It was just another day.

You were in the lab, suited up, testing materials for space applications. As an aerospace engineer specializing in energy and fuel systems, your work should have felt groundbreaking. It didn’t.

You carefully placed thin samples of aerogel into a vacuum chamber, monitoring their thermal response under cryogenic conditions. Liquid nitrogen cycled through the system, pushing the material to extremes while sensors tracked heat transfer and structural stability. 

On paper, it was fascinating work. In reality, you hated your job.

You have a doctorate in aerospace engineering from a prestigious university. You specialize in energy systems, making you one of the few women in your field. You have connected with impressive names in the aerospace community. NASA practically waved you a job offer fresh out of undergrad. You had spent more hours in research than you had sleeping. The pay was good. Good enough to indulge in your hobbies, but none of it mattered. You were the only woman on your team, constantly undermined, constantly handed the worst tasks, and you were the youngest person in the building by a long shot.

No one took you seriously.

You had taken this job believing you would do something meaningful with your life. Instead, you felt like you were slowly wasting away. You’re ready to go home, heat up leftovers, and cuddle with your cat, Atom. It was 5:00 PM. You were quick to clean up your work space and remove your personal protective equipment.

You packed your bag, ready to leave, when a woman approached you. She was elegant. She is dressed in black, contrasting from her beautiful, red hair.

“Good evening, Doctor,” she said with a soft smile.

Doctor. You hadn’t been addressed like that in a long time.

“My name is Eva Stratt. I’m part of the Petrova Task Force.”

“Hello, Eva,” you replied cautiously. “If you’re looking for the chief engineer or my supervisor, they just left.”

You reached for your keys, but something about her steady gaze made you hesitate.

“I’m actually here for you,” she said, setting a thick stack of papers on the table. It had to have been at least a stack of one hundred pages. You skim over the title and immediately, your eyes widen.

"Bioenergetic Systems for High-Efficiency Energy and Fuel Storage in Spacecraft Propulsion."

Your name sat neatly beneath the title. It was your research thesis that you were profoundly proud of until it became your stack of regrets. It investigated bioinspired energy storage sources that could outperform traditional chemical storage systems used in spacecraft today. It was something you believed in.

You hadn’t thought about that paper in years. Mostly because no one else had believed in it. Not after everything that happened. Not after the fallout with a certain scientist. A scientist that makes your blood boil and heart hurt at the thought of him. .

“I haven’t looked at that in years,” you said carefully. “And I’m not sure if you’re aware, but… it didn’t exactly win awards. If anything, I was ridiculed because of my association with—”

You cut yourself off. Thinking about him still made your chest tighten, anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Eva didn’t react.

“Don’t worry,” she said calmly. “I’m not here to discuss what happened then. I’m here to offer you a new position.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh. New Position? Give up your dream role for some random lady that’s digging up the past. You were blessed to even land this role despite your reputation.

“Unless you can pay me double what I make now or somehow let me save the world from its inevitable doom… I’m going to have to decline.”

Eva held your gaze.

“What if I told you,” she said carefully, “that you could do exactly that?”

You felt something change in your heart for the first time in a long time. You felt hope.

“Okay, so when do I start, and can someone watch my cat?”

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━ 

The lab Eva led you into was nothing like yours.

It was cleaner, quieter. Not to mention the tighter security. Every surface gleamed like it had been scrubbed of mistakes. You feel giddy, thinking about all of the new equipment you get to work with.

You stepped inside anyway, and then you saw him.

Ryland Grace stood on the other side of the room, hunched over a workstation, mumbling to himself as he pipettes black matter into petri dishes. He’s focused, unaware of you or Stratt entering the lab. He looked the same. Maybe a little more tired. A little more worn down. Unfortunately, still very handsome.

Your stomach dropped.

No.

You turned immediately, hand already reaching for the door.

“Absolutely not.”

“Doctor—” Eva started.

“No,” you snapped, sharper than you realized. “You didn’t tell me he was here.”

At the sound of your voice, Ryland froze. He recognizes your voice immediately. The power it can command in a room. Slowly, he turned around. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

His eyes widened, like he wasn’t entirely sure you were real.

“...You?” he said quietly.

There it was the same hesitation that had driven you insane years ago.

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah. Me.”

You moved to leave again, but Eva stepped slightly into your path to prevent you from leaving.

“We need both of you,” she said calmly.

“I don’t need him,” you shot back.

Ryland flinched. Of course he did.

Eva didn’t react. “This project involves a form of extraterrestrial microorganism.”

There it goes. Your interest is piqued. Something groundbreaking, meaningful that can prove you can make a positive impact on this world.

“You specialize in bioenergetic systems,” she continued. “He specializes in the organism itself. Separately, you are useful. Together, you are essential.”

You clenched your jaw. “Can you find someone else?”

“There is no one else.”

