Chapter Text
Day and night cease to exist in interstellar space.
There’s many more things back at home that cease to exist once you enter the yawning gape of interstellar space, but right now Shinya’s especially missing the vermilion morning glow that used to trickle between the gaps of his blindfolds and wake him. These days, it’s the metallically human AI voice of XIN that wakes him. He opens his eyes to the bleak fluorescent walls of the spacecraft Seiryu.
“Good morning, Hiiragi Shinya. On Earth it is currently August 8th, Year MXXI. You have been asleep for the scheduled five months. Estimation to destination wormhole NB-1586: eight months, three days.”
The glass cryosleep pod next to his is empty. Unlike his, there are no ice droplets trickling down the sides- it is completely barren, dry.
It shouldn’t be. Guren should be in there, waking up as well.
Shinya ends up finding him in the communications module. Guren’s listlessly flickering through the video messages and pictures on the screen that’ve been transmitted from family and friends back on Earth, reminiscing, missing them. The routine is exactly like how it was months ago, before they both went to cryosleep.
“It looks like you woke up earlier than me. When?”
Guren doesn’t even glance back at him, gaze fixated on the screen like he’s in a trance.
“After four months, maybe.”
“Why?”
Guren’s shoulder tilt up the smallest bit in a lackluster shrug.
But Shinya already knows. It’s been about seven months since they lost Sayuri and Shigure in an airlock malfunction. There was no time to register the shock in the midst of head-splitting alarms, crumpled machinery, mangled space suits and blood trails as Guren and Shinya frantically secured the backup airlock in a race against death, before the oxygen all escaped and they choked to death.
Ever since they were cadets they’ve been told this: space is unforgiving. No matter how advanced the technology, how skilled the crew, how meticulous the double-checks, there are no promises.
They had silently watched from one of the windows. Sayuri and Shigure’s faces were indiscernible behind the harsh glare of their cracked helmets. Perhaps that was for the better. It was only the still silhouettes of two limp astronauts and a crystal trail of wires, glass, metal following behind against the inexorable blackness of space, all cradled by Newton’s first law of motion. And so they floated, going, going gone until the tragedy had blended into the stars.
Shinya had broken into grief on the spot. Guren hadn’t. He was silent. Still. Unblinking. Barely breathing, holding it all in. Because he’s leader.
But the next morning his knuckles were polluted with nebulas of purple and red. He refused to look directly at Shinya but he could still see how bloodshot his eyes were. Guren said not to worry about it. Shinya still wrapped his hands in bandages for him anyways.
He hasn’t been the same since.
There’s no amount of time, not even five months of the long cryosleep, that can keep away the suffocating rumination of a leader’s guilt.
Leader.
Shinya remembers it. With the amount of time dilation he’s been swept into, his juvenile years feels like lives ago, but he still remembers it. He may have been part of the astrobiology corps, but even so, he heard all about Ichinose Guren, the ace of the pilot corps. But it wasn’t until the day that they both, along with 98 other top cadets from all the corps, were selected as candidates for the new mission did they actually meet for the first time. After that, it was four years of rigorous training in their respective fields.
Then the selections for the Shiryu missions- the most anticipated addition to humanity’s search for a new residence while the countdown is on for the day the sun swells into a red giant and swallows the entire solar system in its dying breath. Sixteen astronauts would come together to make the final four teams comprised of four people each. Teams Seiryu, Suzaku, Byakko, Genbu- named after the mythological guardians of the four cardinal directions- were humanity’s new beacons of hope.
And he, as the biologist, was appointed with pilot Ichinose Guren, engineer Hanayori Sayuri, and physicist Yukimi Shigure to make team Seiryu.
Guren was designated leader of their team- the commander.
Shinya remembers watching the grin splitting across his face when it was announced, so wide it must have ached, and how the auditorium had shook and echoed from the applause and cheer from the crowd. He had worked with Guren a handful of times prior to then, but Shinya had never seen anything besides either disinterest or seriousness as his expression.
Then it was another four years of training as their new team. On some days Guren might have forced them to practice and work from morning all the way to the hours of 1, 2 AM when the simulation or zero-g technicians had long already ended their work day. But you didn’t ever stop until leader was satisfied. Even though sometimes the groaning ache in Shinya’s bones and the tempt of sleep on his gaze was making his teeth clench with irritation, the zealous diligence in Guren’s voice was a tidal pull that enchanted him. So as the subordinate, he listened and he executed. Because “simulation or not, we’re not failing this, we’re not dying like this- not on my watch.”
It’s during these years that Shinya realizes what a leader really is.
It’s not until during these moments that Shinya sees that a leader can break sometimes too.
