Space Man

Sick Shishwammy

I reached my house, a sense of urgency pressing on my chest as I entered. My eyes darted around, hoping for a sign, anything that might indicate where Xisuma could be. The silence was almost deafening.

We’d checked every corner of my base, and the whole time, I felt like we were missing something. It wasn’t until I reached the stairs and heard a noise upstairs that I finally had a breakthrough. It wasn’t a sound I’d ever expected to hear—footsteps, soft but unmistakable, followed by what sounded like quiet, labored breathing. I froze for a moment, heart racing. He was here.

But there was something off, something in the way the air felt. I hesitated only for a second before turning to Grian, who was following me closely.

“Grian,” I said quietly, pulling him aside. “I found him. But—” I paused, not wanting to make this worse than it already was. “I think he might not have his helmet on. I don’t want to push him right now, so I need you to go home.”

Grian looked at me, a mix of concern and confusion crossing his face. He didn’t question it, though. He nodded, his wings folding in slightly as he turned to leave. “Alright. Just… let me know if you need anything.”

I watched him go, feeling the weight of the decision pressing on me. It was for the best. Xisuma wasn’t ready for anyone else to see him without his suit, and I could feel the tension in my chest as I moved closer to the stairs.

My heart dropped when I saw Xisuma in the bathroom, his condition far worse than I had expected. He looked pale, too pale, and the fact that he was hunched over the bathtub, head pressed against it, made my chest tighten. I hadn’t expected this.

I didn’t mean to startle him, but I couldn't help the words that slipped out. “Did you just throw up?”

He flinched slightly, then nodded weakly, his hand gripping the edge of the tub. His breathing was shallow, and it only made the situation more concerning. I could tell he was struggling, but not fully willing to admit just how bad things were. I took a step forward, my voice softening as I spoke.

“Xisuma, you need your helmet,” I said gently, even though I already knew what the answer would be. “I can get it for you. You’ve got to put it on.”

He didn’t respond, but his shoulders were slumped, and he looked like he was barely holding himself up. His head slowly returned to the tub, as if he didn’t have the energy to lift it. He looked so vulnerable, so unlike the strong, steady person I knew.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” I said firmly, crossing the room and crouching down beside him. I carefully placed a hand on his shoulder, my fingers brushing lightly over the fabric of his suit. “I’m going to get your helmet. You need to get your breathing under control.”

I stood up, moving to grab his helmet from where it had been placed nearby. I returned quickly, kneeling down again beside him, holding it out for him. The weight of the situation pressed down on me, but I didn’t want to show him how worried I was. Not yet.

“Come on, Xisuma. Let’s get this on,” I urged, my voice as gentle as I could manage. “It’ll help, I promise.”

I could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on me even more as Xisuma stayed there, head still resting against the ledge of the bathtub, clutching his helmet. He looked so drained, like he didn’t have the strength to do much more than hold it. I could tell his body was screaming for rest, but I couldn’t let him fall asleep like this—not in this state.

I gently placed a hand on his forehead, hoping to gauge his temperature. His skin felt warmer than usual, but I wasn’t sure what was typical for a Voidwalker. The uncertainty made my worry spike.