Silence stretched between the three of you. Ryland is bouncing in his chair, the anxiety obviously consuming him. 

Behind Eva, Ryland shifted awkwardly, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get there. Typical.

“I thought academia chewed you up and spit you out.,” you muttered, not looking at him.

“It did,” he said, voice small. “I just… kept getting spit back.”

You closed your eyes for a second, irritation flaring.

God, he was still the same. Still self-deprecating. Still unsure. Still—

“I read your paper again,” he added suddenly.

“What?”

“The bioenergetics one,” he said, taking a hesitant step closer. “It was… it was really good. Actually brilliant. I should’ve said that back then.”

The memory hit whether you wanted it to or not. The conference. The room was full of people. Grace, laughing nervously, deflecting, making a joke at the wrong time. You remember. He called someone a waste of carbon. It was true, but your credibility depended on Grace maintaining professionalism. You devoted your life to this research, but you did what any good person would do. You stayed by his side because he wasn’t just your colleague but he was also your friend. Someone who you cared for deeply. Standing beside him as the room turned on both of you.

Your work was dismissed. Your credibility dragged down with his.

Eva didn’t seem to pay too much attention to the tension in the room. If anything, it entertained her.

“The astrophage can store and release energy at efficiencies we do not fully understand,” she said, cutting cleanly through the moment. “Potentially enough to solve a global energy crisis. Or end us, if we fail to understand it.”

You didn’t respond, but you also didn’t leave.

“Okay, I’m staying. Only because I want to save the world.”

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━ 

Despite the large size of the lab, you feel very suffocated. It might be because of Ryland’s hovering. For every step you take away from him, he takes two steps closer to you.

“Do you always stand that close,” you mutter, not looking at him, “or is this a special occasion?”

He immediately takes a step back. “Right. Personal space. I remember that. I respect that. Big fan of space, actually professionally and… socially… and actual space is cool…”

You glance at him, unimpressed and a little annoyed. “Good. Stay in it.” You wave your hand at him to move just a bit more. He awkwardly shifts to the side, still watching you work.

“…You look the same,” he blurts. 

Slowly, you turn your head. “What?”

“I panicked,” he admits. “When I look at you, my brain just—” he makes a vague exploding motion with his hands. “—explodes.”

“Hmm… Okay....”

You turn back to the screen, typing away at your findings.

He winces. “Okay, deserved.”

Silence settles for a moment, broken only by the faint hum of equipment.

“So,” he says cautiously, “biomatter that can survive vacuum and extreme radiation. That’s… new since I last saw you.”

“Yeah,” you reply flatly. “Turns out when your reputation gets dragged through the mud, you either quit academia or get better.”

Another stab to Ryland. 

“Right. Still deserved.”

You pull up a thermal output graph, tapping the screen. “Astrophage stores energy at absurd densities. Way beyond anything we’ve modeled. The question is how it regulates release without destabilizing or you know kaboom.” You make an explosion using your hands, earning a small smile from Ryland.

Ryland leans in again, but slower, like approaching a wild animal. He’s afraid that in any second, you might take a bite at him.

“It migrates toward radiation,” he says, slipping into science mode. “Like it’s feeding, but it also—uh—self-regulates temperature somehow. I think.” 

“Interesting… because if this thing is even half as efficient as it looks, we’re either looking at the greatest energy breakthrough in history… or something that cooks the planet.” You say, scrolling through the graph. You’re honestly in awe, working with Ryland again. He’s smart, but his issue is he just doesn’t believe himself.

“Optimistic as always,” he mumbles.

“Realistic,” you correct. “Someone has to be.”

He glances at you, hesitant. “You used to believe in things more.”

You stop typing. Slowly, you turn to face him fully now.

“I used to believe in you,” you say. If Ryland listened closely, he would be able to hear the underlying tone of sadness underneath your sharpness. 

He goes still and scratches the back of his head.

“I know,” he says quietly. “That’s… kind of the problem.”

You hold his gaze for a second longer than you should. Then you break it, turning back to the screen. You used to believe in Ryland. Honestly, a part of you still does, but you can’t give him that satisfaction yet. There is something so brilliant about Ryland, you just wish he could see it sometimes. The fact that he doesn’t makes you more annoyed than anything else.  

“Alright,” you say briskly. “If you’re done spiraling, explain this to me.”

You point to another graph. “Why doesn’t it overload?”

He blinks, thrown off by the sudden shift. “Oh—uh—okay, yeah. Good question. We think it converts energy into some kind of—like—temporary mass storage? Or… not mass. Something else. I don’t know yet.”

You stare at him.

“You don’t know,” you state.

“Not in a satisfying, publishable way, no,” he says. “In a ‘I stayed up for 36 hours and this is my best guess’ way? Yes.”

You sigh. “Right.”

“Hey,” he says, a little defensive now, “I’m working with alien space microbes, not a lab manual.”

