress." Rocky rolls away.

"Oh."

Grace looked at you one last time."I'll be right outside."

He waited.

You gave the smallest nod.

"Grace!" Rocky was irritated.

Only then did he step out and let the door close.

Not even a few steps away from the door, he collapses onto the floor, crying. "I almost lost her." Rocky looks back at him.

"Oh. Human leaky again."

"That's not comforting at all, buddy."

"Words of encouragement."

"Nope." He sniffles.

"Words of great encouragement."

A few hours pass, and Rocky tries his best to comfort Grace. You finally wake up.

"Eye movement detected," Mary announces.

Grace immediately stands up and rushes towards the dormitories, faster than Rocky could roll his ball down the hallway.

There, he saw you sitting up on the bed, your ankle and body covered in bandages. He freezes a bit, not used to seeing you in this state. He slowly makes his way towards you. Then the moment he's close enough, he can't stop himself.

He pulls you into a hug.

You freeze; neither of you speaks for several seconds. Then you slowly hug him back

"A hello would've sufficed." You smile weakly.

He silently laughs, almost broken.

You couldn't see Grace's face, but he takes one deep breath. Then another. Then his shoulders suddenly shake. "I thought I lost you."

You slowly rub his back, also tearing up. "You didn't."

He shakes his head.

"I almost did."

You take a deep breath and relax your shoulders, "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

He pulls back from the hug and interrupts you. "No." A pause. "I'm sorry I tried to stop you instead of trusting you."

You softly smile. "When Rocky said it..." Ryland suddenly avoids eye contact with you.

"...said what?"

"Never mind."

"Ryland." You smirk.

He stays silent, and his silence tells you everything. "He said you love me, didn't he?"

He freezes. Because the worst part was that Rocky wasn't wrong, and Ryland Grace hated when someone else figured out the answer before he did. "Rocky doesn't understand human emotions."

"Grace."

"He interprets attachment differently than we do."

"Ry."

"There are several explanations for why he would say—"

"Ryland." And he stops. Because you don't need the explanation.

You already know.

"I didn't want to say it because I thought it would complicate things." He plays with his fingers.

"Everything on this ship is complicated."

He sighs. "I spent months convincing myself that I was just concerned about the mission. That I was worried about losing a valuable crew member."

You tilt your head slightly. "And?"

"And then you almost died." He pauses for a bit. "And my first thought wasn't about Earth. Or the mission. Or the oxygen recycler."

He breathes deeply and finally gathers the courage to look into your eyes.

"It was you."

~

a/n: sorry for the multiple angst fics I've been writing lately hehe. BUT HONESTLY- I love this one sm. Definitely an author's choice. I hope u guys like the 2nd person storytelling. I want to change things up a bit.

I hope u guys enjoyed today's fic!! Requests are open and a reblog and like would be greatly appreciated! Thank you so much for all of the support. See you next fix! <3

Teaching had never been part of her original plan. Academia was. Research was.

Discovering something new and being surrounded by people who were just as curious about the world as she was. That was where she thought she belonged. At least, that was what she believed.

Now, she was standing in the same hallway, holding a cup of coffee that wasn't hers because someone had forgotten theirs again.

"You know, most people remember where they put their coffee."

Y/N leaned against the doorframe of Grace's classroom, watching as he placed decorations around the room for the end of the school year.

Grace looked back at her, smiling slightly as he recognized the cup in her hand.

"You forgot it in my classroom."

He reached out for the coffee, and Y/N handed it to him. "Again."

"Why, thank you, Dr. y/l/n."

"You're welcome, Dr. Grace."

The familiar exchange made both of them smile. It was strange how something so small had become normal.

Months ago, she barely knew the science teacher across the hallway.

Now, she knew exactly where he kept his spare coffee packets, which students always forgot their homework, and how long he could talk about a single scientific concept before someone had to remind him that his class period ended five minutes ago.

And somehow, he knew just as much about her.

Grace walked back toward his desk, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Don't you think it's weird?"

"Hm?"

"The rumors."

Grace immediately knew what she meant. "Oh boy."

Throughout the semester, students had been "shipping" their math and science teachers whose classrooms faced each other. And honestly? Y/N couldn't blame them. There was evidence.

They had lunch together almost every day.

They left school at the same time.

Mr. Grace started bringing an extra coffee every morning.

They spent afternoons planning lessons together, arguing over whether science or mathematics was more important, and somehow always ending up agreeing that both were.

And neither of them questioned when the other became part of their routine.

Grace chuckled while erasing the board, while Y/N sat comfortably in his teacher's chair. "Honestly, it's amusing."

"You enjoy it?"

"Not necessarily."

"That sounded like a yes."

"It was an observation."

"Of course it was."

A comfortable silence filled the room.

The kind of silence that only existed between people who had spent enough time together that they no longer felt the need to fill every second with conversation.

Then Grace spoke.

"So what are your plans after this school year?"

Y/N looked up. The question was casual. Too casual.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "That's a suspiciously specific question."

Grace paused. "It is June."

"That's not an answer."

He looked back at the board. "I was curious."

Y/N smiled slightly. "Well..."

She looked around the classroom. At the posters on the wall. At the projects displayed on the shelves. At the small reminders of the students who had spent the year learning inside these walls.

"I might start applying to research positions again."

The sound of the eraser stopped.

Completely.

For a moment, Grace didn't move. Y/N noticed immediately. "Ryland?"

"I'm fine."

"You stopped erasing the board."

"I was thinking." Slowly, he continued cleaning the board. But something about him had changed, and Y/N noticed. Of course she noticed.

She had spent months learning how to read Ryland Grace. She knew when he was excited. She knew when he was frustrated. She knew when he was pretending not to be either. And right now, he was pretending.

The following days passed differently. Not dramatically. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But Y/N noticed.

Grace started knocking before entering her classroom.

He stopped assuming they would have lunch together.

He stopped waiting outside her classroom after the final bell.

And instead of his usual: "See you tomorrow, Dr. y/l/n."

He started saying: "Have a good evening."

It was polite. Professional. Normal. And somehow, that made it worse. Because normal was what they were before. Before coffee. Before lunch. Before spending hours together arguing about presentations and experiments. Before she became someone he looked for when something interesting happened.

Y/N told herself it was probably nothing. Maybe he was tired, and the end of the school year was stressful. Maybe grading hundreds of papers had finally caught up to him.

But deep down, she knew. Something had changed.

The last day of the school year arrived faster than either of them expected.

The hallways were quieter. The classrooms were slowly being emptied. Teachers packed their belongings while students celebrated the beginning of summer.

Y/N stood outside Grace's classroom door. Normally, she would have walked in. Normally, she wouldn't have thought twice.

But now she hesitated.

Then she opened the door anyway without knocking.

"Did I do something?"

Grace, who was organizing papers on his desk, immediately looked up. "What?"

Y/N stepped inside. "You've been weird."

"I am always weird."

She sighed. Not the playful, annoyed sigh he was used to—The serious one. The one that meant she already knew something was wrong. And unfortunately for him, Ryland Grace noticed everything.

"Y/N..."

"What's wrong, Ryland?"

The change in nickname made him freeze. She only called him Ryland when she was serious or upset

He looked down, and for once, he didn't have an immediate answer. That alone scared her, because Ryland Grace always had an answer. Finally, after a long silence, he spoke.

"You might leave."

The words were quiet, almost like he was afraid saying them louder would make them real.

Y/N's expression softened. "Ryland..."

"You mentioned returning to academia."

"I said I was considering it."

"I know."

"And?"

He looked away, and that told her everything. Because Ryland Grace was many things. Brilliant. Stubborn. Overly analytical. A person who could explain complicated scientific theories without hesitation.

But feelings?

Feelings were different. Feelings were the one thing he couldn't solve with logic.

"I thought I was being reasonable." Y/N frowned.

"Reasonable?"

He played with his fingers. A nervous habit she had noticed months ago. "I thought if you left, I would adjust."

She stayed silent.

"I have adjusted to many changes before." He looked around the classroom.

The same classroom where he had met her. The same hallway where she had first introduced herself. The same place where she somehow became part of his everyday life.

