#fff92

Another day at work and earlier morning caffeine didn't improve her mood. What a downer.

Pressing her face against a door, she squeezes her eyes closed.

Since she woke up this morning, she has shallow breathing and a tight chest. From having her designs refused to be used in the fashion line. Sure, her chances were slim, it didn't stop her from feeling. . . hurt. Like she had been prepared for the inevitable impact, but it still disappointed her. It doesn't lessen her subdued pain.

It reminds her of how hard she used to work as a song-writer.

Only for her effort to be thrown away as a certain singer dismissed it. As if she was just. . . nothing.

No worth in her effort, career, or whatever it is she poured her heart and soul in.

At least, as a fashion designer, she can wait for another opportunity. As a song-writer, though? Memories of how it used to be surfaced on her mind, not leaving it.

Not that it mattered, anymore. It shouldn’t. Right?

Her ex-agent's correct about how she needs to get over it. Instead of wallowing on what she lost, she should just deal with it. It is what it is, and she can't change that at all. It's been years, she has to stop being hung-up about what happened.

After she unlatches the door, she opens her eyes again, and enters the room.

Yet she's knocked out of breath at what she sees. Her friends gathered together with a box. Opened and with. . . a whole strawberry cake with pink frosting, sprinkles, and fruits. Her mouth slacks.

"Surprise!" Both Efraime and Cassie exclaim in unison.

"What's all this?" she croaks.

"This is for you, Chantelle," Efraime answers with a smile.

"Yeah, uh, we've noticed you've been down lately," Cassie adds, sounding hesitant. "It's all his idea, I just paid for the cake."

She gulps, feeling her stomach tie into knots. "Really? You did all this for me?"

"I mean. . . We wanted to surprise you, honey," Efraime explains, his smile growing wide. "What better way than to cheer you up than that?"

"I just. . . I just didn't expect anyone here would do this," she admits, her voice faltering.

"Well then," Cassie says, rubbing the back of her neck. "Should we return this, then? I apologize if this might not be your favorite flavor."

". . . The shop ran out of other flavors, so we had to compromise." Efraime grimaces, setting the box down. "I could have choose something else. . . if

Her thoughts swirl so quickly, and she can't follow them. All jumbled at what she's trying to process.

Efraime and Cassie did this to. . . cheer her up? Even though, she didn't talk about why she's been so depressed to either of them.

Somehow, they noticed it enough to care about what she's feeling. To make her day better. Her heart swells with a wave of affection.

No one at her previous job has ever been. . . so considerate to her. They've mostly thought of what she can do for them.

And for it to happen the other way around. . . okay, she needs to sit down. To take it all in.

For a while, she hadn't been thinking anyone else would lift her low spirits. Besides her family, of course. And here they are, surprising her with a cake and it's so. . . so thoughtful of them.

Tears almost stings her eyes but she swipes it off.

Nonetheless, this happened to be a very sweet surprise.

"I'm glad, you two are my friends," Chantelle murmured with a smile. "Plus, this is better than being at a party."

"Wait, it is?" Efraime asks, sounding dumb-founded.

"Thanks, you're a great friend too." Cassie grins.

Efraime rubs his hands before opening the box. "Now will you do the honor of cutting this cake?"

Cassie offers a clean spade, setting it beside.

"Yes, of course!" Chantelle giggles, reaching for it.

When she cuts it into three pieces, she puts them in plates for each of them. They dig in, sharing a laugh.

“How are we looking?” the captain asked as Thiel tapped the hull on his way out of the ship.

“Getting there.”

“Then what are you doing out here?”

“Supervising,” Thiel said with a straight face. The joke didn’t land well. The captain stared until Thiel coughed and muttered something about getting back to it. So much for higher rank, higher privileges. Or maybe it was just karma coming back for him for the way he’d left Titan. Thiel left bruises in the cargo, trying not to think about that. The crew loitered around the ship after the last of it was secured, Thiel staring at the gate above his head, a glance into what awaited them beyond Pluto’s icy frontier.

Nothing. A black void hung where the night sky should have been.

The captain came back, tucking his tablet into his jacket and shaking hands with the dockmaster. He turned to the crew and started in on the usual bullshit speech. Thiel couldn’t take his eyes off the sliver of the void through the space-port. The future seemed bleak indeed.

“You all know what you signed up for. This run won’t be easy. Here’s your last chance to back out. I won’t count you less, but either speak up or buck up.”

The same speech Thiel had heard a thousand times and dismissed nine hundred and ninety-nine.

He lingered with the captain as the crew began filing into the spaceship.

“I’m not coming any further.”

His heart was pounding, and he was less sure of this decision by the second. His father was right—he was never anything but rash.

The captain grabbed his arm. “I know you’ve had misgivings about this assignment from the start, but I can’t lose my second in command, right before launch.”

Demeter had slowed when she saw Thiel hanging back with the captain. Thiel had always had a bad feeling about the whispered conversations between the captain and Demeter, and that corner of the cargo bay that didn’t seem to match the ship schematics.

