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“How long do you need?”
Eugene watched as Vincent stuck the small machine over his heart, gingerly running his fingers across it to make sure it was secure. He never understood why he would insist on doing it for him- he could do that much himself, thank you. But he couldn’t complain when Vincent’s face was so close to his. The least he could do was suppress a shudder.
“Twenty minutes,”
Vincent sat across from him, beyond the transparent screen, pulling the headphones over his ears.
They recorded anew with each of Vincent’s tests, as they had decided; Vincent fearing a repeated recording would be caught as suspicious, Eugene just grateful for something else to do. He had scoffed at the idea when Vincent first insisted, of course. As if there would be any change between the recordings anyway, he thought. Not from the 9.3 out of 10 heart that thrummed as steadily as any metronome. But if it would placate the InValid’s nerves, he could grin and bear it.
With long-practised strokes, calloused fingers spun the wheels, arms moving in perfect arcs. Eugene’s gaze remained dead-set ahead of him- anywhere but Vincent.
He never looked at Vincent during a recording. It was an unspoken rule he had set himself. At first, somewhat out of spite. He could almost pretend he wasn’t just giving up yet more of his body to some invalid carousing through life on his helix. But- no, he couldn’t see Vincent that way. His determination, his passion, his strength- Eugene knew that borrowing his ladder had been the last resort, Vincent wasn’t one to lay down and just take what the world was giving him.
The rule had become much more strictly enforced, by himself, as time progressed. Merely stealing a glance towards the man- seeing the relaxed lines of his face, the gentle curve of his smile, the way the evening light framed his silhouette- would be met with a warm swelling in his chest. He didn’t want to mess up the recording.
“I spoke to one of the new navigators today,” Vincent noted, “Outside of showing them the ropes and all, I mean,”
Vincent always spoke to Eugene during the recordings, about his day, his work, anything that came to mind. Eugene wouldn’t reply- that was another one of their decided rules- but Vincent didn’t mind. And as long as Vincent didn’t talk directly to or about him, Eugene didn’t mind either. He liked hearing Vincent's voice, and it kept him out of his own thoughts.
“He was passionate, really passionate. It’s good to see, you know? Someone else with real passion and real dreams, he reminded me of myself,” He laughed, before taking a sadder tone, “It never lasts long there. Sooner or later everyone conforms to the same dull mask of professionalism. You have to, else people will deem it okay to dump you with all the excess work, thinking you might actually want to do it,”
Eugene had seen how Vincent put on that mask, every day. It hurt in such a strange way to see him bury his spark to fit into the Valid world.
“I love working at Gattaca, you know I do, but it does take something out of you- or maybe that’s just because I wasn’t already part of that world,”
Something in Eugene ached to tell Vincent it’s not his fault. That he was too good for the Valid world, he was more than any perfectly crafted Vitro could ever hope to be, that his spark made him human and Eugene loved him for it. But Eugene stayed silent.
“He works on the more theoretical side of things, not planning on taking any trips or anything, he’s just happy to watch,” Vincent’s voice recovered its usual lilt, “He told me about planetary nebulae,”
As Vincent weaved in and out the details of planetary nebulae- nothing to do with planets, he was told- Eugene found it hard not to smile. How could he not, with the most brilliant, radiant man in the world waxing poetic about the heavens? With how endearingly contagious the joy of Vincent’s voice was, Eugene was almost tempted to ban that too. But he could never bring himself too, even if he wanted to.
As long as Vincent didn’t address him directly, it was fine. That was forbidden.
“You know, Eugene,”
Eugene doubted Vincent knew this rule.
“A lot of people at Gattaca don’t go into space. At first, I didn’t understand it. Some people can’t of course, ‘less-than-perfect’ genetics, they’re never put on the missions,”
He couldn’t place Vincent’s tone at all, strangely empty, sombre and wistful all at the same time.