These moments when he hears Guren’s strained breaths and harsh sniffing coming from the sleeping pods. He follows the sound until he sees Guren sitting on the side of his bed, face in his hands. Tear drops fall on the floor, one by one, and some roll down his forearms.
Shinya sits next to him and pulls Guren close, who continues to hide his face. But eventually, he relaxes in Shinya’s embrace, and slowly his breath steadies until he’s fallen asleep.
Shinya misses the way it was back then.
Before Sayuri and Shigure had gone. Before the weight of the mission had dragged down their backs. When all four of them were here, brimming with hope, ambition, resolution.
When Guren still wore the title of “leader” with pride rather than burden.
“What’s wrong?”
“Hmm? Nothing.”
“I’m not stupid. Everything about you’s all off today.”
“Oh, is Guren’s caring side finally showing? How cute.”
“Shinya.”
A pause.
“It’s just the usual. Hiiragi family bullshit.
I look forward to getting off this damn planet and being away from it all.”
“Trajectory’s not looking so good. We’re into P-64 now. Hiiragi, your heart rate is skyrocketing, how are we feeling?"
“Getting an indicator light at the right interface. I don’t know why.”
“Copy that. And Hiiragi, it’s okay. This is just a simulation run. Breathe.”
“Trying to, Commander. But it’s reading triple failure. The CM is not responding.”
“Let’s switch to manual then.”
Silence. Then a resigned sigh.
“Shinya. I know you don't like manual, but we’ve got no choice here.”
A strained laugh. “All I can say is that if I ever go solo, I am fucking doomed, Ichinose.”
“False. Nobody on this team will ever be forced go to solo. Because we’re all going to come out of this mission alive. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Hiiragi. Thanks for the work today. And… trusting me.”
“Is Commander Ichinose okay? He just thanked me- unbelievable!”
“Shut up.”
A laugh.
“You’re leader, Guren.
I’ll follow you anywhere.”
Shinya most definitely did not end up falling in love with Guren.
Most definitely not.
He’s not supposed to. Especially when part of his duty is to help the human race repopulate on another planet. He can’t fall in love with a man. And especially not Guren.
But he absolutely did.
He most absolutely did because now Guren’s back in the communications module again and Shinya’s watching at the door. And he can feel it with the way his chest gnaws bright red in the back of his eyes when a particular video message pops up on the screen. Guren had received it six months ago. He always watches it. Almost every day. To the end. Every damned time.
“Hey Guren. It’s currently been three years, eleven months, and one week since you left. Perhaps it’s only been about two years or so for you with relativity and cryosleep. It’s strange to think about it. “
Shinya’s tried to forget about her since they’ve been out on the mission. But it’s impossible.
"Either way, once it hits 5 years from my side, I’ll be joining with you up there soon."
Hiiragi Mahiru. His own sister. Adoptive sister, but sister none the less. They didn’t grow up in the same household because he wasn’t a blood Hiiragi, and they didn’t school in the same corps. She also made it to the Shiryu selections, as expected of the esteemed Hiiragi family, but was placed on a different team. So Shinya never had the chance to become close to her, but he’s known about her little affair with Guren since their cadet days. The ever-diligent Guren who never had anything that wasn’t the mission on his mind barely talked about her during their team training years, and she seemed to slowly fade out of Shinya’s life, and Guren’s- or so he thought.
Now the harsh reality sunk in that her presence was still very much there.
"So wait for me, Guren." Her pretty grin fills in the pixels of the video screen.
It’s routine. Shinya walks back out the door and pretends to not fixate on the fact that this was the only time Guren’s smiled these past few months.
I’m here, Shinya thinks to no one in particular. You don’t need to wait for anyone.
I’m here.
It takes a toll on you, when you’re surrounded by pure nothingness for months and months. When Wednesdays and Saturdays are the exact same and so are Junes and Januaries. When everyday is a waiting game. At some point you lose track of the pattern of the stars and galaxies sprawled outside your windows because its nearly the same, same, all the way.
And you start to yearn for something.
Anything.
It’s too much. After everything’s that’s happened, desire is staggering, overwhelming, like looking at the sun.
Guren’s got Shinya backed up against a window, cold glass and starlight pressed on to his back. Shinya can only watch, silently, as Guren’s hands move over him, steady calluses palming the insides of his wrists, thighs, waist, sweltering and tormenting on his skin. At first Shinya doesn’t let himself respond, just sits there, shaky breathing and nothing else, like he’ll break if he does anything more. Because he is not a fool. He waits. There is nothing more Shinya wants than to smother himself in the lick of Guren’s warmth and fit their dips and edges together even though Shinya knows they don’t match like that. But he waits. He waits for the tormenting moment of insanity, desperation, urgency- because that’s all that it is- to leave just as quickly as it arrived.