He would have had a worse feeling about this, but the blunt end of Demeter’s service weapon was a bit of a surprise.

Thiel woke woozy and disoriented in his own cabin, sprawled on his own sheets with a ringing headache. The captain had made his position clear. If Thiel left now, he’d be stripped of his rank and subjected to all the incivilities of civilian laws.

However, Thiel Augustus Patterson was never one to half-ass stupid decisions. He stumbled to his door, finding the keypad locked. He punched in the emergency override code, watching the door slide open and waiting for the response of someone outside.

Of course, the hall was empty. They were minutes from launch and running on a skeleton crew. There was no one to guard him, and no time to revoke his credentials. Thiel took off down the musty corridors.

He rounded the corner to the airlock, seeing the corner of another ship docked in port. He was so close to freedom.

And then Demeter emerged from the shadows, a smile on her face, waiting. She opened her mouth, but Thiel didn’t quite feel like bantering. He closed the gap and slugged her.

Contrary to a few of the stories floating around the pubs back on Titan, Thiel had never actually punched someone before.

Demeter caught his arm on the backstroke and twisted, pain shooting up into Thiel’s shoulder.

He kicked, connecting with Demeter’s leg just below the knee.

She grimaced and dug her fingernails into his arm. Thiel twisted, hearing footsteps in the hall behind him.

“Captain!” Demeter yelled, digging her claws further into his skin. Thiel came at her head with his other hand, smacking his open palm against her ear.

Someone was rounding the bend into the airlock.

You’re never going to see him again.

The black sky above the planet filled his mind, filled his lungs. In a surge of panic, Thiel swung his arm as hard as he could, sending Demeter into the wall with a sickening crack. She let go.

Thiel never looked to see the damage, just ran.

He was fairly certain he’d broken his hand, but that was not important right now. Outside, he found himself in an unfamiliar cargo bay, but that was an advantage. His crew didn’t know it either, and the captain had too much pride to ask the local port authorities for help.

A solid month later, Thiel was standing in front of Saturn and her rings in all their glory, staring at them through a thick plate-glass window that was a ridiculous luxury on a space station.

He felt someone staring before he turned to see Soren leaning against the wall, staring in surprise. Thiel couldn’t help the grin. It had been months.

“You’re back,” Soren said.

Not surprised. Shocked. 


“I’m sorry,” Thiel whispered. The words hung in the air, crowded out by the hum of the ventilation system, and Thiel realized he might not have spoken loud enough to be heard. He cleared his throat.

“I know,” Soren said, joining him at the window, standing close enough for their shoulders to brush.

“I said some awful things.”

“Did you mean them?”

“I don’t now.”

More silence.

“How are you back? The ship passed the heliosphere three days ago.”

“I took a wrong turn on Pluto, must have missed launch.”

Soren snorted. “You’ve never been late for work a day in your life.”

“Something came up,” Thiel said, staring openly at Soren, who colored up and turned back to Saturn.

“You don’t seem happy that I’m back,” Thiel said tentatively, aware he didn’t deserve as much.

“No, I’m just surprised, that’s all.” Soren said, hugging him. The scent of his shampoo overwhelmed Thiel, the feel of his shoulders under his hands. The weight of him in his arms.

Thiel had expected fire and brimstone and a hell of a fight. What he got was Soren. A lump swelled in his throat. God above, he did not deserve this man.

“I think you still owe me a proper apology.”

Thiel laughed, hiding his face in Soren’s neck.

 “Mr. Karic!” He spread his arms. “What can I do for you?”

 “Looking to get a birthday present for Marley, actually.”

 “Say no more.” The man grabbed a box and began to fill it with chocolates, taking hardly more than a moment’s pause to consider his choices before plucking the perfect squares for the job. Emry turned back to Georgie.

 “Um, how often does Mar come here, exactly?”

Georgie shrugged.

 “Now, just let me get a bow…” The chocolatier grabbed a ribbon and slowly tied a bow around the box. Emry slapped the coins on the counter.

 “That’s great, I’ll take that-“

 “Ah, I should add a flower as well!” The confectioner went over to a vase on the counter.

 “That’s a nice thought, but-“

 “No worries, Mr. Karic- Ms. Karic is my best customer, the flower is free.” The man began to rifle through a dozen identical blooms. Georgie elbowed Emry in the ribs.

 “Shit, I see her, she’s crossing the street.”

 “Oh no- um- I think she’d like that one best.” Emry pointed randomly into the vase. The confectioner frowned.

 “The leaf?”

 “…Yup.”

He shrugged and stuck the leaf under the bow.

 “Here you go-“

 “Thank you!”

Emry grabbed the box and dashed out the side door with Georgie just as Marley wandered in, shaking the snowflakes off her scarf.

 “Ms. Karic!” The confectioner welcomed her as if he hadn’t seen her in a week. “How are you today? I hear someone’s birthday is coming up.”

Marley beamed.

 “How’d you know? Did you really remember from last year?”

Emry swore the man winked over at the side door.