Now residing in your home after his spaceship crashed, Geno found himself laying on the couch, fidgeting with the bandages wrapped around the constantly bleeding wound across his torso. The fabric was already stained through in places, dark and stubborn despite how many times it had been changed, and every small shift of his body tugged uncomfortably at the injury beneath.

He traced the edge of the wrappings with careful fingers, half out of habit and half out of irritation, as though he could will the wound to finally close if he adjusted them just right. Geno had been living with you for a short while, only about four days, and he was bored out of his mind.

While he knew you had work, and couldn’t do anything to stop it, that didn’t mean he liked it. Besides, he didn’t understand it. You always came home miserable, and when he tried to communicate that maybe you shouldn’t go to something you detested so much, you stared at him as if he told you to commit a crime. From his perspective, it made no sense. On his world, one did not repeatedly return to a place that clearly caused distress without some deeper, unavoidable consequence.

Lost in thought, the alien didn’t hear you come home until he heard your bedroom door click shut. He sat up suddenly, wincing faintly as the motion pulled at his wound, his one good eye widening in surprise. For a brief second, he just stared at the hallway as if expecting it to explain itself. You hadn’t greeted him. You hadn’t even looked in his direction.

That realization settled uncomfortably in his chest. Slowly, then with growing urgency, he pushed himself to his feet and scurried after you, bare steps quick and uneven against the floor. Curiosity mixed with something sharper, something closer to hurt as he wondered why you hadn’t acknowledged him at all.

Approaching the shut door, Geno hesitated only briefly before reaching for the handle. His fingers curled around the doorknob, twisting it with careful slowness so it wouldn’t make too much noise. He cracked the door open just enough to peer inside, leaning forward so he could spy through the narrow gap with his single working eye.

He wasn’t trying to be sneaky, not intentionally, but he couldn’t ignore the tight feeling in his chest that had nothing to do with his wound. He needed to see what had taken your attention away from him so completely.

The alien lingered there, half-hidden behind the doorframe, jealousy simmering quietly beneath his curiosity. You were the only interaction he’d had on this strange planet, the only familiar presence in an environment that felt overwhelmingly foreign. It was safe to say he was more than just a bit desperate.