“Some people just don’t want to. Like this new navigator, he told me he’s more than happy to just be a part of the team. He doesn’t care about going to space, he’s still a part of history, he told me, and that’s enough for him. He doesn’t want to leave earth,” He paused to collect his words, “For ages, I didn’t understand. I couldn’t understand. Why you would choose to forfeit such an opportunity, or why you would want to stay here with the chance to leave right at your fingertips,”
The back of Eugene’s neck tingled, he swore he could feel Vincent’s gaze on him.
“A more cynical part of me supposed people like me never could be content with that… with this at all. But I think I can understand now, even if just a little bit,” The smile returned to his voice. “I think I could stay, Eugene.”
At this point, Eugene was sure Vincent either didn’t know these rules or was just willingly disrespecting them entirely.
“As much as I’ve dreamt of the stars, you’ve already given me so much I sometimes feel like I’m already there,”
Vincent seemed to catch himself, doubtful for only a moment, but continued anyway.
“If you asked me to stay, Eugene, I would,”
Eugene’s heart leapt at the words- Vincent would have to settle with a less than perfect recording. He should deny it, he thought, no one would stay for Eugene Morrow. Especially not one who shone as bright as Vincent. As much as he thought he didn’t deserve it, that light was now shining upon him.
Instead, he shook his head mirthfully, barely suppressing a warm laugh. There was nothing in the world that could change Vincent’s mind. Not once he was this sure on something.
“You’re not supposed to distract me,”
(Another rule shattered, not ten minutes in. Oh, what he wouldn’t do for Vincent.)
Vincent didn’t even have the decency to sound even a little bit apologetic, just humming contentedly in response. But he at least lapsed into silence for the rest of the recording.
---
The shrill beep of the alarm shattered across the room. Eugene sighed, shutting it off and placing the recorded heartbeat next to it- surprisingly unaided by Vincent.
He glanced at the man in question, expecting him to be milling about just as he was, just as usual. Except, he hadn’t moved from his place, slumped against the clear screen. Eugene wheeled closer to him, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest and his peaceful expression.
Without a recording to worry about, he could admit- Vincent was beautiful.
The evening light washed against the slope of his face, entangled in his hair like flecks of gold. He looked so serene, eyelids fluttered close against soft cheeks and his lips parted slightly. Though Eugene would never admit it, he loved Vincent’s eyes. Not just the warm brown hue (though perhaps they were prettier than his), but the soft cut of the creases, the light dusting of freckles around them, appearing as they did every summer. He had stolen a far few indulgent gazes at them, and he couldn’t help but fret over the darken circles beneath.
He remembered the first time he noted them, leaning in and running a tentative thumb along the edge of his cheek. “You have to be me then, not now,” he chastised. “Get some rest,” He had added in a gentler tone.
He couldn’t bring himself to wake Vincent. Nor could he just leave, for that matter. Perhaps some duty-like obligation, more likely his stifled affections getting the better of him, but it didn’t feel right to leave Vincent to wake up on the floor alone.
There was little he could do to move him from his wheelchair, so Eugene settled with sliding out of his chair, moving next to him. He shifted uncomfortably, the wall almost jarringly cold against his back, but Vincent’s side was warm. He sighed. Patience had never been his strong suit, but for Vincent, he could wait.
---
Vincent awoke to an expected weight on his shoulder, soft breaths warming his skin. He turned his head ever so slightly only to be met with a faceful of gentle golden curls.
Eugene’s face was tucked comfortably into the crook of Vincent’s neck, his body slumped against his arm.
Vincent sighed, rubbing sleep from his eyes, as he manoeuvred himself to see his face- long eyelashes fluttered closed, an almost uncharacteristically peaceful expression for the man. It was nice- relieving- to see Eugene without lines of worry and tear scoring his face, though the years of sleepless nights and personal torment still marred his beautiful features. Vincent wanted nothing more than to run his fingers over those lines, kiss away that deep-set fatigue and make sure everything would be okay. But those lines were more than skin-deep, Vincent knew that.