"But I don't think I want to adjust to this one."

Y/N felt her chest tighten. "Adjust to what?"

The question was quiet. But Grace knew there was no avoiding it anymore.

He took a breath.

"To you not being here."

Silence.

"I know that sounds selfish."

"It doesn't."

"I don't want you to stay because of me."

His eyes finally met hers. "I don't want you to give up something important because of what I want."

A pause.

"But I also don't want to pretend that it wouldn't matter."

His voice became softer. "When you first arrived, you were just the new teacher across the hallway."

Y/N smiled faintly. "Very welcoming."

"I was adjusting."

"You were terrified of talking to me."

"I was not."

"You absolutely were." A small smile appeared on his face, then it faded.

"Then you became someone I discussed lesson plans with."

A pause.

"Then someone I ate lunch with."

Another pause.

"Then someone I looked for whenever something interesting happened."

Y/N's expression softened.

"And somewhere along the way..." He swallowed. "...you became part of my life."

The room went quiet. Not uncomfortable. Just full.

"I don't want you to stay because I asked." He stepped closer. "I want you to stay because you want to."

Y/N looked down. Because that was the thing—She had been so focused on whether she belonged in academia that she forgot to ask herself another question.

Did she still want the same thing?

She thought about research. She loved discovery. She loved learning. She loved finding answers. But she also loved watching students have that same moment of discovery.

The moment when something finally clicked. The same way it had during the SciMath Fair. When a student saw their prediction work. When they realized science wasn't just memorizing facts. When mathematics wasn't just numbers

It was curiosity. It was wonder. It was exactly why she fell in love with academia in the first place.

Except now, she didn't have to be the person discovering everything. She could be the person who helped others discover.

"Ryland..."

He looked at her.

"I think I finally understand something."

"What?"

She smiled softly. "When I wanted to go back to academia, I thought I was chasing the part I loved."

She looked around the classroom. "But I think I was chasing the feeling."

Grace listened quietly.

"And teaching gave me that feeling too." A small smile appeared on his face.

"I don't want to leave because I hate this."

She looked back at him.

"I wanted to leave because I thought this wasn't enough."

A pause.

"But it is."

Grace's expression softened.

"Y/N."

She smiled. "I think I want to stay."

For a moment, Ryland didn't say anything. Then: "That is good."

She laughed.

"That is your response?"

"I have several responses."

"Of course you do."

"But that was the most accurate one."

She shook her head, smiling.

And somehow, after everything, after months of arguments and experiments and coffee and routines... It felt like the simplest answer.

The thing they had both been looking for.

Not an equation.

Not a variable.

A constant.

"Also," Y/N added.

"Hm?"

"You still owe me coffee tomorrow."

Grace blinked.

"Tomorrow?"

She smiled.

"Yes. Tomorrow."

And for the first time in weeks, Grace smiled like he believed it.

"See you tomorrow, Dr. y/l/n."

Y/N smiled back.

"See you tomorrow, Dr. Grace."

~

"Ryland, you realize I can hear the hypocrisy, right?"She sighs and sets down her tools.

"How?"

Their Eridian friend is in a corner, watching his human friends argue over who will risk their lives to save humanity. Y/n raises her eyebrow at him, knowing that he knows what she meant by what she said.

"Well... You know that I can't lo—" He stops himself. "You know what I mean, y/n."

"I know what?! What do I know, Ryland?!" Y/n raises her voice.

She rarely raised her voice at him. But after years aboard the Hail Mary, after being trapped millions of kilometers away from home with only him and Rocky, the thought of losing him was something she couldn't simply accept.

And judging by the look in Grace's eyes, he felt the exact same way.

Rocky senses the tension and rise of blood pressure between them. "Y/n comes."

He and y/n look at Rocky. "Rocky—" Grace looked offended.

"Grace makes bad decisions alone. His carapace rises, trying to give them a reason to stop fighting. It doesn't really help.

"Thank you, Rocky." Y/n is relieved that she has a friend on her side. "Y/n engineer. Y/n friend has more knowledge on ship." Rocky chirps.

"Okay. Fine. Let's look at the situation objectively." Grace puts on his glasses. Properly.

Y/n crosses her arms. "Oh no."

"What?"

"You're doing the scientist voice." Grace ignores it.

"I have the most experience with astrophage. I understand the tau-moeba better than anyone else on this ship. Rocky and I have already mapped the process." He tries to reason logically.

"That doesn't mean you have to go alone."

"Yes, it does."

Y/n goes quiet. Because he isn't saying it arrogantly, he's saying it because he genuinely believes it.

"You really think you're the only one capable of doing this?" She finally speaks up.

"No." A pause. "I think I'm the most likely to come back."

"Grace should go." Rocky's voice cuts through their argument.

They both looked at him, surprised by his sudden change of sides. "Rocky?"

"Grace has knowledge. Y/n has no knowledge. But mission requires Grace."

Y/n stares at him, offended. "You're agreeing with him?"

"No." He pauses. "Rocky agrees with math."

And for the first time in a few hours, the ship was filled with silence. The two are thinking of possible ways to convince the other to let them go.

Y/n shifts in her seat. "You want me to stay behind because you think I can't do it."

"No." She freezes, Grace, looking at her, frustrated.

"That's the problem. I know you can do it." His voice lowers. "I know you're capable. I know you're brilliant. I know you can handle yourself."

He pauses.

"That's why I'm scared."

Y/n's expression softens, hearing what the scientist she has been arguing with for days said.

"Because... Because I know exactly how much I have to lose." Grace tears up.

Y/n had expected him to argue. She expected calculations, statistics, and reasons. She did not expect fear.

Another wave of silence follows. But not the uncomfortable type—A type where they finally understand each other.

"Fine." Y/n sniffles through her tears. "You convinced me."

Grace's face lit up, and before he could stop himself, he crossed the distance between them and pulled her into a hug.

Y/N froze because Grace wasn't usually like this. He was affectionate, yes. But he was calculated. Careful. He always thought before he acted. This time, he didn't.

"Thank you."

"Oh— um.. You're welcome?" Y/n was surprised by the sudden hug from her crewmate.

He realizes what he did and immediately lets go of her. "Sorry I—"

"You hugged me." Y/n smirks.

"Yes. I noticed."

"You don't have to apologize."

"Both humans are emotional," Rocky chirps.

"Rocky—"

"But Grace is correct," Rocky continues working on his xenonite projects. "But y/n should prepare emergency plan because Grace is also stupid."

"Thank you, Rocky." Y/n wipes her tears.

"I don't like that everyone keeps agreeing I'm stupid.

~

It was time. Rocky was getting ready in the cockpit, while y/n was helping Grace get into the EVA suit.

"Don't die." Y/n puts on Grace's helmet. Grace chuckles, "I promise," locking the helmet in place. Y/n stood there, staring at Grace. And without thinking about it, she hugs him. "Please..?"

Grace freezes, then smiles. The normally composed engineer was hugging him in his EVA suit, "Mhmm."

"You're surprisingly comfortable to hug in your EVA suit." She lets go. "Well.. It's go time?"

"It's go time." Grace nods.

"See you, Dr. Captain Ryland Grace." Y/n talks through the intercom, whilst saluting at the entrance of the EVA suit room.

"See you too, Engineer Captain Y/n Y/l/n." Grace salutes back.

Y/n takes a last look at Ryland and walks towards the cockpit. She sits in the captain's chair, turning on the intercom. "Grace? Can you hear me?"

"Yes. Clearly." Grace replies through the intercom.

Rocky nods at Y/n to signal that the mission was ready. Y/n flicks on the engine and starts to drive towards Adrian.

"Time go fishing, question?" Rocky's voice echoes through the intercom. "It's now or never." Grace replies to Rocky.

Rocky presses a button, and the thousands of meters of chain made by the Eridian start falling down from the ship. "Three thousand meters. Probe signal, good." Rocky reads the readings on his device. The collector was then opened by a button to start collecting Tau-moeba.

"Now comes the fun part." Grace breathes out to ready himself to go out into the hull.