Your anger starts to bubble, and you can't find a way to contain it. See this is why you were concerned about working with him again.

“Ryland, you know what your problem has always been?,” you shoot back. “You don’t believe in yourself. You have terrible imposter syndrome, and it makes it so hard for people to believe in you when you can’t even believe in yourself.”

You can't believe Strava thinks you two can actually be productive. You can't even listen to Ryland breathe without being a little pissed off. How are you two supposed to get any work done?

“We could have this figured out sooner if you actually took yourself seriously.”

Ryland pauses. He knows you’re right. He has nothing to defend himself over. Then a small, reluctant smile tugs at his mouth.

“…You’re still really mean,” he says nervously.

You feel a tinge of guilt. Maybe you have been too hard on Ryland, but you have to. You have to guard yourself from disappointment. 

“…Not without reason,” you say more quietly, eyes dropping back to the screen. “And not… intentionally.”

He studies you for a moment, like he’s trying to decide whether to push your buttons or let it go.

“When have you ever done anything unintentionally?” he asks.

You huff out a small breath. “Please. I’m extremely intentional.”

You sigh, dropping your head in your hands.

“God, you’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he said, a hint of a smile in his voice, “you’re still sitting here.”

You smirked despite yourself. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m here for the alien space bacteria.”

You clear your throat, leaning back in your chair. “You’re lucky the world might be ending,” you add. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be within a ten-mile radius of you.”

Ryland raises his eyebrows, a bit amused. “Wow,” he says. “That’s sweet.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch into a smile. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late,” he replies, a little too quickly. Then, softer, “I think I missed this.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Miss what? Me insulting you?”

“…Yeah,” he says, meeting your eyes. “A little.”

“Grace, that’s really weird.”

“I.. I know.”

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━ 

“So why do you hate Dr. Grace so much?” Carl asks from his booth while you hover over the microscope, carefully adjusting the focus to look at your little astrophage babies.

The astrophage glows faintly under the lens. You smile to yourself, imagining they’re all saying Hi Mama. You’ve spent hours stabilizing this batch, coaxing them into reproduction like they’re something delicate instead of potentially world-ending. 

“Okay, Atom… don’t embarrass me,” you murmur, sliding the petri dish back with careful hands.

Carl watches you, amused. “You named it.”

“I name all of them,” you reply, matter-of-fact. “I am their mother, and it keeps me from going crazy in here.”

Carl doesn’t really understand what you mean, and instead just stares at you in confusion.

“I don’t hate him,” you say finally, leaning back against the counter. “I don’t hate anyone.”

Carl raises an eyebrow but doesn’t interrupt.

“Dr. Grace and I go back,” you continue. “Way back.”

You cross your arms, staring at nothing in particular as old memories try to organize themselves into something coherent. Honestly, the more you think about it, the more you’ve realized that you forgot really the main point of why you’re so angry at Ryland. Sure, you have tons of small reasons, but you can’t seem to remember the big why

“We were both working on our PhDs at the same time at the same university. Same building, just a couple of floors apart. Same conferences. Same rooms where everyone was trying to prove they were the smartest person alive.” You huff a quiet laugh.

You push yourself off the counter, pacing slowly.

“I believed in him,” you admit. “Even when his research sounded insane. ‘Life without water’? Most people wrote it off immediately. But he didn’t. He stood by it. He was willing to die on that hill.” You stop, softer now. “And I admired that. A lot.”

You glance back at Carl.

“Especially because I didn’t have that kind of confidence. I was the youngest doctoral candidate in the program. Every room I walked into, I had to prove I deserved to be there.” You shrug slightly. “And then there was him… just existing in his own lane. He fought for what he believed in.”

Carl nods slowly. “So what changed?”

You hesitate because that’s the part that never comes out clean. You’ve been clouded by so much anger in the past that this part gets a little bit fuzzy.

“That conference,” you say finally. “He… said something. To the wrong people. Suddenly, everything tied to him—his work, his collaborators—became a joke. He was really hell bent on his ideas and it got to the point where he was willing to put his reputation on the line.”

Your jaw tightens slightly. “I was one of those collaborators.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Ouch.”

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling.

“I know I come off as bitter. Or like a bitch,” you add bluntly. “But it’s not about hating him. It’s about protecting myself.”

You look back at the incubator, watching the faint glow inside.

“I can’t let Grace make a fool out of me again.”

Carl leans back in his chair, considering that. “So you’re just… petty?”

You shoot him a look. “Wow, Carl. You really woke up and chose violence today.”

You hold your hands up in defense. “Scientists don’t get a lot,” you say after a moment. “Our work is everything. Our reputation is everything. Without that, we’re just… people who spent too many years in school with nothing to show for it.”

You wait a moment, then add more quietly. “And I almost became that. Just some idiot with too much knowledge and nothing to do with it.”