The deeper hues of late evening mulled over the room, beginning to fade away. Vincent had no idea how long he had been asleep, but part of him wished he could stay that way forever. Just Vincent and Eugene, tucked away in their corner of the world, Jerome Morrow shed to the stars.
But this moment was just a vindictive touch of what could be but wouldn’t. Just as much an unfulfilled not-quite-a-memory as the rest of his life.
With Eugene right there- so warm against his neck, the smallest of smiles playing at his lips- it was almost hard to believe that.
Gradually breaking out of his sleepy haze, he shook Eugene’s shoulder gently to check if he was awake, though not truly wanting to wake him. Receiving not even the smallest reply from the other man, he manoeuvred his arms around him and lifted him from the floor. It was harder than he expected, his limbs still dragged down with sleep, and without Eugene’s arms wrapped securely around him as they usually were, but he made it to Eugene’s room without issue.
Only as he set him down on the bed did he stir, a slight grunt of protest as Vincent pulled the covers over him which was only met with a gentle laugh before he left to get Eugene’s wheelchair.
---
By the time Vincent had returned, Eugene was sat up. Weary blue eyes scanned across the room, only softening slightly as they landed on Vincent. Eugene grumbled something, too drudged down by sleep to be intelligible, and sunk back onto the pillow.
Vincent smiled, leaning a knee on the bed. “Need anything before I go?”
At this, something sparked in Eugene’s eyes. something akin to panic.
"Stay," Eugene's request was simple, but his eyes held the weight of something more. Something in Vincent crumbled at the urgency of his voice, wondering if he was mimicking Vincent’s earlier sentiments.
“It’s late, Eugene, someone has to make dinner,”
Eugene hesitated, almost flinching back,“...Right, sorry,”
“No, no, I’ll stay.” Vincent reassured, moving to shuffle under the covers, “We can eat later, I’m sure we have some leftovers somewhere,”
Eugene lifted a hand, tracing the back of his finger gently across Vincent’s cheek. “I can make dinner, you need the rest more than I do,”
“These,” He caught Eugene’s hand and placed them against the dark circles under his eyes, “Are just the product of a stressful week, I’ll be fine, Gene,”
His voice trailed off into the nickname, sleepy and affectionate, before stifling a yawn. Eugene felt blessed with such an intimate sight, Vincent bleary with both exhaustion and wonder, nuzzling slightly into Eugene’s cradled hand. His hair splayed out at odd angles and his contacts were long abandoned, opting for a slight squint and a lopsided smile. Not a trace of Jerome in sight.
After a comfortable moment, he lifted his hand off Eugene’s and traced it along his jaw, almost mimicking Eugene’s own gesture. “You need rest, proper rest,” a thumb across Eugene's weary eyelids, “Yours run so much deeper than mine,”
Eugene wanted to scoff in reply, but it died in his throat the moment Vincent’s fingers ran across his lips, falling away to a soft whimper. He felt stupid, so stupid, vulnerable and falling apart before him, indulging in the precarious comfort of Vincent’s affections. But there was nothing he could do to escape the unspoken tether between them.
“Vincent,” He breathed against the gentle fingers, now tracing across his bottom lip sweetly.
Before he could even register the warm breaths against his mouth, Vincent’s lips met his.
Kissing Vincent felt like everything he had ever imagined, ached for, and it felt like giving up. Giving in to the years of fighting his feelings, conceding and falling to the arms of defeat. And it didn’t matter, for Eugene and Vincent were suddenly the only people in the world. Never before had losing felt so good.
“Sweet dreams, Eugene,”
Eugene let himself be pulled into a warm embrace, softening to the touch. Pressed against Vincent’s chest, he could hear his heart beating. Uneven and wobbly, but determined, steady with resolve and unyielding strength. Worth more than a million of Eugene's recordings.
“Sleep well, Vincent,”
For the first time in what felt like years, Eugene fell asleep and he dreamed.