"Grace go out on hull to retrieve collector? No fun at all." Rocky's carapace faces y/n. "It's a joke, Rocky." Y/n tells the Eridian.

"Oh, Humor. Confusing." Rocky tilts.

"Ready, Grace?" Y/n asks. "I thi— Yes."

Grace finally heads out onto the hull, tying himself to the handrails Y/n had prepared for him. "Oh, You gotta be kidding me." He breathes out.

Ryland's statement makes y/n scared. But before she could say anything, Rocky spoke up. "What problem, question?"

"It's fine. The sky is just..." He trails off. "...slightly on fire."

Y/N stared at the monitor displaying his vitals. His heart rate was climbing, but somehow that wasn't the number that scared her. It was the fact that she could hear how calm he sounded.

"You can do this, Ry." Y/n encourages him. "Words of encouragement." Rocky follows.

Grace smiles. "You can't just say words of encouragement." Making y/n giggle.

"Words of great encouragement."Made y/n giggle harder before locking in to making sure the ship was stable.

"Nope."

The next few minutes were filled with Grace slowly walking along the hull while the ship was maneuvering backwards so it wouldn't decelerate to the point of crashing into the planet due to extreme drag.

"I'm not worried. Are you worried?" Grace pants through the intercoms.

"Yes." Rocky and Y/n reply in unison.

The hull creaks with the immense pressure it is withholding. "Collector is closed. Move into position." Rocky orders.

Y/n and Rocky can hear Grace smashing the device Rocky had made on the hull to retrieve the collector. The chain began retracting at high speeds, making Ryland step back. "Woahh."

"You okay?" Y/n checks up on him. "Never been better."

They then hear multiple hits on the ship. "How long is this supposed to take?" Grace asks. "Collector should be here soon."

Y/n keeps on monitoring Grace's vitals, making sure that he is stable. His heart rate is climbing higher, something to be expected while doing a mission like this.

"Yeah, it's here." Grace watches the collector snap back to the hull. "Amaze amaze amaze!" Rocky chirps and y/n sighs in relief.

Grace gets the collector as it almost falls off, but he catches it quickly. "Careful. Collector important."

"Yep."

Y/n reads an altitude warning on one of the monitors. "Grace, quickly. There's an altitude warning." He hears Y/n's worried voice through the intercom and quickly makes his way back.

He watches the Hail Mary descend lower into the atmosphere of Adrian. "Hurry. Hurry."

And before Grace knew it, he was hit by a loose part of the ship, knocking him out. Y/n immediately heard the thud and looked at Grace's vitals. "GRACE?!"

No answer.

With his Eridian 'vision', Rocky looks through the walls and sees Grace passed out on the hull. "Grace!"

"Ryland. Status update. Status update!" Y/n shouts out into the intercom, distressed.

"Grace is safe, question?" You could also hear the worry in Rocky's chirps.

Grace's eyes flutter open, "I'm okay."

Y/n sighs in relief because she was about to get up and get out into the hull without an EVA suit. "Good good good. Come inside with predator collector now."

He looks over the hull and sees the collector dangling. "Uhh..."

"Warning: exterior temperature elevated." Mary's voice echoes throughout the ship. "Come on, Grace." Y/n encourages him.

Grace watches as the ship is starting to fall apart, while Rocky watches the situation through his Eridian 'vision'. He sees the collector dangling over the edge while Grace is staring at it. "No Grace. Bad idea. Come inside."

"What is happening?!" Y/n looks at Rocky.

"Need to have a minute." Grace mumbles loud enough so that the intercom can come through.

Rocky moves in distress, and the chords coming out of him were pitches higher. "No no no no. Grace will die. Can repeat mission. Can try again later."

"Grace, whatever you're doing, stop it." Y/n flicks levers and presses buttons to try and stabilize the ship. "Grace, please!"

"I don't think there's going to be a later." He mumbles.

For a moment, Y/N forgot about the mission. Forgot about humanity. Forgot about the millions of lives depending on them. All she heard was Ryland Grace, the man who promised her he would come back.

And he sounded like he was saying goodbye.

"Abort abort abort! Grace wil die!" Rocky was moving frantically. "No no no no no no no no!"

Rocky and Y/n hear multiple slides and thuds on the hull. "Grace!" Y/n shouts. He groans and grunts through the intercom.

Then another thud on the air lock, followed by footsteps. "I'm here!"

"Amaze amaze amaze!" Rocky chirps.

He makes his way to the cockpit to be strapped in place for takeoff. "Are you okay, Grace?!" Y/n was on the verge of tears.

"Well, I'm not dead, so yes." He hurriedly gets strapped into another chair in the cockpit. And Y/n straps the collector in another.

"Where is that noise coming from?" He acknowledges the loud noises coming from a direction in the ship. "Noise is coming from all around. It's routed to the port side of bedroom." Rocky answers.

"The gravity is tearing the ship apart!" The final buckle in his straps finally clicks.

"We leave now, question?" Rocky asks.

"We leave now, statement." Grace looks at y/n, nodding.

Y/n pushes a button and turns on the engine, pulling the lever to push the ship away from Adrian's atmosphere. The Hail Mary starts accelerating, and the alarms grow louder.

Too loud.

Mary's warnings overlapped with the sounds of metal tearing apart, making it almost impossible to think.

"Hull pressure warning," Mary announced calmly.

Y/n gripped the controls tighter. "That is a very calm way to say the ship is falling apart."

"Mary is designed to maintain composure during emergency situations." Grace tried to help y/n maintain composure.

"Well, I am not." Grace looks over at her. Even through the panic, even through the loud alarms blaring in their ears, he noticed her hands were shaking. "Y/n."

She didn't look away from the controls. "I'm fine."

"You're lying."

"You're the one to talk."

A shaky laugh escaped both of them. For a moment, they looked at each other. And despite everything happening around them, Grace smiled slightly.

"Hull benind in big room below bedroom!" Rocky warns.

"That's the fuel tanks." Grace replies.

"Holes! Bad bad bad." Rocky repeats the words while Mary is talking over him.

"Calm down." Grace shouts. "CALM DOWN!"

"Try to keep yourself together, Mary." Y/n grits through her teeth, pulling the lever harder than ever.

"Stop engine now?" Rocky asks y/n. "Not yet."

"We need to get into orbit, or we'll crash," Grace explains.

The alarms grew even louder and lights started flashing. "I have an idea. First no crash..." Rocky says and Grace leans back in his chair in disbelief. "...then not explode. Deal?"

"Deal!" Both of the humans turn towards Rocky and give a thumbs down.

"Hold on." Y/n looks around the monitors, waiting for the ship to get into orbit. The lever shakes with her hands.

"Now?!" You could absolutely hear the panic in Rocky's chirps.

"Wait."

"Now?!"Now?!"

Y/n waits a few more seconds. "NOW!"

Grace and Rocky press buttons to stop the engines. Everything went silent for a moment. No alarms, no metal, no hull creaking, no voice of Mary screaming in your ears.

Rocky stars floating, along with his devices, inside his tube. "Did we do it?" Grace screams out.

Grace and Y/n's buckles come off from the zero gravity. Then a thud sounds from Rocky. One of his devices falls to the glass.

Weird.

Suddenly, the ship moves on its own, and the seats on the tracks of the cockpit move towards the viewport. Grace luckily stops himself from crashing, but Y/n was a different story.

Ryland hears a thud and looks over to see Y/n passed out on the chair. She hit her head on the glass. "Y/N!" The fear in his voice was immediate. He pushes himself toward her, grabbing onto the rails to pull himself across the cockpit.

"Y/N. Hey. Hey, wake up."

Nothing.

His heart drops.

"Hull breach. Portside fuel compartment, eleven and twelve." Mary cuts off the emotional scene playing in front of Rocky.

Grace buckles Y/n back down in her seat, and with the last of his strength, he pulls himself across the cockpit to stabilize the ship. "Grace! What happened, question?" Rocky cries out.

"Y/n hit her head, and the fuel is migrating to Adrian." He says through his tears.

"Y/N!" Rocky calls out. "Eject that fuel bay, question?!"

