Bitter arguments and mournful decisions
A brainylyle oneshot
1,893 words
“Grife, you're impossible sometimes, you know that?! I can’t stand to hear the nonsense that comes out of your mouth!” Querl exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air and stomping away from Lyle’s work station.
“And what? You're a bucket of sprocking daisies and rainbows, huh? Look in a mirror for once, Dox, and then we can talk.” Lyle spat after him.
“You are a Dox too, you fool, we've been married for forty years!” He yelled over his shoulder. Then, when Lyle’s only reply to that was to blow a raspberry at him, he said, “Real sprocking mature!”
Querl couldn't even remember where the argument began or why it began. One thing led to another, escalated as it always did, and they had been at each other's throats for almost an hour now. It had been inevitable, really. They were both stressed and both beyond tired, having just returned from an away mission and immediately been sent back into the labs to solve yet another problem that seemingly couldn’t fall on anyone else (though they all knew that wasn’t true, Querl and Lyle had both trained replacements that were more than capable enough to do anything they could).
Because of this, the tensions in the lab were already high. All it took was one snide remark, or one rude comment, one untoward look, or even just one wrong intake of breath and their tempers were flaring and exploding on each other. It didn’t matter what had caused it; they were fighting.
Even as Querl was throwing himself down in his chair at his own workstation on the other end of the lab, he began to regret the harsh words he had spat at his lover. He planted his elbows on the surface and hung his head into his hands with a deep sign that expelled the last bit of anger from his body. He was left with just the slimy feeling of guilt and the heavy, oppressive silence that now hung over the lab.
He should go and apologize. A glance over his shoulder showed him Lyle in a similar state, his back to Querl and his shoulders drawn up. That pose either meant that he was still fuming mad, or he was crying, but Querl was inclined to believe there were no tears. Lyle hated being seen crying, especially when he was mad. He would usually go invisible and hide himself away to avoid being seen pretty soon after the first tears fell. So, angry it was then.
A twinge of annoyance that he was the one to calm down first passed through him and he turned back around with a huff, crossing his arms and slouching into his chair like a petulant child.
Self doubt swam in his heart. He knew that he wasn't an entirely pleasant person to be around. Nearly a lifetime of being reminded of this fact had made it all too easy to be aware of. He couldn't help but fear that Lyle would one day grow tired of him. It was an especially harrowing thought since Lyle wouldn't have many years left sooner rather than later; they were both in the early years of their seventies, which was nothing for Querl, but was a little over half of Lyle's life span.
Things were different when they were younger, fresh, with more years ahead of them than they knew what to do with. It was easy to think back then that they would have forever; all the time in the galaxy to sort out petty fights, hurt feelings, and misunderstandings. As the years went by Querl couldn't help but realize just how much precious time arguments ate away at.
He remembered now what they had been arguing about in the first place. They had hit a road block when it came to their longevity experiments; they weren't getting anywhere and it was starting to look like they wouldn't be able to do anything to extend Lyle's lifespan past what was biologically already possible, not with the limited amount of time they had left to work with.
Is that really such a bad thing? Lyle had asked.
Yes, yes it really was such a bad thing. It was something that was almost unfathomable in how bad it was. Querl would rather die himself than have to live for centuries alone without the love of his life by his side. He thought Lyle shared the sentiment, but clearly he had been mistaken. Perhaps he truly had become sick of Querl…
No sooner than the thought crossed his mind did a soft, melodic tune began to play in the lab.
Querl slowly turned his chair around, his arms dropping from where they were crossed. Lyle was standing by the main console of the super computer, tapping away at something. That was where the music was coming from. He had put on one of his ancient Earth love songs that he adored so much. When he turned to face Querl his remorseful eyes were red rimmed, and his cheeks were flushed. He had been crying, he had simply trusted Querl enough to let him see it.
When Lyle pushed himself away from the computer and started in the direction of Querl’s work station, he stood to meet him halfway.
“Dance with me?” Lyle asked when they stopped in front of each other, a foot apart. He held a hand out to Querl, hesitant but expecting.
He didn't have to apologize, and he wasn't expecting one from Querl either. They were long past the need for words, this was enough for both of them.
