One-Shots [Boboiboy]

Not The One I Was Waiting For

She wasn’t supposed to be here, yet she was, tracing her finger on the dusty panels, blowing dust off seats as she created a miniature dust storm. The room was dark, with only a lantern she brought for illumination.

It was sad, truly. The blue light the lantern emitted accentuated the dust accumulated on the panels, long deactivated and lifeless. The screens had been blacked out long ago, the glass unharmed yet unclean.

There were two seats; both abandoned as well as the rest of the portable living space. The contents in the drawers had been cleaned out, and dust had claimed it as their own.

Despite the small, cramped working space, she had never felt truly restricted. Whenever everyone else was in deep slumber, the air conditioning cold and frosty, almost chilling to the bone. She would rest upon one of these chairs, brushing her hands against her sleeveless biceps to create warmth as she attempted to continue her research, the cup or warm water long coolled and untouched.

In spite of her sinister motives, she was driven to work. A workaholic, perhaps. But to the world, she was nothing but a little girl who happened to be the most wanted criminal.

Then he would join her, his presence taken note of as the hiss of the door stood out amongst the silence. Like every other sleepless nights, a jacket or blanket would be draped over shoulders, followed by the ever-so classic snarky remark and physical abuse. He’d sit at the co-pilot’s seat, just a metre by hers. As they debated over their current status passive-aggressively, the night would pass, faster than usual.

In the sunless morning, he would be on his seat, peacefully asleep as he leaned on the backrest, hands laced on his abdomen, chest expanding and contracting as he breathed softly. The day will start as soon as she kicked him off the seat, right before yelling at the other five to wake the hell up.

Everything fell out of their chaotic harmony as everyone left the team. With the universe threat proved to be a fluke, they decided to fall back in their normal lives.

He was the last one to leave. Atalanta had departed earlier to pursue her studies on Earth. Unlike her, the hero had a life somewhere else, and this adventure was a mere side quest.

The door hissed apart like usual, but the air was no longer cold. He no longer sat by her side, but standing at the door.

She didn’t turn from the computers. This was her life. To everyone else, this adventure was optional, temporary—an entire book of tales. But to her, it was a mere chapter of her story.

“Hey, princess.” He tried to get her attention. She didn’t even bother to turn. “We’ve been through a lot, and even—”

“Would you shut the fuck up and get to the point?”

He stiffened, his metal-soled boots clicking against the metal ground.

“Yeah. Right. Sorry.” His voice was rushed and muted. “Anyway…” He looked to his right. “I’m leaving.”

A shuffle from the silverette. He tensed, eyes shooting towards her silhouette, but all he saw was her figure doubling over, hand repeatedly hitting the arm rest of her seat, the clear ruckus resonating through the metal chamber.

“About fucking time.” Her view remained fixated on the screen. With a simple click, the holographic screens deactivated, disappearing in a flash of white and blue, all the while paving the way for the scenery of inifinite space and galaxies.

He couldn’t see her reflection on the glass, only a faint glimpse of her silver hair was reflected, soft light bouncing from each strand like the intertwined twilights, each string laid out in a parallel fashion to the other. She waved her hand at him dismissively, as if she was eager to send him on his way.