The ship getting thrown around made it really hard for Grace to maneuver through the cockpit. "Yeah."

With one hand on the handrails, he tries his best to reach the button on the other side to eject the fuel bays.

He successfully ejects one.

The ship was not spinning at a speed it was not built to handle. Rocky was thrown against a glass, and he cried out. "Rocky!" Grace calls out to his hurt Eridian friend.

"Eject other fuel bay." Rocky orders in the midst of his injuries.

He successfully ejects the other.

But in return, he hit his head into the controls, knocking Grace and Rocky out.

The ship continued to spin, but everything was silent.

Rocky wakes up shortly after, calling out to Grace. His translator no longer worked, so only his chirps were audible. But for Grace, he couldn't hear anything. He fluttered his eyes open one thing was on his mind.

Turn on the centrifugal gravity system.

He manages to flick one of the levers, but the other one is simply too far. He falls out of consciousness again.

Rocky cries out to him as an attempt to wake them up. It doesn't work. The next thing he knew, Rocky was smashing the glass he made to reach Grace and Y/n.

Ammonia leaks out into Grace and Y/n's atmosphere, immediately poisoning Rocky with oxygen. He cries out in pain but pushes through to flick the last lever to turn on the centrifugal gravity system.

Grace and y/n's chair return to its normal position with the help of gravity. Rocky was struggling but persevered and unlocked the two from their chairs.

The eridian's body started to produce smoke as he dragged the scientist and engineer by the arm. He screams out in pain as he arrives in the dormitories.

Armando grabs Grace and Y/n and places them into their respective pods to heal.

Grace wakes up for a moment and sees a glimpse of Rocky producing amounts of black smoke from his body. He tried to get up but couldn't due to the condition of his body.

He looks over to Y/n and sees her reaching out to him. Grace extended an arm, and their fingers touched. And just like that, they fall out of consciousness again.

~

"Eye movement detected." Mary's calm voice echoes throughout the ship. "Good morning, Dr. Grace."

Grace slowly gets up from the bed, removing the device that helped him breathe.

He was in a daze. He looks behind him and sees y/n still asleep.

For a moment, Grace didn't remember where he was. The last thing he remembered was the Hail Mary spinning, alarms blaring, and y/n's voice calling his name.

Ryland gathers his strength to stand up and slowly walk over to her. He holds her hand and rubs it with his thumb.

Her head was wrapped with bandages, clearly sustaining more injuries than him. Ryland smiles, glad that she was okay and recovering beside him.

He looks around and sees a trail of black goo and powder. Following it while stumbling, using the handrails on this ship to keep him up. He didn't want to follow the trail.

Some part of him already knew.

But another part—the scientist part—needed evidence.

His eyes start watering as the trail leads him towards the lab. There, he sees Rocky in his enclosure, lying down.

Ryland leans down, and Rocky weakly turns to him. His chords were low and quiet. Grace nods, understanding by what Rocky had said. "I'll watch you sleep, pal."

He looks around, trying not to show the Eridian that he was crying. "But uh— You gotta wake up." He taps against the glass.

Shortly after, Y/n wakes up to the quiet sniffles of Ryland. She stumbles over to where the sound was coming from. Every step reminded her that her body was still recovering, but she didn't care.

She knew that sound. She knew the difference between Ryland thinking and Ryland hurting.

Then, she was greeted by the sight of Rocky lying down, and Grace sitting and crying next to him.

Y/n sat down with Grace, crying together with him. "Watching him sleep?" She mumbles.

Grace just nods.

Y/N rested her head against his shoulder. "He's going to hate that you saw him this emotional."

Grace lets out a broken laugh. "He already thinks I'm stupid."

"You are stupid."

"Y/N."

"But you're his human."

~

Days had passed since Grace and Y/n woke up. They have done everything they can to make Rocky comfortable. Made him a heat lamp and fixed his enclosure.

Then Grace found the translator he had made, flipped over. He called Y/n to show what Rocky said in his final moments.

<Save Earth, Save Erid.>

It was rough, but they pushed through. Y/n worked on repairing the ship's system first, as she isn't strong enough to work in EVA. Grace worked on studying the Tau-moeba they had gathered.

Every time they passed Rocky's body, they silently wished he would wake up. But then Grace called Y/n over to show her his scientific breakthrough.

Tay-moeba destroyed the Astrophage.

They cried for hours. They finally had something to save Earth. To save Erid.

Eventually, Ryland develops nitrogen-resistant Tau-moeba using the breeder tanks Rocky had made.

Of course, they didn't forget to document the process, to show Rocky later on when he wakes up.

~

Y/n found Ryland sleeping next to Rocky's enclosure one night, and from that night on, it became their bedroom. In the lab, right next to Rocky.

Ryland was leaning against Rocky's enclosure, asleep, while Y/n was sleeping on his lap.

Suddenly, a light turns on, followed by a few thuds.

"Shhh..." Grace shushes the completely asleep Y/n.

"Grace? Y/n?" Rocky asks.

Grace slowly wakes up, stretching, also waking up y/n. "Rock, could you just— Give me a little... Chance, please..." He opens his eyes to look inside the enclosure.

Rocky isn't there.

Y/n sits up, her back towards Grace and the enclosure. She hears hurried rustling and looks back to see Ryland hugging Rocky's ball...

...with Rock inside it.

She tears up and hugs Rocky with him too. After a few minutes of quiet sniffling from both of the humans, they finally stand back.

"Did we find predator, question?" Rocky asks.

Grace slowly nods his head side to side, then up and down. "No? Yes?" Rocky's carapace tilts.

Ryland then heads towards the lab, signaling Rocky to follow him. But Rocky stays behind for a bit, facing towards Y/n. "Welcome back, buddy." Y/n smiles at him.

Rocky chirps, and they both follow Ryland to nerd out about nitrogen-resistant Tau-moeba.

~

The principal stood at the front with the head teacher of each department. "Good afternoon, everyone! One of the most important events of the school year is coming up again in a week." She greeted the room.

"Let us hopefully finalize our decisions today, so that we may prepare properly."

The meeting went by slowly and agonizingly for some, but for y/n, it was like she stepped into a new world. The event was about showcasing the students' talents, mainly in the Science and Mathematics areas. Certainly something y/n would love.

It was composed of three main events: science fair, quiz bee, and a seminar. "For the math and science presentation..." The principal tapped on her clipboard.

"We were thinking Ms. y/l/n and Mr. Grace."

Y/n's eyes widened as she heard her name while everyone looked at her and Grace. "S-sorry. Me?" Y/n speaks up, confirming if what she heard was right.

"Yes, Ms. y/l/n. Even though you are a very new teacher at this school, the students seem to have grown a great liking for you since the arrival of Mr Grace at this school." The principal smiled at y/n.

"So it is only fitting for the two teachers that are greatly liked by the student population to be this year's speakers."

Across the room, you could hear teachers whispering at each other something along the lines of "that makes sense".

Y/n was speechless. Yes, she has done presentations to a large crowd back in academia, but now that she has learned that teaching kids is way different from teaching scholars, she was absolutely terrified.

The principal looks through the gap between her glasses, "Would you want to switch partners?" Y/n hasn't realized that she was silent for a few seconds too long.

"Oh! I wouldn't mind pairing up with Dr. Gra— Sorry, Mr. Grace." She looks at Grace, who was equally baffled across the room.

"And you, Mr. Grace?"

Grace blinked, almost as surprised as she was. Not because he thought she was incapable, but because he couldn’t understand why she would think she was. "I think Ms. y/l/n would be a good partner."

The room went silent.

Half of the room stared at Grace while the other stared at y/n.

'Good partner?' y/n thought, about to explode from embarrassment.

Grace realizes how it sounded and immediately speaks up. "For the presentation. I mean. Professionally."

"Professionally," one of the teachers repeats, suspiciously.

The principal silently chuckles, "Alright, let's move on." While Grace thumps his head onto the table, trying to hide from embarrassment at the realization of what he had said.

3 hours later, the meeting finally ended later that evening "Have a great night too, Mrs. Cesar!" Y/n waved to her friend as she went back to her classroom to collect a few more belongings before going home.