“I mean, look at him,” you continue, trying to lighten your tone again. “He got pushed out so far he ended up teaching middle school science.”

Carl chuckles, but you immediately point at him and shake your head firmly.

“Hey—don’t laugh. That was actually… good for him.”

Carl blinks. “What?”

You sigh.

“Any other egotistical academic would’ve spent years trying to claw their way back into the spotlight. But Ryland…” you shake your head slightly, a small, reluctant smile tugging at your mouth. “He stopped. He found something he actually cared about.”

Carl studies you more closely now. It’s apparent you’ve grown soft in the conversation. Yes, you were driven by anger, but now it’s different.

“It wasn’t about validation anymore,” you continue. “It wasn’t about impressing people who think being the smartest person in the room is a personality trait.”

You glance down at your hands.

“…He was happy, and that’s really cool he found fulfillment there. I can’t even say I was happy before I came here. I hated my job.”

Carl leans forward slightly. “...So what?.. Do you still care about him?”

“I—” you start, then stop, shaking your head like you can physically push the thought back.

“I do,” you admit quietly. “I just try not to.”

Carl doesn’t say anything this time. He listens intently, letting you have your moment with your emotions. It’s clear to him you haven’t spoken about this much. Carl also has a very therapeutic aura to him that makes it easy for people to talk to him.

“After everything that happened,” you continue, voice a little tighter now, “it was hard for me to get taken seriously. My name got tied to his, whether it was fair or not. Interviews went cold. Offers disappeared. People smiled at my face and then questioned me behind closed doors.”

Your fingers tap absently against the counter. Your foot anxiously bounces your knee. You’re trying to find the right words, but maybe there are no right words.

“And the worst part is… I don’t even know if I’m still angry at him for that.”

Carl frowns slightly. “What do you mean?”

You shake your head.

“I mean I remember being angry. I remember being humiliated. I remember telling myself I’d never let him anywhere near my work again.” You let out a small, frustrated laugh. “But why? The exact moment everything broke? It’s… fuzzy.”

You look back at the incubator.

At Atom and all of the other little cultures of astrophage. 

“…All I know is that when I see him,” you say quietly, “I feel like I have to be angry.”

“Because if I’m not—” Your mind begins to trail off.

Carl raises an eyebrow. “If you’re not…?”

You shake your head, cutting yourself off before you can finish the thought.

“…Then I might forgive him,” you say. You start to feel a little bit of regret. A little bit guilty for holding onto this grudge for so long, but you’re scared of disappointment again. Even now you’re scared something might go wrong with Project Hail Mary, and your name will go down with it.

“Have you ever considered a therapist…?” Carl asks. You shake your head and laugh at him.

“Why would I need one if I have you, Carl.”

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━ 

A few hours pass, Carl is now long gone, and it’s just you alone in the lab. You’re starting to think you’ve hit the thousands in terms of hours spent in this lab. You could be blindfolded and still be able to perform any procedure. That’s how well you’ve gotten to know the space.

You don’t notice him at first. You’re too focused on your cultures. Atom and the rest of the astrophage cultures behaving exactly the way they’re supposed to, and now you’re trying to figure out the best material to keep them in that would allow them to survive the journey to space. 

Then you feel it. A slight shift in the room. There is a quiet, hesitant presence you’d recognize anywhere.

You don’t look up.

“…You’re hovering,” you say flatly.

A pause.

“I’m standing,” Ryland Grace replies.

You adjust the microscope slightly. “It feels like hovering.”

Another pause.

“…Okay, yeah. I might be hovering.”

You sigh, leaning back just enough to glance at him.

He looks nervous. Not awkward in his usual way. Not distracted or rambling. Just nervous. You can’t predict what he’s going to say. You can’t predict anything about him actually.

“What do you want, Grace?” you ask.

He shifts his weight slightly, hands fidgeting at his sides before he shoves them into his pockets.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says.

“That’s new,” you mutter.

“I deserve that,” he admits immediately.

You straighten, crossing your arms. “Okay. Talk.”

He exhales slowly, like he’s been holding that breath for a while.

“I feel like this is a step needed to better our working relationship. I never really gave you what you deserve. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and well, I also spoke to Carl. Carl told me—”

“Okay, so are you going to get to the point or?”

“I’m sorry. I am truly sorry. With everything in my body, I am sorry.”

“Oh…” You bite your tongue from saying anything else. You would hate to say something you will regret. You sit quietly for a second, trying to quiet all the anger in your brain.

Ryland stands close to you, fiddling with his thumbs. He look as though he’s holding his breath until you respond because his face is starting to look a little blue. 

“I thought if I just… removed myself, it would make things better for everyone else,” he continues. “Like distancing myself would somehow undo the damage.” 

“It actually just dug a bigger hole for myself, and I couldn’t get out of it…”

“I know, and I’m sorry about that too. I’m sorry for everything. Embarrassing you and ruining your reputation alongside mine,” he tries his best to keep his voice steady and mind from trailing off.