Querl didn't hesitate before taking the offered hand, their fingers interlacing like they had countless times before. He let himself be pulled into a slow waltz, his hand on Lyle's shoulder while Lyle's found itself on Querl's ribs. With each slow, dizzy step they took he felt his heart beat slow and his doubts melt away.
He stroked Lyle's cheek, feeling the prickly stubble of his shadow before he reached up to thumb away a residual tear from below his eye. Lyle leaned into the touch, pressing a kiss onto the spot where Querl's wrist met his hand.
Eventually they went from waltzing to simply holding each other as they swayed back and forth. Lyle laid his cheek against Querl's collarbone, his arms wrapped around his waist. Querl put his arms around his shoulders and leaned the side of his head against the crown of Lyle's, squeezing his eyes closed to fight off the tears that were sure to fall. He inhaled the scent of his cinnamon shampoo on his hair, which was more white than brown now at his age. His breath stuttered with the weight of his grief and those damned tears escaped against his will.
“I'm tired, Querl.” Lyle said against his collar. “I'm just so sprocking tired all the time.”
And Querl could hear it in his rough, scratchy voice that he well and truly was. It was a bone deep kind of exhaustion that weighed down his body and burdened his mind. Even now, Querl could feel him sagging in his hold. He just wasn't made for long days in the labs anymore.
“I still want to live out the rest of my life with you by my side, don't doubt that for a second, but I'm too old to be doing this any longer. I don't want to be chasing this wild goose right into my grave when I could be spending my last years happy.” Lyle continued on, his grip on Querl tightening while his voice shook.
“What do you want me to do? Tell me and I'll do it.” Querl said, voice equally as rough.
“I want to quit, both of us. I want to spend the rest of my time not working, and I want you to be there with me. We won't stop experimenting and exploring, that's not in our nature, but now it'll just be for us, for fun. We've both made our contributions to science and the universe, we’ve made our difference. We deserve some peace and rest, I think we've earned it.” Lyle said. It was clear he had put some thought into this and that it wasn't just an idea born out of frustration and exhaustion.
“Done.” Querl said firmly and instantly. His heart was breaking right out of his chest at the thought of abandoning their research, at the thought of Lyle dying because of it, but if this was truly what his love wanted then he would do everything in his power to make sure he got it.
“Thank you.” Lyle breathed out a sigh of relief, his breath warm and alive against Querl's chest.
“Can I ask just one more thing of you?” Lyle asked after a moment.
“Anything. For you, anything.” Querl said resolutely.
In the background the song changed from one to another. Lyle pulled away from him a bit, just enough for their eyes to meet. Lyle had a furrow between his brows as he moved to hold Querl's shoulders, as if he didn't want him to try and escape what was to come next.
“Can you promise to keep living even after I'm gone?” He asked. Querl's eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat. Leave it to Lyle Dox-Norg to ask the impossible of him.
“Lyle -” He tried to protest, shaking his head, but he was cut off by a finger against his lips. He ignored the childish urge to bite it.
“I'm serious here, Querl. More serious than I've ever been. You have to keep living without me. You have so much more ahead of you. Just because I don't doesn't mean you have to throw the rest of the life you have away.” Lyle said firmly.
Overwhelmed by the unfairness of it all, Querl crushed Lyle back against his chest. He took a shuddering, painful breath and sobbed it out. It's not fair it's not fair it's not fair, every track in his mind repeated this line again and again on a loop as if it could change the fact. Maybe because it couldn't change it.
How was he to both abandon his search for more time, and accept a reality in which Lyle would no longer exist? How could he do both? How could he go on living?
Lyle hugged him back, hand rubbing up and down the length of his spine. He let him cry for some time until they ended up in a heap on the floor. They reversed their previous positioning, with Querl being the one who had his ear to Lyle's chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat thumping strongly.
Not yet, he thought, not yet. He still had Lyle now, they still had a little bit of time left. He had to remind himself of that to stop himself from fully breaking apart.
“I promise.” Querl conceded after his crying quieted down.
“I love you.” Lyle said, pressing a kiss onto his temple.
“And I, you.” Querl whispered in return. “For this lifetime and a thousand more.”
Later he would have to reconcile with the weight of the loss that was sure to come and the loneliness that would follow it. Now, he simply held his love close and cherished the time they had left.
