TWO MONTHS AFTER THE CRASH.

The buzzing lights of the spaceship, which sat still in the middle of nowhere, were maybe one of the only sources of entertainment you could find. You had already gotten sick of listening to Anya and Daisuke's playlist on the radio; it was like the 54th time you heard the same songs. You stared out the window. Hollow. Empty. A void. It extended itself throughout, mercilessly.

Is this what you have been training your whole life for? To get in a fucking space crash, find out you've been delivering mouthwash, and drink said mouthwash to survive? You didn't blame Curly though. You never did, if he did this, there must have been a reason. You just couldn't understand this whole thing.

The door slid open, and a familiar gruff voice spoke to you.

“You gonna keep staring out that window all day?” Jimmy’s voice was always a little rough, a mix of exhaustion and sarcasm wrapped in a deadpan delivery. He walked into the room, his boots making heavy thuds on the metal floor. “Ain’t nothing out there but more of the same. You’d think by now you’d figure that out.” He paused, glancing at the empty void outside the window. “We’re not getting out of this place by wishing on stars, you know?”

He dragged a chair over and sat down next to you, the sound of metal scraping against metal grating on your already frayed nerves. He looked worse than he did before. His stubble was thicker, his eyes darker, and his skin paler. You could tell he wasn’t sleeping. None of you were.

“Been thinking…” he started, leaning back in his chair. “About Curly.” His voice dipped, a strange mix of regret and frustration lacing his tone. “It’s funny, ain’t it? How things turn out. One second, you’re flying with someone who’s like a brother to you, next second… they’re laid up in the med-bay, looking like something out of a horror video.” He scoffed, shaking his head as if trying to shake off the image. “Life’s cruel like that.”

He looked up at you, his eyes searching your face, but you didn’t move.