Chapter Five #2
"See?" he says gently. "Personal things."
"Those are... private."
"I'm not going to look through them. I'm just pointing out that you do have things that matter beyond efficiency." He closes the compartment carefully. "Can I ask you something?"
I nod, distracted by the way he's made himself at home in my most personal space.
"What happens tomorrow? With us?"
"I don't understand."
"Yes, you do."
He's right. "I need to check storm damage in the morning."
"That's not what I mean."
"I know."
He moves closer, and my bioluminescence immediately responds. "I like you. A lot. I want to keep seeing you."
"Why?"
"Because you're brilliant and weird and you light up when I touch you." He demonstrates by putting his hand on my arm. My skin erupts in golden spirals. "See? Beautiful."
"It's involuntary."
"It's honest." He leaves his hand there. "So? Tomorrow?"
"You could... help with storm assessment."
"Yeah?"
"If you want."
"I want." His thumb strokes my arm, and I shiver. "What about tonight?"
"What about it?"
"Can I stay?"
The question hangs between us. I should say no. Should maintain boundaries. Should protect the solitude I've carefully built.
"I need to prepare the platform," I say instead.
"Why?"
"For two people. I need different coverings, and the temperature controls should be adjusted, and—"
"Vel'aan." He stops my nervous rambling. "It's fine as is."
"But I should—"
"What you should do is relax."
I move to the storage unit, pulling out additional coverings anyway. "You'll need these. The temperature drops at night, and human thermoregulation is different—"
"I run hot," he interrupts. "I'll be fine."
"Still." I arrange the coverings on his side of the platform, trying to create clear division. "This side is yours."
"Very generous." He watches me fuss with the arrangements, amused. "You're nervous."
"I'm being hospitable."
"You're terrified."
"I haven't shared a sleeping platform with anyone. Ever."
"Ever?"
"My species doesn't typically share sleeping spaces unless bonded."
"Oh." He looks at the platform with new understanding. "We don't have to—I can sleep in the main room."
"No." The word comes out too fast. "I want you here. I just... don't know how to do this."
"We lie down and sleep. It's not complicated."
"You make everything sound simple."
"Most things are. You just overthink them."
He's probably right. I make one more adjustment to the coverings, then step back. "It's ready."
"Great. Should we sleep? It's been a long day."
"It's early."
"I'm exhausted. Nearly drowning in alien storms is tiring."
"You didn't nearly drown."
"Felt like it."
He's already moving toward the platform, and I realize he intends to sleep in just those shorts. My bioluminescence flares anxiously.
"I need to check my monitoring systems," I say, fleeing to the main room and taking our bowls with me. I also take care of his wet clothing that he left in my living space.
I stand at my workstation, pretending to review data while my hearts race. There's a human in my sleeping quarters. A nearly naked human who wants to share my platform. A human who's been touching me all day and wants to continue.
When I finally return, Alex is already on the platform, curled on his side. He's left clear space for me, but the platform suddenly seems impossibly small.
"You're overthinking," he says without opening his eyes.
"How do you know?"
"Your bioluminescence is visible from the other room."
I lie down carefully on the far edge, maintaining maximum distance. The platform adjusts to our combined weight, creating a subtle depression that wants to roll us toward the center. I resist.
"Relax," Alex murmurs.
"I am relaxed."
"You're glowing like a beacon."
"That's relaxed for me."
He laughs softly. "Goodnight, Vel'aan."
"Goodnight."
Silence falls. I lie there, hyperaware of his presence, his breathing, his warmth. The dwelling makes small sounds I've never noticed—the water recycling system, the air circulation, the gentle creak of bio-panels adjusting to temperature changes.
Then Alex rolls over, closing the distance between us in one movement. His arm drapes across my chest, his body curves against my side, and my bioluminescence explodes so brightly it illuminates the entire room.
"Shh," he murmurs against my shoulder. "Just breathe."
"You said you'd stay on your side."
"I said mostly."
"This is full body contact."
"Same thing. You're comfortable."
He's already drifting off, his breathing evening out against my shoulder. His skin is so much warmer than mine, almost feverish in comparison. But gradually, my body begins to relax. His weight is comforting. His presence is soothing.
My bioluminescence slowly shifts from anxious gold to something softer. Content.
Just before I drift off, I feel him smile against my shoulder.
"Knew you'd be a good cuddler," he mumbles.
I fall asleep still glowing, but for once, I don't mind. The last thought I have is that my perfectly ordered dwelling will never be quite the same.
And maybe that's not a bad thing.