Chapter 19 - Em #2
Nil hums, sounding rather thoughtful. But now my breaths feel shallow, my awareness narrowing to the space the three of us share.
Stan sets the fork aside and reaches out, his fingers sliding around my wrist, testing whether I’ll allow it. I do, and I stare silently into his gray eyes that pinch with mirth.
He lifts my hand and brushes his thumb across my knuckles. “Gotta say,” Stan says, “this is doing things for me.”
His attention drifts to Nil, eyes dark and openly admiring.
“And you,” Stan adds, “all loosened up, pretending you’re still the responsible one. It’s seriously hot.”
Nil’s hand on my back trembles. “Stop…”
“I would,” Stan says. “But you like it.”
Stan hooks a finger under my chin, lifting my stare. The motion makes me look at him through half-lidded eyes.
His touch is tender. His intent doesn’t seem to be.
I don’t pull away. I don’t lean in either. I hold still, aware of the heat spreading through my body and the way his attention follows it.
“Look at you, Em,” he whispers. “Standing here, letting us spoil you. Tell me you know what you’re doing to us, gorgeous.”
Nil hums near my hair, tickling my ear. I’m not certain what to say when I feel warmer everywhere he’s close. My skin feels tight, oversensitive, as though every small movement registers more clearly than it should. My legs tense without warning. I have to consciously let them relax.
Words don’t come as easily for me at the moment. My thoughts feel displaced, trailing behind every single sensation they’re eliciting out of me.
“So,” Stan begins, biting down on his bottom lip as his gaze drops briefly to my mouth. “I’ve been thinking lately. I know, bad idea, right?”
I try to listen, but my thoughts feel hazy from their proximity, my focus diffusing with the passing wind.
“But here goes.” Stan takes a deep inhale, smiling as he lets it out. “Em, would you be interested in exploring things with us?”
“Exploring things…?” I echo.
“Yeah, things.” He gestures loosely, encompassing the space around us. “Hanging out. Just the three of us. Might end up cuddling in bed. Maybe making out.” He tips his thumb over his shoulder. “Maybe up here. Or in our room. Who knows where the night’ll take us?”
My breath catches. I didn’t expect this. His offer unfolds in words spinning in my head and occupies the limited space left inside my mind. It’s too much to process quickly. I search for words and find none ready.
Nil moves into my line of sight. “You don’t owe us an answer right away, Em.”
Stan nods. “Yeah, that. Even though I’m really into the idea of getting together. Like, extremely.”
Nil’s hand is still on my back, though his shoulders draw in slightly. “We’ve been thinking about it for a while now,” he whispers. “We just wanted to let you know.”
Stan glances at him, brows lifting with encouragement that calms my nerves a little.
Nil sets his eyes on mine. “We get that you’ve had other things to deal with,” he continues to whisper low and slowly. “You’ve been carrying a lot, Em. Too much for one person to hold on their own.”
His hand rubs my lower back, light and reassuring. The touch draws a long, silent breath out of me, soothing the rest of my nerves.
“We just want to offer a way to carry some of that weight with you,” Nil explains. “And we can wait on whatever you decide to do with what we said.”
“So willing to wait,” Stan adds. “Uncomfortable about waiting, but still willing.” He rocks back on his heels. “We wanted to tell you now. Before, y’know, Idris gets his hands on you and keeps you all to himself.”
Nil sighs. “Stan.”
Stan laughs. “Kidding. Kinda.”
While Nil murmurs something under his breath to him, I stay quiet, contemplating. The idea that the two of them could want something like this with me feels surreal.
Yet Stan seems delighted by my silence. He scoops another forkful of tiramisu and offers it. I take the bite without thinking. The instinct comes from simply wanting more of what I enjoyed tasting. Perhaps this moment with these two can be something similar. But…
My head feels overfilled with the need to make a decision. This situation can’t be solved with a decision tree as I would do in a clinical trial.
Sighing softly to myself, I feel Nil’s thumb brush the cocoa dust from my lip as he glances toward the sky. “It’s getting colder,” he says. “We should head inside soon.”
Stan’s mouth turns down in a theatrical pout. “We’re going that soon, babe? Are you serious? Did anyone even notice the lights I set up? I even set up a blanket behind me for rollin’ around in,” he protests. “No one’s said anything.”
A thin draft slips across the rooftop, raising goosebumps along my arms. I draw in a breath that catches, my shoulders shivering harder.
Nil’s arm slides around my waist, holding me closer. Stan steps in as well, positioning himself to block the wind.
