Static. [Alien X M!Reader]

05. SPLAT

Warnings: No notable content warning for this chapter.

Metal doors opened with a hiss, the whirring of machinery stirring awake, running through the walls in a near-silent cacophony. The man could feel it buzzing beneath his ribcage as the cold air ran over his body, rendering him clean enough to enter the next room. He shivered, the floor cold against his bare feet, and stood in front of the door—waiting. His lips felt glued to one another, hands stuck at his side like the stiff tail of a dog hoping for its owner to come back home. The irony would have brought a smile to his lips if he didn't feel like ripping the door panel apart, tearing the wires to unrecognisable shreds, and making it too mangled to fix in time for Rowan to be able to accompany him.

The door hissed again, and the black-haired man twisted his lips in an awkward smile. Rage boiled deep inside [Name], and he bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to turn away his gaze. Bitterly, regretfully, he stayed silent. There is nothing I can do, he thought. I could tear this whole place apart to keep him away, and still he'd find a way to come and follow me, and if I dared to tell him no, he'd only look at me with that terrible, wretched look of his, and I'd fall apart like the weak man that I am. He hated him; at times, he really thought he did.

A clanking noise prompted him to look back at Rowan, and the dark-skinned man held the same expression he had held for many years, deep brown eyes like the wooden walls of the worn-down shed that had been the shelter of their childhood games.

"Do you remember?" He heard himself say, mind drifting for a second. "Our secret hideout?"

He half expected the man to dismiss him, to pull him back into the task at hand. He didn't.

"When we were kids? Of course I do." Rowan laughed softly, shaking his head with glistening eyes. "We had no business going there."

"I wonder if they found it and tore it down. It was..." The sentence was left incomplete, words resting on his tongue just like many other secrets untold.

The other man nodded, face downcast as he moved to one of the closets—he understood; he always did.

Shivers ran down his spine as he adjusted the thick nylon fabric on his body, taking the suit off the hook and dropping it on the floor with a dull thud. He stepped his feet inside slowly and, placing his arms through the holes, pulled it up to cover himself and fastened the straps. Stretching and moving his arms around, the man checked whether everything was in its proper place; once satisfied, he hesitantly looked up.

Black-tinted glass reflected his weary face, marred by bruises and bandages, with dark circles under his eyes and a seemingly permanent frown on his brow. A hand tapped his shoulder, and the corners of his lips faintly raised, head lowering as the other man placed the helmet on his head. It clicked into place, mechanisms activating in a dreary way of signalling the departure.

"Off we go then." Rowan mused, face obscured by the helmet.

The captain stayed silent, eyes glaring into the door in front of them. The intercom hissed for a few moments before Karasi's voice broke through the interference, gradually getting clearer until it was finally comprehensible.