You look up at Ryland. The guilt is clearly eating him from the inside out.  You take a deep breath in. It’s time to let go. For once, feel something other than mad. 

“...I was angry at you for a long time,” you say finally. “I built my career back up from that mess. I had to become someone who couldn’t be undermined again.”

“I want to fix what I can now.” 

You relax, just a little. You didn’t realize your fists were balled up tight enough to leave imprints of your nails in your palms. 

“I don’t know how to not be angry at you. There is just something about you...,” you admit, more quietly now.

He nods in agreement.

“That’s fair.”

You huff a breath, shaking your head slightly. “You’re making this very difficult.”

“I’m trying not to,” he says.

“…But,” you add reluctantly, “I don’t think I want to keep being this mad forever.” 

“Yeah?” he asks. A wave of relief washes over Ryland. You can finally see the color come back to his cheeks.

You nod slightly.

“Yeah.”

You shift your weight, leaning back against the counter now instead of bracing yourself against it.

“I don’t need some big apology speech,” you add. “I just needed you to… acknowledge it and not pretend it didn’t happen.”

Ryland suddenly sticks his hand out to you. You are a bit confused on why he wants to shake hands on it.

“…What are you doing?” you ask.

“I’m—uh—making it official?” he says, like even he isn’t entirely sure.

You raise an eyebrow. “Official what?”

He hesitates. Then, slowly, his hand shifts. His fingers curl in until only his pinky is extended.

You stare at it.

“…Are you serious right now?”

“A pinky promise is legally binding in at least three middle schools,” he says, completely straight-faced.

You can’t help it. You laugh. What starts out as a few chuckles turns into full body laughs before you can stop it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, shaking your head.

“Extremely,” he agrees.

But he doesn’t drop his hand. He just waits. There’s something oddly sincere about it. 

You hook your pinky around his.

“And I pinky promise,” he says, a little quieter now, like the joke has settled into something more real, “I won’t let that happen again.”

Your fingers tighten slightly around his.

“And I promise,” you reply, glancing up at him, “to be less of an ass.”

A small smile spreads across his face.

“What if I were to tell you,” he says, tilting his head slightly, “I didn’t mind it?”

You slowly let go of his finger and pull it back to yourself.

“Grace… that’s still really weird.”

“I.. I know.”

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━ 

Weeks have passed since you were assigned to work with Ryland. The hours slipped by unnoticed. At some point, the world outside stopped mattering entirely. It felt like the lab was just a secret place for only you and Ryland.

It might’ve been weeks on working with the astrophage. The clock is ticking, but you and Ryland don’t lose hope. Ryland has seen parts of you, he’s never seen and vice versa. The way you mumble equations and theories when you sleep, or how he sings to himself when he’s deep in focus.

You are leaning over the console, eyes tired but sharp, fingers moving on instinct as the astrophage model pulsed in front of you. It’s brighter now and barely holding a steady shape.

“Run it again,” you murmured. “With the adjusted input.”

“I am,” Ryland Grace said, voice rough with exhaustion, but there was something else there too. Focus. Awe. “Just—give it a second.”

The curve aligned and became consistent. Energy in. Energy stored. Energy released. Balanced perfectly.

Your breath caught. “Ryland…”

“I see it,” he said, softer now.

You both leaned in at the same time, shoulders brushing. This time neither of you even noticed. You grab his hand covering the mouse and drag it over to increase the model size. Ryland notices this touch instantly and tries to hide his nerves. He hasn’t been touched in such a long time. 

“It’s stabilizing itself,” you said. “The astrophage is not losing energy randomly. I-It’s regulating it. Like it knows—Holy shit”

Ryland looks at you. Not the screen. Not the data. You.

For a moment, the breakthrough wasn’t the thing that made his chest feel too tight. It was you.

The way your eyes lit up when you were excited. The way your voice beamed when you were thinking through something brilliant. The way you leaned into the problem without hesitation or fear. The way you get a bit snappy and mean when you’re hungry. 

You had always been like this, and he always enjoyed watching it.

You rise out of your chair, stumbling over because you lost sensation in your legs after sitting in a chair for hours. Ryland catches your arm, balancing you. You look into his eyes and smile. A childish grin is on your face, and your eyes look a bit crazed. It might be a delusion from lack of sleep but you’re so excited. Almost instinctively, Ryland nervously hugs you. He’s surprised to feel you hug him back. You couldn’t contain your excitement.

“…We did it,” he said, almost like he needed to remind himself.

You smiled, a real one. Not sharp or guarded. A real genuine smile. One that he hasn’t seen from you in a long time.

“Yeah, but also…,” you said. “...you did.”

His heart stuttered. You realize how you’re holding onto him, and you immediately let go. Ryland wished you didn’t though. It felt right. 

