Space Man

Grian's House

As we approached Grian’s house, I couldn’t help but notice Xisuma’s subtle movements, adjusting his helmet every now and then as if it were a constant source of discomfort. It wasn’t like him to show such signs of annoyance, especially when he usually kept such a composed demeanor. I wanted to say something, to offer him reassurance, but I wasn’t sure if now was the right moment.

Mumbo walked ahead, his gaze flicking between the two of us, clearly noticing the same thing I had. But neither of us said anything, letting Xisuma navigate the discomfort on his own, for now.

When we reached Grian’s house, Scar was already there, pacing back and forth by the entrance. His top hat was perched on his head, slightly askew as usual, but there was a tense energy in his posture that caught my attention. His eyes flicked over to us, and he let out a deep sigh, pausing in his pacing.

“Finally,” Scar muttered under his breath, though he made no move to approach us yet. He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze lingering on the horizon before he seemed to snap back to the present. “You guys talk to him? Is he coming back anytime soon?”

Mumbo stepped forward, clearly more at ease now that he wasn’t dealing with Grian’s frustration. “He said he’d meet us here. I’m guessing he just needs some space.”

Scar sighed again, looking down at the ground. “He was upset, and I didn’t even know how to fix it.”

I could feel the weight of the situation in the air, the mix of concern and frustration hanging between us all. We waited in silence for a few moments, the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind the only sound filling the quiet. I glanced back at Xisuma, who had a faraway look in his eyes, his hands still fiddling with his helmet as if it were a constant distraction. The tension in the air seemed to shift, and the longer we stood there, the more I realized that everyone, even Xisuma, was just trying to navigate a situation that no one had a perfect solution for.

It was a quiet kind of waiting. And though I didn’t know how long it would take for Grian to return, or if he even would, I knew that we all were doing our best to support him in whatever way we could.

The air was thick with tension as we stood by the entrance of Grian’s house, waiting in silence. Scar and Mumbo were deep in their own thoughts, and I could feel the weight of their glances now and then, though neither of them had the nerve to ask about Xisuma’s helmet. It was clear they hadn’t seen him without it before, and I could tell by the subtle shifts in their posture that they were uncomfortable, unsure of what it meant for Xisuma to take it off.

I couldn’t ignore the way Xisuma kept adjusting it, though—his movements a bit too deliberate, like he was trying to make it feel right again, but nothing seemed to work. I couldn’t stand the discomfort radiating off him any longer. He didn’t look at me as I turned to him, already feeling the edge of my nerves fray with every passing second.

"Xisuma," I started, my voice softer than I meant it to be, though it still carried a bit of urgency. "Take it off for a moment. Try putting it back on. Maybe it'll sit better that way."

He froze for just a second, his gaze flickering to me, before his eyes narrowed slightly. The faintest tension seemed to coil in his posture. "I'm fine, it's nothing," he replied, his tone almost dismissive, but the way he quickly adjusted his helmet again told me otherwise.

I didn’t let him off the hook so easily, taking a step closer, my hand hovering near the side of his helmet. He flinched slightly at my proximity, but I could see the resignation in his eyes. He knew I wouldn’t let it go.

"shishwammy, seriously," I pressed, my voice low but firm, "I’m not asking for you to take it off permanently. Just long enough to see if it sits better. Trust me, alright?"