Isn't it lovely, all alone?
Heart made of glass, my mind of stone
Tear me to pieces, skin to bone
Hello, welcome home.
--
Yellow.
His love was yellow.
A rich, beautiful thing. The colour of passing stars, of his sun back home, of the uniform he adored.
The uniform that made him feel like he found home after seventeen years of relentless work to get himself into that blue-black of space, and five years wandering its vast recesses.
He wouldn't trade it for the world.
He has begun checking out at times, mind far from where his body resides.
Wandering eyes and clumsy tongue kept him alienated.
Enigmatic child that he was, he was adored by those around him.
Sometimes, it wasn't enough.
--
"Good morning, Ensign," the Captain greeted as Pavel slid into his seat at the Navigator's position, next to the pilot from Beta shift. The glaring white interior of the ship assaulted his bleary eyes, no matter how accustomed to it he was.
"Good morning, Keptin." he chirped back, wincing as his voice came out with a morning gravel.
The sound of the ship's alert for the commencement of Alpha shift sounded, and Chekov felt his rebellious heart skip a beat. He busied himself tapping through the controls, rechecking his calculations, however impeccable they were, to shove away the way his stomach did aerials at the sight of his friend smiling down at him when he took his seat next to him.
He made sure to get up at least an hour before Sulu did just because of this. It hurt to see him, but he was but a moth to his light, he couldn't get enough of him, even if it killed him.
Taking a deep breath, he mentally prepared himself for the rest of his shift.
--
Returning to his quarters, jointly connected with Sulu's via the bathroom, he felt a budding itch in his throat and chest. Had been for hours. He barely made it to the toilet before he started retching, his lungs on fire, throat feeling like a battlefield where everyone was losing. His arms were shaking, weak all over. Pavel's eyes were watering at the sheer force of his coughs, and when he opened his eyes as the fit passed, his head light, he caught his reflection on the blood permeated toilet water. Face paler than normal, eyes red, blood dribbling from his lips.
What scared him the most was the singular yellow petal on the top of the liquid, blissfully unaware of the fear it brought the young man, as it drifted about.
Shaking and clammy, Pavel pushed himself off of the floor, flushing the evidence of his unwellness away, and washing his face with cold water. Pausing, he entertained the notion of going down to the Med Bay, but discarded it immediately. There was no way he was going to forfeit his duties as navigator, not even for a day. His job meant everything to him. He did however compromise with himself to not strain himself by going down to the dining hall for dinner or lunch.
Just when he was about to sit down and work on his tablet, calculations busied him enough to forget, he relied on them like an alcoholic relies on strong vodka or whiskey, a knock resonated throughout his room, coming from the bathroom. Knowing very well it was Sulu, he still decided to not answer, instead curling in on himself more and praying that the older man would leave. When he heard no continued knocking, he assumed that his prayers had been answered. What he was not expecting was for the distinctive beep of the override and his door opening.
