Simon peeks at him, watching w the slightest bit of awe as Grace hums under his breath and cleans. How carefree. Simon can’t even begin to understand how Grace can be so…easy going. Multiple near death experiences and yet he still walks around w such ease. Simon frowns.
“Hmm?” Grace pauses to look at Simon, eyes widening in confusion. “What?”
Simon doesn’t repeat himself, just shakes his head.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Many things, Simon doesn’t say. Everything about Grace is just…wrong. Simon doesn’t understand him in the least, and it…confuses him. His thoughts feel all muddled, incoherent.
Grace perks up at that. He sets the broom aside and walks over to where Simon had been half heartedly setting up the table. In the center is a pot of soup, still steaming, and Grace takes a deep breath.
Simon hums. “Sit and eat.”
Simon is ten when he escapes. It’s futile, he knows. He’s managed to find himself on the most heavily military populated space station, slipping away during prisoner transport, but they’re catch him eventually. Still, he keeps going, keeps pushing. He slips between shadows, keeps himself concealed, and tries not to focus on how his vision is starting to blur as black spots dance in the corners of his eyes. He’s going to pass out, and then it’ll all be over. He’ll die.
Ryland Grace is twelve when he saves a boy. He nearly trips over his legs as he’s walking down a narrow hallway. It’s on a lesser known section of the space station, and typically very quiet. Somehow, Ryland has never run into anyone here, and he’s thankful for it. It allows him some peace and quiet, time to be alone and just think. But he nearly trips on something, not looking where he’s going as he rubs his sleeve against the lenses on his glasses to clean them.
He looks down. Those are…legs. Someone is lying there. A…boy? He looks Ryland’s age, w ink black hair and…that’s a prisoner jumpsuit. This boy is a convict? How is that possible?
Without hesitation, he bends down, turning the boy onto his back, and nearly gasps at the injuries he sees. There’s very little thought in his mind other than trying to figure out how to help. He’s breathing, at least, so Ryland knows he’s not dead, but he’s bleeding and it’s bad. Ryland has always been clumsy and his brother had forced him to carry around a small med kit in case of emergencies.
“You’re always tripping and falling and hurting yourself, Ry,” Colt would tell him. “Here, I’m giving you this.”
Ryland pulls it out now, hands surprisingly steady despite how fast his heart is beating in his chest. He carefully stitches together wounds like he’s done on himself and wraps gauze and bandages around them. It’s only after he’s done that when he realizes they can’t stay here. Someone will come and even if Ryland has no plans on calling for a soldier, there’s no telling what another person would do.
Simon wakes slowly, and he’s…surprised. He thought he’d be dead by now. Maybe he is. A blurry face hovers in his line of vision. Soft golden hair, eyes like the sea. It’s almost like he’s looking at an-
“No, just Ryland. Um…how do you feel?”
Simon closes his eyes and then reopens them. His vision is a bit clearer and he forces his limbs to move, sitting up slower than he’d like.
“Wait, no! You’re still injured-“
It takes every ounce of strength Simon has, to move his body like that. Still, it works. He has the other boy, not an angel, under him, while Simon wraps a hand around his throat.
The boy barely struggles, like he understands it’s futile. Or maybe he’s just crazy, Simon doesn’t fucking know.
“I- I just told you. M’name is Ryland. Ryland…Grace.”
Simon narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t tighten his grip. He leaves his hand where it is, though, just to serve as a warning to not try anything.
Ryland licks his lips. “M…my room. I found you…brought you here. You were hurt. So I…helped.”
It’s only now that Simon realizes his injuries have been tended to. He’s sore, no doubt, but he’s been bandaged up and he feels the tug of stitches as he moves. Huh…
“Why? Why’d I help? Why wouldn’t I? You were hurt.”
It doesn’t make sense. No one is stupid enough, no matter their age, to not recognize the jumpsuit only convicts wear. And Simon’s in the worst colour, reserved only for those who’ve taken someone’s life. Only ten years old, and Simon has blood on his hands.
“Can you let go? So we can talk?”
Simon hesitates, but there’s nothing about this boy, Ryland, that reads as dangerous. He moves as quickly at he can, back to the wall and far away from Ryland. Ryland coughs as he sits up, and Simon finds himself feeling surprisingly guilty. Not that he does or says anything about it.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better. You…you really had me worried.”
Simon scoffs. “If you want something from me, I have nothing to give.”
Ryland’s eyes go wide. “No! Not- I don’t want anything.”
“Then why’d you save me?”
“Asking that again…” Ryland mumbles under his breath. “You were hurt.”
“That’s the third time you’ve said that. So what? I’m a convict. Why didn’t you call anyone? Or were you waiting to confirm I’m alive to do that?”
“No! Jeez, do you only think the worst? I haven’t called anyone and I don’t plan on it. I just..I wanted to help. How do you feel right now? I didn’t have any liquid meds, but I can give you painkillers now if you need any.”
Simon can’t believe his ears. This kid helped him…with no ulterior motives? Somehow, he can tell Ryland isn’t lying. It bewilders Simon even more.
“No drugs,” Simon says, and Ryland seems to hesitate before he nods.
“Okay. Um. So. Wanna start over? Pretend like you didn’t just try and strangle me?”
Simon snorts. Sure, why not?
Ryland Grace is twenty four when everything goes wrong. His coworker drops dead next to him and the next think he knows, he’s being arrested for a crime he didn’t commit. It makes no sense.
“No one will believe you, you know. After all, you’ve already got a history. Harboring a convict when you were a kid? The story will go that you’ve always had problems.”
This can’t be happening. There’s no way. But Grace has no choice as he’s shoved into the back of a transport ship. They say they’re taking him to another station, where he’ll be convicted and eventually imprisoned. He didn’t even get a chance to say bye to Colt.
Simon is twenty two when he returns a favor. It almost doesn’t work, mostly because Ryland keeps looking at him like he’s seeing a ghost, pausing a little too long to stare before Simon’s forced to grab him to keep them both running. Soldiers are hot on their tails, but Simon’s been doing this long enough to know exactly how to get away. He just needs to do it while keeping Ryland alive as well.
“Shut the fuck up and keep running, Grace!”
With a hand gripping onto Ryland, he shoves the older man and then himself into a hangar. Like he’d planned, there’s a ship waiting for them.
“Where are we going?” Ryland doesn’t sound as panicked as a normal person would be, but Simon got the impression a long time ago that Ryland Grace is anything but normal.
Ryland does as he’s told and Simon slams the door closed behind them before starting the ship. There’s muffled shouting in the distance, but Simon gets the thing working and soon enough, they’re jetting away.
The cockpit is filled w silence for a long moment, and then-
Simon scoffs. “Of fuckin’ course I am.”
He glances at Ryland and is startled at what he sees. The man’s eyes are welling w thick tears.
“You’re alive! And you- you just saved my life!”
Simon clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m just returning a favor. And for fuck’s sake, stop crying.”
Grace likes living w Simon. It’s…different than anything else he’s ever experienced, but he likes it. A lot. They may not get along all the time, and they bicker every single day, but Grace is happy. Simon hadn’t just saved Grace’s life once, but twice, and despite his insistence that it was only to return the favor from when they were children, Grace can’t help but wonder if there’s another reason.
“Are you gonna stare at me all day? Rocky’s waiting for you, you know.”
Grace grins. He can’t help himself. He’s happy.
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