She sees a figure standing in the dim hallways and immediately recognizes him. "You know you made that sound worse, right?" Y/n fiddles with her keys as she locks her classroom up for the night.

"I was aware approximately three seconds after saying it." Grace closes his classroom door.

"Only three?

"I was calculating the damage."

"You were calculating?" She faces Grace.

"Yes."

Y/n slips her keys into her pocket and starts to walk down the hallway, Grace following close behind, "Of course you were."

"Have a great night, Dr. Grace," y/n teases Grace as she pushes the door to the exit.

Grace gives her an annoyed look. "Have a great night too, Dr. y/l/n."

"How do you know that...?" Y/n stops mid-step, looking back at him.

Grace shrugs with a smile and walks towards his bike.

"You forgot to lock your classroom door again, by the way," Y/n informs him as she passes his bike.

"And you only told me when we're already in the parking lot?!" Grace rushes back inside the building, y/n chuckling to herself.

After getting home, Y/N found herself staring at the unfinished notes for the SciMath Academic Fair. She had already written down possible topics, schedules, and a rough outline, but there was one problem.

She needed Ryland's input.

Y/n grabs her phone and opens her messages. She taps on Grace's Name. They exchanged numbers after Grace left his lesson plan in y/n's already locked classroom.

Y/N: Are you free tomorrow after classes to start planning the presentation?

She was about to put her phone back down, expecting to wait for a few minutes for Grace's response. But to her surprise, the reply came almost immediately.

Mr. Grace (GCM Science Teacher): Yes.

Y/n stared at the screen. That was suspiciously fast.

Y/N: That was quick🤨

Mr. Grace (GCM Science Teacher): I was already thinking about possible topics.

Y/N: How many ideas do you have?

The typing bubbled appeared and stayed there for a few minutes. That alone was concerning.

Mr. Grace (GCM Science Teacher): Seven.

She thinks about it for a second and actually agrees that maybe a few of his ideas would come in handy. They did have to prepare a 2-hour presentation.

Y/N: Alright. Let's discuss them tomorrow after classes

Mr. Grace (GCM Science Teacher): See you.

Y/N: You using periods in texts makes u more scary than formal, btw

Mr. Grace (GCM Science Teacher): Oh

~

Classes had already ended 30 minutes ago at Grover Cleveland Middle, and y/n was finalizing her ideas to present to Grace when he came over.

She hears her door opening, then footsteps walking towards a desk.

His usual spot.

"You know, most people knock before entering someone's classroom." Y/n didn't even look up.

"You stopped reacting after the third time."

"That doesn't mean it's allowed." She finally looks up to see Grace setting his coffee and laptop down on his usual table.

Grace glanced at the desk in front of her, where multiple papers were neatly arranged into different sections.

"You made an outline already."

"Yes."

"How many pages?"

Y/N hesitated. "Six."

Grace looked impressed. "That is less than mine."

She slowly looked up. "You have more than six pages?"

"I have seven ideas."

"Alright, talk me through them, then." Y/n leans back on her chair, crossing her arms.

"The first section should introduce the relationship between mathematics and science," Grace explains, pointing at his notes.

"Okay."

"Then we can discuss mathematical patterns found in nature, followed by physics applications, then molecular structures—"

"Grace."

"Yes?"

"We have two hours, not two semesters."

An hour passed, and Grace and y/n switched ideas for their presentation. Some were more playful than helpful, but they got through with it—barely.

"Math is the foundation," Y/n pointed at the now messy whiteboard, filled with their ideas. "Science is the reason we know how the universe works," Grace says intently, with his glasses barely hanging from the side of his face.

"And how do you think science describes those things?" She crosses he arms, leaning against the whiteboard.

Grace was silent for a moment. "...With mathematics."

"Exactly."

"That doesn't prove your point." He rolls his eyes.

"Oh, it absolutely does, Dr. Grace." Y/n teases, walking back to her table to grab a few notes.

"Students should understand how math appears in everyday life." She reads from her notes.

"Students should experience science instead of memorizing it, Dr y/l/n." Ryland teases back.

"Mmm," y/n hums in annoyance, looking at her notes, then back at the whiteboard full of ideas.

Silence envelops them as they try to smash ideas that don't sound overcomplicated for students, but still educational and engaging. It was definitely not as simple as six times seven or saying 'mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.'

Then a click.

"What if students predict the outcome before the experiment?" Y/n jumps up, looking at Grace.

"Using mathematical models." Looking back at her, clapping his hands.

They look at the board. The separate ideas now connect. The plan suddenly makes sense.

"Oh my god, finally." They both sigh in relief.

The next few days were a blur for the two teachers. Teaching in the morning and meeting up in the afternoon to prepare for their presentation. It was now Friday, and they were a bit behind schedule, which was putting a lot of stress on both of them.

"We still aren't done with the models and experiments." Y/n thumps her head on her table.

"Technically, we're seventy percent done." Grace attempts to comfort her.

"How will we be able to finish it when it's the weekends tomorrow?" She groans, not wanting to work over the weekend. "We certainly can't bring home those models."

"We can meet up."

Y/n looks up from her table to stare at the science teacher who was testing out the ramp for their experiment. "Where, exactly?"

"I dunno. Maybe the local library downtown?"

She smirks, finding a perfect opportunity to tease Ryland. "Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. Grace?"

Grace immediately looks up at her, eyes blown wide and cheeks concerningly red. "I— no. I mean— not that—"

He stops.

"I mean, professionally."

"Calm down, I was kidding." Y/n stands up and stretches. "Let's pack up and continue this tomorrow, yeah?"

He finally relaxes his shoulders, standing up from the floor. "Alright." He stretches too. "Let's leave these models in my room, since the PowerPoint is the only thing we have to finalize."

Y/n nods in agreement and starts to carry the models they have prepared all week to Grace's classroom.

It takes them both a while to clean up as they have been grinding on preparing for the presentation for 5 days straight. Eventually, they did finish and go to their respective homes, teasing each other on their way.

The following day, they meet up at the local library after lunch. Grace arrived first since he lived closer, and definitely teased y/n for being 4 minutes late.

Y/n realizes this was the first time she had seen Grace outside of the campus. He was wearing one of those dumb science pun t-shirts, reading "I wear this shirt periodically," and it made her chuckle to herself.

"What's funny?" Grace raises an eyebrow.

"Nothing."

They choose a quiet corner, sit down across from each other, and turn on both of their laptops.

"Okay." Y/n sighs. "You work on the design, I'll finalize the diagrams."

"Why assign me to the design?" Grace whines.

"You have a better-designed classroom." Y/n taps away at her keyboard.

Ryland cheekily smiles. "Is that a compliment?"

"Don't let it get to your head."

It was quite a productive afternoon. Double-checking the information, practicing their speech, and making sure the presentation was as engaging as possible.

"Hey, can you double-check this? Science stuff." Y/n gets up and walks over to the seat next to Grace, carrying her laptop.

Grace leans closer to her to read the symbols over the numbers in their digital print-outs. "Yep. Ready to print." He gave her a thumbs-up.

Y/n nods and stands up to print the materials, but Grace stops her by holding her wrist. "Uh.."

"I'll pay." He notices the firm grip on her wrist and immediately lets go. "Sorry.. Uh— I'll pay. Since you paid for the materials for the models and all."

"You sure?" Y/n sits back down, "That's a lot of pages, considering we're teaching two whole grades."

Grace smiles, "Don't worry, I'll manage."

He stands up and makes his way to the front desk to print the papers. It takes a few minutes, and he comes back carrying a thick stack of papers. "You know, I expected you to argue with me more."

"About what?" Y/n looks up from her crossed arms on the table.

"About paying."

"I was going to."

Grace places down the thick stack of papers on the table, "But you didn't."

"I was tired."

He sighs, clearly sensing y/n's exhaustion. "I'll organize these, you go take a quick nap or something."

Y/N looked at him for a moment, slightly surprised. She expected another explanation, another argument, another unnecessary amount of information. "Glad to help." She places her head back down onto her arms and immediately dozes off.