But his vision is ringing when Shinya feels Guren closes the gap between their mouths. When Guren’s lips slide down to his neck. When Guren guides Shinya into his lap. And he allows himself to be deceived, just this once.
Shinya may not be a fool, but he decides that he is weak and hollow and that it doesn’t matter anymore. Perhaps this is better than nothing.
He is trembling, overheating, threatening to burst into shards, but he gives and gives and Guren takes and takes.
Just this once.
But there is no such thing as “just once.” It ends up becoming twice, three times, four times, and so forth until there’s no point in counting.
He hates how gentle Guren is with him sometimes, like he’s actually in love and not just starved. Shinya tells himself that he hates it.
He really doesn't.
Sometimes, Guren suddenly shatters apart on top of him, tear drops falling down on Shinya’s neck and then they’re laying side by side. Their moment of lust ebbs away into nothingness, and Shinya silently takes Guren in an embrace, holding him together, feeling the pattern of his breaths as he silently cried. They fall asleep like this.
In the morning, Shinya wakes up to an empty bed. He knows Guren’s probably at the control module to check on their trajectory or the communications module to hear Mahiru’s voice, as usual.
And they’ll pretend that last night didn’t happen, as usual.
That’s when it’s Shinya’s turn to break apart, but he cries into an empty bed because he doesn’t have someone to hold him.
Shinya has written himself an entire screenplay.
And he’s memorized all the cues.
Sometimes it’s the way Guren’s eyes flare dark and follow Shinya around as he’s double checking the control panel or the way Guren’s jaw clenches and his fists pale like a piece of him’s missing.
And Shinya will walk over to him, sliding his fingers around Guren’s shoulders and smiles at him like it’s a game. A game that doesn’t have any winners, but no losers either. It’s just a matter who gives out first, and Shinya promises to himself that it won’t be him.
So one way or another, they’ll be later be in the bed, entwined in each other’s embraces, and Shinya can’t tell whose hands and breath and lips are whose. He only knows that the way he presses against Guren’s skin is because he’s in love and wanting to give. He only knows that the way Guren reciprocates it is because he’s desperate and trying to escape from his own mind. Shinya knows that’s just the way it is.
He ignores the emptiness in his chest after each time. He ignores how quickly Guren gets up, turning his back to Shinya. He ignores the red lines he’s scratched all over it, the only claim he can make on Guren, and how painfully temporary it all is.
Shinya’s repeated this scene enough times now and he knows that’s the way it just is.
“Do you miss home?”
“What kind of question is that? Of course I do.”
“What do you miss exactly?"
“Forests. My annoying nephew- kind of. Curry rice. Everything. What kind of answer are you expecting?”
Shinya laughs. “Hmm, don’t know.” It’s a lie. He wanted to see if Guren would mention Mahiru, even if it’s just the slightest hint. But there’s nothing and he can’t tell if he’s relieved or not. “Just good to hear that Guren is capable of having cute sentiments like that.”
Guren rolls his eyes. Comfort stirs inside Shinya at that, strangely. He’s just glad to see that piece of the Guren he’s always known was still in there, behind all the burdens he now carries. The one that always seemed to appear grumpy, stubborn, irritated- but Shinya knows that it’s because he can’t bring himself to be straightforward with his real feelings.
“Then how about you? What do you miss about home?”
Home. Shinya’s never felt at home until those four years when they were training as team Seiryu. Before that, it was just gruesome years of academy and a family that didn’t really want him.
“Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t think I really miss much, to be honest.”
Because this is home, being with you, he thinks, and wishes that Guren could know.
There’s a new message for Guren in the system in the morning. It’s the first thing he goes to check and Shinya listens outside.
“This is my last message because I’m launching tomorrow, but by the time you get the signal about two months have passed. But we’ll be rendezvousing in about five months time, if the wormhole turns out to follow the calculated predictions. This is team Suzaku second officer Hiiragi Mahiru, signing off. I’ll see you later, Seiryu Commander Ichinose.”
Shinya can’t see the screen, but he can picture it- her bright smile and the way her ashen hair probably swayed behind her shoulders as she reached up to the camera to end the video message.
When Guren leaves the communications module, Shinya’s waiting at the threshold, burning and dazed. Jealously clouds his mind as he wraps his arms around Guren’s shoulders. He doesn’t dare make eye contact because he’s expecting to get pushed away, but then he feels Guren’s hands slip underneath the hem of his shirt and climb up his waist, then slide to underneath his waistband. Shinya leans into the curve of his collarbone and smiles.
But later, even as he’s breathily eclipsed underneath Guren’s grasp, drinking in every kiss and touch he receives, Shinya doesn’t understand why his heart aches.
He doesn't understand why it feels like he's already lost.