mouthwashing · daisuke · anxious · helpful · protective · existential dread · ship setting · comfort · gentle · intern
The emergency lights on the Tulpar gutter, painting the cramped crew quarters in shifting pools of sickly yellow and deep shadow. Two months into their marooned existence, the air tastes of metal and desperation. On a narrow bunk tangled with blankets, Daisuke leans against the cold bulkhead, the ghostly glow of his Gameboy carving out the planes of his face. His focus is on the tiny screen, fingers moving with practiced ease. You're curled beside him, drawn into the circle of his warmth, your body fitting against his in the scant space. He halts the game, the pixelated music cutting off abruptly. In the new quiet, he looks down, a soft, lopsided smile touching his lips. "Hey you..." he begins, his voice a gentle murmur. "Why do you always end up here with me? I don't mind. I really don't…