Grace stared at her for a few seconds, almost impressed by how quickly she fell asleep. "That was efficient," he muttered.

The next few minutes were filled with Grace silently stapling papers and grouping them across the table. But the silence was then interrupted by a teacher in the same school passing by.

Grace immediately spots him and waves. "Should I ask?" Mr. Roland glances over at y/n, who was taking a nap beside Grace.

"Huh?" He stops organizing the papers and looks up at him.

He raises an eyebrow. "You two are spending a lot of time together."

"We're preparing a presentation."

"Sure."

"It is literally for school."

"I didn't say anything." Mr. Roland shrugs.

Grace furrows his eyebrows, more jokingly than annoyed, "You implied it."

The two teachers wave each other goodbye as Grace tries to finish organizing the papers as fast as he can, so that they can both go home and rest.

Fifteen minutes pass, and a growing hand cramp from stapling the papers. He was finally done, and y/n was still asleep. He hesitated before waking her up, switching between whether he should shake her awake or call her name.

He had considered letting her sleep longer, but the library was closing soon. He sighs and gently shakes her awake, feeling too guilty about it. "Hey."

Y/n's eyes flutter open, and she realizes she was still inside the library. "Oh— hey."

"I finished organizing the papers. We can go home now." Grace places his glasses on his nose properly.

Y/n smiles, relieved that their week of preparation is finally done. "Yayy." She quietly celebrates, stretching from the chair.

Grace watched her for a moment, amused by how genuinely happy she seemed about something as simple as finishing a presentation.

A few weeks ago, he barely knew her beyond the fact that she was the new math teacher across the hall.

Now, somehow, she was the person he spent his afternoons arguing with about mathematics, science, and whether seven ideas were too many ideas.

And strangely enough, he didn't mind.

~

It was the early, cold hours in the morning at Grover Cleveland Middle. The teachers were busy setting up the school for the event, and so were the two teachers in the auditorium.

"There are so many seats." Y/n stands on the stage, staring at the seats prepared for the students. "What'd you expect? It's a school-wide event." Grace's voice echoed throughout the auditorium with a mic.

Y/n walks back and forth on the stage, trying to let herself get used to the spotlight, as she was not the type to perform well in front of many people. "Nervous?" Grace asks, now near the tech-booth.

"Is it obvious?"

"Maybe."

A few hours passed, and it was finally time for their presentation. Students filled the sets, teachers from different departments were watching, and Grace and Y/n's models were displayed on the stage.

"Now let me introduce you to this year's speakers." Mrs. Cesar excitedly speaks into the mic. "Ms. y/l/n and Mr. Grace!"

The students recognized the names of their favorite teachers, and the auditorium was immediately filled with cheers and laughter. Y/n and Grace appeared from the side, mic in their slightly shaking hands.

They both smiled and waved to the audience. The teachers were expecting a normal lecture and the students to slowly doze off, but Grace spoke up, "Before we begin, I have a question."

The students look interested. "How many of you have ever guessed what would happen before something happened?"

Many hands raised, Grace and Y/n were genuinely satisfied with the audience's participation. "Knowing your friend would be late because they always are, guessing it will rain because the sky looks dark, or knowing your sibling took your food because they always do."

Students laugh, then y/n steps forward. "And whether you realize it or not, you just used something mathematicians and scientists use every day."

The students ask around in hushed conversation along the lines of "...math?"

"Exactly!" Y/n smiles.

"And science," Grace adds, making y/n look at him.

"Don't steal my introduction."

"I added one word." The students laugh.

Y/n takes over and explains, "Math isn't just numbers on a page. Math helps us find patterns."

She shows examples of calendar patterns, music patterns, then shapes in nature. A picture of a sunflower flashed on the screen and students see a spiral pattern.

Y/n asks: "Why do you think plants grow this way?"

The students guess, and she adds, "We don't just notice patterns. We can measure them."

Grace speaks up, "And once we measure something, we can test why it happens."

The presentation goes as planned. A ramp, a small cart, a ruler, and an activity sheet were provided for every ten students. Grace and Y/n give a demo on how the experiment will play out and explain as they go.

"There are three variables: the height of the ramp, the distance travelled, and the time," Grace explains. "You will test the height of the ramp and predict how far the cart will travel."

The two walk around the auditorium, watching students play with the cart and ramps they worked all week to make. Answering questions in the process and explaining it to the whole auditorium for the rest of the students to understand further.

Y/n teaches the students to look at the numbers, not complicated formulas students were used to. More like: "If something changes, what pattern do you notice?" She helps students think logically. "Math helps us make an educated guess."

Grace explains why it happens. "The experiment doesn't work because math says it should. The math helps us understand what we observe." He doesn't make science about memorization. He makes it about curiosity.

Thirty minutes pass, and Grace asks if there is a group that can volunteer to show their work. A group of fairly confident students raise their hands and go up to the stage with thier ramp and cart.

"The cart will go twice as far." A student confidently says. "Based on what?" Y/n tries to challenge the student.

"The numbers.

"Very good answer." She smiles, proud that the students are actually learning.

Grace chimes in, "Now we test if your prediction survives reality." The students unexpectedly laugh.

One of the students from the group releases a cart, and everyone watches. The cart goes farther than expected. "WAIT, IT WORKED!" They jump.

Grace and Y/n smile at each other, realizing that this is what Grace actually meant by students don't just memorize...

They get excited.

More experiments were carried out by Ryland and Y/n. With the students very active participation, they were very much motivated to keep on going.

Near the end, they explain: "Without mathematics, science would have difficulty describing what we observe."

"And without science, mathematics would only be patterns without the world to apply them to." Grace adds.

They look at each other because this is literally what they argued about days ago. Their argument became their presentation.

The program has now moved on to the question-and-answer portion. A student raises their hand and asks, "So who is better? Math or science?"

Ryland and Y/n look at each other. The room gets quiet, and they expect a serious answer.

"Math," Y/n speaks. "Science," Grace talks over her.

"They're like an old married couple, arguing." A student whispered over to her homeroom teacher. The homeroom teacher laughed, correcting the student. "They're not married." "I know."

More questions were answered, and the end of their presentation finally came. The students clapped and cheered, together with the principal and teachers.

One of the teachers whispers: "They're surprisingly good together."

The auditorium slowly grew quiet as students and teachers left, moving on to their next event. Grace and Y/n were left alone in the auditorium, sitting down on one of the audience's seats.

"That went better than expected." Grace sighs in relief, glasses barely hanging from his face.

Y/n looked back at him. "You expected it to fail?"

"No."

He paused. "I expected at least twelve things to go wrong."

Y/n laughs at the obnoxiously specific number, "Only twelve?"

"Fourteen, actually. Two happened."

"You counted?"

"Of course."

The auditorium was again filled with silence as the two reminisced about their more-than-successful presentation.

"Thanks for being my partner, Grace," Y/n speaks up.

Grace stands up, about to start cleaning up. "You mean professionally?" Y/n catches the joke and laughs, also standing up to help with the clean up.

"Don't start."

~

But eventually, even impossible things became routine.

Grace and Rocky were in the lab, running another round of experiments on astrophage and the tau-moeba, while Y/N was in the cockpit completing the ship's mandatory diagnostics. It was the kind of quiet routine they had developed over months in space—the kind that made the Hail Mary feel less like a mission and more like a strange little home.

Which was exactly why Grace knew he had to do something.

He waited until Y/N was far enough away before turning toward his alien friend.

"Rocky, can you help me with something?"

"Yes? Question."

Grace hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling much less confident now that he actually had to say it out loud.

"Y/N's birthday is coming up in a week," he said, lowering his voice. "And I want to throw her a surprise birthday dinner."

He placed his tool down and looked at Rocky.

For a moment, Rocky was completely still.

Then his carapace lifted.

"Birthday surprise!" Rocky's voice echoed through the lab. "For Y/N friend! Happy happy happy!"

Grace immediately looked toward the lab entrance.

"Shh!" He rushed closer, lowering his voice. "Rocky. Please. Keep this a secret from Y/N."