“Alright,” Stan says, gripping the tray. “Rooftop romance postponed. Time to go back in.”
Nil guides me with gentle pressure, his palm warm through my clothes. “Come on, Em,” he murmurs. “Watch your step.”
They move with me between them, an easy choreography I don’t question. With each step down the spiraling stairs, the cold recedes, replaced by warmth radiating from them.
By the time the rooftop is behind us, the shivers have faded. But my thoughts haven’t.
***
They walk me to my room, and I find myself still unable to respond to either of them. I manage only a silent nod of thanks before closing the door.
The latch clicks shut, the sound too final for the way my thoughts continue to circle.
I prepare for bed out of habit. Glasses folded and placed carefully. Clothes exchanged for something comfortable without conscious thought.
When I lie down, rest doesn’t come. My thoughts move without direction, looping back on themselves. Images from the past surface uninvited—mistakes and oversights, moments that should have caught my attention but didn’t. I replay them with an intensity that feels both unproductive and unavoidable.
How did I miss so much?
The question repeats until more recent instances intrude. Stan’s low, sultry voice, as he fed me. Nil’s hand at my back while he reassured me. Their attention has been honest and offered without pressure. The knowledge that they want me takes up space in my crowded head.
Why didn’t I notice their interest, when I’ve been watching them from the start?
What else have I missed?
I turn onto my side and reach for Stan’s phone.
The screen lights up, their photo filling it. Stan smiling, gray eyes pinched with it. Nil beside him, blue eyes caught in surprise. There’s a sort of intimacy in that image I can’t quite name, a sense of closeness that I think…I might be yearning to be part of.
Perhaps because Nil’s blue eyes remind me of Idris, who has a lighter blue. Who I shared my routine with. My nights with.
Idris is safely predictable. His presence guided my body toward rest. Regulation through repetition. Through closeness over time.
Stan and Nil have offered something similar, in their own way.
At the thought, a chill creeps along my forearms even as sweat gathers around my collar. I draw a slow breath that fails to calm me while I’m here alone in a bedroom where memories from the MedBay sit in the corner.
I sit up, movement taking place without much thought. The phone goes onto the nightstand. I look past the corner desk, reaching instead for my glasses, then cross the distance to my door and theirs.
My fist lifts to knock. Pain pulses at my temples. I push through it.
Taking a deep breath, I knock on their door, without a plan beyond honesty. They were honest with me. I owe them the same.
“Coming!” Stan sings from inside their room.
When he opens the door, his grin’s in place. I note the absence of surprise in his eyes and wonder briefly if he expected this.
“Come in, Em,” he says, stepping aside.
I enter to find Nil placing towels flat on their bed. Unlike Stan, he looks startled. “Oh, shit, you were right,” he mutters to Stan before speaking more clearly when he turns to me. “Hi again, Em.”
Stan only shrugs. “Told ya so, babe.”
The pressure at my temples makes it difficult to track the meaning behind their exchange. But I follow Stan as he guides me to sit, the mattress moving under me.
“I need to say something,” I tell them, my voice even despite the tightness building behind my eyes.
Stan stills immediately. Nil steps back half a pace.
“I’m attracted to you,” I continue, meeting Nil’s eyes, then Stan’s. “Both of you. That part isn’t ambiguous. I’m aware of it, but perhaps I’ve been denying doing anything about it for quite some time.”
Stan’s mouth curves upwards. Nil’s ears redden.
“I bend rules for outcomes,” I say. “I always have. But having sex with subjects is a line I’m not willing to cross.”
The words settle between us. I wait, searching for their reactions—for tension, for protest, for humor or reassurance to fracture the moment.
Stan exhales slowly and leans back against the dresser. “Okay, that’s fair.” He scratches at his jaw. “But we’re not your subjects, Em.”
I blink at him, eyes wide behind my fogging glasses. The artificial fireplace emits heat, as does my damp collar, so I attribute the condensation to that.
“You’re both participants in my study,” I manage, though the pressure at my temples has intensified, and my fingertips curl into fists, feeling frozen despite the warmth in the room.
“We were your participants,” Stan corrects. “That ended when we left the ship.”
Nil nods. “We’ve been more like housemates lately, Em.”
“Yeah,” Stan adds. “We’re basically a Jack and Jill bathroom away from each other. I mean, fuck’s sake, you saw me buck naked—”
I weakly groan to cut him off, lowering my gaze to my cold, clenched hands.
Silence follows. When Stan doesn’t immediately fill it, I speak again, words spilling out before I can overthink them. “I apologized for that.”