“I just realized something…,” he started, leaning forward slightly like he was about to give a lecture to a room of middle schoolers. “... an easier way to explain all of this.”

You blinked. He's going to try to teach it to you like you're a middle schooler. “Oh no...”

“If I were teaching right now,” he continued, “I would say astrophage is basically like… a microscopic solar-powered submarine.”

You blinked. “That is not what it is.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It absorbs energy like sunlight,” he said, counting on his fingers, “it stores it, and then it moves through space using that energy. That’s a submarine. Just… space submarine.”

He gives you a smile and a thumbs up as if this was a bigger revelation than your research, and you just look back with a straight face. 

“A space submarine… that is the most oversimplified explanation I’ve ever heard in my life,” you said, trying to bite back your slight annoyance.

“This is a metaphor, not a peer-reviewed paper.”

You stared at him. You feel a twinge on irritation. Not enough to get you mad, but enough to make your vein pop out of your forehead.

Then he adds, “It’s like if a plant and a battery had a really weird baby.”

You look at him for a beat. He's ridiculous. Truly and utterly ridiculous. Then you burst into a fit of laughter. You’re clutching your stomach and slamming your fist against the table. You might be delirious right now from the lack of sleep, but you just can’t believe him.

"A weird baby…” you repeated, tears collecting in your eyes from laughing so hard. "That's so stupid?"

“I don’t know how I wasn’t fired by the Board of Education,” Ryland shrugs. “I guess it worked on them.”

“You know,” he said after a moment, softer now, “I used to do that all the time. Making things easier to understand.” 

“As much as I make fun of you for being an absolute nerd, I don’t think I can fully make fun of you for being a teacher.”

Ryland is surprised, seeing a glimpse of vulnerability in you. “Wait really?”

“I think it’s cool. I bet the kids loved you. You’re weird. I think kids like that. You make learning less scary for them. There's just something about you.”

“…Yeah?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” you said.

It’s probably five in the morning. You couldn’t see the sky, but your body knew. That strange, internal certainty that the night had nearly given up and the world outside was about to start moving again. 

“I think we both need rest,” you said quietly, finally leaning back from the console.

You turned toward him.

Ryland Grace looked worse than you did. Hair a mess, eyes heavy, and posture slouched like gravity had doubled overnight. But he also looked different. Lighter, somehow. Like something in him had unclenched without him realizing it.

You reach out to him before you fully think it through.

“Hey—” he started.

You took his glasses off his face.

“Don’t worry,” you said quickly, already smiling faintly. “I’m just cleaning them.” You chuckle, waving them around in front of him before taking a cloth out of your pocket to clean it off.

Before you give them back, you take a good look at Ryland. You’ve never realized how handsome he is now. He was always cute in a nerdy kind of way, but now he looks wiser and aged. The soft lines at the corners of his eyes from years of laughing despite everything. The deeper crease in his forehead that didn’t come from age alone, but from constant worry. The slight tension in his jaw.

Your chest feels warm by being so close to Ryland. You step closer, sliding his glasses back onto his face. You take your index finger and push his glasses up his nose. 

He is focused on your movements. If he looks away, he’s worried he’ll miss it. He’ll miss you. Something he didn’t want to lose again.

You leaned in slightly. Letting gravity do the work. Ryland didn’t move away. He just stares at you in awe. If they could, his glasses would fog from the heat in his face. Your chest tightened as you realized he was close enough now that you could feel his breath if you focused.

Close enough that the world outside the lab stopped existing properly.

His voice dropped. “I’m trying not to mess this up.”

“I know,” you whispered.

There was an unmistakable spark that made your stomach flipped and your thoughts briefly stopped making sense. His hand moved slightly on the table. Almost touching you.

You saw it happen like it was happening in slow motion. You slowly lean in, breath heavy. For a second, there was nothing else. The world isn’t ending. There is no mission, or lab, or past mistakes. Just the space closing between you like it had been waiting for this exact moment.

Your eyes fluttered down. He hesitates for a second before closing his. Your lips were hovering over his, only a small push needed to bring you together. It felt like it was about to happen.

Like it should happen. Like it was inevitable.

Reality snapping back in. Both of you stopped instantly, breath catching at the same time. Ryland pulls away quickly.

“I think this is the first time you…”

You made a move on Ryland?

“...didn’t make fun of me for five whole minutes.” Ryland says with a small smile. You shake your head and give him a small push on the shoulder.

“Well, if you’re going to sit there smug, I am going to go to sleep.” You walk towards the door, stretching your arms.

“Hey.”

You waited at the doorway. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I don’t know what I’m apologizing for really. I’m just sorry.”

You look at him for a long moment and give him a small smile. You didn’t realize how sensitive Ryland is to your emotions since your pinky promise, and you’ve realized you need to do a better job at letting him know you’re not upset anymore.