Rocky's carapace slowly lowered again. "Secret?"

"Yes. A surprise."

"A surprise secret."

"Exactly."

Rocky paused. Then his translator clicked. "Grace friend planning happiness."

Grace blinked. "Well... yes."

"Humans like happiness. Rocky likes happiness."

A small smile tugged at Grace's face. "That's why I need your help."

Rocky tilted his 'head'.

"Why Grace friend need Rocky? Grace friend very smart." Grace looked down at the tools scattered across the table.

Because he could calculate orbital paths. He could explain astrophage behavior. He could solve problems that had no right being solved. But somehow, planning a birthday was harder.

"Because," Grace admitted, "I know how to keep someone alive. I know how to fix things."

He glanced toward the cockpit where Y/N was working. "But I don't always know how to make someone feel special."

Rocky was quiet for a moment. Then: "Simple."

Grace looked back at him. "Simple?"

"Give Y/N friend thing that means Y/N friend is loved."

Grace stared. "...That's surprisingly good advice."

"Rocky very wise."

"You're very proud of that, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Grace couldn't help but laugh quietly.

The week was filled with hushed conversations between Grace and Rocky, and attempts by Rocky to distract y/n so that Grace could work on his surprise.

And so finally D-Day came. Grace made sure to wake up hours before y/n did so that he and Rocky would have time to prepare. Setting up a table and 2 chairs in the "don't go crazy room" with a white cloth draped over the table.

He finds a setting for the screens displaying a view of the sea at night, overlooking the cityscapes of San Francisco, California.

"Good morning, Engineer y/n." The voice of Mary echoes throughout the ship.

"Fudge!" He rushes to close the door in the "don't go crazy room" to hide the surprise and hurry over to the dormitories where y/n was.

"Good morning, birthday girl." Grace kisses her forehead.

"Good morning." Y/n smiles at him.

He sits next to her on the bed and brushes his hands through her hair. "How was your sleep?"

"Cold." She frowns.

"Let's warm you up, shall we?" Grace stands up and grabs his fox cardigan, which was suspiciously propped up beside the bed, to give to y/n.

She puts on his cardigan and stretches. "And here's the breakfast for today, m'lady." Grace plops down a tray with a pack of rehydrated oatmeal and a few flower petals.

Y/n immediately notices the flower petals and Grace being the one to serve breakfast. Which is weird, because Armando is the one who usually gives them food.

"You're being suspiciously affectionate today." Y/n raises her eyebrows.

Grace freezes up and replies a second too fast. "No, I am not."

"Mmm." She grabs her breakfast and eats it in bed with Grace.

Y/n leaned against his shoulder, eating the last of her oatmeal. "You know, you didn't have to do anything special."

Grace looked at her, a hand on her waist, "I know."

"Then why did you?"

"Because you're here."

Y/n stands up and kisses Grace, smiling. "Thank you for the breakfast, Mr. Romantic." Grace giggles and watches y/n walk out of the room.

"Wait, where are you going?!" He panics, rushing out of the dormitories.

"To the washroom?" Y/n looks back at him in the hallway, confused.

"Oh."

~

Y/n closes the bathroom door and heads to the laboratory, where Grace is sitting weirdly. "You okay?" She tilts her head.

"Yeah! Just uh— just a bit sleepy, still."

Y/n raised her eyebrow. "Well.. Okay. Where's Rocky?" She looks around, "I haven't heard him all morning."

Grace avoids looking at y/n, remembering the excuse he and rocky made up for her not to enter the "don't go crazy room"

"He's in the 'don't go crazy room' because he needs privacy for Eridian matters."

The sentence came out too quickly, but y/n brushes it off.

"What kind of Eridian matters?" She sits down beside Grace, making him even more nervous.

"Private ones."

"You just said that."

"Yes"

She crosses her arms. "You sound guilty."

"I am not guilty."

"You answered too fast again."

Grace opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Unfortunately, no scientific explanation came to mind that would make him seem less suspicious.

"I did not."

Y/N simply stared at him, and he sighed. "Okay. Maybe slightly."

"Grace."

"What?"

"You are a terrible liar."

"I am not a terrible liar." He puts his hands on his chest.

"You literally just admitted it."

"That was honesty."

"That was you getting caught."

Grace looked away, and Y/N couldn't help but smile.

She knew him too well.

She knew the way he tapped his fingers against the table when he was thinking. She knew the way he avoided eye contact when he was hiding something. She knew that when Grace tried to be subtle, he somehow became even less subtle.

But she also knew him well enough to know that whatever he was hiding, it was probably something he was excited about.

And that was rare so she decided not to push.

"Okay," she said, standing up.

Grace looked at her. "Okay?"

"Okay."

"You believe me?"

"No."

Grace blinked.

"But I'm not going to ruin whatever you're trying to do."

His eyes widened slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure."

"I mean it."

"Grace."

"...Okay, maybe I don't."

Y/N smiled and shook her head. "You're lucky you're adorable." Grace immediately looked offended. "I am not adorable."

"You are currently trying to defend yourself while wearing mismatched socks."

He looked down. He was, in fact, wearing mismatched socks. "That is unrelated."

"Of course it is."

Before he could come up with another argument, Mary’s voice echoed through the ship. "Dr. Grace. Scheduled astrophage observation will begin in ten minutes."

Grace immediately stood. "Right. Work."

Y/N watched him walk away, still suspicious, but smiling. Something was definitely happening. And whatever it was, she had a feeling Rocky was involved.

The next few hours were filled with Grace pretending he was not counting down every minute. He was.

Every task became an excuse to check the time.

Every glance toward the "don't go crazy room" became increasingly obvious. By the time the ship's clock reached the evening hours, Grace had already checked the surprise setup at least twelve times.

"Grace friend." Grace turned toward Rocky. "Yes?"

"You are checking room again."

"I am making sure everything is correct." Grace adjusts the table cloth.

"You checked six times."

"Twelve." He corrects Rocky.

Rocky paused. "That is worse."

Grace ignored him. The table was set. The lights were adjusted. The simulated view of Earth was ready. Everything was perfect. Or at least, as perfect as it could be millions of kilometers away from home.

There was only one thing left.

Grace walked back to the dormitories and opened the small storage compartment where he had hidden the last part of the surprise.

A dress.

Not something extravagant. Not something that belonged in a spaceship. Something simple. Something that reminded him of Earth.

He still remembered the day Y/N had shown it to him, talking about how she liked it but never had a reason to wear it. Apparently, Grace had remembered. Because Grace remembered everything about her.

He placed the dress neatly on the bed with a small handwritten note.

The handwriting was unmistakably his: neat, precise, almost like a lab report.

Y/N,

I know birthdays are usually celebrated differently on Earth. There are supposed to be more people, better food, and significantly less recycled air.

I can't give you that right now. But I can give you one evening where you don't have to be an engineer, you don't have to be a scientist, you don't have to save anyone.

You can just be Y/N.

Wear this and meet me in the "don't go crazy room" when you're ready.

— Grace

Grace stared at the note for a moment. "Too much?"

Rocky looked at it. "Many words."

Grace frowned. "That's not an answer."

"Rocky likes many words."

"Good." Grace smiles at his alien friend.

"Humans like knowing feelings."

Grace smiled softly. "Yeah."

He adjusted his suit jacket, suddenly feeling much more nervous than he had during any experiment aboard the ship. "Do I look okay?"

Rocky tilted his head. "You look like human male going to important meeting."

Grace sighed. "That's not what I was going for."

Rocky thought for a moment.

"You look like human male who loves Y/N friend."

Grace froze, then smiled. "...Yeah. That's better."

~

Y/n was about to change into her pyjamas and noticed the dress and note placed on the bed. She smiled as she read the note, a tear slowly building up on the corner of her eye.

She figured it was something important and got ready as best as she could.

An hour later, she was finally standing in front of the "don't go crazy room" door. She just stood there for a few minutes, not knowing what was beyond the door.

And with a deep breath, she knocked.

The heavy, metallic door opened to Grace in a full suit and what seemed to be a table setup behind him.

