Space Man

Back to Work?

The day I had to leave finally came, and while I’d been expecting it, I couldn’t shake the worry that Xisuma might slip back into his old habits—working himself to the bone, isolating himself again. But at least I had the reassurance that Xavier and Joe had everything set up to help him with the workload, and neither of them seemed inclined to let him carry the burden alone anymore. That thought eased some of the tension in my chest as I watched him put on his armor.

He reached for his helmet—the original green one that Doc had returned to him—and placed it on with the careful ease of someone slipping back into an old routine. For a brief moment, I saw the Xisuma I’d first met: composed, steady, and ready to tackle the world.

But then, something in his helmet startled him. He flinched, his hand jerking up to the side of his visor as though trying to swat something away.

“Xisuma?” I asked, stepping closer. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his breathing audibly heavier through the speakers of his helmet. He tilted his head slightly, as though trying to listen or understand something.

“Xisuma!” I repeated, more urgently this time.

Finally, he lifted his visor, his eyes wide with confusion and a flicker of fear. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual confidence. “Probably just a glitch in the comms.”

I frowned, unconvinced. He was good at brushing things off, but I could tell this had unsettled him. “Are you sure? You looked—”

“I’m fine,” he interrupted, managing a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Really. It’s nothing to worry about.”

I wanted to believe him, but the way his hands lingered near the sides of his helmet told me otherwise. Whatever he’d seen or heard in there had shaken him.

“Okay,” I said slowly, deciding not to push—for now. “But if it happens again, you’ll tell me, right?”

He nodded, but the hesitation in his movements didn’t go unnoticed. I made a mental note to check in with Xavier later, just to make sure someone was keeping an eye on him.

“Take care of yourself,” I said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

He smiled again, softer this time. “I will. Thanks... for everything.”

And as much as I wanted to stay, to make sure he’d be okay, I knew it was time to go. Still, that lingering worry in my chest wouldn’t quite fade, especially after seeing the way his confidence had faltered. Whatever had startled him in that helmet was more than just a glitch—I was certain of it.

Xisuma secured the last piece of his armor, the soft clicks of the latches echoing faintly through the quiet house. He adjusted the fit of his boots, stood straight, and gave me a nod as if ready to take on the world. Meanwhile, I was waiting by the door, wearing an oversized T-shirt borrowed from his closet that fell nearly to my knees, paired with my own pants. The shirt smelled faintly of him—a mix of fresh air, cedar, and something uniquely Xisuma—and while it was a little awkward at first, he hadn’t seemed to mind in the slightest.

Leaning against the frame, I held a basket filled with honey jars, honeycomb, and a few treats I’d prepared for us to share along the way. The woven basket felt sturdy in my hands, and the soft clink of glass jars as I shifted my grip filled the silence. It was a peaceful morning, the kind where the world still felt half-asleep, with the sky painted in soft hues of orange and pink.

When Xisuma finally joined me at the door, his helmet tucked under one arm, he looked at the basket and raised a curious brow. “Stocking up for winter already?” he teased, his voice carrying a warm undertone that made me smile.