“It’s okay, Ryland. You don't need to apologize,” you stop for a moment, looking at him sincerely, “Don’t lose sleep over it.”

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━ 

There is no better way to celebrate a breakthrough like a “We are sending you off to die” party. It sounds grim in theory, but the camaraderie masks the underlying feeling of dread on the ship.

“Hey, Ryland.”

“Y-Yes,” he says, a little too quickly, eyes flicking to your hand as you hold it out to him.

“Come dance with me.”

That makes his brain short-circuit. You want to dance with him? 

Around you, the crew is still celebrating. The room is filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and crew members singing karaoke. The mission is far from over, but for tonight, everyone is taking a moment to celebrate as they prepare to send people off to save the world.

You feel the stare of other crew members as you grab Ryland’s hands. You don’t care. You tug him gently before he has time to overthink it.

“I—wait—” Ryland Grace starts, but he’s already on his feet, slightly off balance as he follows you.

“Wow,” you say, glancing down at his hands once you’ve got him in front of you. “You’re really sweaty.”

“I’m nervous,” he blurts out immediately. “Last time I danced was—uh—when I chaperoned Homecoming, and I definitely stepped on someone’s feet, and they yelled, and I—”

“Ryland.”

He stops.

You press your finger against his lips. “Shhh.”

His mouth stays closed. He nods once like you’ve given him very serious instructions.

“Just follow my lead,” you say.

Ryland is stiff under your touch, unsure of what to do. He doesn’t want to mess it up. His shoulders are tight, legs are locked, and his hands are hovering like he’s afraid of doing something wrong just by existing near you. His eyes are focused on your feet, making sure he doesn't step on your toes.

“You can put your hands on my waist. I won’t bite,” you joke, guiding his hands to your waist.

The sound of Stratt singing fills the space around you. She’s soft, melodic while singing The Sign of the Times. The song is a bit ironic. It’s like she understands the value of pretending, for a moment, that things can be normal. 

You rest your head on his chest, humming the song to yourself. Ryland finally relaxes. You’re not going anywhere, and it causes him to finally give into the moment. He gains the confidence to give you a spin, and you laugh as he twirls you over and over again. He actually doesn’t know when to stop.

You balance yourself on him, getting a bit dizzy. You look into his deep, blue eyes and laugh to see how perplexed he is in this happy moment. You lean your head close to his, getting on your toes to see him eye to eye. Your forehead is resting on his.

His hands tensed at your waist, like his body didn’t know whether to pull you closer or freeze completely. 

You closed the last bit of space between you two, capturing his lips with yours. The kiss is soft and intentional. You’re spilling all of the emotions you’ve built up for him at this moment. Ryland melts. He pulls you closer, hands practically squeezing your waist. 

He pulls away just for a moment to catch his breath. Ryland is running hot, face flushed. You laugh, just happy to be in this moment with him.

“…You’re really warm,” he murmurs against your lips, like it’s an observation he didn’t mean to say out loud.

You let out a quiet laugh. “That’s usually how humans work.”

“...And you’re soft.”

“Okay, let’s get back to dancing.”

You steal another kiss from Ryland. A kiss that seals just how much you've grown to care for him.

━━━━ ✦ ━━━━ 

Red strobes washed through the corridor windows. People were running. There are too many voices at once. People yelling. People crying. Somewhere outside the reinforced glass, the astrophage testing had failed. First, there was a boom of light. Then there was an explosion, smoke clouds swallowing everything nearby the site. It was too bright, too real, too final. Even through reinforced observation panels, the shockwave rippled through structures like the building itself had flinched.

You don’t move. Only the sick drop in your stomach when you realized how close the testing bay was.

One thought was frantic enough to overshadow any other thought in your head.

Ryland.

Ryland Grace

You were already running before your brain caught up.

You pushed through a cluster of officials, barely hearing them protest, barely feeling the impact of your own body moving too fast. The air still smelled faintly of burned insulation when you reached the inner corridor. 

You run outside the building. You see Ryland. A little unsteady, hair disheveled, face pale like he’d seen the same flash you had and understood it differently.  You grabbed him hard enough that he stumbled back a step, caught off guard completely. He softens, immediately wrapping his arms around your neck. He buries his nose in your hair, smelling traces of smoke buried in your scalp.

“I thought you were in it,” you said, voice breaking before you could stop it. “I saw the blast and I— I thought—”

“I’m here,” he said quickly, softer now. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

His fingers moved through your hair. He's slow and trying to ground you to reality. He was trying to convince your body before your mind could catch up.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“I’m fine,” you lied immediately.

He gave a quiet, humorless breath. “No, you’re not.”

You didn’t argue this time.

Eva Stratt’s presence felt like it arrived before she even spoke. She felt like the grim reaper in this moment, sending a dreadful message to you.