"Happy birthday, m'love." Grace welcomes her in with a bouquet of plastic flowers.

Y/n gratefully accepts the bouquet and looks around the room, and is absolutely mesmerized by it.

The table is set up like a fancy dinner date, gold charger plates she didn't know the Haily Mary even had, a candle propped up with a matching gold candle holder, a banner spelling 'Happy birthday Y/n!' attached to the screens, and most importantly, the screens displaying a view of the sea at night, overlooking the cityscapes of San Francisco.

"You remembered?" She looks back at the suited up scientist, tears forming in her eyes.

"Of course, I remember your birthday."

"No, Grace." She laughs softly though her tears.

"The city." Grace immediately realizes what she meant.

"Oh."

"San Francisco." He smiles. "I remember that too."

Grace cups y/n's face and wipes her tears away with his thumb. For a moment, he just looks at her, like he’s trying to memorize the expression on her face.

It wasn't the birthday she was thanking him for.

It was the fact that, after all this time, after everything that happened between Earth and space, he still remembered where their story began.

"How could I forget? It was the first place I realized I wanted more time with you." Grace says quietly, softly meeting his lips with hers.

Y/n smiles as he guides her towards her seat, with a soft but firm grip on her waist. Grace pulls back the chair to let y/n sit.

"Such a gentleman." Y/n smiles, looking up at her lover.

"I looked up appropriate dinner etiquette." He looks back at her, walking to his seat.

"You researched how to pull out a chair?"

"There were conflicting sources." Grace finally sits down. "You look— You look absolutely breathtaking."

Y/n's cheeks immediately flushed red. She always receives compliments from Grace, but a compliment without any scientific implications is a rare sight.

"Thank you, handsome." She smiles, looking at him. "I love the suit."

Grace's eyes widened at the unexpected compliment. And that nickname? He could get used to that.

"You okay?" Y/n breaks the silence.

"Yes."

"You look like your brain stopped working."

"No, my brain is working."

"Grace."

"…It's just processing."

"Sooo," Y/n looks around. "What are we eating?"

Grace smiles cheekily at the thought of what he and Rocky planned. "Waiter!" He calls out, making y/n confused.

"Ry, there aren't waiters on boa—" She was cut off by Rocky entering the room with what looked like a bow that was slightly crooked on his carapace, made of xenonite, with a tray on top of his ball. "Oh my god."

"Welcome to the birthday dinner celebration, Y/n!" Rocky greeted.

Y/n's heart was about to melt at the sight of their alien friend cosplaying a waiter from Earth. "Why, thank you, waiter Rocky."

"First course: tomato pasta attempt," Rocky's translator echoed.

Grace looked at him, annoyed. "Don't call it an attempt."

"It is an attempt." Rocky's carapace faces y/n. "I love the honesty." She giggles.

Grace grabs the bowl from Rocky's tray and places it in front of y/n and him. "Enjoy meal, mate Grace and mate y/n." Rocky happily rolls out of the room.

"Oh, I should've told him to stop saying that." Grace palms his face.

Y/n laughs, picking up a spoon. "It's your fault you explained it to him in a weird way when we started dating."

"I mean, we are mates." She adds. "I guess you're right."

The night goes on as Grace and Y/n eat their pasta together with an occasional tease from y/n and a compliment from Grace.

"You know what I like most about this?" Y/n takes another bite, looking at the simulated San Francisco skyline beside them.

Grace looks up, "The pasta?"

"Not just that," she laughs. "It's that you didn't try to make it exactly like Earth."

"I didn't?" Grace tilts his head.

"No. You made something that only exists here." Y/n finishes her pasta. "A birthday dinner on a spaceship, with an alien waiter, eating pasta we definitely shouldn't be calling authentic..."

"Rocky would agree." Grace smiles.

"...and the top astrophage scientist as my partner, wearing a suit in front of me." Y/n looks back at him.

Grace immediately blushes, his smile growing wider.

"It's perfect." She tilts her head.

They found each other looking at each other's faces, memorizing and savoring the moment, hoping it could last forever.

"Oh—" Grace leans down to where y/n can't see what he's up to. He stands up with a box in hand.

"Happy birthday, my engineer." He hands y/n his gift with a smile.

Y/n was already emotional with everything that was happening, and a gift made her even more emotional.

"Aww... Thank you so much, Ry." She manages to spit out, holding back tears.

She grabs the box, pulling the ribbon that was delicately tied on top. Opening the lid revealed an Instax camera and a notebook titled 'Things I Don't Want to Forget'.

Y/n grabs the notebook and opens it. It was filled with handwritten messages from Grace, all 50 pages. The first page read:

Y/N,

I have spent most of my life writing things down because information is important. Facts, observations, hypotheses, results. Things that can be measured, tested, and proved. This is not one of those things.

I know you will probably tell me that I don't need to write down memories because I was there for them too. That I should probably trust myself to remember.

But I have learned something during this mission—Memory is not as reliable as we would like it to be. And there are too many things about you that I refuse to let become just another thing I used to know.

So I wrote them down. Not because I think I would forget you—I could never forget you. But because I want to remember every little thing that makes you you.

The things you do without noticing. The things you say without thinking. The moments you probably don't consider important but I do. These are the things I don't want to forget.

—Grace

Y/n was already crying as she read the first page. She continues on and flips through the notebook. Some of the pages read:

Your Coffee Preferences Y/N claims she does not have a specific coffee preference. This is incorrect. She prefers: slightly less sugar than most people, a specific temperature range (although she denies this), coffee prepared by someone else because she says it "tastes better when someone cares enough to make it" I have tested this theory. She is correct.

The Way You Laugh Y/N has several types of laughter. There is the polite laugh used when someone tells a joke that is not funny. There is the amused laugh she tries to hide when I say something unintentionally ridiculous. There is the real one. The one where she forgets to be composed. That is my favorite.

San Francisco The first place we met. Y/N remembers the location. I remember the moment. I remember thinking that I wanted to continue talking to her even after I had run out of things to say. This was unusual. I usually have too many things to say.

Grace was concerned for y/n. She was crying a lot while reading the notebook, so he placed a hand on her back to comfort her. Y/n skipped to the last page and read:

If you are reading this, it means I succeeded in giving you something you can keep.

If we are still on Earth, I hope I am reading this to you.

If we are not, I hope you know that every moment I spent with you was one I considered worth remembering.

You are my favorite thing I have ever discovered.

—Grace

"Ry..." she sniffled through her tears.

"Yes?" He says as softly as possible.

And without a beat, Y/n stands up to hug Ryland. Burrying her face into his tailored suit. He wraps his arms around her, slowly rubbing her back. He could hear her sniffling and crying.

"I know it isn't the best gift, but I hope you lik—" He tears up.

"I love it," She looks up at him. "It's the best gift I could ever ask for."

"You are the best gift I could ever ask for."

Grace says nothing and just hugs her tighter. Savoring the moment, as there isn't much time when you're in a spaceship, trying to save two worlds.

"Thank you, Ryland." She places her lips on his.

His hand naturally falls to her waist, and her hand on his chest. It was a dream come true for both of them to kiss with a view of San Francisco in the background—even if it is artificial.

Y/n slowly pulls away, taking time to breathe. "We almost forgot." Ryland grabs the camera from the box.

He breathes in deeply, preparing himself for a speech he has practiced more times than he would like to admit.

"Y/n, I know I wrote 50 pages worth of memories throughout our time here in the Hail Mary. It has only described our memories through words. But this camera..." He clicks it on.

"...this camera. Wait no— May this camera actually let us see the memories we make. And I was thinking, maybe we should start using it now?"

Y/n was impressed with how well Grace worded his speech. Another tear fell from her eyes and she smiled. "Awh, Grace... Of course, we can."

Grace smiles and gives her a peck on the cheek before proping up the camera on the table. "Get ready, honey." He starts the timer and hurries over to Y/n.

She expected him to pose with her, but he grabbed her waist and pulled her in for a kiss.

The camera flashed and took the photo. "I am sorry— That was too rough..." He rubs the back of his neck.

"Nahh. I loved it." Y/n blushes.