“The astrophage containment failure has escalated,” she said flatly. No emotion. Only consequence. “We have lost personnel. We are adjusting mission parameters immediately.”

Your grip on Ryland tightened without meaning to.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

It meant what you already feared.

Eva didn’t soften it.

“It means Project Hail Mary proceeds under revised crew selection.”

Silence hit like pressure.

Then Ryland’s shoulders shifted slightly just enough for you to feel it.

Confusion first. Then realization. She wants you both on the ship. She wants you and Ryland to complete the mission.

“Whatever you are asking me to do, Strava, I am only willing to do it with my two feet on this Earth.”

"What happened to you wanting to save the world?"

"That was before..." you trail off, looking at Ryland. He's biting his lip. Unsure of what Eva is asking for.

Ryland tries his best to calm your fears, but he’s also afraid. He doesn’t know what is going to happen or what this means, but he’s just as scared. Strava is already making her death march to the building, knowing someone would follow her.

“Hey,” Ryland said, already half-turned toward the building, like he was being pulled in two directions at once. “I’ll talk to Strava in private. I’ll figure this out, but I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied automatically. You have had zero time to cope with the loss of your peers, and now you have to cope with something bigger.

He hesitated for half a beat longer than necessary, like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t find the right word for it.

Then he started to go.

“Ryland,” you called out.

He stopped immediately.

You didn’t realize how tightly you were holding your breath until that moment.

Ryland Grace turned back to you, brows slightly raised. “Yeah?”

You opened your mouth, and there it was.

Right there. On the tip of your tongue. I love you.

Your throat tightened again, and the courage that had surged up a second ago cracked under its own weight.

You swallowed it down.

“…Just be careful,” you finished instead.

He gave you a look. He was hoping you would say more. He knew there was more sitting behind your words, like he always did, but he didn’t push it.

“Always am,” Ryland Grace said, and then he was gone down the corridor.

You stood there long after his footsteps faded.

You stand there feeling deeply guilty because selfishly, you didn't want to say goodbye. You wanted to help without needing to give up your comfort or safety. If anything, working research meant a blanket of safety for you and Ryland but now it sounds like sacrifice dressed up as science. You just wanted five more minutes where nothing was about to end. This is a once in a lifetime experience, yet you couldn’t imagine being so far in a void of nothing. Being an astronaut wasn't in the job description.

You stepped outside, needing air to cool you down. There was nothing you could do inside. Nothing to fix. Nothing to calculate your way out of.

Just waiting. Just thinking too much. Just the sick, slow realization that this might be the end for you. For the end of you and Ryland. The two of you haven't spoken about that fateful night on the ship, but there's a quiet and understood affection you both have for one another. Something special that only the two of you can acknowledge.

A few hours must have passed of you just standing outside. You’re trapped in your head, nothing else concerning you. You've been in a cycle of denial and negotiating. Anything to keep you safe, but most importantly, to also keep Ryland safe. You were trying to figure out who else could take your place or Ryland's, but the team is small as is. What would happen if you refused? Then you hear it. Shouting and footsteps. You look up and see someone being chased after by dozens of personnel. Ryland…?

“What the fuck?” you shouted before your brain caught up, already moving.

He turned his head mid-run. He sees you. His face changes instantly, and he waves for you to not come over.

“No—go! Leave!” he yelled.

“What?” you shouted back, breaking into a sprint. You see Ryland get pinned to the ground. You pick up the pace, running faster than you’ve ever had in the past.

“No—!” you screamed, already pushing through the cluster of bodies on top of Ryland.

You barely made it two steps before hands grabbed you. They’re strong and commanding, pulling you away.

“Hey—let go!” you snapped, struggling immediately.

“Doctor, stand down—”

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

You twisted, tried to break free, but more hands caught you. The hands are pulling you down just like they’d done to him. You feel someone heavy keeping you on the ground.

You turn your head, looking at Ryland who is also struggling on the ground. You reach out to him, trying to grab his hand. 

Ryland on the ground, fighting even while pinned. He sees your hand and tries to reach out. You are merely fingertips apart, but nothing can close the gap.

“Stop—!” he shouted, but it was already overpowered by orders being barked at him. “Hey, don’t—don’t touch her—!” 

Then something sharp pressed against your arm. It causes a surge throughout your arm.

You jerked violently. “What are you—?” 

The world begins to blur. You fought it. Harder than you should’ve been able to, but your limbs were already losing the argument with chemistry. Your blood boils. You’re angry. That is all you can feel as your body fights back in vain. Through the haze, you saw him again. Ryland. You’re still angry. That’s all you can feel. 

He had to have known.

“D-Did y-you know…” you tried to say, eyes barely staying open.

His expression shifted. He’s panicked.

“I didn’t—” he started, but you couldn’t hear the rest.

The last thing you see clearly is him still fighting to get to you. You take one last deep breath before your vision goes black.